to lead souls, to drag souls

The whole thing is making his head just about pound. Hogwarts, closed? Closed indefinitely? Remus cannot claim to have felt like he belonged anywhere in his life, always feeling something deep inside of him chafing at the restrictions of the world, but Hogwarts had felt as close to freedom as anything else (if he pretends that, for a few months, Scotland hadn’t felt like truth was finally allowed). There are more happy memories than ill if he doesn’t let himself think back too long on just how many hours were spent worrying how he was being viewed by those who knew and those who didn’t.

It seems right to send the place off, for now, with a drink - even if a drink out would put him back a few sickles he doesn’t have a job to replace. It’s the little things that make life worth living, at least that’s what he tells himself when he spends money and tries, desperately, to find a job somewhere, anywhere. Applications go perpetually unreplied to and a well of bitterness has opened up inside of him. No doubt they search him up and see his name on the Werewolf Register. Remus curses himself daily for being foolish enough to put his name down, though he wonders if there was ever really a choice; Dumbledore likely would have snitched on him if he tried to float beneath the radar like some others. At least they can get a damn job.

A glance is cast upward when a voice surprisingly close rings through the air. Remus looks up from his firewhiskey and offers a polite nod, fingers flexing ‘round the cup as he tilts his head to the seat across from him. “Not at all,” He’d really rather be left alone, but he’s not going to say as much, “That second round won’t be needed. Thank you, though.”

Getting drunk is not on his to-do list tonight. He doesn’t need to stumble into James or Sirius’ place a mess; Remus is doing his best to be a good guest at either residence, and showing up in the wee hours of the morning is far from model guest behavior. They likely wouldn’t mind in different circumstances but Remus can’t help but worry they’ll have a whole host of uneasy questions about where he was, why he was there, and they’ll blossom into worse questions he cannot answer.

Next round won’t be needed. 

       Her eyes glanced around the table and noticed the lack of glasses. With a night as busy as tonight the staff was sure to be burdened. Which meant that this fellow couldn’t have had but one round in him. Euphemia pressed her lips together as she sat across from him. “Are you sure?” She implored, an eyebrow raised. “I wouldn’t mind if it was just a pumpkin juice.” With the words she took a sip from her own drink, relishing in the liquid. Although the Cauldron was not her typical drinking spot she found the newfound company intriguing. He looked vaguely familiar, but not enough so that she would know his name. Perhaps quite a few years younger than herself, and certainly not a pureblood elite. She would have known him if that was the case. He looked far from the sort that would hang out with the Walburga Black or Bellatrix Lestrange. 

        Euphemia went to study his features. There was a weariness about him that she couldn’t quite seem to shake. As if there was an invisible weight that borne down on him. There was a thin laced smile on her features. “I’m Euphemia Rowle by the way.” Her delicate hands are cupped around the alcoholic beverage, gauging his reaction. Implicitly she knew that her mere sitting here was a burden to the other occupant, and another round didn’t seem to decrease that tension. She was carefully going to ignore that tension though and press forward. She leaned forward a bit, squinting with a tilted head as she look at him. “You look familiar. Do you work at the Ministry?” That was always the safer guess right off the bat. She tapped her chin with her finger. “Or perhaps went to Hogwarts? I’m just asking because it’s going to bother me otherwise.”

A EUPHEMIA ROWLE PLAYLIST

Hogwarts was closed. 

         The flurry of owls was a great addition to Euphemia’s afternoon reading. The indefinitely was a nice addition, she must admit, truly elevated the danger in the air. Which by all accounts did exist, perhaps not just in the forms of educational institutions closing but something more pressing. Additionally, the missing figurehead of Alastor Moody was a worrisome piece of the puzzle. Mia wasn’t one to befriend others at the Ministry easily, and Moody was no exception. The change of leadership was more of a nuisance than anything. A difference in dynamic was something she could get accustomed to, perhaps it would even benefit her. 

        Euphemia thought that such a tumultuous day deserved a drink. Spiny Serpent was a longer walk than she was willing to make that night, so she’d settle for the Cauldron. She slipped a piece of hair behind her hair and headed for the door. There was a buzz in the air that she couldn’t place but was certainly enjoying. She walked up to the bartender ordering a firewhiskey. It was a busy night given all the excitement of the day. There didn’t seem to be a spare table in the place, at least not one that she could place. Mia handed the money over for the drink and taking a sip. Too loud. Too entitled. Too sad.  She thought as she went over the tables that looked mildly viable. 

        “That’s the one.” She muttered to herself, noticing a table in the corner that looked like it would make a good company. Euphemia slipped through the crowd, carefully avoiding the servers with drinks. When she finally made it to her destination she looked down at the occupant of the table, a grin on her features. “You mind if I sit here ? ” She paused a moment, taking another sip of her drink. “I’ll buy the next round.”