the rest is confetti

“Who doesn’t like the sound of their own voice? Someone who does has far more pressing problems than a dart game.”

Charity let out a soft, playful laugh, her eyes sparkling as she leaned a little closer, letting her arm brush against his. “A Flaming Chimaera, huh? Bold choice,” she murmured, voice low and teasing. “Half spectacle, half danger… I like that. Makes me want to see if it’s as fiery as you say.”

"I'd rather have them think I was sick then turned off by something they did. I try not to insult that many people and when we're both in bed, seems the worst place to say her breath was rancid. I didn't realize the girl had a complex and couldn't read the signs. She ended up making soup and I pretended to pass out from being tired," he explained candidly, thinking it might be the liquor that was turning his usual dryness into a blanket of honesty. His lips lifted into a rare chuckle at her turn of confession. "That's definitely better than what I would've done."

Charity leaned back, swirling her glass as if thinking deeply, though her smirk betrayed just how much she was enjoying the conversation. “Quite the roster you’ve got there, Avery,” she said, voice playful but measured. “Estelle, Pandora… a little schoolboy crush on Bellatrix. Not surprising, though. You’re… selective. Cautious, even. Careful not to insult anyone, and maybe a bit haunted by past mistakes."

Antonin let the corner of his mouth tilt, though it never reached his eyes. “Most people wouldn’t relish being called messy, much less claim it with pride. But,” he gave a faint shrug, deliberate and unhurried, “to each their own. If you thrive in disorder, who am I to spoil your fun?”

Charity let out a low laugh, sharp enough to slice clean through the weight of his words. “Merlin, Dolohov. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you liked hearing yourself talk more than the game.” Her dart finally left her hand, landing off-center with a soft thud, but she didn’t even bother to glance at the board, clearly more interested in the sparring than the score.

"Absolutely never," she confirmed with a serious nod. "I take nights out very seriously." However her show of seriousness disappeared a second later when Charity's fingers brushed her cheek and a faint blush followed in their wake. She laughed softly, shaking her head. "And I'd hate to disappoint."

Charity laughed, rolling her eyes as she picked up her drink. “I was, technically,” she admitted with a careless shrug. “But let’s just say the wizard was a bit… peculiar. Ten minutes in, and he was passionately describing his collection of self-stirring cauldrons. Riveting, really.”

Max would believe that he held a hard poker face as it was something that he practiced and was unusually good at. He could create a believable lie with easy effort. It was why task forces in New York, both Muggle and No Maj alike, couldn't catch him. His mouth raised into a smirk at her words, feeling like he couldn't lie to her in that moment. He was fresh from his loss and still looked entertained by her. "You'd make a good auror," he grins as he collects his stuff to stand, hellbent on skipping the next fight that was being set up.

She accepted the cigarette between her fingers like it was a dare, brushing past his hand just enough to linger. Charity didn’t look away as she took a drag, eyes fixed on him through the curl of smoke before handing it back. “My next move?” she echoed, stepping closer until the space between them was more suggestion than distance. Her shoulder nearly brushed his chest, her voice a low tease. “You think I dragged you out here with a plan? Maybe I just missed the company.”

who : @bbcharity

She startled at the sudden chill of butterbeer soaking through her sleeve, though the expletive and flustered apology made her laugh before she could muster up any indignation. “Well, that’s one way to say hello,” the witch teased lightly, flicking her wrist as if to inspect the sticky mess but clearly not too put out. “I’d almost be impressed if you’d aimed that well on purpose.”

There was no denying that anything with lavender appeared to be an acquired taste. Perhaps it was her upbringing, all those years spent out in a garden that was filled with the plant in question and somehow had, next to tulips, become her favorite but the brunette was very much there for it and happy to give it a try. What was the harm in that either way.

The blonde didn’t need more convincing; her stomach had been growling since she’d arrived. She plucked one of the pops from the bag with a grin, biting in without hesitation. “Alright, not bad. Better than not bad, actually. Could eat a dozen of these and still pretend I’m just ‘sampling the merchandise.’” Her tone was cheeky, but there was real satisfaction in it— she was all too hungry at this point in the evening, and food was the one thing that could keep her good-natured.

It was a dynamic that had always and would always work and Estelle was grateful for it, smirking and laughing as she pulled her friend toward one of the stalls. One glance and it appeared to be pixie catch. "Do we feel like playing that? I'm sure we can manage to catch one of those." The blonde turned around, eyes falling on another stall with pumpkin bowling. "Or that? Over there is puffskein toss but I'm not sure how thrilling I would find tossing those small creatures around." Creatures Estelle liked a surprisingly lot, actually.

Charity eyed the stalls Estelle pointed out, lips quirking into a half-smile. “Pixie catch? Pumpkin bowling? Puffskein toss? Darling, these all look… mediocre at best. Hardly up to my standards,” she teased, her tone playful rather than cruel. “If we’re relying on these to entertain me, we’re in real trouble.”

As much as he deeply hated to admit it, Charity had a point again. As usual. It was almost infuriating how much better she was at all of this. She wouldn't have these sorts of problems, Nick just knew it. At least he'd gotten her back a little bit, with that fucking comment. That did make him feel better.

She snorted into her drink, nearly choking from laughing at his melodrama. “A hole to rot in? Please. You’d last five minutes before clawing your way back out just to whinge at me about how damp it was.” The blonde reached over and flicked his sleeve. “And for the record, if you ever actually asked me to hold your hand, I’d frame the moment. I’d make it art.”

"Well if you insist," Florence allowed with a sweet smile. She let Charity take the glass, leaning her elbow on the table and resting her chin on her hand. "Oh I'd never let a promising evening go to waste," she argued with a small shake of her head.

The witch tilted her head, eyes glittering as she leaned in closer. “Never, hm?” she echoed, her tone lilting with mock doubt. With a grin tugging at her lips, she reached up, brushing her fingers along Florence’s cheek as she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“Set up rules so you can break them… grasp at a fleeting sense of control through the performance of losing it. Is that the game, then?” His tone was soft, but laced with something that might have been mockery, or curiosity. “And what if I told you to set the rules yourself? Would you find that too dull, or would you dance twice as hard to trip over them?”

Charity let out a quiet laugh, sharp and edged, her eyes narrowing just slightly as if weighing him up. “So what— you think I need rules to trip over? I’m quite capable of making a mess without the excuse, thank you very much.” She tapped the next dart against her palm, casual and unhurried, though her gaze stayed fixed on him instead of the board.

Nick resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at her. She'd only tease him for it and she had an awful lot of teasing to get through already. Best not to give her more to work with than necessary. "Fine, fine. Duel him for it, I'd love to see that fight."

Charity barked a laugh so loud a couple of heads turned their way. “Oh, my Godric. That is not the visual I needed tonight, thank you very much. I’ll be scrubbing that image out of my brain with firewhisky.” She fanned herself theatrically, then leaned across the table with a wicked grin. “But also? Good for you. Truly. I’m proud.”

Antonin’s expression didn’t shift until he realized that was part of the challenge.  His face softened as he picked up a dart, testing its weight with an almost imperceptible flick before tossing it without looking.  The dart struck a single bull, not the eye.  He had to make it a contest after all. “So,” he drawled, “what game are we playing? Or should I have waited so you could call my shots?  If you can hit the zero in the twenty, that would be a testament to your skill.  Perhaps even enough to make this worth calling a challenge worthy of my attention.”

Charity’s smirk widened, eyes lingering on him rather than the dartboard as she twirled a dart between her fingers. “See, that’s the problem with you—you make everything sound like life or death, when sometimes it’s just a bloody game.” She flicked her wrist, sent the dart flying without so much as glancing at the board, and stepped closer into his space.

"It's a monkey in a circus costume that can clap when you want to wake up, what's not to like about that? It's impressive and quite well executed," he said, admiring the craft and adding it to his cart. If their baby didn't want it then James would have no problem adding it to his and Lily's room. "I'm not panicking-I actually heard from a really reliable source that asking more questions is a sign of care and I've asked at least sixty questions today alone so I would say I'm doing better than usual," he frowned. "Watch it, Burbage. Or I'll find a really great manifester to curse your offspring to have a dragon tail and a snout."

Charity laughed, shaking her head. “A monkey in a circus costume that claps… really, James, you’ve officially lost all sense of priorities,” she teased, bumping his shoulder lightly. “And sixty questions? That’s not ‘care,’ that’s full-on interrogation mode. You really need to dial it down before the baby starts taking notes.” She grinned, leaning back a little. “Honestly, I wouldn’t be a mom if someone paid me in Galleons. That whole vibe of late nights, crying, spit-up… not for me. I’ll leave the parenting chaos to you and Lily—and maybe just come by to steal the monkey when it’s not performing.”

who: @bbcharity where: zonko's

The last time she saw him was what she thought would be the last ever, but here he was. The witch didn’t know what to expect, but it certainly did seem like a cruel joke. Charity leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Well, if it isn’t Mr. Trouble himself. Didn’t think you’d actually show up yourself. Curious—come to gloat, apologize, or just ruin my day for fun?” She let the question hang, her eyes rolling slightly. “And just so we’re clear, I’m only here because it pays. Everything else about this job? Absolutely soul-crushing.”

The other times with Charity had been a healthy dose of distraction. Charity found her in that bar when Mary had trusted herself with one drink and would call it a night. Then entered Charity with her charm and a different plan entirely. It felt like she was impersonating Peter Pan and Mary was happily to play along with being Wendy. She was used to that with her with her Gryffindor friends, but said friends were all doing their own thing. And then there was Mary. "Oh, I wasn't. Busy that is," she said, smiling through the plateu of boring that she had been which was mourning a friendship that would never be the same between her and Peter. It still tugged at her how that conversation ended so shortly. "Wow, better than sex. That must be some chocolate," she teased. "Oh, on the ground reporting I can do. I am a professional after all." She mimicked Charity's teasing remarks and grin as if they were paired for each other. A warm flush came to her cheeks. "Like I said, I have experience with on the ground reporting and I'd love to share my findings after. I'll get my coat."

Charity blinked, genuinely taken aback for a heartbeat, before her grin spread impossibly wider. She felt a little amused—and curious. There might be something to Mary she hadn’t shown anyone just yet. “You’re full of surprises, Macdonald. I was half-expecting you to sulk and mumble about deadlines.” She looped an arm through Mary’s as they stepped into the street, tugging her gently along. “Now, I don’t want to frighten you, but I might have a few detours planned,” she said with a wink. “Nothing too criminal… probably. Just some minor chaos that may involve enchanted lanterns, a very stubborn map, and maybe—if you’re daring enough—testing whether Camden Market’s broomstick rental guy actually lets two people ride one at the same time.”