August Cobb

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“I know, I know, I look damn good. It’s the three day stuble and the day old clothes that really clinch it.” Reggie had just left work, eyes tired and head pounding. Work had been fine, getting out of the house, getting back on a regular schedule had been nice, but Reggie was finding it next to impossible to rest between getting back out into the world, looking for new ways to help the Order, jumping fully back into writing and performing music, and then a new girlfriend (girlfriend? kind of girlfriend? He wasn’t sure where they were at with that yet) on top of all of it. “Please tell me you have the worlds largest cup of coffee for me, I have a gig in twenty minutes and I’m about to fall asleep on my feet, here.” Despite it all, somehow, Reggie managed to keep that goofy, charming smile on his face.

▷

August held out an unfortunately tiny takeaway cup in Reggie’s direction with a smile. “A double piccolo. Miniature, but you’ll be bouncing off the walls.” He held another small cup in his other hand: his own coffee. When Reg mentioned that he was going to be playing an actual gig, August could barely contain his excitement. He had barraged Reg with questions: when and where and is it a big one or more casual and how much are tickets I’ll see if Mary wants to come with. It filled him with pride, seeing his friends succeed at what they loved most—especially when they were as talented as Reg.

★ –

Ever since they’d danced, he’d been on her mind. August always had been her favourite season. Sweaters, hot cocoa, enchanting colours and a sign of life changing for the better.

Somehow, he reminded her of all of those things, too. He radiated warmth, brightness and hope and it was infectious. It played on her mind as she worked alone in her bakery, and as she walked through the gardens where they first met. It was so strange. They’d barely talked, hardly known each other for more than five minutes, and she couldn’t stop thinking about him. Mary wasn’t the type to get angry, especially not at her friends - but could they not have given her five more minutes with him, to at least know where she could find him again? Come on, Mac, you can’t leave us alone all night for a bloke! Marls had exclaimed, dragging her off by her hand.

Her best bet of finding him (without looking like a complete stalker) was heading back to the place where they’d first met. She’d actually not been there five minutes when she heard his voice. “August,” she breathed, her face lighting up at the mere sight of him. “If anything, I’m probably over-feeding them and shortening their life span, but I’ll take the compliment.” She took a few steps closer to him and offered him a piece of bread. “Be my partner in crime?”

▷

As Mary offered him a piece of day-old sourdough, August couldn’t stop thinking about the way his name sounded coming out of her mouth, all breathy and friendly. She was a welcome sight, after weeks of not being in contact. Their proximity to one another suddenly seemed closer than it should have been, and so with a polite smile he took the bread, his fingers gingerly brushing against hers in action. “Love to. I’m sure they look forward to your visit—the ducks.” He failed to mention how he also looked forward to her appearances in the Gardens.

@spellbxnd​

In the weeks since their time together at Rita’s wedding, Mary had occupied August’s thoughts fairly regularly. The night—filled with drinking and dancing and many an awe-struck smile—had ended abruptly when Mary had been swept away by a couple of her friends that August had been forewarned about. They tended to get very excited, and August found he could hardly be upset when he waved a nonchalant hand in the group’s direction and smiled to signal it was fine for them to snatch Mary away. She looked so happy.

He had gone home alone and certainly hadn’t minded, but was disappointed they didn’t get to say their goodbyes. He hadn’t her address, meaning owls were out of the question, and wizard London was a reasonably large area that made it almost impossible to find her. So, when a walk in the Suvais Garden lead to his gaze falling on a young, dark-haired woman feeding the ducks by the pond, he knew it was her.

Location: Slug & Jigger’s Apothecary Status: Open

The shrill ringing of a bell indicated to Severus that another customer had wandered into the apothecary.  Staring at the bubbling cauldron in front of him, his jaw tightened and he glanced at his scrawled instructions.  This was his second attempt at improving the potion, and it did need to simmer for some time before he stirred it again.  It was unusual that a customer would arrive this early, which irritated him all the more.  Closing his eyes, he composed himself into a neutral expression before turning to leave the back room and appear almost soundlessly at the counter in the back of the shop. 

“Welcome to Slug & Jiggers.  May I offer you any assistance?” 

▷

August had been meaning to stock up on Grotworth sea sponges for weeks now, having used the last one in his supply to paint the heavily-textured background of a new artwork: one made up of a brilliant yellow sky, dashed with angry red clouds. The sponges were the perfect texture for replicating the fluffiness of clouds, and he’d finally run his supply down to his last one.

Hoping he wasn’t outside opening hours, he pushed the front door of the apothecary open and looked up briefly as the bell chimed above his head. He knew it was early, but he had never been a late sleeper, and in many cases found himself the first customer of the day for most businesses. A peculiar smell in the shop arrived at his nostrils upon entry, making them twitch slightly. He noticed the man behind the counter’s neutral expression at his entrance, but August persisted. He was in desperate need of the sea sponges.

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Hana Shafiq @hanamaryam​ —

send a 🦈 to my askbox if you want me to build a brand for your character

Molly Prewett @mollymirror​ —

Ajax had made himself go outside and leave Archie to his own devices. His brother had been remarkably patient while Ajax fussed and hovered, insisting on regular updates to make sure Chi hadn’t ended up in another holding cell; but Jax knew there was only so far he could push his luck. Archie would be fine for an afternoon. Surely that one arrest had blown through his years supply of Stupid. Plus, Tigs was home. They both always behaved when Tigs was around.

Unless she got called into the office for something while he was gone. Should he have come out? His sketchbook was in his bag and he’d intended to at least try and get something done, but now… 

A new voice pulled him out of his thoughts and Ajax looked up from where he’d been worrying Koda’s collar. “Pastries?” He repeated as he dragged himself back to the present. “Oh, sure that’d be real nice. Thanks.”

–

▷

August broke into a smile. He was relieved to finally shift some of the pastry weight, even if it was to a stranger. “I think there’s...” He took a peek into the bag to determine exactly what the contents were. Corliss had sent him off with about ten different varieties of baked good, but August had lost track of their names. “Caramel slice, lemon tarts, custard tarts, chocolate croissants.”

He suddenly felt a hot blush creep up his cheeks at the absurdity of offering a teenager in a park a cake. But, maybe it would make the teenager’s day, and that would be enough of a reason to do it. After all, being friendly never hurt anybody.

Hana ran a quick mental calculation of all the Wizarding and Muggle laws she knew. Granted one of those mental indexes was much larger than the other, but he seemed like the type to know both. If she had to throw the metaphorical book at him to get him to drop the bag of pastries and flee to another country it was always best to know the most effective tome. Unfortunately for her grand scheme nothing really fit the bill. Well shit. 

“And that’s a thing artists do, then? Just offer strangers pastries for fun?” It seemed too kind not to have an ulterior motive. Maybe the pastries were poisoned. Maybe she and Amycus watched too many soaps. 

Then, after a pause, “I will admit that if someone brought you in to court for sketching in a public garden I would make them drop the charges on grounds of being ridiculous.”

–

▷

“Well, I’m not usually laden with them like I am today, but yes, I guess so.” August replied, thanking the barista for his piccolo with a polite smile. He looked back to Hana and held the brown paper bag out in her direction as a last offer. He wasn’t sure where he knew her from—was it school? Had they been in the same year, or at least at Hogwarts at the same time? Her face was familiar enough, but August couldn’t recall her name which was unusual for him. He was usually very good with names.

★ –

It’d been a long time coming, but she was finally wed to the love of her life. There’d been likely thousands in attendance, watching her as she exchanged her vows with Jackson, but all she could see was him, and possibly the very large, very sparkly ring on her finger. They’d walked out hand in hand from the ceremony into a sea of photographers and people. She hadn’t even been able to grab a glass of champagne until half an hour later when she excused herself to go find one.

She’d reached for the last glass on a waiter’s tray when someone else got to it first and she eyed them with a more relaxed smile than she’d probably ever worn. “I do hope you’re going to hand me that drink and congratulate me, darling.”

▷

August was already in the midst of taking a sip from the glass when he noticed who he’d snatched it from. He raised his eyebrows from behind the gleaming crystal and swallowed the mouthful of sparkling French champagne. “Sorry, Rita.” He said, promptly swirling around to swipe a flute from another passing waiter, offering it to the woman standing opposite.

It was strange being at the wedding of somebody you didn’t know, but August had wanted to bring Mary dancing and where better place to dance than a wedding? Now, faced with the prospect of talking to Rita, he found his mind blank. “... Are you enjoying yourself? Everybody else seems to be having a great time.”

…

“I guess hitting it big would have been a more achievable goal if I was still a trust fund baby.” Reggie gave a small shrug of his shoulder. That was one of those big pieces. One of the things that absolutely fed into his lack of passion and drive. He wasn’t living off his parents money anymore, wasn’t skating by with decent grades and deep pockets. Everything now went to making sure he could eat and live and feed his ridiculous and lovely cat. He didn’t have the luxury of fucking around like he did when he was a teen, didn’t have that safety net since he’d disavowed his parents and they’d cut him out completely. They were social climbers, and Reggie wasn’t. They wanted to be a perfect pureblood family and Reggie wanted to stand up for the little guy. But sometimes he wondered if his morals really outweighed the benefits of being a spoiled rich kid.

But then he looked at his friends. Looked at Dorcas and Doris and August, and he knew he’d made the right call. 

He let out a soft snort of a laugh and shook his head a bit, giving August a careful nudge with his shoulder. “You’re the talent here, Rainbow Brite. I’m the pretty face. If you go and start changin’ our relationship dynamics, how will I keep up?” He was teasing, but it was true. August was a talent unmatched, and Reggie didn’t just think so because he was his best friend. He felt it with his whole chest, believed it with everything in him. 

He let out another soft chuckle, head shaking again as he downed the rest of his drink all in one go. “Don’t go leaving a standing invitation like that open or I’m going to show up in the middle of the night and crawl into bed with you for cuddles. You’ll wake up with Octopus Reggie just stuck to you.”

▷

“But you’re not. And that’s alright. You can’t hold yourself up to that same standard forever, Reg.” August knew all the ins and outs of Reggie’s family drama, as any good best friend did, and it broke his heart. Nobody deserved to have their family ripped out from under them, a fundamental support system suddenly made redundant after eighteen years. However, the knowledge had only come after the storm had passed. August had been trying to survive the untimely death of his father, which had resulted in a loss of communication on his end to everybody close to him. His apartment’s blinds were closed for months and track pants became the attire of choice—like there was room in his brain or energy in his bones for such a minute choice. August wouldn’t have wished it on his worst enemy.

Finding out what had been going on in Reg’s life had been another blow. Being too busy going through the motions of his own grief meant that he hadn’t been able to support Reg. Neither of them deserved what they went through, and August didn’t have the ability to just suddenly be over his grief, but he harboured feelings of regret for months after finding out what he had left Reg to deal with on his own.

He smiled at Reg now. “Are you saying I’ve a face only a mum could love? I think we’re both talented and downright beautiful.”

Hana did want a pastry, actually, but she did not want it from some strange bearded man who had never met a comb in his life. Honestly why men didn’t pay more attention to their appearance was absolutely beyond her. The number of people she’d seen come before the Wizengamot looking like complete slobs was… well, somewhat low but only because she’d barely been a seated member more than a few years. But that hardly seemed the point.

“No, I do not want a pastry.” She wanted several pastries. Maybe she could convince this guy just to drop them all and run away. “I’ve never seen you here before at this time. Why are you here?”

–

▷

August hadn’t expected such an averse reaction to his simple offering of a home-made custard tart, but then again he was also a stranger offering out baked goods in a city garden. They could’ve been laced with anything. They weren’t—except an additional layer of icing sugar that Corliss had sifted on just before packing them away—but how was anybody meant to know that? He pursed his lips.

…

“Somehow, I’ve managed to write some really good songs lately. I mean, nothing will ever top Best Arse in the Castle from my fifth year. Not sure if you ever even had the pleasure of hearing that one.” Reggie had that habit, just making sing-songy little joke numbers about every day situations between those times he actually buckled down and got serious. But lyrics also weren’t his strong suit and anyone that knew him knew that. He played a mean guitar and he could sing some pretty killer lyrics that other people wrote, but unless a bolt of lightening hit, he wasn’t writing the next Sgt. Pepper and he knew it. 

“I’m almost disappointed this isn’t head to toe paint splatters, to be honest. It would fit your image way better.” Seeing August not covered in paint was almost more jarring than seeing him with little splatters here and there on his clothes or his hands. His friend was a living painting, bringing his joy and passion to life and staining himself in the process, and Reg thought that was the one of the most beautiful things about him. “One day, when I’m a famous rockstar, you’ll have to let me play at the opening of your very own fancy art gallery.” The back of his hand lightly bumped against August’s and a slow grin spread over his face as he let his eyes linger on the milling crowd. That small comfort of brief contact, extended as Reggie just outright reached over to link their pinkies together, washed a wave of relief over him that felt great. Comfort was all that bled from August as far as Reggie was concerned.

“Family photos? Are there little babie August pictures in there I can steal for blackmail?” He teased lightly, his free hand lifting his drink that was placed on the bar and bringng it to his lips to hide a smirk. “I’ll be there. Beer and pizza, and I’ll bring my guitar. Maybe I’ll write Painted Love 2.”

▷

“Why are you surprised?!” August asked in disbelief, pint of Guinness halfway to his lips. “You are talented—it’s part and parcel, being able to write good songs, isn’t it?” Even if Reg didn’t think he was going to be a songwriter for the ages it seemed important to note that the Beatles had four members, and that George Harrison was just as important as the Lennon-McCartney duo. He took a sip of his stout and then laughed warmly. “I thought about it, I really did.” He had ultimately decided against wearing any of his other clothes due to their less-than-presentable manner, and try as he might to remove all traces of paint from his skin, splotches of blues and reds still sat comfortably in the crevices of his fingers and around his nails. There wasn’t a spell or trick he hadn’t tried to remove it, and even after ten years of painting he still hadn’t found the answer.

He looked over to his friend, now, and smiled. His suit, an electric blue three-piece, accentuated his eyes and smile, and the way his hand grasped his beer glass, condensation gathering at his fingertips, would have been a great study sketch. “The people would be more excited to see you more than the art.” He replied, and meant it. He had complete faith that one day Reggie would make it as a musician. He had plenty of time. August had been twenty-five before somebody had bought one of his paintings, and he still remembered it so vividly: it was all flourishing greens and effervescent oranges and so many thank you’s his mouth hurt from talking. He had owled his parents immediately and they had been so proud. August the Colourful! Look at you—congratulations! he remembered his dad saying, and the genuine happiness for his son hadn’t been lost on August.

★ –

“You don’t, you haven’t,” she quickly reassured, not wanting him to think he was making her uncomfortable. She was just… naturally awkward and rambled a lot. Plus, he was gorgeous, so it’d be weird if she wasn’t tripping over her words, right? “You’re perfect. Perfectly lovely, I mean.” Nice save, idiot.

“Thank you for inviting me as your date, I was terribly nervous about going by myself. Though I have many auror friends who’re no doubt keeping an eye on me.” She wasn’t ashamed of being Muggleborn. In fact, she was proud of it. It was just.. a peculiar thing to talk about at a wedding. Gosh, his smile was so lovely. “Sorry in advance if they hound you with questions, though. They tend to get very excited when they see me talking to anyone new.”

▷

Perfectly lovely? August was the one blushing now. He felt his neck begin to burn red at the compliment. Of course, he had been coupled up previously, but none of his previous partners made him feel remotely similar to the way Mary did. She was so bright, a beaming five-foot tall beacon of warmth and kindness and generosity that August was lucky enough to have on his arm for the night. He rubbed the back of his neck and pursed his lips to hide the smile creeping onto his lips. “Coming from somebody like yourself, that means a lot.”

…

Life had been rough for everyone. It was one of those things that Reggie told himself to affirm that his little fall off the wagon into a dark spiral wasn’t just a him problem. Everyone had shades of grey mucking up the colors in their life. Still, that didn’t change the fact that it had been harder to get through without his best friend by his side. Some nights, crying on his couch would have felt better if he was crying with his head on August’s shoulder, or brushing fingers through his hair while he cried, whatever direction things went. The weight would have been easier. Still, he wasn’t going to push the issue, and he was far too happy to have the man standing there in front of him. Dumb goofy smile and all.

Reggie let out a little chuckle, shaking his head a bit as he grabbed a drink and rested his hip against the wall. His eyes scanned the crowd, looking for the goddess that he got to call his date and spotting her across the room. He couldn’t wait to brag about her. “It’s okay. I’m just going to have to force my company on you more often. I started writing music again.” The corner of his lips lifted. He had Doris to thank for that. As well as Sorina, though he wasn’t going to tell her he was already writing a song about her. That would be a little weird. “Doris got me a job at a bar. Hot bartender, my ultimate dream in life.” 

He nudged August with his elbow, eyes cutting to him after a moment. “How about you. When do I get to see your latest masterpiece?”

▷

The delight that spread across August’s face when Reggie announced he was making more music was palpable. Their creativity bonded them: a friendship bloomed out of their shared ability to make pain beautiful. August through painting, and Reg through song-writing. Of course, both of them had produced some less-than-inspiring work: August remembered his foray into realism that solidified his lack of knowledge around shadows, and that he had no idea how to realistically paint a human body.  He also remembered Reg’s Painted Love, sung as he floated around August’s sunny apartment as August painted in the living room. It was a true masterpiece, but one that was destined to never be heard again. The memory made him smile. “That’s great, Reg. Fantastic. It sounds like things are really picking up, and you absolutely deserve it.”

“It’s all a bit messy at the moment. These are the only clothes I own that don’t have with paint on them.” He looked down at his suit, then back to Reg, his lips pursed momentarily. He thought of his living room again: half-finished canvases stacked up against the walls, a drop sheet covering the floor where his easel stood. Photos were spread out on his dining table, with a box of tissues not too far away. He had thought about inviting Reg over, even just for some quiet company while he worked, but had never followed through. The thought of whether he actually deserve to have Reg as his best friend popped up in his mind, but now was not the time.

★ –

He was so sweet and kind and lovely and it made Mary blush something terrible. “I lost a bet, actually –” she blurted out, “Marls, my friend - and I uh - I shouldn’t have even tried to challenge her to a drinking contest, she’s so bloody good at them and long story short she ended up with the simple, far less embarrassing dress and I.. should have just accepted your compliment and shut up, shouldn’t I?” She let out a laugh and squeezed her eyes shut for a brief second, wishing she could wind back time and not embarrass herself further. “It makes me nervous, if I’m honest.” She felt eyes on her. “I don’t usually come to these sorts of things.”

▷

As the blush rose on Mary’s face, August found himself entirely taken by her. The way she floundered building a sentence was so endearing, so sweet. All he wanted to do was make sure she was comfortable by his side; he certainly hoped he didn’t make her feel nervous. That  wasn’t his prerogative. But still, he smiled at her rambling and nudged her lightly. “It’s alright. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

As her body language changed, however, August lost the smile. The tone of her sentence prompted consideration of Mary’s life outside of the wedding. He wasn’t sure whether or not she was a Pureblood—not that it was of any importance—or if she had any enemies that may have also been in attendance. They were in the middle of a war that was becoming more and more divisive each day, so it wasn’t unusual to feel unsafe in large crowds.

Reggie barely heard the question. He was far too busy launching himself at his best friend and wrapping him up in a hug that was both far too tight and likely far too over the top for their surroundings. He even went as far as to pick August up (as best as he could) and spin him around like he was a princess in some fairytale. He could have happily stayed there half the evening, just hugging his friend and enjoying the warmth and comfort that came from the familiar embrace, but eventually, he relented and let go.

“You absolutely doorknob, if you ever go so much as another hour without writing me ever again, I will shave all those gorgeous curls from your head and show the world just how weirdly shaped that dome of yours really is.” He said all of it with a teasing tone, relief and joy mixed in. He was just so happy to see him. “It’s so good to see you.”

▷

August was nearly knocked off his feet at the velocity of Reg’s hug. He felt his feet lift off the ground, and he smiled widely into his friend’s shoulder, laughter filling what was left of the space between them. He couldn’t believe they had let time lapse for so long between visits; not when being in each other’s company was as enjoyable as this. He gave Reggie one last squeeze, then pulled away.

It was such a relief to hear Reggie’s voice, even if he was threatening to reveal August’s scalp to the world. “It’s so good you’re here. I’m sorry I haven’t written. Life just...” He shrugged. August hardly had a good excuse for not getting in contact with Reg more regularly apart from work, which had recently been eating up the majority of his emotional capacity. He was in the throes of drafting a new collection, crafted with chunky oils on thick canvas and filled with memories so tender August needed to take a breather every now and then. But he was enjoying painting for the first time in what felt like years, and that was more than enough for now.