Life Is Too Short, Make It Sweet

"You don't have to part with it completely," Anthony shrugged, glancing around the bakery. Alara had made a name for herself amongst the baking scene, it seemed hasty to part ways with it completely. "Would you never move? Or change the name? Start fresh?"

There was truth in what he said, even if she didn’t want to admit it aloud. Holding on to even the smallest piece of the past meant she was still bound to it. She exhaled softly, offering a faint, thoughtful smile. “I’d move,” she said finally. “Find somewhere new. Start over. I’ve got a few ideas.”

“I’m finished, just about to close up shop.” With a steaming cup in hand, she rounded the counter and offered it to him. “What about you? Done for the night?”

James knew the due date of his and Lily's child would be any day now and anytime that he felt like he was forgetting something, he barely waited until the next morning to get it. Already he had taken less hours at the Ministry and was trying to do less in general, but it was like he couldn't sit still. His entire body hummed with anticipation and they still hadn't pinned down a name. James had thrown a couple names down on a list that had all been crossed out. In a mere number of days, he wouldn't just be himself anymore. He would be a father, a whole new defintion to his existence.

He was in yet another shop, looking over the items that lined the shelf, and frowned at the object he grabbed. "Do you think this would be safe with a baby around?"

She recognized the voice immediately. Placing the lemon into her basket, she turned to face him. “I’m not entirely sure,” she admitted, knowing Lily was due any day now. Then, with a faint smile, she added, “Everything will fall into place, you’ll both be ready when the moment comes.” It was hard to ignore the war, but having a baby was a beautiful moment.

She scanned the room — as she always did, looking for familiar faces to have drinks with. The social butterfly would have it no other way. That’s when she spotted Alara. Perfect.

Running up to her, she reciprocated the hug. “Imagine seeing you here tonight! It’s fate!” A large smile crossed her face. “We are drinking whatever gets us drunk,” she smiled mischievously.

“So,” she tilted her head, a playful spark in her eyes, “are we easing into the night, or going all in?” It had been ages since she’d let herself get properly drunk, but maybe that was exactly what the evening called for. “Firewhiskey?”

It was nice to escape, to bask in the quiet for a month or so. To step away from the self-destructive traits he had picked up in his last few weeks of being in London. Anthony knew that he had to face it all again, his job had thankfully allowed him a bit of time off air. And he had managed to avoid the Order for as long as he could. But it was time to return to London, and where better to throw himself in at the deep end than Little Tart Bakery, owned by Alara.

Anthony hadn't alerted anybody to his presence in London, and now when Alara glanced up, he was well aware that his cover was blown.

"Why would you sell the bakery?" Anthony stumbled over his words, shifting on two feet.

“I… I...” Her voice faltered, and she drew in a steadying breath before forcing herself to go on. “It’s the last piece of me from that life. I do love it here, but it’s always there… a reminder.” The words were honest, though a knot of guilt twisted in her stomach as she spoke. “If I really want a fresh start, I suppose it has to be in every part of my life.”

Then his tone shifted, just a little. Less theatrical, more real. He leaned against the worn wooden counter beside her, stealing a glance as he nudged a stray cinnamon stick back into the spice jar with a lazy flick of his finger. “You know, it’s not just the sugar that makes these special.”

He offered her a crooked smile, one that didn’t sparkle like his usual mischief but glowed with something quieter. “It’s that you put your heart in them. People can taste that, Alara. It’s why they keep coming back -- even if that experiment nearly broke my tooth.”

He winced theatrically again, rubbing his jaw. “But I suffered nobly, in the name of friendship and flaky pastry.”

She gave him a playful look, raising an eyebrow. “You’re biased and you know it,” she said, brushing off the praise with a laugh. “We’ve known each other since first year. Can you believe how old we’re getting?” Her tone was teasing, clearly trying to steer the conversation away from anything too serious.

She swatted his arm with a mock glare. “Hey! I’ve never broken anyone’s tooth.” She softened after that, tilting her head slightly. “So? What’s new with you?”

She sat up a little and gave Alara a playful look. “You’re demanding and dramatic, for the record. I think it’s adorable.” Madhuri reached for a pillow and playfully smacked Alara’s arm with it before hugging it close. “Wild? Definitely. You should’ve seen what I did to the herbalist’s garden last week. It’s still glowing. Don’t ask.” She bit back a laugh, curling her legs underneath her. “But you’re right. We’re chaos in motion. A very stylish kind of chaos.”

Her smile dimmed, not in sadness, but in understanding. “I’m proud of you, you know,” she said gently, echoing Alara’s words back in spirit. “For letting go of what hurt and still showing up with love. That’s magic, too.”

Then she popped up suddenly, eyes glinting. “Alright, enough of the deep feelings. You promised me a kitchen mess. I’ve got honey, rosewater, a lot of cinnamon, and absolutely no plan. What could possibly go wrong?” She reached out a hand. “Come on, blood traitor. Let’s bake like rebels.”

Her expression shifted with curiosity at the mention of the garden, brows drawing in. “Wait, no, I need to know now,” she said, lips pushing into a dramatic pout.

When Madhuri spoke again, something soft settled in Alara’s chest. “That really means a lot,” she murmured. “It’s not perfect, but… it’s getting easier.” She was clinging to what she could, the good that remained. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She clapped her hands and popped off the bed. “Yes! Let’s go make a mess in the kitchen.” She gave Madhuri’s shoulder a playful swat. “Oh hush, if I’m going to be called a blood traitor, I might as well look good being one.” She laughed, grabbing friend’s hand and tugging her toward the door.

"I didn't disappear," Sirius laughed, a lazy drag from his cigarrette before he blew the smoke away from them. "I was just busy." Everything had gotten a bit much lately; everyone annoying him and pressuring him - every word felt stifling. So he took some time to himself, a few notes left to his close friends before he took the bike and left, enjoying the solitude. "Y'know if you missed me you can just say that," he teased quietly, as though it were a secret.

“I appreciated the note,” she said with a quiet smile as she settled beside him, bumping his shoulder lightly with her own. “And I don’t think I need to say it.” Her eyes glinted with playful warmth. “I’m sure part of you missed me. Or at least my pastries.” She paused, softer now. “It’s good to have you back.”

Calloused fingertips awkwardly fumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Coffee cake for me, please.... Only if you have it. && for the rest. ” He hated choosing for others, but he was sure his family would appreciate a sweet treat. It might even distract his mother from any questions that simply couldn't be answered.

"For the rest, I'll leave in your capable hands, it's for my family. " He was sure they would like anything from here, even for someone who didn't particularly have a sweet tooth, everything smelled divine.

He leaned on the counter, watching as the scones began to settle into their box. “I’m alright—just a bit fogged in, if that makes sense. Work’s been a flurry of owls, and I think I’ve been spending too much time trying to untangle things that don’t want unravelling.”

“Coffee cake for you,” she said gently, starting to pack the boxes, her hands working with familiar ease. “And a little bit of everything for them. I’m sure they’ll enjoy it.” She tucked in the last slice before folding the lid over the box meant for Edgar himself, half filled with the treat he’d requested.

Her eyes lifted to meet his, tone quiet but sincere. “I get that... it’s heavy out there.” The world felt more fractured by the day, and what the Dark Lord’s followers left behind only deepened the cracks. “Just, don’t forget to look after yourself too, alright?”