tell me who i am.

emiliarosier:

She watched the exchange with a happy expression on her face. Emilia wanted to be a mother badly, one day, to be able to have such days every day. “I’m sure that if you practice you’ll get there,” she said, smiling a little. She’d never had much artistic talent either, until she had started practicing hard. While she could not turn hands or feet to save her life, she knew how to draw clothes by now, which was all she needed.

“He does, yeah. But like you, too. He’s a really nice, balanced mix,” she said, letting her eyes flick from Neville to Alice, trying to spot the similarities the other had pointed out. “Oh, a soup might be nice, yes. I might just take the same as you.” Truth was, Emilia preferred not to make decisions, would rather follow someone else, even if it came to minor decisions like these.

“Maybe there’s a market for badly drawn stick figures?  Some kind of collector that will hang my colorful creations above his toilet?”  She laughed.  “a person like that probably has a pale pink, 70s style commode like my grandma used to.”

She brushed a finger over his chin, wiping off the icing he had managed to get everywhere – she couldn’t even be upset, it was mostly her fault for playing with it.  “There are a few things,” she agreed, smiling.  “but he got lucky to take mostly after his dad – hopefully his personality too.”  Frank was wonderful, and she couldn’t imagine a better person for Neville to emulate.  “BUt enough about us, how are you doing?  I feel like I haven’t seen you in so long.”

“Maybe you should just call it modern art? Some modern art looks like it’s been made by todlers, after all, and who knows? You might just be the new Warhol,” she said, laughing. “Can’t wait to see your stuff in Tate Modern.”

Hearing Alice talk about Frank caused Emilia to smile softly. It warmed her a little, to see Alice so happy about her life, despite everything that was going on. “Please, you’re a looker. I’m sure Neville will grow up to be quite handsome,” she said. “You’re too humble, Alice --- he’d be lucky to have some of your personality, too.” She shrugged at her next question, as if to brush it off. “Oh you know, I’ve been okay. Tutoring is a lot of fun --- it’s nice to help, you know?”

open starter

Pettigrew’s flat was dark. Dark and boring and cramped. Amycus had grown up spoiled, as spoiled as any member of the Pureblooded community could hope to be. Home meant his meals were always prepared for him and his cleaning was always someone else’s problem and he had a room of his own that he could find peace and quiet in. But living with Pettigrew was like constantly being out on expeditions for work. He had to keep his wits about him, even in moments of relaxation. He had to make his own food and do his own laundry and clean up the dirty dishes because Merlin knows no one else was going to. So of course, in the moments when Peter was at work and Amycus found himself alone, he immediately left in search of something more interesting. 

This was one of those moments. Peter had left several hours ago, the last of his most recent dose of his polyjuice potion was wearing off, and for the first time in what felt like weeks (in reality, was probably only a couple days), Amycus was free. He had wandered out into Diagon Alley, interested in seeing if he could catch any news that wasn’t filtered through Pettigrew’s annoying stammer, and found himself at a tea shop. 

After fine wines and hand crafted spirits, tea was the most refined drink one could partake in, Amycus had been told growing up. It was the one lesson from his father that he most took to heart. So he settled down at the cafe, a hot mug of the most expensive jasmine tea in his hand and his Ipad propped up on the table in front of him and for a while, he was comfortable. 

At least until someone sat down next to him completely uninvited. He lifted his eyes from the article he was ready, barely registering who it was, and sighed. “It’s proper etiquette to ask to join someone before sitting down, you know.” 

Retreating in her small apartment was easy, peaceful, safe. Emilia found herself doing so more and more these days, with the war hitting more and more close as time went by. She liked sitting on her sofa, covered by a blanket, her cat by her feet and her laptop on her lap, watching shows for hours on end, rather than facing the state the world was in.

Maybe she was becoming an escapist. She hoped she wasn’t, but also knew that, perhaps, she had always been one.

And so, in the hopes of battling her natural need to escape, she’d gone to London that day. To visit a few shops, get some new clothes, see some people and just roam around in a city that wasn’t her own would do her good. She had soon ended up on Diagon Alley, carrying bags of muggle shops and feeling in need of some magical faces, some surroundings that didn’t feel as strange as muggle London still did. Above all, she needed some food, something to drink and a moment to rest her feet. Maybe she should stop wearing heeled boots when she went out for this long.

The tea shop was her first choice, naturally. Sure, the Leaky Cauldron offered good food, but she was in more of a need of something sweet than greasy pub food, and tea was never a bad idea. As she walked in, eyes fell on Amycus, and she -- spontaneously -- decided to sit next to him after ordering a green tea and dropping her bags next to her chair. “I’m sorry, I’m absolutely knackered. It’s so busy --- are some country on spring break or something? I hope you don’t mind that I sat next to you, by the way; haven’t seen you in a while, thought we could chat a little. We can just nip our tea in silence, though.”

regulus: I know. I know, I'm sorry.

regulus: $128.43. They were on sale from $160.

emilia: you're right, i'm amazed that you even remember that

emilia: and don't apologise

Dorcas experience with the Rosier Family one had been an interesting and mercurial one. Evan knew too much, yet said nothing, which kept her on edge. The older Mister Rosier was highly protective of his children, especially after his brother Ezekial had gotten himself arrested. In the study, they had talked. One thing that was a result of that talk was a side job – to help the Rosier family with was making sure that Emilia was protected. It didn’t hurt Dorcas’ reputation to be around her, not at all, which was one of the reasons she did agree to the arrangement but she didn’t know how she felt being a bodyguard of sorts. A babysitter? She didn’t like to think about it.

Following Emilia inside, hearing her complain about the weather made Dorcas feel obliged to say something. “Spain is beautiful, I’m sure if you really wanted to go you could. Even for a day. “ Her hand went to her wand, nonverbally casting a few heating charms on her feet and hands. “D’you want a little heat? It’s a lot more frosty than I thought was allowed in here. We have magic, you don’t need to SUFFER when you’re inside as well.”

She wanted to leave, badly. To go abroad, leave the mess that had become the United Kingdom and not look back for a while. Spain had been the first thing to come into her mind, but a place even further away might just be better. She let her mind go over the options as she took off her coat, considered places like Uruguay and South Africa and New Zealand, dreaming of the Southern Hemisphere as if it was a place from a novel. The thought of running away was too tempting, but there was too much to leave behind, too much that held Emilia back from taking such a leap. Besides, she’d probably not last longer than a day on her own, with her dependency on people.

“Hmm, maybe I’ll just do a day, yes,” she said, already picturing her agenda, trying to find an empty day in her schedule. “I’ve not been there for years, it’d be nice to make another visit. There’s so much to explore there.” At the others question, she nodded. “Please,” she said, holding out her hands, which had became red from the icy wind. “Rosmerta’s usually rather good at managing temperatures, so it’s odd that it’s so cold here. I’ll need a warm drink to warm up properly. You, too? My treat.”

Kingsley hadn’t really thought about it much, but when she asked him to think about it further, he was forced to. Maybe it was all the times he had been there on holiday with his parents; all the times he was forced to present himself a specific way and never be anything but completely professional. Even in a place like Spain where everything seemed more cheerful, it was still all about appearances. “Just not the first place I’d expect someone to pick if they wanted to go somewhere warm,” he said. “I’d think the Caribbean or something.”

Kingsley looked at the drawing self-consciously. He never really showed people his drawings, it was just kind of something he did as an outlet. He always doodled in his books when he was younger to keep his hands occupied and it had carried into his adulthood. Even in important meetings he sometimes couldn’t break the habit. “I suppose,” he said. “It’s usually just to keep my hands busy.”

“The Caribbean is so hot right now, though. I like a nice medium temperature, around fifteen degrees,” she said, shrugging a little. “I know, I’m a stereotypical Brit, always complaining about the weather, no matter what temperature it is.” It was just something easy to complain about, something trivial and small. There were so many more solid things to complain about these days, and Emilia preferred not to, preferred ranting about temperatures or rainfall. It was lighter, more satisfying. 

She hadn’t wanted to intrude when she’d asked if he drew, had simply been curious. “It’s nice, isn’t it? I draw too, sometimes. Not as good as you, though, probably, but still,” she said, trying not to look at his drawing, not wanting to embarrass the other. She was quiet for a second, letting her eyes drop either way. “What do you like to draw, then?”

He looked around the elevator, offering sickly polite smiles to those who met his gaze as he shoved his hands in his pockets. He felt sorry for her, because things had suddenly changed overnight and it was unlikely normalcy would return anytime soon. But he still remained ambiguous for the rest of the elevator ride, until they reached the ground floor and he gestured for her to go first.

“ I just–I just think you’re probably gonna need a friend very soon. You’re gonna need somewhere to go, to escape–away from your family, from the people that are going to start following you around and asking questions. ” Rab muttered loud enough for only her to hear, not bothering to make eye contact with anyone in the foyer. “ They’ll already be tracking your phone, anything you use, watching the people you love so they can pin something on you too, even if you’re innocent. I’ve been through it and–I figure maybe I can be of some help. ”

He wanted to tell her, that he had been there last night with her uncle. But he didn’t know if he could trust her yet, not until she trusted him. 

She didn’t want this. Emilia felt something grow in her chest, something others would name anxiety or stress, but she just called weakness. She didn’t want this, she didn’t want any of this --- the war had already infected so many parts of her life, and it was growing, constantly spreading like some cancer. Her thoughts went to her uncle, in prison, to Elaine Selwyn, dead. She tried to just focus on Rabastan, but standing still in that bloody hospital made her brain move fast.

She listened to him with a stomach in knots and her lips pushed together. “Okay,” she said, nodding. “Thank you.” Emilia didn’t know what else to say, too many words lying on the tip of her tongue, but none leaving her lips. “So what do I do? I --- I’ve not done anything, I’m squeaky clean. Do I just keep on going, like I normally would?” She could lie, and quite well too ( many of her interactions were based on lies, if she were honest ), so that wasn’t something she’d worry about. “They’d have nothing to gain, trying to lock me up, right? I’m a recent graduate, a bloody tutor. It’d not make sense. But I’ll try to be careful. Or do whatever you think is best.”

Peter nodded quickly, “Oh, right.” Don’t be too pushy. He leaned forward against the bar and half-turned towards her. “Oh yeah, definitely. I mean I love the cold– as you know– but I also enjoy a good heater or a fireplace. It’s a blessing after a long day.” He grinned. There certainly was a number of times Peter was positive his entire body has frozen from spending the day out in the cold, and he very much wished he had his own fireplace to simply thaw out at the end of the day.

“I dunno,” Peter laughed at her ice cream comment. “Do I look like ice cream to you? Cause I certainly wouldn’t mind it– maybe then I’d be able to create ice cream out of thin air. I would so dig that.” He gazed off for a moment, pretending to day dream about the concept. “No way, definitely not. Your cruel is clearly my wonderful.” Pete shook his head. “Is it? Maybe I’m just used to these pickpockets, because they’re really bad at it. I mean– don’t get me wrong, I’ve lost my fair share of wallets over my lifetime, but only enough to count on two hands.”

“I just don’t like .. I don’t know, being rude or something,” she admitted, her voice a little guilty. “They’re working hard, and all, I don’t wanna intrude.” It didn’t make much sense when she said it, and she let the words hang in the air for a while. She hadn’t known why she had said them --- they were too honest, too real, to close to an confession of something. “Ah, so you’re human after all! I thought you were a vampire or something. They like cold, right?”

She looked him over for a while, her eyes squinted. “A little. Like hazelnut, or something,” said Emilia, chuckling softly. “Ohhh, that’d be wonderful! I would, too -- I’d just constantly stalk you and beg you for free ice cream. Unless on days like these. On these days, I’d stalk whoever could create hot chocolate out of thin air.” She let her thoughts drift to the scenario, her lips curled slightly, still. “No. You’re just wrong,” she teased. “Yeah, I definitely think so! I’ve encountered them in Paris, too, and in other big cities. And that’s a lot of wallets, Peter! One is too much! You should tape them to your body.”

“I’m sure it will.” Every little bit counts. That’s what was said at every fundraiser. So everyone felt as if they were contributing. Although some of the miserly amounts people donated were pitiable and certainly shouldn’t count. But it was about the end dollar amount, not what each individual gave. It was the total, greater than its parts. Narcissa wondered if the Death Eaters were the same way. By some miracle, would what they were doing turn out all right?

“Oh don’t I know,” Narcissa said with a wry smile. She shook her head, though her facial expression clearly indicated she was thinking fondly of her son. “I don’t think he would regulate his volume, even if he understood how,” she said. Draco was a bit of an imperious child already. Narcissa didn’t let him get away with everything, but that didn’t mean he liked it when she said no. “I know you’re not complaining,” she reassured Emilia kindly. “I’m sure you did a wonderful job. Would you like some tea before you leave?” 

“Me too,” she said. “It’s really great, that you do these things.” Emilia meant it, too --- while she knew that the Blacks and Malfoys both didn’t have the cleanest track records and that there was a big chance that this was just another front ( she knew these things happened, wasn’t as naive as people thought she as ), she still thought it a rather generous thing. Narcissa could just be throwing her money at clothes as well and not do anything to try and improve things for others.

“I don’t think so either. It’s a great way to get attention, to be honest,” she said, letting out a soft laugh. “At least we’ve learned other ways to communicate --- how strange would it be if we just screamed every time we felt a little deprived of attention?” Emilia tried to picture it for a moment and was tired at the thought already. She wondered if she’d ever stop screaming, too. “Thank you. And that’d be nice, yes.”

She knew that she wasn’t Emilia’s favorite person, and that was fine.  She didn’t have to be liked – Emilia wasn’t her favorite person either, but she was still her sister.  Family was important, and the Rosiers had taken her in without question all those years ago.  She owed it to her parents to take her baby sister under her wing.  “A job you don’t need,” she reminded her.  “a job that you are unquestionably the best at, and they’d probably be fine if you took the afternoon off – they aren’t going to find a better tutor than you.”

“What kind of boring life are you living?” she teased, nudging her.  “We are not going to the beach and not getting in!  Even if it’s just for a second, fully clothed.  Don’t be getting boring on me now, Em.”

“It’s not just some kind of desk job, these kids rely on me to be there, Luce,” she pointed out. Emilia didn’t like canceling things, avoided it by keeping a carefully planned agenda. There was no missing out, unless there was a pressing emergency or she was seriously ill. She wouldn’t miss her appointments because of a spontaneous trip to Spain, no matter how tempting it was. “You know how school works, right? There’s assignments and deadlines and everything, there’s a time factor.” 

She let out a soft chuckle. “I’ll swim, alright --- I always swim. I just don’t feel like lying on the beach at this time of the year, sue me.”

“I never intended for it to get this out of hand,” Hestia said with an apologetic look at Emilia. “It just happened!” Hera she had gotten first, for companionship. But then a ‘friend’ had asked her to watch Zeus while they found a new place. His owner never came back for him, and Hestia found herself having to accommodate yet another responsibility. At least she had been able to bring him to work with her–once he had been trained of course. It was a perk of working in the Magical Menagerie and the Owl Emporium. Of course now she couldn’t do that. One dog in a shop was allowed, three was a bit much, even if they were well behaved…most of the time. Hestia didn’t know what about her made the universe throw abandoned, ill-used, or injured animals her way, but there it was. 

“Well I don’t know what happened do I?” Hestia asked, a little more sharply than she intended. She sighed, closed her eyes. “Sorry,” she said, her voice quieter. “Someone used my wand,” she explained. “So I’m a suspect. Other than that…well I have no fucking idea.” Okay, so she was still a little bitter, so sue her. Hestia was just tired of constantly feeling as if she had to fight for her place in this society. 

She took her tin of Earl Grey down, setting it onto the counter. Pouring water into her kettle, she placed it on the stove to boil before turning back to Emilia. “Please, sit,” she offered. 

“That’s what all addicts say, Hestia!,” she exclaimed, pretending to be extremely worried for her friends wellbeing. In all honesty, there was only one person she thought could manage this animals, and that person was Hestia. She had such a determined kindness in her, such a way of caring for others without even noticing it, that it only seemed right that she owned more pets than seemed logical. Emilia wasn’t sure she would be able having so many animals to look after to, was sure that she’d spread herself thin trying to make sure all got the same amount of love and attention. She was exhausted thinking about it. Besides, there wasn’t much more room in her little home for any more pets. 

Hestia’s sharp tone surprised her, and Emilia bit on the inside of her cheek. “No, you’re okay,” she said, tone soft, maybe even hesitant. She could not imagine what this was like. “That’s ... jeez, Hes, that’s crazy.” She was quiet for a second --- what did you say when your friend was being framed for a crime as serious as murder? There was no guide book on this, there was only intuition, and Emilia had little of that. All her interactions were based on what she knew others wanted to her, but right now she didn’t know what Hestia needed. “I’m so sorry,” she added eventually. “They’re crazy to think it was you. They’re going to let it go, I’m sure of it.”

“That’s a good idea. I may have to implement that anyway.” Not only was there a chance of keeping Harry in one position long enough to get him into his pants with small amounts of terror or violence on his son’s part, but there was also a chance of his son thoroughly enjoying himself. “He loves flying around, anyway, it’s the same sort of though he just won’t have a broom and therefore may not kill the cat.”

“Aye, well, the poor first years may not be that smart. I certainly wasn’t.” He had resorted to wearing multiple layers and sneaking off to the kitchens to get a nice warming cup of tea at all hours of the day before he had ever learned how to do a warming charm. “It is. Great snow for a snowball fight, too.” That’s what they had always done - the Marauders, that was, making a mess of the grounds and drawing unsuspecting victims into their games. “Is it weird to be back on the other side of things?” He asked, sitting down himself and ordering a butterbeer before answering her question. “Not really, no. Just came to annoy Minnie a little bit. Make sure she knows how much she missed me.”

“Well, if it works, let me know --- I’ll tell all the other parents I know,” she said, chuckling a little. Emilia tried to picture James levitating his son, and the image was both endearing and ridiculous. She could see him doing it, though, which made it even better. “He’s already flying? Isn’t he like, super tiny?" Her eyebrows were a but furrowed, as if she was worried. “That’s really cool, though.”

Emilia nodded amusedly. “Me neither. I just wore three jumpers and a lot of socks whenever we had Herbology. I don’t know how I didn’t tip over,” she said, thinking back to the days where a simple warming charm had been a challenge. It had been easier, then, even if most easy things had been harder. “Oh, yes! And for making snowmen. I also love ice skating, so at least winter isn’t all bad.” At his question, she shrugged a little. “A little, I suppose? I do have a lot more respect for the professors, now -- some of these kids are real little turds. But it’s fun, and they usually appreciate what I do for them.” She ordered a ginger tea herself and chuckled a little at his comment. “She’s great. I’ll tell her you said hi if I see her later, give her an extra reminder.”

regulus: I guess -- I guess you can't know. But it is.

regulus: Maybe ask me something?

emilia: remember when i got those boots? last week?

emilia: how much were they? i talked about it all day. they had such a crazy discount!!

She nodded, touching a bit of frosting on her finger and brushing it over his nose and laughing at the confused look on his face.  “Doesn’t get that from me.  I’m lucky if I can draw a stick figure that doesn’t look like it was just sawed in half by a M– a magician.”  She was no stranger to being in Muggle places, but it was hard avoiding words they shouldn’t be hearing.

“He looks like Frank,” she shrugged, smiling softly at the thought of the two of them together.  He has the shape of my eyes and my nose, but literally everything else is his dad.  “I think some soup. I had the French Onion here once and it was really good.”

She watched the exchange with a happy expression on her face. Emilia wanted to be a mother badly, one day, to be able to have such days every day. “I’m sure that if you practice you’ll get there,” she said, smiling a little. She’d never had much artistic talent either, until she had started practicing hard. While she could not turn hands or feet to save her life, she knew how to draw clothes by now, which was all she needed.

“He does, yeah. But like you, too. He’s a really nice, balanced mix,” she said, letting her eyes flick from Neville to Alice, trying to spot the similarities the other had pointed out. “Oh, a soup might be nice, yes. I might just take the same as you.” Truth was, Emilia preferred not to make decisions, would rather follow someone else, even if it came to minor decisions like these.