abe is fine

+

“That’s quite the prank, getting them to believe that you are merely an apparition of their subconscious, beckoning them to spend more time around their favourite bartender. Does anyone ever fall for it genuinely, or do they catch on despite their inebriated states?” he asked, his lips twitching in amusement. He inclined his head in gratitude as the man passed him the lighter and he set about lighting his cigarette. “Who me? Nah, haven’t had anything that could be mistaken for a wild night since… ooh, good few years now, maybe? Gotta be careful, reputation and all that. Wouldn’t want to let the team down” he smirked, taking a drag from his cigarette and passing the lighter back. “How you been Abe?”

.

.

“Everybody likes to make money, Niko, even me,” Maybe even especially him, depending on the day and the price and the favor in question, he clarified (mentally) with a smirk.  “Oh, plenty of people fall for it, though, or I wouldn’t enjoy doing it so much. Some of these hellions start drinking from sunrise. Sometimes, though, they come and tell me they met my good twin, my evil twin, or my doppelgänger.” He pocketed the lighter as it came back to him, leaving his hand there when he finished the small task; Abe was comfortable this way today, casual suited his evening. “Ah, yes, Niko Nenad, star athlete and defender of the underdog. That sterling reputation of yours, right, right ... can’t tarnish that. One day you’ll take me up on that Local Hero Open Tab deal,” he teased. “I’ve been fine,” he added, throwing in a shrug to keep things interesting. “Just doing a little late night scavenge for goodies. Needed a snack and a walk on the actual ground. Tower blocks are like boats that way, word to the wise.”

OPEN || Hogsmeade

It was as if she had apparated, the way her surroundings suddenly whipped into focus, the familiar noise of the village would be welcome, if it didn’t seem so loud this time. She had to get…where was she going again? A hand pressed to her temple, eyes shut tight as she leaned against a nearby wall. What was she doing here?

She remembered leaving her flat, locking the door, it was nighttime–no. No, daytime? The specifics danced frustratingly out of reach. She left, why did she leave? Work? No, meeting a friend? Oh, Merlin’s beard, Adri just think.

But she was getting nowhere, doing nothing outside of giving herself a damned annoying headache. Pulling her hand away, she paused, squinting to bring everything into focus, including the red stain across her fingertips. Was there a fight? Taking a hex to the head might explain why she couldn’t remember leaving her house earlier that day. And the sharp pain in her side that appeared to be growing stronger. Okay…job went sideways maybe? But what job?

“Ugh…how annoying…” The more clear her surroundings became, the less answers she had regarding what led her here. Sitting around and complaining wouldn’t solve anything. Moving forward on still unsteady feet, she stumbled right into someone, stepping back to lean against the building once more, a hand held up. “…sorry. I wasn’t–” Adrianne shook her head, hand pressing against her side. “–lost in thought, I guess. Um, what time is it?”

.

It wasn’t that he was confused to see her here, or even disappointed – no Abe was absolutely thrilled to have visual confirmation that she still roamed the earth, he truly was – it was more ... that he was concerned, by her confusion. “It’s past eleven, almost noon. It’s also Thursday, if that helps.” It was ... the Thursday after the DMLE had promised no one was missing, and here she was looking like she’d actually gone to hell and back. She’d also missed the Friday the 13th party he’d thrown, but he’d saved her some sweets, and that wasn’t entirely important right now.

He moved carefully, though he did move with purpose; the last thing he wanted to do was startle a fucked up auror, let alone a redheaded one with a temper and incredible aim. “You’re also .... almost in the drunk goat pen, and we need to not be, because Gerry is in a mood today.” Of course, this was Abe, so when he’d moved, he’d moved to get a better look at her, to put himself between her and Gerry, and also to block a fair amount of the sun. 

“I’m not going to ask you a bunch of questions right now, but I’m going to ask you this one, and it’s very important you don’t get mad at me for it.” Lowering his head a little, he brought gentle fingers to her temple, pulling strands of hair off of her face.  “Would you like to nip upstairs to a room and have a shower? You can take a brandy up with you, and I’ll send an elf to help you. Steam, soap, a couple sips ... should help jump start you again, I think. Then we can get a look at what’s left of you, hm?”

☆

        ”And with everything else going on, letting people think they’ve got some control over the matter keeps them a bit more calm.” Not that the illusion of control could change the course things seemed to be set on, but at least it brought people comfort. They couldn’t help but grin a little at his face as they could only assume the grape failed to meet expectations, shrugging slightly at the observation. “It’s the best way to get answers. I honestly don’t know that I care enough about it all to have an opinion – though if Albus ever did end up in office I think I’d have to head back to the states. I’m sure there’s some office I could transfer into.”

☆

“It’s all about balance,” he said with a shrug. Charlie understood it, but so many didn’t; Abe had been around the block more than enough times by then to know that they (as a whole) had never really, or would ever, have much actual say in things that happened. But it was nice to pretend. “I can’t say I blame you, because I don’t either,” he admitted. It wasn’t exactly a secret that Abe stayed as far from politics and that sort of nonsense as possible, but it wasn’t a secret, either, that his brother loved the attention. “It’s not going to change anything, no matter who it is. But if he does, I’m going with you, and my name is Gerry. Everybody drinks, I can run a pub anywhere.”

—

Fedya shrugged, figuring grounded was a good enough word for it. “He acted like a child; it’ll be good for him to be treated as one.” Ironic considering he was pretty sure Maddox had gotten served at the Hog’s Head as an actual minor, but the past was the past. He reached for the borscht, making a mental note to track down Cook later to thank him. “Cook is the best. No, though, I think you should let him in. Would make it easier for Walburga to find him.” 

.

Abe didn’t have an argument for that – but, he didn’t think anybody who knew what had gone on did have an argument for that. Maddox had been acting like a child, and truthfully, he was just a little too far from childhood to claim his youth as an excuse anymore. “See, but if I let him in, he learns nothing. What’s the consequence? He’s all too happy to sit around here sober for hours, has been for years,” Abe pointed out, shrugging as he moved to lean on the counter, resting on his forearms. “If he can still come in and complain openly to me about how awful it is being lectured, or about how many people are upset with him, he isn’t learning anything. Sure I should let him learn about this crowd handles snitches the hard way, but for a first real offense, keeping him out and refusing to serve him seems steep enough.”

“You told him he was grounded?” Abe repeated, laughing around the words exiting his mouth. It was pretty likely that everyone was on Maddox’s case at this point, and while plenty of people had fair right to be on his case about it .... the Russian had made another good suggestion, which Abe was considering as he set the steaming bowl of borscht on the counter. “From cook, he missed you. Not serving Maddox, though, that’s .... I don’t hate that, as far as ideas go. He will, but that’s the point. What the hell, throw in a week’s ban from the premises, too.” 

-

  Isa’s nose wrinkled at the smoke as she lifted her hand to gently brush it away. She offered what could pass for a smile, before raising a brow. “Checking with Fedya is hardly unbiased,” She teased, though her smile didn’t meet her eyes and there was hardly a laugh there. She reached up, pulling her coat tighter around her. January was often far colder than December, with less of the festive warmth to combat the cold. “But you’re absolutely right, you’re always welcome, Abe.” She reassured, exhaling as she leaned back against the brick. She just needed a minute, and then she’d head to the Floo and off to work. Her eyes drifted, glancing toward the vacant stand nestled between the other, busier stands in Diagon. “You’re great with animals, aren’t you?” She asked, suddenly. “Do you have time to come by my home today?” She asked, looking back to him, eyes softer. 

.

He didn’t toss out his cigarette, but he did begin to direct his smoke elsewhere; at least this time, Isa had the rare blessing of fresh air to dissipate the smoke, and only his, really, to contend with for now. “Who said anything about Fedya. I haven’t seen him lately, have you?” challenged the older man playfully, smirk in place and all, and a far cry from the sound of concern in terms of that absence, where most (personally) probably might have expected or wanted more to be present. “Great seems braggy, but I like them, they like me. I raise enough of them. Everything alright?” He tilted his head, taking another drag as he watched the youngest Macmillan with curiosity, and remembering to aim his smoke away from her. “I can stop by any time you like. It’s not a problem at all.”

+

He leaned up against the wall of the nearest building, watching Aberforth exhaling smoke into the sky, Niko’s expression a mixture of confusion and amusement. He rarely ever saw Aberforth, and of the times that he did, it had always been inside the Hog’s Head. “Well, that’s good to know” he grinned, holding his hands up in surrender. “I knew I was inebriated, but I’m glad I’m not that far gone yet. The night is still young. You got a light?”

. 

The barman didn’t bother to hide his laugh, or his grin – but he did step forward with a nod and an open hand, passing over his muggle lighter without argument. “That’s my favorite part, I’ll admit it,” he confessed. But who didn’t like a simple prank? What harm was he really causing, here? “Getting people to question their sobriety. Sometimes I like to convince people that it isn’t me at all, and that instead, maybe they’re just not spending enough time in Hogsmeade and really miss me. How ya been, Niko? Walking off a wild night?” 

—

“Good on him. Next thing we know, he’ll have learned to stay clear of Juno.” Cygnus didn’t mean it harshly– he had a certain amount of fondness for Abe’s pet lawyer, but Merlin he’d never seen anyone more clueless about what lay beyond city limits. And he’d met a lot of clueless people in his life. “Big white one, yeah, one of his ears is a bit chopped? It’s the dogs who got his interest, so I was worried that they might have brought him over from your place.”

.

He shook his head, but it was a beat or two before he actually vocalized his doubt. Abe would never say the cat wasn’t smart, but he wouldn’t accuse him of having common sense either. “No, I really don’t think that one’s ever gonna happen. Can’t really blame him, though, she is gorgeous.” If that was something he expected, though, the description of the kneazle was not. “You’re fucking with me. Lopsy?!”  Lopsided had, of course, been named for his lopsided set of ears, but Abe hadn’t seen him in ... “He vanished before you moved in, I honestly thought he took off to –” Abe said, replacing the word with a wink, click of the tongue, and a passing swipe of his hand over his neck. “So  maybe? mine, I guess. If one can claim ownership of a feline drifter.”

—

“Fyodor stopped begging for more chickens long enough to actually be a lawyer?” Cygnus raised an eyebrow, though he was well aware he was one to talk about work ethic. “I just meant to ask if you’ve got a big white kneazle you’ve been missing. One’s been showing up at the barn.”

.

“Oh, he learned how to argue and beg for chickens at the same time weeks ago, Cyg, give him some credit.” Still, it gave Abe a laugh either way, even if the question made him pause to think. “A white one? I mean ... probably. The kneazles always vanish when they’re up to something. Unless there’s two white kneazles. Is this one obsessed with your horses, or your cats?” 

Abe loved the faces of people realizing they were seeing him outside of the pub; playing up the part of hermit was one of the things he enjoyed most, so, naturally, their shock (and sometimes confusion) fueled him. He exhaled a cloud of smoke, speaking with a grin, “It’s okay, you’re not seeing things. I’m allowed to leave the pub, I double-checked with my legal counsel.”

.

        “Peace is always a bit precarious at best, but an election would be a good move if they want to keep up appearances.” Charlie hummed slightly as they nodded, it did make the most sense given the current state of things. “Oh, that’s easy – you’re more likely to answer me without thinking too much over what I’m asking. It’s also easiest to be sure I won’t need to compete with your customers or animals for your attention. You should get the blackberries.”

.

“It looks nice, at least, yeah, I guess I’d agree. Keeping up appearances,” he repeated, shrugging before reaching for a grape – for quality testing purposes, of course – then speaking around it, “It makes people feel like they still have a say, if nothing else.” But the grape was not as tasty as it could have been, and Abe (despite himself) eyed the blackberries when Charlie mentioned them. They did look better. “Got it, so you get me when I’m too distracted to answer you carefully,” he teased, grinning as he reached for the blackberries as suggested. “Honestly, as long as it isn’t Albus, I don’t really care who or how they pick. But what would you prefer? Since it’s your question, after all.”

𝙾𝙿𝙴𝙽

Location : open

        “No judging, but I’ve got something of a foolish question.” It was more foolish, given they’d gone this long without ever figuring it out, but if they were honest about it it hadn’t ever been something they cared much about. “And possibly a bit insensitive. With the Minister’s passing, will there be an election? Or an appointment? Or is there some chain of command?”

.

“Well, she was decent enough, we’re technically in a time of peace – or we were .... they’ll probably do an election,” Abe guessed, shrugging. He hadn’t thought too deeply about it, really, but he knew that there were different protocols for different atmospheres, history had told him that. “Question for you – why do you choose to try out all of your hypotheticals when I’m picking out fruit?”

-

   There were many reasons for Maddox’s insistence that he have a tent of his own ( well, mostly own, of course he’d insistent Pod and friends stayed too ). He completely trusted that Abe wouldn’t spoil his fun, in fact he’d make it even better, but he was an adult now and the appeal of camping with friends on New Years Eve without adultier adults in the way was too alluring to turn down. Still, he grinned the moment Abe showed back up to check in on him. “It should be amusing, Abe, don’t you worry one bit.” He grinned, flashing his pearly whites as innocently as he could. It wasn’t like he was trying to hide what he was up to from Daderforth. The boxes with supplies were clearly visible in the tent, and he’d made no moves to conceal them before Abe walked around, inspecting his handy work. 

    He’d mostly done well too, the hammocks his favorite touch. He’d piled them full of blankets and pillows, and had even strung one up for Diana, just in case. That one he’d added the softer blankets too, for Pod’s sake. Everything seemed mostly sound, though a bit of help wouldn’t hurt, even if Maddox was unwilling to ask for it. “You’ll come by later to play cards with us, won’t you?” He added, watching Abe complete his inspection, but then his face fell. “Oh fuck, yeah you’re right, I forgot about dinner. Thirteen hours then,” he groaned, knowing he was going to have to work fast. “What is the likelihood of borrowing you later, you know, with no explanation beyond that, ‘cept for a promise that it’ll be worth it? And that I’m your favorite son and would never do anything ever to get you arrested or injured?” He asked, thinking he might need the extra set of hands or eyes with the shortened time. 

    Maddox knew it would be rude to eat fast, but he planned to anyway. He knew better than to refuse to go to dinner, Abe wasn’t going to let him get away with it, rite of first prank or not. He’d be drinking later, it was required. “You think they’ll serve dessert at the same time?” He wondered, thinking it sounded great to start with something sweet first. 

.

Abe didn’t feel the need to hide his inspection, and Maddox didn’t seem inclined to defend himself or stop the process, so the bartender carried on as he pleased, listening to one of his favorite children speak as he did so. The boy rarely hid much from him, though whether that was because he’d finally figured out he couldn’t get much past the elder badger, or because he just hadn’t considered doing so, Abe wsn’t sure. It made him laugh all the same, though, as he discovered far too much nonsense nestled into the various areas of the tent.

“Of course I will. And it better be amusing, boy, or ....” he trailed off, shaking his head, and willing to let the McKinnon fear a threat for a moment, “the only entertainment I’ll get tonight will be the ruckus heard when you lot bring this crashing down around you trying to cram three bodies into one small hammock.” With another grin, he came to clap the boy on his shoulders, looking over them for a moment at the book, but not long enough to learn anything he didn’t want to. “Since you’re not fighting the need to eat, and I’m not really all that interested in mingling until people are good and drunk, I’d say your chances are pretty likely.” Which meant that thirteen hours was going to be plenty of time, once Maddox figured out what it was he wanted to do. That was his niche, if you asked him. People decided what they wanted, he made it happen. Another clap on the shoulders was the signal for ‘up, up, time to go’ and a beat later, Abe stepped away, back to the doorway of the tent.

“Party like this? Dessert table is out and loaded, and the only thing stopping you from going dessert first would be fear of judgement or common manners, neither of which weigh you down. You should be golden, Mad Dog.”

-

    Going back to her tent was not really what Isabella wanted to do, but it was the logical thing to do. Even though she was more than a little excited, she had plans. She needed to change from her outfit for dinner, and she wanted to spend a few moments walking through what she was going to say to Winter when she saw him. She’d been thinking of nothing else all afternoon, and it had her just a bit on edge. It was a welcome nervousness though, similar to how she felt on the rare occasions she did decide to fly. Most of her time at a quidditch pitch was spent with both feet firmly on the ground, but there were times, and the weightlessness, that rush of endorphins, was exactly what she was feeling right then. 

     She tried to convince her feet to follow her head, to slow down so she wasn’t damn near running through the tents to get to her own. It wouldn’t make the time go any faster, and then she’d just be awkwardly waiting for Winter to arrive, there far too early. It wasn’t working though, not until she saw Aberforth. He was the perfect distraction. She moved, arms going right around him as she leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek, “Absolutely, let’s celebrate anything you’d like.” She beamed, giving an extra squeeze for good measure. She was practically glowing, her eyes bright and full of hope. 

     “It’s going to be the most wonderful New Year,” She declared, laughter bubbling up inside her chest. “and there’s not a thing that could change that.” She grinned. “It’s good to see you, Abe. I know I must seem ridiculous, but I promise I have good reason.” She teased, finding it far too easy to tell him. “Have you ever been in love?” She wondered, knowing full well she was telling him exactly what had gotten into her. She didn’t mind. Maybe he could help her sort out the butterflies in her stomach. If she could stop rambling to listen for half a second. “Do you have a drink?” She added, flushing. She just needed a sip, enough to help her calm down. 

.

Ahhhh, that had to be one the most familiar set of sensations in the world to Aberforth; the sound of an excited rustle, hurried footsteps, and laughter that wove through a happy voice – a tone which he had missed, and was pleased to see return, even temporarily, and wouldn’t call attention to. It was Isa, and the smile that grew on his face was all adoration and fondness. “We’re celebrating the spirit of curiosity, I see,” he suggested, laughing himself as he ushered Isa inside his own tent, intent (ha, see what I did) on following behind her.

“You knew the answer to that last one before you asked it, though, I feel like that was a test,” he teased, making his own way inside the tent, and headed straight for his small wet bar. He returned moments later with two glasses and the bottle, and as he handed one off to her, he couldn’t help confessing some of the reason behind the smile. “I haven’t heard you get this excited for anything in ..... a while, Isabella Macmillan. What has gotten into you? Love?” he laughed, truthfully, though not openly, using his fond confession to laugh away her strangely personal query in favor of discovering what inspired it. “I’ve been on this rock a very long time, you know. If I’d never known love, I’d be a lot grumpier. Now tell me what you’re up to.”

The bartender gestured for the girl to sit, and he took the seat across from her, one elbow to his knee (chin in hand) as he stared in amusement. “.....Do you have a date tonight, Isa?”

-

  Miranda smiled at the sight of Aberforth. He was very much a welcome companion. She appreciated someone who didn’t ask so many damned questions. He minded her limits, and she couldn’t be more thankful for it. She laughed, “then it sounds like you’re exactly the right person to ask, Aberforth.” She insisted, taking the flask that was offered to her. It wasn’t too early to drink, certainly not on New Years Eve. She opened it, lifting it to her lips to take a drink. She exhaled, pleased that he didn’t walk around with shitty Scotch in his pocket. He was a reputable bartender, after all, but thank Merlin he had standards. 

    “Here’s to a pleasant New Year,” She returned, though she didn’t offer the flask back before taking a second drink. Only then did she offer it back. “I’m surprised to see you here, I thought you’d be reigning in the new year with your patrons, and your animals.” She teased, though it was fond, and genuine. Abe outside of the Hogs Head seemed almost out of place. She’d very rarely seen him anywhere besides the bar, though she was happy to see him now. “Are you camping?” She wondered, still trying to decide what her own plans for the evening were. 

.

“I usually am,” he answered, not so humbly (for once). Even Abe was allowed to brag every now and again, and it had to be one of his favorites, in terms of things often said of himself, that he was a man with answers, (seemingly) regardless of the question. The acceptance of the flask was better, but better still was the fact that Mira did not need to be encouraged to drink up, and Abe grinned, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Pleasant, I like that. That’s reasonable. A pleasant New Year,” he echoed.

He didn’t hesitate to drink to this toast himself, either, when the flask came back, and it kept his hand out of his pocket, to boot. “Normally I do prefer the pub for this holiday, I do, but everyone else was going to be here ... It almost seemed sad, even for me,” he said with a laugh, though he didn’t really believe it was entirely true. Abe had never actually been disappointed by any of his nights alone, with or without the animals. “I am,” he answered, though, happy for the distraction. “And that’s probably, actually, the only reason I’m really here. Any excuse to camp, although I usually go less ..... magical, on the tent. The eases and trappings of home are not the point of camping, but camping isn’t really the point, here, either, is it?”