solitary refinement

Bertha laughed (a cross between a snort and a chuckle – a chortle?) and shook her head in disbelief. “How old are you?”

“...I’m twenty-eight. Why?”

Severus looked up at the man. He hesitated a moment, surprised by his amiability, but then nodded.

“The trick will be to find somewhere that’s also relatively empty. Not sure if that’s something you prefer too, but I’d certainly rather not leave a loud area in order to just go to a crowded one.”

“Yeah, weird. Like most things, really, if you think too hard on ‘em.”

“Best you try not to, otherwise you’ll land yourself in quite the existential crisis.”

“Oh! I’ve been reading these books by Agatha Christie. She’s a muggle author, and she writes great mysteries. If you ever feel like checking her stories out, I’d be more than happy to lend you one of my copies.”

“It’d be like the library, only less stuffy old ladies telling you to hush.”

“You know, I never really minded the stuffy old ladies. Always remind me of my grandmother, though, it was really their clothes more than anything else, come to think of it.”

Bertha smiled, wickedly, but shook her head. She was not about to make a kinky sex joke at this poor man – she had some self restraint. “No, no. Not today.”

“Right, good, maybe you can think on that and re-evaluate your self-worth, or something like that. I’m no therapist, nor am I any good at comforting anybody. Sorry, miss.”

“Yes, well, I must admit: the knowledge that other people are having fun has never been particularly soothing to my own discomfort.”

“...Yeah, that probably wasn’t helpful. My bad.”

“How do you know?”

“...I don’t. It’s just incredibly common. It seems very unlikely to me that someone could go their entire life without staring at someone accidentally.”

“You promise.”

“I mean, I really wasn’t trying to stare at you. My eyes were open but I wasn’t looking at anything. Surely you’ve done the same.”

“Right, have I suddenly become inordinately interesting to stare at?”

“--No, no, I was just spacing out, I promise.”

“Has there ever been an owl rebellion before? Binns always prattled on about goblins, but I don’t remember anything about owls.”

“You know, I think that’s something you’d remember if it were real. There’s something about great, angry, winged, beaked creatures trying to take back what’s theirs that gives me the feeling an event like that’d stick in your head.”

“Oh,” Fabian said a bit sheepishly, acknowledging all this with a quick succession of nods. “Yeah, makes sense. You get around a lot in what you can research, or’re you stuck with something, or—or can you even tell me that?”

Broderick shrugged. “Each subject has different needs, different requirements. It’s a lot like everything else, I guess...but, y’know, weird.”

“Absolutely! One of my favorites.” She turned a burner on as she filled the kettle with water. Once it was warming she moved back into the living room and plopped criss cross on the floor.

“So, where were you headed before I rudely stole you away?”

“Library...have you any book recommendations? I was just planning to stroll about aimlessly, try to feel productive in my free time.”

Heliotrope giggled at his evident discomfort. “Yes, please. Make yourself comfortable. No need to be so tense.”

She waited until he was seated before sauntering over to the small cream colored ice box. “Let’s see. I’ve got beer, pumpkin juice, water, and some tea I can put on. What’ll it be?”

Sitting, he smiled and exhaled, releasing some of the tightness in his shoulders. “Right, er...have you got chamomile?”

“Well thank you. I think you’re pretty nice too.” Heliotrope walked through the threshold and gestured for him to follow. “Right this way. Make yourself at home.”

Broderick entered her home hesitantly. He was never sure how to behave in new places, especially when the new place belonged to a new person. He walked stiffly to the squashiest chair he could identify and gestured to it abruptly. “...Can I sit?”

“Well, you don’t have to.”

“Er...do you...want me to? You sound like you want me to.”

“Hmm, suppose you’re right. We do give them treats, after all. Always thought it was a bit weird to watch my house mates let their owls eat off their plates and drink from their goblets though.” 

“Yeah, that’s a bit personal, I guess. You let them act human, that’s when they rebel.”