━ vanity, emma.

Percy tried to be respectful of people’s personal lives as he went about his job, but sometimes it was impossible. Sometimes a story required him to get a little invasive. Sometimes the person he was working with made it difficult. It could be a whole number of things. Percy knew Emma didn’t trust him and try as he might, it made him not want to be around her either. The date had been the final straw for both of them. He wasn’t hurting in that department though, so it wasn’t like one bad date made a world of difference for him. For Emma it may have. 

“Story would write itself,” he said with a grin. “And you know that.” He clutched onto his broom tighter, a little line between them. “Oh, don’t worry about that. Those who love the sport will return. You forget how dangerous Quidditch can be. The way I see it, might be an attention grabber.”

Oh, she knew it. Could envision the headlines in bright, crystal clear detail. Had imagined them when her brain refused to turn off for the night. But she wasn’t going to confess to that. Percy Pembroke was one of the last people who needed to know the anxieties that kept her up at night. Instead, with a crooked, cold grin, she asked, “What do you think the headlines would call it? A triumph? Or the return of a villain?”

who: open start. where: the local park. when: april 21, 1983.

Marlowe knew that she shouldn’t be out alone these days. It was late, and she was tired, but she had wanted to go for a run and she’d been too tired in the mornings. Still, here she was, by herself in the park, and while she was not an Order member she knew of the dangers. These days, anything could happen. These days, someone might think she were a seer or, just because of her last name, make assumptions. Marlowe knew they wouldn’t be entirely wrong, but being part of the Order was not something she was ready for. Not yet. She had to make sure Gideon was going to be okay; that Mia and Mary and Molly’s kids were alright. She had to make sure that someone was there, in case of disaster.

At the sound of footsteps, Marlowe slowed, turning to look over her shoulder only to jump at the sight of a familiar face. “Blimey,” she said, heart pounding. “Don’t do that! Don’t sneak up on people! Who taught you manners? A troll? Bloody hell.”

...

Emma wasn’t the only one paranoid these days. The unrest, the war – was it a war? – had touched nearly all of them, whether it was by being a bystander, knowing someone who had died, or by being personally injured. Some had chosen to fight. Some had chosen to be afraid of the dark. She couldn’t stomach the former and she didn’t understand the latter. These were people completely unafraid to attack in board daylight and completely able to get away with it. That’s how they killed Sebastian. But she supposed she couldn’t begrudge it. People were afraid of the dark in the safest places in the world.

Who: @elvanity​

Where: Diagon Alley

Percy always liked browsing new Quidditch supplies, even if he didn’t play anymore. He told himself that it was for work reasons. He had to know the latest brooms and what the new regulations were to do his job properly. He hadn’t bought a new broom in a long time and even if he didn’t have a practical use for it - he never traveled by broom - he still loved it.

He walked out of the shop, trying to hide his slight shame, as he moved his package around in his arms. Maybe he should just fly it home to make it easier. He was about to make a decision on travel, when he saw a familar face lurking around the shop. He didn’t think Emma Vanity would ever want to go into the quidditch shop. It was even surprising that she was this close. He nodded his head in her direction. “Thinking of taking up the sport again, Vanity?”

...

Head down, hands in her pockets – Emma would’ve walk right past Percy without noticing him if he hadn’t said anything. But he did, drawing her gaze up, a stone settling in the pit of her stomach. It was bad enough that he was a Quidditch reporter. She had enough of those for one lifetime. The worst date of the century was just icing on top of that shit cake. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she met his gaze.

Emma was really pretty.  There was something about her eyes that made Gwen want to look at them under a microscope.  Were they really the shade of color they appeared, or were there flecks of another shade in them?  And her hair looked as soft the leaf of an immature plant.  She was very pretty and interesting, and it was sort of in a distracting way.  Why hadn’t she noticed that before?  “It’s okay, you’ve still got a nice brain.  Are you more of the think on your feet sort?  Oooh, or are you artistic?  Can you paint pottery?”

“Yes, I learned the hard way the first time that I tested it on myself.  I had to go out for a few pizzas and I’m pretty sure I embarrassed myself, and you might guess that doesn’t happen easily.”  She rolled her eyes.  “Okay, okay.  Get yourself nice and comfy cozy.  I’ll get some water and a dose and be right back.”

...

“More of a think on my feet sort. Kind of a requirement for every job I’ve had.” Got to think fast when you see the snitch. Got to dodge fast when you see the bludger. And have to act fast when some guy is getting to demanding with one of the dancers. Went all the way back to first year – got to run fast when the bullies are after you. She definitely wasn’t going to tell Gwen about that last part, even when she brought out the potion. “Not sure about artistic, but I’d say no. I can definitely say I’ve never painted pottery.”

“i was vaguely aware of that,” rabastan mused, a slight smirk appearing across his face. he was in fact, aware, but where was the fun in being straightforward? “i assumed you wouldn’t mind,” he admitted with a laugh. “if there were a wider selection, perhaps i would buy something,” he concluded with a confident smirk. 

“i’ve had my fair share,” he admitted, although it was an intentionally vague statement. in part to spare himself from judgment, also he just couldn’t remember. allowing himself to be led to the corner, rabastan found himself unable to contain his laughter as he took a seat. “i’d ask if work has been good but they’re forcing you to work in a tent-”

She cocked a brow at Rabastan. Were he someone else – some other spoiled, pureblood brat from their school days, maybe she wouldn’t be so amused. Maybe she’d grab him by the collar and drag him out of the tent, throw him on his arse in the dirt and grass and litter outside. But she had a soft spot for him, she supposed. “I’m paid to mind, just so we’re clear.”

She had already been in a good mood, but she brightened considerably at Emma’s words.  It was quite nice to be recognized for the hard work she had put into this.  It had been a lot of research and experimenting to even get to this point.  “Thank you,” she tried to keep her voice professional, but some of her excitement broke through.  “I had just been reading one day and I came across an article on the medicinal properties of marijuana, and I just thought it might be a nice addition to simple healing potions.  We’ll see how it all goes.”  She shook her head.  “Oh no, you might not have invented the position, but I can tell that you’re a great bouncer.”  It was a stupid name, even if it was an important position.  It would be way cooler if she actually bounced.  “Keep on keeping people safe, that’s important.”

“I’ve tested it on myself and this bloke that is built like an oak tree.  Worst that’s happened is we just ate way too much and felt a bit sick from that.  It was quite nice otherwise.”  She nodded.  “I went to the muggle grocery this morning and my fridge is full of all sorts of snacks.  Whatever you’re craving, I’m sure something like it will be in there.”  

As they reached her shop she pulled open the heavy door and gestured for Emma to go first.  “So, this is where the magic happens.  It’s not much, but it’s all mine.  Find somewhere to get comfortable and I’ll get us a dose of the calming drought.  There are notebooks and pens, because quills are highly inefficient, on the long table over there.  I just ask that you record the way you’re feeling periodically.”

...

Emma looked at her with an open expression as Gwen explained how she’d come across the idea. She wasn’t sure, but she was 99% sure there was an unsaid muggle in there about the article. Not that it mattered to Emma. Considering how that side, that ideology, had treated her for being ‘the half-blood who ruined a bloodline’, she’d never care. Instead, she said, “that’s really creative, actually. Even if I were good at potions, I don’t think I could up with that – now how my brain works.”

An amused snort escaped her before she could reign it in. “Your preparedness is appreciated.” And she wasn’t lying. If this potion had pot, that fridge was about to be raided and weeded like it was full of old, edible library books.

While making friends wasn’t a foreign subject to her, Athena wasn’t always the best at it. She didn’t know quite how to initiate friendships, but she did know how to listen when people spoke, and sometimes that was enough. One could hope that it would be for the night, at least until she felt a bit more comfortable opening up. Athena was grateful that the other seemed to understand easily and move on, as she could feel herself making things slightly more awkward than they needed to be. Being vulnerable around people she wasn’t overly comfortable with was hard enough without making herself look foolish. 

“I appreciate honesty, it’s a fair point.” Beer felt like a party drink, one that most people drank too often that it lost meaning, almost. It was casual, and yet celebratory all at once, and maybe that was why she disliked it now, too. Or at the very least, didn’t favor it. Mead it was. “Actually I have. It’s sweet, but not overwhelming. I think you’ll like it.” Gathering two glasses, Athena poured them each a fair amount, figuring it was easier to get more than give back. Normally she didn’t go for sweet drinks, but it felt appropriate for the occasion. Sliding Emma her glass, Athena raised her own. “Cheers.”

...

“I hope you’re right,” Emma said, accepting the glass of mead. A sweet, honey-like smell with an afterscent of yeast rose to greet her. She rose her glass, repeating the “cheers” before taking a sip. As described, it was sweet but not overwhelming. Not even as sweet as it smelled. She swallowed and nodded, examining the glass. “It’s good. Thanks for sharing it.”

“Narcissa Black? Er, I guess Malfoy now. She was a couple years older than me back at Hogwarts. I don’t have fond memories of a lot of my classmates, but she doesn’t stand at one of the worst of my tormentors. I don’t actually know if she ever joined in on any of that. Don’t remember her stepping up for me either, though.”

“Hasn’t everyone else talked about it well enough?” Emma’s question was accompanied by a bitter laugh. “Doesn’t it technically involve someone if he was already dead? I’m not sure, but I feel like finding out the only half-brother I looked up to was both dead and Death Eater from a tabloid reporter on a press junket should count. That was only the start, and every single moment was written down in the gossip columns.”

in the brief period of uncomfortable silence that followed his statement, rabastan realized he really hadn’t been much of a friend to emma, at least not lately. but seeing as she hadn’t hexed him or told him to fuck off- he figured she understood. after all, their relationship had always been rather unusual. but it had always worked for them and he wasn’t looking to change it. 

“i saw it,” he admitted with a laugh, “i just figured no one would be brave enough to confront me about it,” he continued, allowing his pureblooded arrogance to show. “i say you should just take one anyways,” he responded, carefully pursing his lips, “and if anyone has a problem with that. well, they can take it up with me.”

“You realize I’m the one hired to confront you about it, right?” she asked. Admittedly, it was low on the list of reasons for her to intervene, especially tonight. Back at the actual club – not this pop-up joint – it would’ve been more pressing. More of a profit loss. But this was a goddamn strip club in a tent. It was nowhere near as serious.

Emma Vanity probably thought she was a lunatic.  But that was fine.  Gwen was pretty sure she was just sad her job wasn’t as cool as being in a circus.  Maybe she had taken Gwen’s words to hard since their last meeting and learned a skill that could be performance worthy.  She’d be a brilliant lion tamer.  Or maybe the head clown, the one who drove the car.  “There weren’t,” she grinned, happy someone picked up on her ingenuity before she had to share it with them.  “I invited them.  Well, I suppose it would be better to say that they’re a work in progress.”

“I should warn you,” she cautioned, turning around, gesturing for Emma to follow her back to her greenhouse.  “This is the first batch, and when I took them I got an incredible craving for nachos.  There might be a bit too much marijuana in this batch.  You might get a bit more high than calm this go around.”

...

“I suppose congratulations are in order then, even if they’re just a prototype. I sure as hell haven’t invented anything.” What had she accomplished? a nagging voice in the back of her head asked. It was met with a swift shut up. She didn’t have the energy for her own insecurities and paranoia today. Maybe tomorrow. Or maybe never, if Gwen’s calming potions weren’t too strong. Probably tomorrow.

Athena hadn’t meant for this to be some formal occasion. It was two… people, hanging out and having dinner and drinks. She wasn’t sure what sort of label that she would put on herself and Emma, but for whatever reason, none felt quite right. Maybe she would know better by the end of the night, though for now she avoided them all together. “Fair point. That would definitely not be the ideal way to end the night,” she chuckled, grabbing a few of the lighter options that she had.

“Good, that means we’re on the same playing field,” Athena smiled warmly, motioning for Emma to come over to the kitchen. She laid out a few different options, from various beer, to wine, to mead, and a few other things. “I know this may make me look like an alcoholic, but I promise, I don’t drink this much normally,” Athena explained with a laugh. “People used to give them to me as gifts, after matches. Or for special occasions. I don’t really drink that often any more, but once in a while is alright.”

...

“Thanks,” she said, following Athena to her kitchen. She supposed she could always take the knight bus, or hope the floo network understood her, and go for something harder. But… No. The former was miserable and the latter was a gamble. Emma leaned against the counter as Athena laid out their options. Though she raised her brows as Athena explained herself, it wasn’t out of doubt. “Don’t worry. I remember how it went.” The gifts, the bribes, the sponsorships. You were the apple of everyone’s eyes until you weren’t.

Oh good.  She was glad their encounter had been memorable.  She thought it had been a quite fun afternoon, and she hadn’t fully forgotten about those quesadillas.  Maybe it was time to go back and get another one soon.  Maybe she’d try the steak this time and see if it was as fantastic as the chicken – but that wasn’t why she came up to emma.

“Well,” she hesitated.  “something organic, certainly.  And a bit of food, because in my limited experience that becomes necessary rather quickly.”  She chewed on her lip, hoping she hadn’t read Emma wrong.  Some people seemed to get rather testy about these things.  “I’m working on a new line of potions using marijuana – I think if got the calming drought pretty much perfected.  But I need a tester that’s not myself.  My only side effect was that I sort of got the munchies, hence the funnel cake…. but if you have more than a few moments would you perhaps want to give it a go?”

...

Emma’s eyes narrowed as Gwen started. Something organic. Something that quickly required food. The vagueness was throwing her for a loop; Emma was about to part her lips and tell her to get to the point when Gwen beat her to it. Marijuana potions. Yeah, that checked. It also checked that Gwen was asking her, someone who she’d only met once. After saving her hand from a storm grate and discussing magical crocs (or had it been alligators?), pot explained a lot.