wild things

Well, this had not quite been the lunch break Dajo expected. Of course they’d read about the planned raid in the paper but hadn’t really connected any of the dots. The only news that really stuck in their head was family related, and there wasn’t nearly as much of that here. Not to mention the fact they were only like, 40% sure where anything really was in this Alley.

They couldn’t see Aydin, Arden, or anyone else they knew. What if any of them were hurt? Dajo was no Healer, but they need knew how to work a bandage.

“Are all Ministry raids like this?” Dajo asked as someone pulled them out of the way of a panicked mother. “It’s very, uhh.... panicked?”

wcldflowers​:

open . / @beforedawnstarters​

    ❝   did  you  already  forget  that  i  said  i  would  pay  earlier  ?  you  can  buy  next  time  ,  i  promise  . ❞

-

“I’m holding you to that.” Dajo threatened, tucking their wallet away reluctantly. Iris was so nice. Telling her no was like kicking a puppy. “There’s no way you’re getting away with paying twice, Miss Jing.”

“Like a romance, but with your bro.” Lorcan raised an eyebrow, wondering who on earth hadn’t heard of bromance. “More important than romance romance, for sure.”

--

“But what’s the different between romance romance, and one with your bro? Shouldn’t you be friends with someone you’re romancing? Isn’t that supposed to be part of it?”

        ❝   if   you   ever   need   someone   to   map   out   a   trip   for   you,   i’d   be   happy   to   do   so   —   or   even   just   a   free   place   to   stay.   ❞   aydin   realized   he   probably   should   visit   more,   becoming   so   very   english   over   the   years.   ❝   you   don’t   have   to   thank   me,   i’d   rather   get   you   the   best   jacket   money   can   buy   than   watch   you   freeze   to   death,   you   know   ?   ❞   he   chuckled   as   they   made   their   way   into   gladrags.   aydin   introduced   himself   to   the   person   at   the   counter   and   let   them   know   exactly   why   they   were   there.   ❝   do   you   have   a   favorite   color   ?   ❞  

--

“A free--?” Dajo had to swallow around the lump in their throat. Years scraping and saving so carefully made anything like a gift feel more like a trap. Aydin wasn’t like that though. Aydin just seemed kind. “There has to be some way for me to pay you back, Aydin. Let me cook for you at least. Proper Mexican food can’t be beat. Purple, I like purple best.”

arden was the ambassador’s daughter protege, even if she was everything her mother made her out to be, the men in the francisco family took credit for most of the women’s work to fix up their image. arden wasn’t proud of it, but this was who she was, and she was proud to be her mother’s daughter, that held the last name, even if most people in mexico didn’t understand it, didn’t understand of most that they went through in this superbly white place that her parents had landed her in. she had missed summers in mexico, but as she had gotten older those visits became less and less as she got older, more responsibilities, her mother had told her, and when she had gotten the mark and gotten engaged it had further proven that point. when the boy in front of her starts to speak she holds no curious face, nothing that forms shock. and when they mention their  her grandfather she knew what she was meant to do, how to act. 

“no,” she says, her voice and face passive, though it was new to her, she had looked at the other with a raised eyebrow. “i’m an only child, you must be delusional,” she says, the words sting on her tongue before she reiterates herself, “though, i wouldn’t be surprised. the wix mexico gossip must be incredibly bored.” there had been rumours of course, rumours that her mother had told her to bury, and of course, she had never believed any of them, because why would her parents lie to her? “i suggest you get your latest scoop else where,” she says as a warning, because she wasn’t beyond blasting their arse into the next century in front of thousands of people, especially because she had work in a few minutes. 

They didn’t tell her. Shit, she hadn’t known anything. Dajo knew a poker face when he saw one. It was a Conway specialty. Had their grandfather taught Arden that as well? He could feel the Plan shifting in his head as they spoke, writing her out of the brimstone and fire. If she didn’t know, she wasn’t complicit. If she wasn’t complicit, she didn’t deserve what he had planned. “I’m not delusional.” He said, voice much kinder than it had been just a moment before.

“Why do you think they left? All that gossip, all those years on years, there’s truth in rumors that last that long.” He said. “Why do you think you stopped going back these last years? I’d started my job by then. We could’ve run into each other. You would’ve heard the way they all talk about me. Francesco Conway’s unloved bastard, walking around like the world hadn’t tried to force him out. Think about it, Arden.”

        mary-jane   was   stunned,   to   say   the   least.   the   amount   of   dedication   taken   into   this   seemingly   small   act   on   her   part   made   her   realize   the   other   was   truly   in   it   for   answers.   ❝   and   this   novel   you’ve   got   isn’t   proof   enough   ?   ❞   her   left   brow   shot   up,   but   she   shrugged   and   wrote   down   everything   they   said   —   benjamin   vargas.   ❝   so   it   seems,   you’re   a   long   way   from   home,   ❞   she   noted   as   she   stood   up   and   flicked   her   wrist,   her   wand   leading   her   exactly   to   which   drawer   to   search   in   as   it   shot   right   out   at   her.   she   skimmed   the   files,   then   finding   vargas,   something   surprising   to   mary-jane.   ❝   you   must   have   family   here   then,   or   there   wouldn’t   be   a   copy   of   your   file   in   this   office,   ❞   she   commented   as   she   sat   back   down   across   them.   squinting,   she   then   started   reading   from   the   top.   ❝   bejamin   vargas,   twenty-five,   halfblood.   son   of   palmira   vargas   and   —   ❞   mary-jane   paused   at   the   sight   of   conway   as   the   surname   of   their   father.   was   it   a   coincidence   with   arden   ?   but   why   else   would   their   file   be   in   the   united   kingdom   ?   ❝   what   do   you   need   proof   for,   exactly   ?   ❞

--

“It’s not proof they’d take seriously. Your proof, yours can’t be argued away.” Dajo was well used to the pause when it came to their parentage, or rather their father. Twenty odd years of the awkward silence in the air as mental math got done, and conclusions came together. It was better here, a little bit. The gossip clearly hadn’t followed dear ole dad overseas.

Dajo’s calm demeanor didn’t falter. Nothing this woman said would come anything close to what they’d already endured. “Legitimacy. I think he’s ignored me quite long enough.”

who: open

“I mean, just because you fucked doesn’t mean it’s not a bromance. That’s just taking care of your bro.”

--

“I don’t know this word, ‘bromance’?” Dajo said, trying to translate it in his brain and coming up short. It clearly had something to do with sex, he just wasn’t sure what taking care of a bro had to do with it all.

                 ❝   short   answer   ?   we   tend   to   not   visit   during   the   winter   months,   ❞   he   chuckled,   shaking   his   head   at   the   simple   excuse.   ❝   i   went   just   a   few   months   ago   so   i’ve   got   my   time   in   for   the   year.   ❞   at   the   others   thankful   response,   aydin   motioned   for   them   to   follow   the   opposite   way   in   the   alley.   ❝   with   colder   months   coming   up,   you’re   sure   to   still   find   something   great   in   stock,   but   you   can   also   get   a   personalized   one   yourself.   my   treat,   to   welcome   you   into   town.   ❞

--

“Looks like I know where to never go in the summer now.” They said, absolutely making an note. After all Dajo would need something to do once they’d finished destroying their father’s life. “That would be beyond amazing, honestly, I wouldn’t even begin to know how to thank you.”

                 the   other   was   certainly   persistent,   and   it   was   annoying   mary-jane   greatly.   ❝   they’re   dead.   ❞   she   replied   plainly.   ❝   i’ll   help   you   as   long   as   you’re   quick   and   can   get   out   of   my   presence   soon   —   and   no,   i   don’t   value   that   all   too   much.   ❞   her   eyes   narrowed   as   she   gather   out   her   book   and   a   new   quill.   ❝   name,   date   of   birth,   blood   status,   and   location   ?   for   you,   that   is.   then   tell   me   who   in   your   family   you’re   looking   for.   ❞

--

“Ah, mis condolencias.” They said, even though Miss Crabbe didn’t seem too upset about the whole thing. “I’ll do my best to keep it simple.” After a brief moment of hesitation Dajo pulled out a thick packet full of copies of every piece of proof they’d gathered. “Oh, I know who they are. But they probably don’t remember me. Benjamin Vargas. January 9, born in Mexico City. I will need proof, before I meet them, that I’m not making it up.”

“shit.” she said a little too loudly, realizing she didn’t have enough sickles to buy the meager amount of food she was trying to get. she aws sure she’d had enough when she left the house that morning, but leaving the food behind would be so embarrassing; still she could go home and scrounge for the missing amount and come back tomorrow. or go to another store across town, to avoid the shame. she started counting her coins again, realizing she had some muggle money mixed in that would make up the difference but the clerk wouldn’t accept it. she didn’t have enough of either kind of coins to buy what she intended. “i swear, the exchange rate means i have enough, please.” she was about to cry and she couldn’t do that in public. 

@beforedawnstarters​

“Ai, that’s a pain I know too well.” Dajo said with deep sympathy, looking over what t he girl had laid out and doing some quick mental math. They weren’t quite as fast at this sort of thing as their cousin Roberto but he could do it. Once they figured it out, Dajo pulled out the coins needed and slid them to join the rest. “There, that should cover it.”

It had only been two days in England and Lenore found herself in Diagon Alley. It had been years since she had been here. Really only once before. But this was her home now. She needed to get used to it. She had to admit, the crowd took her off guard. She knew it would most likely be crowded but not this crowded. She found her way into a book shop, looking around. “Is it always like this?” She spoke to herself but didn’t realize there was anyone paying attention to her. “It’ll take a while to get used to this.” @beforedawnstarters​

--

“The weather or the people?” Dajo asked, following her gaze into the crowd. They had to admit the people didn’t bother them. Mexico City and Guadalajara weren’t exactly small. All the press and rush made them feel at home. “Because I think the answer to both questions might be yes.”

@beforedawnstarters​

“I don’t want to go back to school,” Augustine complained out-loud to anyone who would listen to her as her hand scanned across the seventh year Herbology textbooks in Flourish and Blotts. Truthfully, she didn’t know what she wanted to do: go back to school, stay home, or get out of dodge while it was still an accessible option for her. Narcissa’s birthday had always put into perspective how close school was coming, except this time it would be the last year where Augustine would have to feel the incoming dread. The dread for her upcoming seventh year felt worse than the initial six years. “But if I want a good job, I guess I kind of have to go back.” And her parents would be even more furious with her if she didn’t.

--

“Don’t they have, what’s the word the... gap thing? Taking a year?” Dajo had considered it back in Mexico, but it would’ve broken his mother’s heart. That was the one thing he’d never be able to make himself do. He ran his fingers along the spines of the textbooks, wondering idly how different their classes were here. “Can’t you take the tests later? At your Ministry?”

“You don’t seem like some kind of expert on rabies transmission, so I won’t be taking the chance.” Baz pulled a folded-up shopping bag out of his pocket regardless, handing it over. “I’m pretty sure that bag’s not rabies- or curse-proof, but you’d have to get it into the bag first.”

--

“In all fairness, neither do you.” Dajo said with a chuckle, levitating the sweater into the bag that Baz held out to them. Bags definitely couldn’t get rabies. Carefully they folded the bag into a neat parcel and tucked it under their arm. “Think this is the weirdest thing the priest has had to bless?”

                       she   huffed   as   she   wrapped   a   strand   of   her   blonde   hair   around   her   finger,   twirling   it   for   a   while.   ❝   no.   and   i   hardly   do   favours.   ❞   it   was   a   lie,   of   course   she   did   some   side   gigs,   ones   that   she   charged   more.   ❝   unless   you   can   tell   me   what’s   in   it   for   me,   exactly.   ❞

“Who taught you, then? Can I ask them?” They asked. The department listing had been scarce, Dajo wasn’t certain there was anyone but her who did this sort of work. They could always go searching in London or in other countries of course, but that would set things back again. “Can’t really say, don’t know what you value. The thrill of doing your job? Reuniting families?”

Georgie waved her hand. “No favor needed. It’s my good deed for the day.” She wasn’t totally evil, despite what some might say. “Plus, they’re totally out of line. Their parents either didn’t teach them manners or don’t care. Both are not acceptable.” 

--

“They probably didn’t mean to hit it towards people.” Dajo allowed, trying to give the kids the benefit of the doubt. “Though if it were Mexico, and my mamí saw me pull something like that, she’d box my ears.” Their smile was found despite the words. “I’m Dajo, by the way. Thanks for saving me from Bludger damage.”

cressida supposed that meant they were a talented sorcerer – it seemed like an interesting line of work, but cressida herself had never wanted to work within some sort of structural organization like the ministry for magic. she was a creative, like her mother. she wanted her own freedom. “i’m in the fashion industry,” she answered vaguely — cressida wasn’t sure how to classify herself. “not as quite… action packed as your work, i assume, but still enjoyable nonetheless.” she paused, consuming more of her drink and holding her hand out for them to shake. “cressida — and you are?”

Dajo’s eyebrows raised, impressed. Fashion kept hard hours. Rosita, their youngest cousin, was opposed with the industry. By now Dajo knew way too many weird fashion tidbits, but couldn’t thread a needle to save their soul. “Different kind of action, but still good work.” They shook her hand with a smile. “Dajo Vargas. Nice to meet you, Cressida.” They couldn’t quite get the vowels of the her name to stop rolling, all ‘Chris-AY-dah’ and not ‘Cres-E-dah’.

bit of an usual place to catch up on her writing, but with the start of the school year approaching and having to keep feeding the death eaters new information, rita hadn’t had time to do her actual job, the one that paid the bills. the lack of sleep only made the noise even more of a bother to her. “excuse me? tone it down, would you? some of us are trying to work here.” 

Dajo flushed, a bit embarrassed. They hadn’t realized they had been singing to themselves, much less than someone else could hear. “Ah, lo siento, sorry. Didn’t even realize-- how I can make it up to you? I can... cover your coffee or something?”