𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏 .

‘     Last  orders  were  called.   We’re  closing  in  five.     ’           A  glance  is  barely  spared  at  the  person  claiming  a  bar  stool  as  their  own.   Tired,  impatient  eyes  are  too  busy  focusing  on  the  wall  clock  instead,   watching  it’s  grubby  hands  tick  towards  midnight  and  heart  lamenting  another  bedtime  story  missed  because  she’s  working  a  doubt  shift.   It  isn’t  until  her  boss,   ever  silent    (   sometimes  even  sleeping.   )    in  their  dark  corner,  clears  their  throat      :      it’s  a  stern  noise  that  reminds  her  The  White  Wyvern  is  never  closed  until  there’s  no  one  left  to  serve.   Deep  breath  is  taken  in  and  Andie  collects  herself  before  finally  turning  to  greet  their  visitor,   flashing    (   is  it  too  little,  too  late  to  fake  it  now?   )     her  best,  brightest  customer  service  smile      —      one  that’s  possibly  far  too  PERKY  for  a  place  like  Knockturn  Alley.            ‘     But,  of  course,   we  can  make  an  exception  for  you.     ’           If  there’s  a  hint  of  sarcasm  in  her  response,   she’ll  deny,  deny,  deny  when  asked.   Needs  this  job  too  much  not  to.   Hand  is  already  reaching  for  a  glass  in  preparation,   the  other  tugging  a  rather  questionable - looking  dishcloth  off  her  right  shoulder  to  give  it  a  quick  wipe  over.           ‘     What  can  I  get’cha?   I  make  a  mean  Hair  of  the  Three - Headed  Dog,  but fair  warning,   it’s  not  for  the  faint - hearted.     ’ 

𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽  :    the white wyvern, knockturn a. 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚃𝚄𝚂  :     open.

“right, ghosts,” benedict repeated slowly, even nodding his head to show he understood, though he admittedly wasn’t sure he did understand, at least not entirely. sure, he’d heard plenty of stories about hogwarts and he knew the castle was home to many spirits, but he’d never put much thought into it. and he’d certainly never put much thought into the shrieking shack. so to think of the two together, was well, odd. “you make a good point,” he nodded, his eyebrows furrowed together, “from what you’ve explained, they really don’t have a choice as to whether they want to interact with nearly headless nick,” he spoke slowly, clearly forming his thought as he spoke, “they’re avoiding it because they can, they have the option to avoid it, the other ghosts, they don’t have the option to avoid them. at least, not in the same way.”

           ❝   𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕   ,   𝒔𝒐   𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚   𝒂𝒍𝒍   𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆   house   ghosts   ,   right   ?   ❞   ajay   explains   ,   his   pint   making   condensation   rings   against   the   table   .   it   was   awfully   convenient   for   ollivander   to   have   at   least   one   apprentice   who   had   NOTHING   to   do   with   the   battle   of   hogwarts   and   was   willing   to   watch   over   the   shop   on   his   own   fo   the   weekend   .   he   imagined   something   similar   happened   for   benedict   .   which   leads   them   here   ,   to   a   sparse   looking   leaky   at   the   end   of   a   full   work   day   ,   gossiping   about   the   school   that   neither   of   them   had   attended   .   ❝   nearly   headless   nick   and   the   bloody   baron   already   seem   kind   of   g o r y   ,   yeah   ?   especially   around   kids   .   so   i   was   thinking   the   other   day   —   ❞   and   perhaps   having   several   drinks   already   has   encouraged   this   line   of   thought   .   ❝   if   they   grew   up   around   that   ,   why   does   everyone   avoid   the   shrieking   shack   ?   sure   ,   it’s   haunted   but   .   .   .   so   is   everywhere   else   ,   it   seems   .   ❞

location: the white wyvern’s battle of the bands participants: ian borgin & open ( @startertms​ )

“i think that was one of my best performances,” ian smirked as he stepped off of the stage, having already handed his guitar off to one of the stage crew. “but i suppose we’ll have to wait for the judges finally opinion,” this time he added a sigh to the end of his statement. he didn’t really care if he won or lost, he just enjoyed the attention that he gained from performing. "can i buy you a drink?” he asked as he turned towards his fan. “or several,” he added, this time with a wink.

“really think you can win one?” augustine raised an eyebrow, a little skeptical about his ability to win one of the games at all. she’d missed out on the traditional carnival visits that marked most people’s childhoods, never got to experience the naivety of thinking it was easy to win these things. “if you can manage it, i promise to keep it up when i see you for the next month.” even as she spoke, hints of her french accent leaked into the british accent that she put up. “though, i can’t really understand why you’d want me to.” 

          ❝   𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅   𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒘   ,   𝒎𝒚   𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅   𝒔𝒊𝒓   !   ❞   comes   from   behind   the   little   booth   as   ajay   drops   into   a   fanciful   little   bow   ,   hat   coming   off   with   a   flourish   to   rest   over   his   chest   .   the   grin   he   shoots   kenji   is   playful   as   he   gestures   widely   to   the   various   wands   and   staffs   that   they’ve   got   out   on   display   .   ❝   art   thou   interested   in   a   new   set   of   arms   ?   ❞   he   asks   ,   knowing   full   well   that   kenji   was   more   than   capable   of   making   his   own   set   of   (   fake   )   wands   if   he   ever   found   need   of   it   .   still   ,   the   accent   was   a   little   funny   to   play   around   with   .

𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍:  cadbury castle  !

“well met, my good [insert appropriate term of address] ! wherefore dost thou carry such a dry and parch’d tankard ?” if it all sounds a little stilted coming from luca’s unpractised tongue, that would be because she’s trying so very desperately to recall what her ren faire supervisor taught her and several others early that morning to little avail. it wasn’t HER fault they’d only gotten forty minutes of training before getting thrown into the deep end ; that was just poor planning, and she doesn’t feel like she can be blamed when, after a brief struggle ( “pray thee- privvy … prithee ? oh, fuck it-” ) with the next line of impossible dialogue, she gives up in favor of a muttered, “would you like a top up ?” 

( 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 ) — cadbury castle ( 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭 ) — cadbury ren faire ( 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬 ) —  closed ( 𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 ) — @efflcrescent​ ( or anyone !! )

“these stupid games are rigged.” augustine dropped the toy bow and arrow back onto the counter in front of her. the ren faire wasn’t exactly her scene, not the sort of thing she would look at and think yeah, that’s going to be fun. but the chance to dress up as a pirate and bastardize a british accent in the name of historical accuracy—well, she wasn’t going to turn down that. “i don’t know why i even try.”

if     misery     loves     company     ,     so     does     outright     disgust          &          ajay     makes     for     an     admirable     consort          !          the     way     his     expression     screws     into     something     confused          &          appalled     coaxes     the     𝙱𝙴𝙶𝙸𝙽𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶𝚂     of     a     tamped     -     down     grin     that’s     promptly     obliterated     by     an     absent     -     minded     sip     of     said     offensive     cocktail          !          “          christ     ,          ”          she     chokes     out     single     syllable     amongst     a     𝐦𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐝     of     coughs     ,          “          if     that’s     what     they’re     serving     up     for     st     .     patrick’s     ,     i’m     avoiding     this     place     like     the     plague     .     it’s     the     fucking     mint     ,     i     don’t     understand          —     -          what’s     mint     got     to     do     with     VALENTINE’S     DAY          ?          ”

             𝒊𝒕’𝒔   𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒕   ,   𝒊𝒅𝒍𝒆   𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒚   𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕   drives   ajay   to   augustine’s   side   .   the   blind   dates   seemed   funny   in   concept   but   staring   down   at   the   slip   of   paper   bearing   a   name   he   did   NOT   recognize   had   him   seeking   out   some   familiar   faces   .   he   relaxes   somewhat   when   he   peeks   over   augustine’s   shoulder   to   see   her   assignment   .   at   least   he’s   wasn’t   completely   lost   when   it   comes   to   the   amortentia   dating   pool   .   ❝   oh   ,   good   luck   with   that   one   ,   ❞   he   snorts   ,   twisting   his   features   to   give   her   a   look   of   sympathy   that   is   mostly   feigned   .   the   tone   of   voice   ,   however   ,   makes   it   evident   that   he’s   only   joking   .   ❝      heard   he’s   a   bit   of   a   handful   .   ”   he   waggles   his   slip   of   paper   in   her   direction   ,   presenting   the   name   to   her   with   hopeful   eyes   .   ❝   any   idea   who   this   one   might   be   ,   though   ?   i   am   desperately   in   need   of   a   push   in   the   right   direction   .   ❞

𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽          :          amortentia     . 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚃𝚄𝚂          :          open          (          @startertms​          )          .

“          have     a     sniff     of     this     ,     will     you          ?          ”          phoebe     doesn’t     bother     with     niceties     before     a     glass     of     something     heinously     hot     -     pink          &          smoking     is     thrust     underneath     a     veritable     stranger’s     nose          !          “          there’s     somethin’     in     it     ,          &          i’m     dead     sure     it’s     𝐍𝐎𝐓     a     love     potion     .     smells     fucking     rank     ,     honestly     .          ”          another     wave     wafts     with     the     breeze     ,          &          the     scrunch     of     her     nose     is     entirely     warranted     .          “          shouldn’t     valentine’s     day     drinks     smell     like     𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚜     or     something          ?          this     smells     like     minty     shit     .          ”

𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎:  hogsmeade 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚜:  open @startertms​

𝚝𝚑𝚎  𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎  𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝  𝚑𝚊𝚜  𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚗  𝚞𝚙  𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎  𝚒𝚗  𝚑𝚎𝚛  𝚋𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜  𝚒𝚜  𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝.  bones  is  not  an  over - statement,  shoulder  blades,  knees,  arms  all  weeping  with  overexertion  from  a  combination  of  drills  repeated  ad  nauseum  ;  she  could  not  recall  the  number  if  she  were  offered  some  obscene  amount  of  money  for  an  accurate  answer.  limbs  are  spread  akimbo  from  the  bench  she  had  rather  pitched  herself  upon  and  demelza  gazes up  into  the  sky  she  had  been  a  part  of  not  too  long  ago.  “is  there  a  spell  for  when  your  legs  fall  off  from  plank  jumps?”  boot - clad  feet  are  held  up  as  though  to  illustrates  but  she  instead  groans  and  lets  them  plunge  downward  once  more  as  hands  find  the  depths  of  the  pockets  of  her  team - branded  zip - up.  “because  mine  can’t  take  it  anymore  today.”

                ❝   𝒘𝒂𝒊𝒕   ,   𝒘𝒂𝒊𝒕   ,   𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒏   𝒊𝒕   𝒕𝒐   me   again   ,   ❞   ajay   practically   begs   ,   holding   his   phone   between   himself   and   the   other   man   as   he   scrolls   through   the   list   of   compilations   on   youtube   .   he   exists   in   this   space   between   worlds   ;   separate   enough   from   the   magical   world   to   have   an   up-to-date   cellphone   that   he   deigns   to   use   on   occasion   ,   but   not   so   separate   as   to   keep   up   with   all   the   intricate   changes   that   the   online   world   goes   through   .   hence   ,   the   need   to   ask   for   some   clarification   .   ❝   theyʻre   all   just   .   .   .   six   seconds   ?   but   these   videos   are   all   so   LONG   .   ❞   his   eyebrows   furrow   in   a   frown   ,   still   searching   for   the   specific   video   to   provide   context   for   the   ‘   merry   chrysler   ’   text   he   had   received   from   a   friend   .   his   next   question   comes   out   faint   ,   like   heʻs   not   even   talking   to   dudley   at   all   anymore   .   ❝   how   am   i   supposed   to   keep   track   of   them   all   ?   ❞

0 8 .   the   dumbest   song   ?

listen . . . it’s   this   motherfucker   again   but   no   one   look   .   washed   by   dumbfoundead   (   when   i   get   wasted   as   shit   /   it   takes   two   days   to   get   fixed   /   they   asked   me   what’s   my   skin   regiment   /   bitch   i   drank   like   a   fish   )   is   quintessential   ajay   moving   past   his   woe-is-me   stage   and   straight   into   his   thirties   where   he   could   not   give   two   shits   about   being   a   squib   cause   he’s   an   adult   and   he’s   got   other   shit   to   do   .   (   i   mind   my   business   /   y’all   start   wars   /   i’m   michael   jackson   eating   popcorn   /   but   keep   testin’   and   talk   more   /   i’ll   send   that   ass   to   the   chalkboard   )   is   pure   thirty   ,   flirty   ,   and   thriving   energy   for   ajay   .

2 2 .   when   theyʻre   ill   ,   do   they   make   a   big   deal   ?  

NOW ACCEPTING :

at the end of the day, the blackwood manor wasn’t much like the lestrange estate that augustine called home when she was growing up. superficially, sure, but augustine had spent enough time memorizing the walls of her childhood home to recognize the stark differences, the distinct lack of frenchness. still, she was used to places like this, the portraits and the landscapes that were worth thousands and centuries old, and the accumulated wealth that even garrish halloween decorations couldn’t hide. “oh that was definitely there.” she looked up at it, held her absurd halloween themed drink like an art critic held a glass of wine. by then, she was more than a little drunk herself, everything a little fuzzy around the edges. “maman-” it was not something she would say, was not something she had called Seraphina in more than a decade. and her accent clung heavy to her words, no longer diluted in an attempt to push and push herself further from the family that erased her. “put these atrocities up all over the house.” she wondered where they were now, those portraits of crouch’s and lestrange’s, wondered if they’d made the trip from france to england with seraphina and merry. she shook her head. “never wholesale. that’s gauche.” she said with a laugh. “they made me sit for one when i was ten. i don’t recommend it.” when there was still some hope that maybe, just maybe, she was a late bloomer. 

her eyes travel down to her leg, the young slytherin alumni frowning as the fabric underneath her is tugged. there’s a delay from her before she hops off and grabs the excess of her own robe, wrapping it around her like a blanket as she leans back against the couch. “you should take better care of your cloak,” she summarizes with a wrinkle in her brow. “someone could rip it.” she gives him a serious nod before it quickly dissolves as her attention span turns to his horns. “have you knocked anything over in those?”