𝒅𝒂𝒉𝒍𝒊𝒂

“Oh, well now isn’t that just so sweet of you to say.” Narcissa replied with a light chuckle as she allowed herself to be nudged to the side slightly by her friend. “And not always the case, if I remember rightly. Though it’s definitely been quite some time since you last stepped in to fight any of my battles.” She grinned, shaking her head. Just as Narcissa would have no bother stepping in to defend Dahlia without a second guess, Dahlia had done it plenty for Narcissa over the years. Not that Narcissa didn’t know how to defend herself, of course, but she had always been grateful for a friend who was close enough that she knew they’d have her back whenever she needed it. “Oh, of course it wouldn’t. But that doesn’t mean that I actually want to put the work in.” Narcissa retorted to her friends teasing. “And of course, though most of my collection is all packed up at the moment, just waiting for the day I’m married and move in to my new home.”

“distance has changed us,” she says dramatically, “we don’t see each other nearly enough since leaving the castle,” she admits. though dahlia knows most  of that was due to her job and how often she took work outside of london. she’s glad however, that the distance hasn’t changed their closeness quite as much as she thought it would. she rolled her eyes playfully at her friend, “of course you’d just prefer for it to land in your lap. not that i’m not hoping for the same. i don’t really want to pay that much for a broom i hardly know to use,” she admits. “ahhh, yes your impending marriage to lucy. are we happy about that or am i supposed to run away with you at the wedding?”

“Why don’t we explore somewhere else? I’m sure the heartbroken guitarist wouldn’t even miss us. And I think another person is going to go onto the stage. I’d quite like to save myself the trouble.” The second part was more to herself than anything. She watched the performer thank everyone, and begin to pack up his things. The last thing Pandora wanted to do was risk hearing a tone-deaf, would-be musician. She’d come in there for the company, and she’d gotten it. “There are a few shoppes that aren’t too busy, and the items don’t look entirely awful.”

dahlia normally would have not been amenable to such a suggestion, but as she saw the new performer coming up she couldn’t help but want to rush out of there. she’d heard them perform before and their sound was the equivalent of having a jackhammer in your brains. “yeah, sure.” she says, though still not happy with the company she got for the night. she had been expecting a friend, not a stranger. “but you’re buying me a scotch at the end of this.” she had to be getting something out of this interaction at least. “lead the way. ”

          Amycus figured everything he said was probably unpleasant. He never tried to comfort someone. Even with Alecto his words seemed harsh, not comforting. Though he didn’t know how to change that or if he even wanted to. “That’s where we differ. I love taking away people’s unhappiness.” He really did enjoy seeing someone’s eyes turn to fear when they looked at him. Maybe not the best thing to admit, but Amycus didn’t care. “I don’t have that talent, unfortunately,” he said, pursing his lip. “Don’t worry. I have no use for brooms.” He wasn’t a fan of Quidditch like some people and he didn’t like flying. There were easier ways to travel by magic and he preferred them. “In the cupborad where it’s supposed to go. Unless you have those fancy bottles.” If it were up to him, he’d live in a place with no decorations. Belongings meant nothing to him. “I don’t care about cursed objects. I just want to curse my enemies.” 

she blinked in a pronounced manner at his statement. slightly surprised, but coming to realize that it was expected of him. he’d never been sunshine and rainbows always doom and gloom. “you’d kick a person while they’re down wouldn’t you?” she asks, curious despite already having an idea of what his answer would be. despite this she didn’t look at him with fear, only curiosity. “everyone has a use for brooms. they’re incredibly useful for getting around, but i guess i’ll try and take your word for it.” she was half convinced he was trying to let her guard down so he could take it. “they’re very fancy bottles, if there’s anything to splurge on its liquor. they don’t belong in a cupboard where absolutely no one will see them.” not that anyone was seeing them other than herself. dahlia barely took visitors after all. “and how many enemies could you possibly have? you’re twenty-four you’re too young to have any mortal enemies.”

          “Is it?” he asked, shrugging. It wasn’t that complicated of a plan in his opinion. Why try pulling off a long complicated heist with a distraction when it wasn’t necessary and brute force could do the job for you. But sure, if Dahlia thought it was a very diabolical plan, then it probably was. He wasn’t that smart. Whenever he could, brute force was the best way to get something from someone. He liked fighting people and honestly, violence was the only thing that made him happy. Amycus didn’t even care how bad that sounded. “Did you steal the winning ticket? Or rig it somehow? That sounds like something my sister would do.” He rolled his eyes as she jumped up and down like a child. “Well, I hate to fly, so I’m not stealing it.” He hated admitting that he wasn’t good at something. It wasn’t that he wasn’t good at flying, it was that he was scared of heights. But who wanted to admit weakness? “What’s the point of getting a place with built in bookcase if you don’t read?” he asked. “Do you at least store cursed objects there? Alecto has a large collection of cursed stuff. She won’t let me near it. It’s not like I want to be cursed, but I could give it to someone else.” 

“well maybe not diabolical, but it is unpleasant,” she said scrunching up her nose. “i don’t actually enjoy taking away people’s happiness. it’s usually just a side effect.” she danced around with her winning ticket, a more graceful sight than one would expect from someone with such an abrasive personality. “no stealing, no rigging, just luck. some of us are born lucky i guess,” she says, smiling. “if you even tried to steal it i’d hex you,” she admits, knowing that they weren’t at a level of friendship where she could easily forgive him. “i didn’t get the place for the bookshelf obviously. i got it because the place is cheap besides where would i put my alcohol if there wasn’t a bookshelf?” she shrugged her shoulders, “i keep my prizes in a vault,” she doesn’t specify where, but given her occupation it was a no brainer. but amycus had never been the brightest from what she could recall. “i will now be wary of anything you give me,” she admits, “now that i know you have a predilection to gift cursed objects.”

Lily managed to shrug good-naturedly at the question, although she bristled a little at the judgement she could hear in the other woman’s tone. “Probably,” she acknowledged. “But when you know, you know, right? Besides, with things getting as crazy as they are now, it seems like we should live as much life as we can, while we can.” She was referring, of course, to the growing tensions in the wizarding world surrounding blood status and blood purity. She knew that some people were unconcerned about the whole thing, although she couldn’t imagine how that could be. Perhaps for the people it didn’t affect, it was easier to ignore. Lily would never know. She’d been destined for this fight since the moment she was born. She nodded in reluctant agreement when the other demanded that she tell her how to fix her injury on her own. “That’s understandable, I suppose. I’d usually use a salve to treat a burn like that, but if you’re in a rush, a quick episkey should do the trick.” 

‘when you know you know,’ dahlia had never heard that saying about marriage within her circle. marriage was often times a business contract, one that she was glad no one was enforcing onto her. it was the one perk of being fatherless and having an empty shell for a mother. though she often wondered when her grandparents would eventually step in and put their foot down about how dahlia has been living her life. “and you think a quick marriage is the way to live life?” she asks in disbelief, “sounds rash. that’s a lifelong contract.” dahlia didn’t care, really she didn’t. but her thoughts and mouth had always had a life of their own and it was rare that she’d be able to hide it. tact was reserved for people she’d known for years. she did the spell, wondering how on earth she could have forgotten something so simple. “well it hasn’t healed it, but it’s better,” she said, refusing to admit that the burn had given her pain. 

“Caligula was the nickname of a Roman emperor, but it means little boot. Caligula the kneazle hurt his paw when he was a kitten, and the healing spells turned his fur white on that paw. So it’s like he’s got a little boot.” Alecto thought that sounded fairly ridiculous when she said it out loud, but whatever. Most people liked kneazles– Amycus’s hatred of her pet was the outlier, she reminded herself. 

“I’ve not done it often, but it’d likely be better to know ahead of time than to have to learn on the job.” She made a face. “Merlin, it was awful. Mud everywhere. We spent an entire week setting up the platforms before we could even start working, because we had to levitate everything for half a mile from where the solid ground ended. Apparently that area’s drier in the summer, but the Ministry didn’t want to wait six months.”

“interesting,” she said, plainly. the story behind the kneazle’s name was all a little too cutesy for dahlia’s taste. not that she would voice it out loud, her face however made a slight twitch. she hadn’t expected something like this from alecto, having had a different impression of the girl throughout their childhood – one that was wrong. or perhaps she had just failed to see this particular side of her. they had never been the closest of friends and at times dahlia wondered if she could even call the blonde one. “sounds like a lot of unnecessary work, but i suppose the ministry waits for no one.” she had been offered a job with the ministry once before, but eventually turned it down as once gringott’s heard of the offer they more than matched it. besides, dahlia had never been one to jump ship quite so easily. feeling the conversation dying down, dahlia downed the rest of her hot chocolate and tossed it in a nearby bin. “i think it’s going to be a while before they start announcing winners, i’m going to go in for a firewhiskey. you’re welcome to come with.” alcohol had always been her buffer for awkwardness, and she’d never had any qualms about day drinking. 

“Now that’s the winning attitude that we love to hear.” Narcissa nodded, offering a small chuckle as she watched Dahlia hold up her raffle ticket. She hoped that luck was indeed on her friends side today and that she did win the broom. And it wasn’t out of pity or anything that she thought as much, Narcissa simply didn’t see anyone else currently in the Village who deserved to win it, but that could have been because she very little positive things to say about everyone else who was there. “Oh, I’ve no doubt that it would go for several thousand at the very least. And then some if it’s hand signed by the author… I can already see where it will live among my collection, so let’s hope I don’t have any extra leg work to do in order to get it in my possession.” 

she’s not often in such a good mood, especially not when it was as cold as it was, but seeing her old friend brought out a different side of her that had been missing since she was indefinitely put out of field work. “what can i say you bring out the positive, non-violent side of me,” she says with a small smile, bumping cissa’s shoulder with hers. the statement wasn’t necessarily all true, as she could remember a few times that she had picked fights on behalf of her friend back in hogwarts. dahlia had always been protective of the people she cared about and she’d earned a few cuts and scrapes fighting people over the smallest of slights. “a little extra hard work wouldn’t hurt you,” she says with a slight roll of her eyes, only teasing. “already have a place cleaned out and ready for this then? how do you still have room?”

“It’s still your home,” Violet replies, “You’ll go home to it always. Even after all your adventures and what not.” She has always believed that a house should feel like a home, somewhere you can truly be comfortable in. A place you don’t have to guard yourself in. A place of no pretense. A safe bubble of sorts. Clearly, Dahlia disagrees. Even though she’s been mostly home for the past six months. A fast which does not go unnoticed by Violet. “Getting one painting isn’t going to hurt you. I can send you one if you can’t be bothered to buy one.” Looking at the long line of people in front of them, she sighs, already knowing that this will be a long wait by the stillness of the people in front of them. Her hand going out to yank Dahlia’s, urging her quietly to stop launching snow at the innocent man in front of them. Violet would like to avoid a fight with a stranger this morning. She hasn’t drunk enough cafeine to duel. “You’ll recoup your losses,” she shrugs before continuing in a monotonous tone, repeating a life lesson she had been given years ago by a financial mentor, “If you start betting then you’ll start gambling. Then you’ll lose all your money and even your home.” She tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear, glancing down at the watch on her wrist, noting the time before retorting back. “My sense of adventure died the moment my housemates dared me to go into the Forbidden Forest at midnight to call out a banshee.”

“it would look misplaced,” she grimaces as she thinks of whatever piece of artwork violet might obtain placed on her bare white walls. “if i get one painting i’d have to start getting more and then i’d graduate to potted plants and next thing you know i’d have a pet that i’d be unable to leave on its own and then what will happen then? i’d never get to leave.” she’s aware that she’s thinking too far ahead and that it’s unlikely she’d ever get a second painting, but she was trying to talk violet out of the ridiculous notion that she needed to make her place more homey. as if she’d ever feel anything other than suffocated inside four walls. she doesn’t stop launching snow onto the man until he looks back at her with a scowl and she gives him a fake innocent smile that gets him to finally vacate the area. however, dahlia is met with another obnoxiously tall being (though not quite as tall as the man who just left) and she’s back to launching snow again. she doesn’t want to talk money, she has more than she needs. her job may be dangerous, but it does pay well. and while she had lost a few thousand in one investment, her other investments were thriving. she was living well below her means in a sketchy neighborhood with low rent and loud neighbors – the noise had never bothered her after all. “you’ve never told me that story,” she says, stopping her assault on the stranger to look curiously upon her sister, “i can’t believe you would have actually gone through with it – did you stay near the edge?”

“I’ll never understand your taste in decorations,” she shakes her head. Having seen what constitutes as decorations at Dahlia’s place (alcohol bottles on a bookshelf instead of a nice little bar section?), Violet figures it’s only natural for Dahlia to gravitate towards a novelty broom for a wall piece. It’s so Dahlia. “The money can be invested into something that isn’t going to decrease in value in six months.” she finishes the last of her hot chocolate. The liquid burns her tongue but leaves her throat warm. A protection against the morning’s mist and cold. “Investments are safe you know.” She gives Dahlia a look, one that indicates the words she leaves unspoken always. Safer than your job. Violet has always known that she can’t stop Dahlia from pursuing adventure but she does worry for her sister and her knack of breaking into cursed sites Cursebreaker isn’t the safest job in the world. The mortality rate is concerning. “Apparition is faster. Heights are terrifying.”

“i don’t stay there for long,” she says, still pretending as if her loft was just a transitory space rather than a full on home. she’d never felt at home within four walls, loved seeing the stars at night as she fell asleep at campsites. “there’s no need for pretty paintings and potted plants – just a good glass of scotch for a nightcap.” she says, bouncing on her heels slightly as she strained her neck to see past the unbelievable tall man blocking her view. “i have investments,” she says, she worked for a bank of course she knew about them. “and they’re not safe. i lost a few thousand galleons just last month. i still prefer good old-fashioned bets if you ask me.” she looked down at her feet, kicking snow onto the man in an attempt to get him to move. “you can’t apparate onto a site you’ve never been to,” she shrugs, “plus century old anti-apparition wards in most of them,” she argues. “and terrifying can be good – where’s your sense of adventure?”

“That’s wasteful.” Violet points out, tightening her coat around her body as she trudges down Hogsmeade with Dahlia; faint dark circles under her eyes and her face puffy. She hadn’t planned on going with her sister to her broom raffle event this morning, never having much interest in Quidditch herself and having a total amount of zero excitement for something as mundane as brooms. But Dahlia can be persuasive. And Violet likes the hot chocolate they sell here. Taking a quick sip from her cup, she looks to Dahlia. “And it’s a broom, it doesn’t need a glass box. They’re meant to get dirty, scrawny, and ugly.” She gestures to nothing in particular. “If I were you, I’d resell it at a high price. People are always desperate for unavailable new things.”

“the glass box would make it seem special though,” she insists with a bit of a lisp as the hot chocolate had just burned her tongue. “but i guess as my only piece of decoration it will be special enough.” she shrugs, fingers seeking warmth from her cup as she moves closer to violet in attempt to gather warmth. she didn’t quite count the bookshelf filled with bottles of alcohol, gifted and bought alike, as decoration despite the fact that the need for storage had turned out aesthetically pleasing. “pffft,” she says, the sound entirely unladylike, “i don’t need the money, i made a killing on my last site." she doesn’t mention that her last site had been more than six months ago due to her injury, something that would have been unheard of had she come out of it unscathed. dahlia didn’t often stay home too long, a few weeks at most between sites. “besides, maybe i’ll finally learn to fly properly with a good enough broom – it’s a good skill to have.”

          Amycus knew he was right. People forgot winning something after a while, but stealing something, that either made someone feel guilty or it thrilled them. Either emotion was enough to remember the actual story. Honestly, Amycus just took what he wanted regardless. He’d even have followed the winner and stole it. Actually that gave him an idea. “Sure,” he grinned, knowing that he was right. He had no use for a broom. There were very few things Amycus didn’t like to admit that he had weaknesses, but he hated flying. Heights were something that got to him. “Oh, no actually, you just let the sucker that wins it win the prize. They’ll be so distracted that they won the prize, they won’t even pay attention if someone’s following them to take it. Then they’ll be too embarrassed to say the prize they won got stolen because they’re an idiot.” Amycus was might not be very smart, but he did know how to come up with a good plan to take something from someone. He thought about his home and how empty it was, or how empty it would be if Alecto didn’t have her stuff in there. “Wall of alcohol. This sounds intriguing.” 

“that’s diabolical,” she says in an even tone. unsure whether she would be willing to takes someone’s happiness away like that. dahlia had never been the kindest person. some may even say she went out of her way to be rude. and she picked fights. physical fights that ended in lasting injuries, but she had never deliberately sought to make someone unhappy. her bad behavior had always been a result of her moods. “but unnecessary because,” she leaned over and showed him her ticket, “if you listen closely,” she smiled, “they’re saying these numbers right now.” she doesn’t even attempt to hide the squeal as she hops up and down, clapping her hands on his back in her happiness. she was such a child sometimes. “i guess i’ll be the idiot someone tries to steal from if i’m not careful.” she drags him with her as she begins the trek toward her prize. “oh you know, i’ve got a built in bookshelf and i don’t read so i just store all the good stuff on it.”

When it came to the cost of things, Narcissa was certainly a product of her upbringing. It was very easy for her to forget that many people didn’t have it as easy as she had, and merlin did she have it more than easy, so sometimes she did need a gentle reminder of that fact when it came to her friends. “I guess you’re right, my apologies. Though even if you did get it from me, or say the winning ticket happened to land in your hands, you don’t own anyone an explanation for a thing. Instead you tell them exactly what you want them to hear.” Narcissa nodded, offering a small shrug. “Oh, of course it will. This girl takes her collection seriously and I wouldn’t want that one slipping through my hands if it can be avoided.” 

“i supposed if someone did drop the winning ticket and i somehow found it on the fallen snow then it would be an even better story,” she says with a half-smile. “but of course since i’m obviously very lucky today that won’t be necessary because i will get that broom with this ticket.” she’s sure of it somehow and she holds up the ticket in the air, letting the sun shine on it dramatically. she woke up that day feeling as if things were just going to go her way. “what do first editions go for these days anyway? i heard this one is signed by the author so it must be a lot.” 

“It’s a pleasure.” Pandora blinked when her hand dropped. She pressed her lips together and turned to face the performer again, clearing her throat at the action. She wasn’t entirely sure how to interact with strangers. Of course, the term ‘strangers’ didn’t quite apply to a known member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. “A small bonfire? I think the girl would’ve been better off setting him aflame, don’t you think?”

dahlia doesn’t return the sentiment, not feeling the need to say meaningless pleasantries. it had always felt a little like lying to her, but most of all it was too much effort for someone she was unlikely to see again. “we only say small bonfire for legal purposes,” she says, finally glancing at the girl and giving her a hint of a smile. perhaps she wasn’t so bad after all and after being stood up, it would be nice to not look like a complete idiot. “setting him aflame would have been something someone younger and less discreet would do,” of course it would be a lie to pretend that she hadn’t tried, but she didn’t owe pandora an explanation.