zero gravity

The Beast Division office was no place to be once screams started from the halls. Artem had stiffened, stared at the woman before her for a moment, then bolted for the hall. The masked figure they found on the other side confirmed all Artem’s worst fears. They lifted their wand, but before Artem got a spell out, the Death Eater moved first. 

Artem felt their legs lock, but as they fell, they shot out a desperate relashio that connected and sent the Death Eater flying in the other direction. Their head hit as they landed, but Artem grit their teeth against the pain and scrambled as upright as they could to unlock their legs. As they looked up at the Death Eater, they saw Cuthbert Gibbon glaring back, both wand and mask lying a few feet from him. As Artem scrambled to their feet, Gibbon turned and crawled toward his wand. Shit.

They founded the corner, already tripping as they stopped so quickly upon finding Dedalus. “Don’t be too happy,” Artem said, grabbing him by the hand to keep moving. “Death Eater back there, and he is mad as hell. Pretty sure he’s about to throw something around this corner.” Perhaps they should have stayed and fought, but Artem wasn’t about to set themself up to get cornered. Having a partner for themself was certainly not a bad thing.

Oh, well, that was just ideal, wasn’t it? Dedalus couldn’t even find it in himself to summon any sort of exasperation at the news because that was exactly the kind of muted feeling he was in too much of a frenzy for. Running, however, was much simpler; his legs were already following long before his brain had caught up.

“Aren’t they all mad as hell?” he huffed quickly as they tried to put some distance between them and their pursuer -- it didn’t seem to matter too much, though, as a blast of something without a doubt deadly flew past his head. Dedalus cursed quickly but didn’t stop running even as he threw a charm over his shoulder -- aimed at the ground, not at Death Eater. Hopefully, the newly formed rubble would at least slow him down a little.

Return from Paris: While technically his return to England happens in late March, the repercussions of the trip stay with Dedalus throughout April as well.

For one, there’s Lu. They didn’t come back with him, which he didn’t put much thought into, initially. If they wanted to stay there a bit on their own, that was their business. But then they didn’t come back at all. And Dedalus kept hearing all these crazy rumours, and he didn’t put much stock into them either, usually, but with everything going on, he had to wonder. If he’d been wrong to trust Lu, if they’d thought him just another pureblood to pull a fast one on, if they were on the side of the very same people he was fighting against. It felt a little like a betrayal of their friendship, even just considering that, but when Lu wasn’t here to set the record straight, thinking and wondering was all Dedalus had. He still hoped they’d come back at some point, but if that did happen, other than just clarifying what was what, he also had a few choice words for them himself.

And naturally, one of the main things he wished Lu was here to explain would be this threat they allegedly made towards Maurice -- which, admittedly, Dedalus perhaps didn’t react ideally to, insisting that Maurice must’ve misunderstood and that Lu had probably been joking. That was far from being the only problem he found himself having with Maurice though, and just when it’d finally seemed they’d reached some sort of an understanding. Never one to give up, over the course of April Dedalus kept pestering him and leaving him small gifts, ranging from a tiny cactus to lemon cake to wix punk, unintentionally concluding with an untested version of the special watch/portkey he’d been working on.

Another person he perhaps should’ve mentioned his trip to was Maddy. Although her efforts to restore the Delights to its previous glory weren’t as appreciated as they should’ve been (maybe with cake or a hug or something because she deserves it), she and Dedalus were fine again and in light of her change of heart, Dedalus agreed to help her to look for a place where she could start her own shop instead of having it inside the Delights.

Watch/portkey project: With the help of Hestia and Ryland, a prototype was just finished by late April. Of course there were still plenty of steps remaining to ensure that it worked and that it was safe for use, but every little win counted. The idea was to enter those testing stages in May, but clearly, they didn’t get that far.

Raising spirits up: After the attack on Diagon Alley, Dedalus had mostly given up on the idea of playing a prank on Sugarplum’s; it just seemed in poor taste, all things considered. Mundungus saw things a little differently, though, instead pointing out that a lighthearted joke was just what people needed to get back to their normal lives -- he and Dedalus would be doing them a favour, really! And, well, who was Dedalus to argue with such sound logic? And so the prank did indeed happen, perhaps not going exactly according to plan but close enough that they could consider it a win. While Dedalus took on the persona he and Mundungus had specifically crafted for this prank -- bright-eyed, bashful Hupperdook Zezbok III -- and successfully distracted the clerk, Mundungus carried out the actual prank. The heating charm was placed on the chocolate section, the every-flavour beans were tampered with until their only flavour was ‘disgusting’, the chocolate frogs were released, a few oops-stones were hidden in nooks and crannies around the shop. All in all, a perfectly successful and, what was more, a perfectly harmless prank.

Debts unpaid: Dedalus also continued to attend social events and functions, making full use of Cordelia’s lessons. He was slowly but surely getting back into the swing of things, and he found it was all much easier with a friend by his side. Although friend or not, he was also very conscious of the fact he owed Cora a favour that she could cash in anytime, for anything.

Chaos didn’t even begin to cover it, but then again, there also wasn’t much time to ponder on word choice. From the moment Dedalus had apparated into the atrium, he’d had to dodge bodies and curses alike; any thought that didn’t have to do with that was pushed to the very back of his mind. He didn’t have a plan. He just made his way deeper inside the Ministry, turning corners and duelling Death Eaters until it all blurred into an endless cycle of doing the same thing over and over again.

Initially, it was a relief. He held his own, and that was exhilarating in a way. With adrenaline rushing through his veins and his magic let loose, it was easy to get caught in the moment. But the moment was indeed just a moment -- once it passed, fear reared its ugly head once again. The Death Eaters didn’t stop coming; for every one that fell, it seemed two more were ready to take his place. And it was chilling.

What choice was here, though, but to keep going? Death certainly held no appeal. So Dedalus kept firing spells, one after another, making use of his surroundings where he could, just as Bran had taught him. Contrary to those lessons, however, it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep a clear head. And when he heard footsteps approaching from the hallway behind him, he was half-certain it was over for him.

Dedalus would’ve thought it a joke, initially, if the news wasn’t so strikingly spine-chilling that it just had to be true. An all-out attack... For all his imagination, he had no idea what he would be stepping into the moment he arrived at the Ministry; the only thing he did know was that he had to go, and it was a thought that came with less enthusiasm and heroism than it did in books.

The only semblance of solace he could find was in the form of an old, battered wristwatch that he now took out from the top drawer of his desk. Untested, unfinished, hardly ready for use, but what choice did he have? It was a way out, potentially, and that had to count for something.

Except.

He glanced at Maurice, and not for the first time wished he was as selfless and brave as other Order members. He wished it was an immediate decision, that there was no hesitation in handing Maurice the watch, but there was, just as there was a voice in his head calling for him to keep it for himself. Only the idea of Maurice dying managed to actually silence the voice. It was just wrong. So wrong it was unthinkable. He’d had the deck stacked against him from the moment he’d stepped into the Wixen World; he deserved to make it. More than that, Dedalus needed him to make it.

“Here,” he said finally and shoved the watch in Maurice’s hand. He spoke quickly, not giving himself the chance to overthink. “Put it on. It’s a portkey, a special kind. It activates by touch and a voice command -- and, not or. But if you’re wearing it you’re always touching it so you don’t have to worry about that. The voice command is ‘egress’, but obviously don’t say it now.” Dedalus himself had of course made sure to let go and not in any way touch the watch as he said the word. Instead, he reached up to put his hands on the sides of Maurice’s face, looking right into his eyes as if to add more weight to his words. “It hasn’t been tested. It might not work at all. Or worse, it might go terribly wrong. Don’t use it unless you absolutely have to, alright? Unless it’s quite literally a choice between this and death.”

He held on for a moment longer, though he didn’t know whether it was out of sentimentality or hesitation. Perhaps it was both, but there was time for neither. “If it does work,” he said finally, even though it wasn’t what he wanted to say at all. “It’ll take you to a safe place. Then just call for Kiri and tell her I sent you. But again, only as a last resort! And preferably don’t get to the point where you’d need a last resort, okay? But, well, if you do, that’s okay too, as long as you don’t die.” So jumbled and inarticulate; Dedalus let out a huff of frustration that almost turned to helplessness as he spoke again. “Just. Don’t die. That’s all.”

A Multipurpose Party

gideonprewxtt​:​

“Frank if you do not fear Alice even a little bit still then there is no hope for you. As your best friends we know that your wife can be scarier than even your mum and she scares the hell out of me. I try to find things to bake her that she likes sometimes and even with all that effort she has only smiled at me like five times in my whole life. Alice has smiled at me even less I am sure of it. Or maybe she has smiled at me more but her smile is also scary.” He looked to Dedalus for confirmation about what he said knowing it had to be the truth for both of them. 

The look of outrage that came to his face as Frank tried to find an excuse for either of them to just go around adding salt to his baked goods was enough of a response to such slander. A roll of his eyes had him looking back at Dedalus with a sigh. “I can’t just get married Dedalus. I have to fall in love first unless you’re offering to marry me of course. Then I suppose I could just take the leap without the love. I could learn to be okay with your horrible ways in the kitchen I suppose. You calling them getting married means nothing. You see two people look at each other for a second too long and you say they’re going to end up married.” 

“You can’t protect him from lemons in the state you’re in. If anything dangerous comes along we’re all done for.” He was happy to be shoved into the kitchen though and he reached out to tug Dedalus along with them. “Oh no sir. Your job isn’t done yet. We have to have you help too. We need the lemons cut in half and the juice squeezed out of them.” He was already getting the bowls and the ingredients out for them to make the cake. He loved ordering them around in the kitchen like this. It was cute watching them struggle. “Now which one of you is capable of handling the knife? I don’t want to see any cuts because of carelessness.”

@alices-husband​

“Well, lucky for the two of you, you get my mother and Alice in small doses!” Frank laughed, spinning on his heel to the song that blared from the record player. He reached for the knife, but Frank was probably the one least qualified doing the slicing based on the state of his arm. Frank tried to steady a lemon to cut it, only to have it roll once he touched the blade to its midsection. Instead he sighed and turned to Dedalus.

“Perhaps you should start monetizing this talent for being perfectly right about romances, Dig! You’ve been one hundred percent correct all the time—but tell me—” And Frank threw his hand arm around Gideon, letting his weight be supported by his friend standing; he had been privy to a little bit of what was going on, but not enough to draw any conclusions. Not soon enough anyway. “—I’m assigning you a new job: how’s this one doing in the dating department? Is he in love yet? Have you looked at him with someone else for too long lately?”

@dedalusdigg​ 

As the lemon Frank tried to cut rolled around, speedily headed towards the edge of the countertop, Dedalus thought it would be a very impressive show of both agility and quick reflexes if he managed to catch it before it rolled onto the floor. Unfortunately, everything was still delightfully fuzzy and as he reached out to grab it, he ended up swiping at nothing but air. He blinked, confused, before glancing down at the lemon now lying on the floor. “Oh. Well, we almost had that one!” He reached down to pick it up and now that it wasn’t moving, that was a much easier task. “On a completely unrelated note, can any of you juggle?”

He then let out a laugh at Frank’s question. “He falls in love every time someone as much as smiles at him, of course he’s in love!” Completely ignoring the fact Gideon himself said he wasn’t, naturally. “Dating, though, that’s an entirely different question. Well, Giddy? Are you dating? And if that’s your idea of a proposal, by the way, I feel no guilt in turning you down. Saying you don’t love me, insulting my cooking skills… Unbelievable. And I’m about to prove you wrong! Pass me that knife, I’m taking over lemon duty.”

If Maurice were a softer, cheesier individual, he might have agreed, that Dedalus was Maurice’s favourite invention of his too. But he was not that cheesy individual and so he simply let out a huff of amusement and kept the thought to himself.

He had not known it was true until he’d said it. He was going to let Dedalus drive him crazy. One of those truths that grew within you without you really noticing until suddenly it was spilling from your lips in the dark. It scared him a little. Perhaps a lot. Not only that he felt it, but that Dedalus now knew. What if he was wrong? But even then, the fear was not that he might be wrong, but that if he was, he’d be hurting Dedalus by being so. That gave him as good an answer as any. 

He nodded, in the dark the small quiet movement seemed to take up much more space. He had to clear his throat a little to make any words come out. “If you want. Yeah.” He wasn’t sure if he was trying to play it cool or if this was more vulnerability creeping in, needing to know that this was definitely what Dedalus wanted.

He felt very seen by Dedalus’ next statements. He wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Any other day perhaps he would have worn it as a badge of honour, but today his loudness may have cost him and many others dearly. People had noticed his loudness, and the outcomes may have been disastrous. He hid his face in the pillow for a moment, not knowing how to respond. “Thank you. I think.” He didn’t sound hurt, just unsure, and even then with his voice still a whisper there wasn’t much room for it. He wondered if he went quiet, would Dedalus still know him, still admire him? Would he recognise him in the dark?

The first ‘I don’t know’ was somewhat a surprise. He had never known Dedalus to falter for words, or pass up a chance to ask some question he was dying to ask, no matter how trivial. The distressed admissions that tumbled afterwards left Maurice stunned. He hadn’t realised the simple request would cause such anxiety. Would he recognise Dedalus in the dark?

As soon as he felt Dedalus’ hand on his, heard the whispered plea he shuffled closer without a second thought. Not stopping until his other hand reached Dedalus’ chest, and his shins knocked Dedalus’ knees. He wasn’t even sure what being closer would do, only that, only that fuck, he wanted it to erase the fear he’d just heard in Dedalus’ voice. “I don’t want to.” It was quiet but forceful. He didn’t know why those words came more naturally than perhaps the more clean reassurance of ‘I won’t’. It wasn’t an evasion of commitment, at least Maurice didn’t think of it as that. He didn’t want to let go, surely that desire, that intent meant more than a promise he might not be able to keep. Because somehow he knew they were talking about more than right here tonight. Don’t let go. That was a big promise. There were a million things out of Maurice’s control that could come between him and Dedalus. But he could control himself, and as long as he could choose, he wanted to choose Dedalus, to choose to hold on. And it was terrifying but true.

This felt very much like that conversation they’d agreed to postpone, but Dedalus couldn’t bring himself to care. He didn’t need the reassurance, that much he was sure to make a point of even if just to himself. But he did want it. And he certainly wasn’t selfless enough to turn it down when offered and was entirely too selfish to consider he might've been asking for too much. So in the end, there was only a sense of relief as he let out the breath he'd been holding, not daring to risk missing Maurice's response. “Of course I do." Still quiet, but more certain. If it were up to him, they would drive each other crazy on the daily and it would be the best kind of madness.

"You're welcome," he said, but it was more of an automatic response. You hear a person say thank you, you answer with a you're welcome; the kind of mundane social rituals that were so deeply ingrained in him that even now he couldn't shake them off. The kind that came with little thought but also with little genuineness. The need to clarify that followed, however, that was all Dedalus. "I didn't mean it in a bad way. It's… good. A lot of people need someone to listen to and to hear. Someone worth hearing. And the wrong people are already too loud to begin with so. Yes. It's a good thing."

But then again, who was he to say what was good and what wasn’t. He’d spent plenty of time listening to the wrong people and he was still trying to figure out who the right ones were. Perhaps that was part of the reason he was so drawn to Maurice -- he made it look easy. He was always so certain of himself and of his demands and of his complaints, and surely someone who had this much conviction had to be right, didn’t he? How could Dedalus not get caught up in that?

Hestia laughed, eyes twinkling. It wasn’t something she admitted too loud –Merlin forbid she’d be teased until the end of days about it- but she had stopped by common rooms other than her own a few times. Escorting lost first-graders and drunk seventh-ones was always a good excuse. “I’ve always found the Hufflepuff rooms to be the most inviting,” she agreed. “Location aside, it’s just very cozy. But I’ll always prefer our tower, of course, riddles and all. Now that I think about it, there should have been a way to hear all the creative solutions drunken students came up with. I bet the door has heard a lot of interesting answers over the years.”

She nodded eagerly as he spoke, reverting to her default way of showing enthusiasm. Every question he answered spawned two more – she hadn’t felt this invested in learning about something since she started her job. She was about to bombard him with questions about sentience –how was it created? Could you trust it?- when his next bit of information stopped her. Her line of questions halted as the part of her that had spent months getting acquainted with the justice system took over.

“Wait, it can remember where you’ve been and what you’ve done?” Hestia asked, slowing down a bit. She could see why it was a great feature! But also how it was a walking liability. For most people, having a reference to where you’d been was nothing more than a fun titbit. For anyone part of an illegal group… If such a thing came into evidence, no amount of fiddling with the case could save that. “Have you considered what could happen if you were caught wearing that, and it said you’d been places where you shouldn’t have? Does it have a fail-safe or way to discretely delete the information?”

She nodded again, this time in confirmation. Hestia was still new enough to not know everyone in the Order, but she knew of a lot of the members. Some of the stories were more remarkable than others, and this was one of them. “I know of him, barely. Does he knows about Portkeys and the lot? I’ll have to talk with him then, see if he knows which end I should start. I always wished we’d learnt more about it in school. Even Apparation was just the basics, when it’s so fascinating.”

No one was immune to house pride, Dedalus had long decided; there was just something infinitely better about that which was yours. And he was no exception, of course, which naturally meant he very much agreed that the Ravenclaw tower was the best -- it just was. “Oh, I very much doubt those were reserved for the drunk. In fact, I remember having a great laugh whenever people from other houses would try to get in. Not to say they were stupid, of course, and there are actually a lot of very intelligent wix who struggle with riddles… but it was very funny.”

He didn’t immediately connect her words to any worries about potential dangers; as far as he was concerned, memorising past events was just a neat little function. “Oh,” he said after a moment, blinking at her. “Well, it’s… Well. Alright. I suppose that’s a small oversight on my part. But to be fair, I don’t really store any sensitive information in it to begin with. Imagine I was at a garden party or some other such event and my watch suddenly chimed in to remind me about an Order meeting. That would be disastrous!” It was still a good idea, though, to look into a fail-safe of some sort. And he might even have to remove the feature altogether once they figured out the Portkey aspect of it and started spreading it among Order members. Unfortunate, but ultimately for the best, probably. “I’ll figure something out, not to worry!”

“Whatever will I do?” Maurice rolled his eyes, but as was so often the case with Dedalus, there was affection behind his exasperation. He’d never need a nightcap in all his 24 years so far, he was sure he’d survive another night.

He wasn’t surprised when Dedalus waved away his offer, perhaps just a little disappointed. After all, they were English, they could hardly take up on people’s hospitality, not without some dithering first. ‘Oh no I simply couldn’t’ ‘Oh but you must!’ ‘No no I insist!’. These funny rituals they played out. Still, Maurice let out a little huff of amusement at Dedalus’ comment. “Self-maintained huh? You tinker away at yourself in that little workshop too?” For some reason, the idea gave him a pang of sadness.

He got into the bed, suddenly feeling more awkward about the whole arrangement. Not want to tug the covers too much, o=not know which way to face. It was like he’d never gone to sleep before and he had no idea how it worked. But he did settle in, first on his back and then shuffling carefully to face outwards away from Dedalus when the lights were out. He didn’t know why he did it. Perhaps a hangover from sleepovers as a little boy, not wanting to seem too interested. Not wanting to sleep too close. Even before he really knew what any of it meant, knowing that it wasn’t good to be accused of that.

“Goodnight,” He returned softly. Now that he was finally lying down, any desire to sleep had fled. He was hyper-aware, of every little movement, every little breath from the other man. He thought perhaps he was waiting to hear the breaths slow down and even out, to signify Dedalus was asleep, then maybe he’d be able to relax. But when Dedalus finally spoke again, Maurice knew that was what he’d actually been waiting for. The invitation to roll over and dive back into him.

So he did roll over. Not without a sigh of course, but when he was finally facing Dedalus again, even though he could only make out the faintest outlines of him in the dark, the sigh turned from exasperation into a soft relief.

“You’re going to drive me crazy.” He murmured, quiet compared to Dedalus’ obnoxious faux whisper. His hand reached out to find Dedalus’ face, fumbling a little in the dark, but then cupping it softly when it was found. His thumb brushing Dedalus’ cheek. All senses heightened in the dark. “And I’m going to let you.” If possible it was even quieter. 

Then as if snapped out of a dream he sighed again and blinked in the dark. “What do you want me to talk about?” He asked, now that he was put on the spot he was stuck for words. He didn’t know what Dedalus wanted to hear. He had any number of speeches tucked away in various corners of his mind, but this didn’t feel like the place for them. “Ask me a question and maybe I’ll answer it.” His hand didn’t pull away though, braver in the dark than he may have been in the light, thumb gently stroking, exploring, experiencing, remembering. “I’m an open book.” He smiled then, easier perhaps knowing no one could see it.

"Well, of course. Self-improvement is the most important kind of tinkering." Once again, it was said as a joke, meant as a joke, and yet carried too much truth for that to be all there was to it. However some of that underlying seriousness dissipated as Dedalus let out a small chuckle, tired and weary but genuine nonetheless. “In fact, I’m my favourite invention. You see, I’m very advanced -- even capable of thought! Now, some would disagree with that, but I can guarantee that sometimes I almost think things through. Wonders of innovation!”

With the lights out, however, he couldn’t bring himself to be funny. Humour took a lot, much more than he had left to give at the moment, and as much as that unsettled him, there wasn’t much he could do about it either. He leaned into the touch almost on instinct, almost like he'd been expecting it. He hadn't, but perhaps he'd hoped.

“You are?” The first part, he didn’t doubt; enough people had claimed the same thing and he’d come to accept it as an inevitability. But the fact that Maurice might willingly let him… “Are you sure?” It didn’t come from a lack of confidence or self-assuredness; it wasn’t beyond him that someone -- even someone as grumpy as Maurice -- might like him this much. But there was still uncertainty behind the question, one that had more to do with the kind of unspoken commitment that came with a confession like that.

And although he knew all this about being an open book was probably supposed to be a joke, he didn't laugh. "You really are, though," he said instead, more quiet now, and not even he himself knew if it was to match the atmosphere or because he couldn't summon anything more. "You care a lot and you're very… loud in your care. It's not a bad thing, but people notice loudness." He’d noticed loudness. Even back when he hadn’t known what Maurice’s favourite colour was or when his birthday was, his righteous anger and scorn had done more to tell Dedalus about who Maurice was than any mundane facts he’d chosen to keep to himself might’ve. People who were so free with their emotions were more open than perhaps even they realised and it seemed unfathomable to Dedalus. Unfathomable and so very brave. “It's one of the things I admire most about you."

Dorcas didn’t laugh at Dedalus’s protestations of ruthlessness; she cackled. She howled. “As ruthless and unyielding as candy-floss!” she mock-agreed, although Dedalus was already proving it by hastening to reassure her.

He needn’t have bothered, of course; it was kind of him to do so, of course, because everything Dedalus did was kind (or funny, which was like kind, only sharper) the moment he started talking about dragon-themed sweets she would have forgiven him any amount of genuine ruthlessness. She listened with her eyes wide and her face glowing like a sunrise. “Dragon-inspired sweets!” she exclaimed, and actually clapped her hands together three or four times as she raised them towards the sky – or the shop’s ceiling, at least – before letting them fall open and sink back to her sides in celebratory wonder.

“Yes, yes, yes! And you can put a big dragon simulacrum on the roof outside to advertise it, and have it breath colored heatless fire, and everybody will run to see it, and they’ll be so awed and delighted that they won’t even remember Sugarplum’s exists!” She cackled again with a glee that might almost have been described as ruthless itself at the idea. “Oh, and the pets – yes, yes frogs eat butterflies, but best not let them eat these because I don’t think sugar is good for frogs, not that it’ll really matter because the frogs won’t have a chance to eat them, with how fast everybody else will, and you’ll put the shop’s name on every collar, so everybody who sees them will know where to go to get one of their own, and won’t that be lovely for them because everyone who sees one will want one of course, and lovely for you because Sugarplums doesn’t make any candy even half so wonderful and – oh, Digs!” Dorcas was so overjoyed for her friend (and, yes, admittedly for the candy itself too) that she had to blink away burgeoning tears. “How delectable! Oh, I love it!”

Dorcas would have to have been a much stronger witch than she was to pretend that the words candy allowance didn’t stick a hook right into her heart and set her mouth to watering. She would have had to be a more dishonest one, too. Instead she shook her head and said, “You really don’t need to convince me the job is wonderful. I already believe you. And I’d snatch the chance like that–” she snapped her fingers under Dedalus’s chin “–if I could, don’t think for a second I wouldn’t.” She shook her head again, harder this time, as though trying to shake free of the allure of Diggles Delights. She’d never thought of Flourish & Blotts with less fondness than she did right now, with the tempting comparison of candy to stack against her mum and dad and their dozens and dozens of shelves of books.

“It’s a deal,” Dorcas said immediately in response to his challenge, because that was what Dorcas always said in response to a challenge, and because what possible downside could there be to this one anyway? “Besides, once you get the dragons and the butterflies going, what would I even want with Sugarplums?” She laughed, and cast her mind around for an option, and settled on, “And if I win, I get one free candy a day for those two months. Yeah?” Perhaps not the prize that most people would have chosen for a contest dependent on the repeated consumption of an extraordinary amount of candy to begin with – but there was no such thing as too much candy in Dorcas Meadowes’s world. At least, not so far.

It was good to know he still had fantastic ideas, at least. In that way, Dorcas’ fervent enthusiasm was wonderful for feeding into his ego -- one of the many reasons they were friends, naturally. His grin widened with every clap until he was beaming just as much she herself was. “Yes! Yes, exactly! And a dragon on the roof, you absolute marvel of a candy-addict, how brilliant! I love it! And the tail would of course wrap around one of the front columns, yes, I can see it clear as crystal! Brilliant!”

Of course, that would be a hefty investment. Create this new kind of candy, in different flavours at that, then manufacture it, then advertise it, then add a dragon to the roof… it was a good thing he had some savings! And an even better thing that his parents had even more savings!

“Well, of course, we’d put the name on the collars,” he exclaimed. “How did I not think of that? It doesn’t matter -- the idea is out there now and it shall be executed properly!” He shook his head, still much too excited by the latest turns in the conversation; perhaps he ought to stop by the shop more often, if the result were such great ideas. “You know what,” he began with all the confidence in the world. “Between this and some other plans I have in the making, Sugarplum’s will be struggling to stay in business by the end of the year. Possibly even sooner! Isn’t it marvellous?”

He laughed as she snapped her fingers and almost felt bad for teasing her. Almost. “Ah, well, perhaps if you get fired one day we’ll talk again.” But while the two of them truly did make an unstoppable team, Dedalus very much doubted Dorcas would genuinely enjoy working here, despite all his previous claims and jokes. When it came down to it, working at the Delights was just plain boring most of the time -- and the kind of boring that candy couldn’t entirely fix either. Then again, what did he know? He’d underestimated Dorcas’ love for sweets before and ever since, he’d been proven very wrong, very often.

Not this time, though. This time it’d be different. He was extremely confident in his ability to create the sweetest, most revolting candy imaginable. “Deal,” he agreed with about as much hesitation as she herself had shown -- that was to say, none whatsoever. “Any candy you choose, every day. But if I were you, I wouldn’t start counting my owls before they’ve hatched; this is one bet I fully intend to win.”

(set at some point during their overlapping Hogwarts years)

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Dear Fabian,

First and foremost, it’s imperative that I let you know that your brother in no way, shape or form put me up to this. It might seem as though he did, and I admit that would make a lot more sense, but he didn’t.

Now that this is out of the way, I simply have to let you know that I thought you did admirably in that last game against Hufflepuff! Clearly, luck wasn’t on your side this time, but you persevered and didn’t give up until the very end, and I think that’s commendable!

Admittedly, I don’t know much about Quidditch, but I still thought you did very well! Great reflexes! Impressive momentum! And you didn’t send any of those black quaffles towards the audience even once which I, as part of said audience, very much appreciated! (I’m fully aware they have a special name and are not, in fact, called quaffles, but I cannot for the life of me remember it right now and you know exactly what I mean anyway so I should ask you to forgive the inaccuracy.)

All of this to say, you have no reason to feel bad for that loss! Yes, admittedly it was very unexpected, and by a pretty wide margin, and to arguably the weakest House team, but that’s okay! One lost game isn’t a reflection of your skill but rather of bad luck and I’m sure you’ll win the next one!

Maurice entered the room, almost apprehensive, but relaxing when he saw Dedalus again. Still, there was a nervous energy, the kind of nervous energy that came from a night you’d imagined many times not quite going the way you’d thought it would. “My knight in shining armour.” He teased gently, taking the pyjamas, surprised to find that along with the t-shirt came trousers as well. Perhaps he should not have been surprised. Of course Dedalus was the type to wear matching pyjama sets. He smiled fondly, for once deciding not to poke fun at the man. There was clearly some nervousness coming from him too if his rambling was anything to go by.

“I’m not cold,” Maurice reassured, starting to strip off. His heart had been beating at a million miles an hour since some time this afternoon for various reasons. There’d been no chance to get cold. Although the idea of him walking around in matching pyjamas, with a dressing gown, was a funny one. “Do you perhaps have a night cap as well? And one of those old fashioned oil laps- or even better a candlestick holder- so I can wander through the house like some lost Victorian ghost.” It was a light jab, but he couldn’t help it. He considered the trousers. Usually, he just slept in his underwear, no matter the season, but he didn’t want to make Dedalus uncomfortable, so in the end he put them on. Perhaps Dedalus would convert him to pyjamas.

He snorted lightly at the question of which side of the bed he’d like. “I have a single bed, so I hardly have a preference.” It had been there when he’d moved into the flat and he’d never thought to replace it. Not that there was much room for a bigger bed. He didn’t often have company anyway, so it had never been an issue. “I’ll take the right.” He decided graciously, not wanting Dedalus to give up his preferences for him. “And you can just roll over me in the morning to get all that good luck and positive forces.” He gave a small suggestive smile without thinking and then immediately reigned it in. The truth was if Dedalus had been anyone else, Maurice probably would have already jumped them, taking an invitation to their bed as an invitation for sex. But Dedalus wasn’t just anyone else. And they had already decided, no more firsts tonight.

Maurice would not sleep with Dedalus as some kind of stress relief, or just because that’s what people did when they were attracted to each other and they were sharing a bed. This night could go many different ways, but Maurice would not let it go that way. As much as he wanted to kiss Dedalus again, to pull him close and shut him up and stop his nervous fussing.

Instead, he went over to the bed, the right side, and pulled back the duvet. “I’m fine, really. I’m very low maintenance” He was about to crawl underneath the covers when he hesitated and looked back at Dedalus. “Is there anything I can do for you?” It was open and sincere, if a little apprehensive. Dedalus could have asked for anything in that moment, even the things Maurice had already resolved not to do, and he would have given them willingly.

The funny thing was, he did actually have a night cap -- several, in fact. No oil lamps, he wasn’t a caveman, but definitely night caps. He didn’t wear them, of course, that would be ridiculous; he just liked owning things. “You’ve now lost both your night cap and dressing gown privileges,” he informed Maurice. “Remember that when you wake up in the middle of the night because your ears are cold. See if you find it funny then.” Belatedly, he realised that said middle of the night might have actually long passed and the realisation came with a wave of exhaustion. Not sleepiness, oddly enough. Just exhaustion.

Though he could most certainly find some energy for those morning escapades Maurice was suggesting, if only he hadn’t also immediately seemed to backtrack. He’d done it earlier too, back when Dedalus had kissed him, and while not being sure what he wanted was all well and good, surely having second thoughts so frequently and so early on wasn’t a great sign. Maybe they should have had that conversation. Or maybe it really was better like this; Dedalus would certainly prefer to wait than have Maurice tell him one thing tonight and then another in the morning. So as much as he wanted to simply ask, he didn’t. “Very selfless of you,” was all he said instead.

His brevity didn’t last long, unsurprisingly. “Oh, no, no, no, thank you,” he waved Maurice’s offer off the moment he’d finished making it. “I’m all good. I’m low maintenance too if you would. Or even better, no maintenance at all. Self-maintained.” There was only so much he could say about that, though, and eventually there really was nothing left to do but get in bed. Which wasn’t a problem. No, the problem came with what followed. Namely, giving his wand one final flick and turning the lights off.

(After that his wand, which he usually left on the bedside table, ended up tucked under his pillow. Just in case.)

“Well, goodnight then,” Dedalus said finally, with as much cheer as he could muster while ignoring the way his heart had sped up as soon as darkness had overtaken the room. It was ridiculous; he was well past the age of being afraid of the dark, and what was more, his flat was perfectly safe. It was sound logic, without a doubt, and yet he still couldn’t bear to close his eyes for more than a second. Which in turn left him staring at the walls until his eyes got used to the darkness and he was instead forced to move his gaze up to the ceiling to avoid all the ominous shadows around the room. It was only marginally better.

The worst of it, however, there was no escaping from. He couldn’t stop thinking about today. All those events that had become but a blur were now slowly starting to take shape once again, and he couldn’t ignore them. He found himself reevaluating his every move, trying to wrap his mind around the fact he could’ve very well died, thinking back to what could’ve gone differently. They weren’t pretty thoughts and usually, just about any distraction would do, except those seemed to be in short supply right now.

A Multipurpose Party

gideonprewxtt:

“I agree with you completely Dedalus. Frank does not have a healthy fear of his wife. We do though so we will save him from himself and his own bad ideas. Protecting him from things though is not something we’re actually all that capable of doing. Name one thing that you can protect him from right now? Just one I dare you.” He took another sip of his firewhiskey while he looked to Dedalus for an answer. “We are too pretty to go around protecting people from things. It’s why Fabian is the better dueler because I’m the pretty twin.” He had had too much firewhiskey if this was where the conversation was going but it wasn’t unusual for one of their get togethers. 

“You will do no such thing sir. You and Frank are not supposed to do too much in the kitchen. You guys are mainly there to look pretty and get in the way. You do that!? You really do that??? You add salt to things? While we are BAKING? Salt and not sugar? Franklin did you hear what this man just said? Do you help him? Do you also add salt to my baked goods sir? Do you do these things to me? I thought we had a friendship.” Somehow he had turned his tirade about salt on Frank even though the poor man had said nothing about adding salt to the things he was baking. It just happened and Gideon saw no problem with it. They were probably both guilty. 

“Those cakes are so much work when you’re running around the kitchen throwing things though. You get all worked up thinking about the cake and then all of a sudden candy and flour and sugar start flying everywhere.” He sighed taking another sip of his drink. “Alright though if that’s what you guys want to make we can. I can’t say no to you two. What do you think Frank? Lemon drizzle cake? Does that sound good?”

@alices-husband

“Why would I fear my wife?” Frank laughed; it was always funny that Alice was someone that everyone else was intimidated by. “Honestly, I’ve done my fair share of being afraid of her–remember the way I’d talk about her when we first met? She was an awful coworker and I had just started Auror training.” 

Frank scrunched his face at the memory, then tilted his head with a little confusion at his friends. His face broke into a skeptical smile, but he wasn’t suspicious; maybe tonight was the night to stay out of trouble, and there seemed to be no convincing his friends they should go to the pub. That is, if there were pubs left to go to. But Frank didn’t need much goading for lemon cakes. 

“I’m sure Dedalus can protect me from a lemon if he really wanted to—” But he couldn’t stop laughing at Gideon’s outburst about adding salt to their baked goods. “–but if we were making sea salt chocolate chips, it’d be different, right? We can add salt to it, I’m sure, salt is in the name! But fine, yes, lemon cakes it is–Dig, go pick out something for us to listen to and I’ll try not to fear the lemons before they go into the cake!”

Dedalus had always been a sucker for love stories and Frank and Alice’s was no different; even now, the mention of those early days of theirs had him turning to mush. “I do remember! And look at you two now!” In the same breath, he turned to Gideon, still entirely caught-up in memories. “Do you remember when they started dating? I absolutely called it, that they’d get married one day. Yes, sure, I call it with most relationships but it just means I’m right, doesn’t it. Oh, and the wedding!” And while he’d moved to stand up sometime during his reminiscing, now he let himself just flop back onto the couch like a starfish. “It was so beautiful! So emotional! Giddy, get married soon so we can go to another one.”

Making a cake would have to do for now, though. And that was wonderful in its own right -- Dedalus could barely even remember the last time they’d gathered together like this. They could’ve been doing anything and he still would’ve been happy.

“I can certainly protect you from lemons,” he agreed solemnly. “Do we have to squeeze them? Cut them? Whatever it is, I’ve got it.” He didn’t really have it, but music, that much he could certainly provide. With newfound enthusiasm, he jumped to his feet once again and headed towards his record collection -- with only minimal wobbling and swaying. “All I heard is you requesting some ABBA. And ask and you shall receive!” Within seconds, the first notes of Voulez-Vous rolled around; it felt oddly fitting after his little trip. “There, my part is done. Now off you two go, make me a cake.“

“The games made up using the beans are more fun that the beans themselves could ever be,” she agreed, nodding. Most of her experience with the sweets was through her dormmates, when they would get together after every Hogsmeade trip to bite through an entire pack at once, giggling over the flavours and trying to guess what they were. She was also certain that she’d seen them used in drinking games a fair few times. “It’s clever, playing on the mental aspect. There are a million chocolates and biscuits, but only one Bertie Bott. He’s absolutely brilliant.”

Hestia laughed at his story, trying to imagine how she would have reacted if she’d found someone breaking the rules by doing an experiment. Joined them, probably, Prefect duties forgotten. The promise of learning something interesting was enough to bribe her with. “Honestly, speaking as a former Prefect, she was probably just relieved to find someone breaking the rules doing anything other than snogging in a closet, or drunkenly trying to break into someone else’s common room. I know I sometimes looked through the fingers if someone at least was doing something interesting. Plus, sometimes when searching for knowledge, you have to be creative.”

Her eyes followed to watch with interest. Every sentence he said made her think of a million new questions, all brimming and trying to fight their way forward first. Hestia had never been one to hold back anything –least of all questions!- but she did try to not overdo it. Somehow, she had a feeling that Dedalus wouldn’t mind being peppered by them. “Did you have to find a voice to lend it? And do you have to teach it words? Or does the spell give it some semblance of sentience? That is even more fascinating – where does it come from?” Hestia bit her lip, stopping herself from going down a long line of questions regarding the creation of intelligence in inanimate objects. They would end up standing there all day, and probably most of the night as well. She gave Dedalus a warm, grateful smile instead. “Thank you! That would be amazing! Could you use an already existing watch, or do you have to work from scratch? And could I- well, not help, I don’t think I’d be a very good helper, but could I be there for some of it? I’d love to see the process, and it might make me understand the mechanics more.”

Hestia nodded; he brought up very good points. Anyone could write anything, and the question of legitimacy was an important one they didn’t really learn at Hogwarts. “I’m not sure which theoreticians is considered best yet, but I’ll stop at the library next week! I’m sure the librarians will have some insight where to start, and if they don’t, they’ll know someone who do!

He did have a lot of respect for prefects. To so readily give up their free time and take on all those responsibilities, it was truly admirable. And it was hardly a surprise either to learn that hard-working, dedicated Ministry intern Hestia had also been one. It made perfect sense! “Of course, of course,” Dedalus agreed easily. “And not that I would know anything about it, heavens forbid, but common rooms weren’t even particularly inviting when it came to drunken break-ins. Gryffindors with their tower and its horridly long staircase, Slytherins with their dungeons -- I mean, even sober, who would want to go down to the dungeons? And of course us, Ravenclaws, with our lovely riddles that just don’t lend themselves well to a mind hazy with alcohol. So much effort and so little pay-off,” he sighed and shook his head. “Honestly, Hufflepuffs should’ve been much more popular when it came to break-ins if you ask me.” And their common room was just so cosy and inviting. Dedalus had only been there once or twice but he still remembered those fondly.

Hestia’s barrage of questions only managed to silence him for the briefest of moments; after that it was as though he couldn’t get the words out fast enough in his excitement to explain. “It does have its own sentience! Not to a conversational degree, I’m afraid, so not quite like the talking mirrors, but when you give it your schedule, what happens is that it actually remembers all the events and when to remind you of them. And it stores that memory away even if they’ve passed so months later, if you need a reference of when you’ve done what, it has all that information and is able to provide it for you! Now, as for the voice, yes and no. It’s not somebody’s voice -- not that I know of, anyway -- but rather a combination of a bunch of voices that’s been heavily modified to sound pleasant but also distinct enough that nobody could claim I’d used theirs specifically. Which was a challenge in and of itself, let me tell you that! A lot of initial attempts just sounded like white noise. But I persisted and here we are!“

It was almost inconceivable that Maurice could ever get bored of Dedalus. Every judgement he’d ever made about the man had turned out to be wrong, every resolution of indifference or annoyance against him had been contradicted. For all intents and purposes, Dedalus made absolutely no sense to him, and so Maurice had no doubt he would never stop trying to figure him out. Not that that was the only thing that drew him to Dedalus, but it certainly meant he had no intention of getting bored any time soon. “Don’t get boring, and I’ll stay interested.” He said instead, not certain he could handle much more heart revealing truths tonight.

Dedalus hit the nail on the head with his question. Staying was not so much motivated by the ‘here’ as the ‘with him’. They could have been anywhere really. Maurice was not scared to go back to his flat, he was scared to go back to his flat alone. “Yes, with you.” It could have been soft, but it came out more sardonically, a slight affectionate eye-roll, to help mask his own vulnerability.

He was relieved when Dedalus said yes. For a moment he’d thought Dedalus might refuse, but then he was offering his bed and ushering him into the bathroom before Maurice could even think if he wanted to object. He opened his mouth to request black, but closed it again with a smirk when Dedalus outlawed it with his stunningly accurate prediction. “Fine, blue is fine.” Blue was more than fine really. “As long as you understand that a fundament of sleeping is that my eyes will be closed and therefore, not standing out regardless of what colours I’m wearing.” 

He knew that this was the point where he was supposed to step back and close the bathroom door so they could both get on with their tasks, but he hesitated for a moment, like he wanted to reach back out, pull Dedalus close again, perhaps deliver another kiss. He didn’t. He scoffed, at himself mostly, and shook his head, and then retreated into the bathroom.

With the door closed, the silence swept in. Funny how a slither of wood could shut away Dedalus’ energy so completely. When Maurice was standing right in front of him it often felt so strong that it could blow whole houses away. Now it was temporarily gone, he realised how much of his own energy had been dependent on Dedalus’. He was exhausted. He caught his reflection in the mirror. He looked exhausted too. He looked away and busied himself with getting ready for bed. 

He did poke around a little, though he didn’t find much of note except a long-dead house plant and an amazing amount of hair products. How many did one man need? He opened the lid of a few and gave them a sniff. None of them were particularly reminiscent of Dedalus’ scent so he placed them back where he’d found them. 

When he couldn’t stay away any longer he left the bathroom and went towards the bedroom, more eager to reunite with Dedalus than he’d like to admit. The door wasn’t fully shut but he knocked anyway. “Have you had enough time to put away all your secrets?” He asked, an echo of something his mother would always say before entering his and his brother’s room. ‘Hide all your secrets, I’m coming in.’ As a young boy with no secrets, or trivial secrets at that, he’d found it endlessly amusing, and when he’d gotten older, incredibly useful.

None of it was a surprise -- not the expectation he'd have to keep being fun and exciting, not the eye roll, not even the resignation to blue. In fact, to the latter Dedalus could only answer with an eye roll of his own. “Oh, yes, so let’s just wear whatever, why don’t we? Might as well get dressed in the dark.” He shook his head, but for all his exasperation, for a moment there he felt lighter than he had all day. “Honestly, for someone so logical you say the silliest things sometimes.”

He waited for a second when Maurice seemed like perhaps he wanted to add something, but then he didn’t and as soon as the door shut, Dedalus headed towards the bedroom just short of running. Fortunately, it was easy enough to grab the bag and shove in the deepest corner of his wardrobe, and while he was there, he also took a moment to look for a set of pyjamas for Maurice -- blue, as already established, but also preferably a bit looser to hopefully make up for the difference in height. Not at all difficult to find, unsurprisingly; he was hardly short on clothes.

However, just as he went to grab his own sleepwear for the night, he realised there was still one more issue he hadn’t taken care of. Quickly, he moved towards his bedstand and started rummaging through the drawers until he found it. A small, round mirror that lit up as soon as he tapped it with his wand. A moment later, his father’s face appeared in it. “Oh, good, we were starting to worry. Are you on your way? Is everything alright?”

His concern was very much not welcome, but Dedalus tried to keep his voice down and not let his annoyance show as he let him know about the change of plans. He didn’t mention Maurice, of course, instead pretended he was simply too tired to Floo back and forth, and although his father didn’t seem particularly thrilled, Dedalus was sure to cut off any further questions or concerns. It wasn’t a long conversation. In fact, after it ended he even found himself with some time to spare before Maurice came back.

And even then, it still took him by surprise when he did come back; suddenly, Dedalus found himself grateful for the half-shut door that gave him just the moment he needed to realise Maurice was only joking and didn’t actually know about any secrets. After that, it was easy to play along. “All boggarts have been safely put back in the wardrobe where they belong,” he confirmed solemnly. “But fortunately for you, I managed to wrestle this out of them before I shut the door.” He handed Maurice the pyjamas. “The pants might be a bit short but the shirt should be alright. Oh, do you also want a dressing gown? I didn’t think of that, but if you’re cold let me know and I can absolutely get you one.”

Severus’ eyes flickered down to the glass of red wine in his hand and back up at his new companion. Lucius pushed the drink into his hand deliberately while he spoke with a pair of gossips earlier. And, though it was mildly entertaining to watch the color drain from their faces as they stumbled through the rest of the conversation while trying not to stare at the deep red drink, they were both long gone by now. Severus was once again immeasurably bored.

The guests he came here to accidentally bump into haven’t arrived yet, and it was well past time to even be fashionably late. Severus was beginning to consider leaving early when Diggle spotted him. ‘ Now where’s the fun in just telling you? ’ He asked dryly, brow quirked. He twirled his drink slowly, the thick red leaving imprints behind, deep as dye. ‘ Maybe I’m trying out a new flavor. ’ He hummed. Head tilted to the side, annoyed. ‘ This isn’t exactly my idea of fun, ’ he said. ‘ You? ’

“Where’s the fun in not telling me?” Dedalus countered with a grin, though barely a moment later, his nose scrunched and he added, “Well, no, I suppose I know the answer to that. Rumours tend to be much more fun than the truth, don’t they? Do you want me to start one? Just say the word and I’ll let something about this new flavour of yours slip. Or if you want other rumours, that’s alright too, I’ll gladly help.”

Dorcas gasped, clutching her chest as though she’d just taken a Bludger straight to her sternum. “You think I would spill your candy secrets to your competitors? Digs!” she wailed, trying to give the impression that her dry eyes had just filled with a flood of tears, “I thought we were friends. How can you think such a thing.” She jerked her chin up and added icily, “I’m not sure it would appropriate for me to assist with your marketing if you don’t trust me.”

She sniffed, her dignity clearly wounded, and made him wait a solid six seconds on the pretense that she was going to withhold her help before she dropped the stiff pose with a giggle and said, “On the other hand, I’m happy to prove my loyalty with candy-themed brilliance, so…what about a spicy sweet that makes you actually breathe fire? Or, ooh, or what about something like Honeyduke’s tooth-flossing string-mints but bigger? That you could use as a skipping rope? Ooh!” Her eyes brightened. “Or what about combining that and a chocolate frog with a twist, like putting an edible candy pet on a candy leash? Like…” she cast her thoughts around. “Maybe a bird or a butterfly or something? That way you can enchant it to fly, so you don’t get parents whinging about their kids dragging something through the dirt before they eat it…”

Dorcas rolled her eyes dismissively at such frivolous parental concerns; she had consumed plenty of dirt (mostly, but not entirely, by accident) throughout her childhood, and it clearly hadn’t hurt her at all. She dismissed Dedalus’s pains to ensure she didn’t take offense at his allusion to her youth just as readily; while she hated being seen as a child by anyone who used that as an excuse to dismiss her ideas or commitment, she had no problem with being considered youthful by someone who did take her seriously. She was young, after all – but there was a big difference between being young and being a child. Dedalus, unlike the Inner Circle, had always seemed to know the difference.

It was with that in mind that she quite genuinely offered, “If mum and dad and the bookshop hadn’t already called dibs on me, I’d volunteer for that job myself.” Dedalus’s candy store would be a wonderful place to work, she was certain. If she could think of anyone else in need of a job – and worthy of such a good one – she’d be sure to mention it straight-off. “Although,” Dorcas mused after a moment’s consideration of herself, “maybe that wouldn’t be such a good idea. I’d probably spend all my wages sampling product, and unlike books you can’t exactly put a sweet back when you’re done with it…”

Dorcas listened with rapt fascination as Dedalus expounded on Muggle book-reading and writing habits. “That,” she breathed when he finished, “is fascinating.” She clasped her hands together. “Oh Digs, I can’t wait to read them! I’ll make sure to show ‘em to Grandma Zawe too. This is gonna be so much fun!”

She burst into peals of laughter at his accusation of tiny stinging hexes. “Oh, oh, please, yes!” she gasped through her giggles. “That sounds amazing. Yes. A challenge. Do it. I’m so excited to see what you come up with…and to eat them all!” She cackled. “What do I get if I win? Other than the pleasure of devouring your monstrosities, that is! Actually…” Dorcas paused and tapped her lip thoughtfully. “I’m not sure there is a better prize than that.”

The sad reality was that Sugarplum’s didn’t need his secrets to prosper, but Dedalus certainly needed those secrets to actually remain secret if he wanted a boost in sales. It was entirely unfair in a way he wasn’t sure how to deal with; when one was so used to the deck being stacked in their favour in just about every aspect, even such a mundane struggle seemed jarringly unjust. “I’m a ruthless businessman, I have no friends,” he said with a joyous grin. It dropped immediately at Dorcas’ next words. “Oh, come on now, don’t say that! It’s like that saying, be the change you want to see in the world. Be the change you want to see in sweets. Or rather, tell me what the change is so that I can make it happen. And then you can buy the change, with a gracious discount, of course, and enjoy tons of it. You can see how this benefits everyone, surely!”

And of course she saw reason in the end -- how could she not with his solid arguments? And Dedalus very much liked to think of himself as a creative man, and part of that involved recognising the brilliance of others. In this case that was Dorcas’ seemingly endless well of ideas. “I ought to be writing these down, I can already tell they’d be a hit. Why not go even bigger, though? A spicy sweet that makes you breathe fire, alright. What else breathes fire? Dragons. What else do dragons do? They fly and they have scales -- or at least some of them do? I don’t know much about magical creatures. Anyway, to circle back to the actual idea, what if it’s an entire line of dragon-inspired sweets? And then maybe there’s also a special line inspired by specific dragons in particular?” He could see how it could be an issue, how little he knew of dragons, but he wasn’t worried; he could just hire people for that. “And candy pets! How magnificent! A whole collection of them too, birds and butterflies and whatnot! Oh, could you imagine it, a number of edible butterflies in all kinds of beautiful colours flying around? And then you see a bunch of children jumping around like little frogs trying to eat them! Frogs do eat butterflies, right? Nevermind, it doesn’t matter, it’s still brilliant! See, you’re doing wonderful already!”

She really was; this kind of fresh, inventive thinking was precisely what the Delights needed. And it was damn shame indeed that Dorcas already had a job at the bookshop. He let out a sigh, deep and exaggerated, but the sentiment behind it was true. “Foiled by books yet again. It almost feels like being back at school.” A more Ravenclaw statement than most realised, perhaps -- in his experience, quite a few of his former housemates had often complained about being restricted to books and rules when they would’ve preferred other ways to explore and gain their knowledge. “I suppose I shouldn’t mention the incredible employee discount then? On top of the free candy allowance they get too, of course.”

It hadn’t yet occurred to him that those discounts he was so free with, not only for employees but also for friends, could be part of the reason the shop maybe wasn’t doing as well as he’d have liked. But it also wasn’t as though it was doing badly enough that he had to consider it so really, it was alright.