marge

Marge had just been all but glued to her notepad, to the point she became unaware of her spot in line. She wouldn’t even had realized bumping into anyone if not for the other person mentioning anything. “Oh no, totally on me.” She admitted. “Really, my bad. Are you okay though? I don’t think you spilled anything, but if you did I’ll be okay to pay for it. I was just getting a water or orange juice myself.”

“That’s totally alright,” Lo reassured. “Just uh, make sure to have better spacial awareness next time, I guess?” 

“Climbing over may actually somehow be the best option, sorry.” Marge tried to give her best apologetic smile. “I know it sounds bad, but my legs fell asleep a couple hours ago and the last time I tried to actually stand up, I immediately collapsed back on the chair.” She offered. And it was true. Not an hour ago, she was wanting a snack, tried to get up, and immediately failed. It was certainly quite a sight. “I promise I won’t get mad if you hit me accidentally, but that’s really all I got.”

“No, it’s fine. Just wanted to make you aware of that’s what I planned on doing before you thought I was trying to kick you in the face or something.” Levi told the other, “Not that I would have intentionally done that though.” Levi commented, leaning over to the other put his belongings in the space beside her. “Do you want me to get you anything before I climb over since you haven’t been able to get up for like two hours?”

“Ah, dinner time.” Marge stated, more to herself than anyone else at the table. She was having an old friend over for a nice warm meal, an event that Marge had spent the week planning. They’d have good food, have nice conversation, and when all done, have a commiserating session of all the world’s problems. “God, I think the last time I saw you was at Ernie and Susan’s. Catch me up on the haps. I will not allow my parents to know more about your life than me.”

“It does actually, I guess. The loneliness of not having a roommate, I mean.” Marge began. “But I was never home long enough, and I knew I would feel bad for not having time to spend with a hypothetical roommate.” The tone was obviously a little to cheery, but this was not the time or the place for Marge to get into the sleepless nights caused by the intense silence. Or the solemnness that resulted from something as inconsequential as not having to buy toothpaste or having regular surpluses of food to give to coworkers from not having enough mouths for it at home. “You know at least now I can stay out as long as I want and not have to worry about waking anyone up,” Marge quipped. “But if you know of anyone in want of a roommate, I do have an extra room and lav Ernie and Susan never use anymore, but don’t get to worried about it.”

The train ride was already too long. But then again, any train ride to Marge would’ve been too long. Especially for coming home. She’d been out of town for work, traveling and interviewing everyone from players to coaches to the crazed fans and those who still had their marbles. But not anymore. Soon enough she’d be home. In her own bed. With her own fridge. 

A voice came from the aisle. Or technically, shoes came first. Then a jacket second. The voice was third. Not that Marge was really listening. 

“No, one’s sitting next to me. But I can’t really move to stand up myself, so I’m afraid you’d have to move around me.”

Gigi had never liked public transport, spoilt as could be in her youth she’d turned her nose up even at portkeys from time to time, however she would admit that there was something about trains that brewed a slight nostalgia that masked her general disgust - perhaps it was the way they reminded her of the Hogwarts Express and the brief moments that she had been truly happy in her teenage years. Or at least they did when she wasn’t been forced to stand in her four inch heels with strangers pressed tight against her all because she couldn’t risk ruining the hand woven silk with apparition or the dirt of floo powder. 

So she marched those heels over to the only available seat in her eyeline, her leather jacket hitting the seat before she announced any intent to sit down or the aisle seat’s occupant had chance to protest. She was just about to explain that there was no way she could get around the blonde with the amount of fabric she was carrying and she refused to stand in her shoes any longer, when suddenly a wave of recognition hit her. “Marge?” She asked, shocked that she’d run into her old classmate in what was admittedly an odd enough journey already,

Marge let out a small “sorry” for her slight reprimand, before following Charlie into her room. “Well, the front door was locked, but the top window on the living room wasn’t. Don’t worry, I locked after I got in.” Her voice was weary as she gave a sad response to the first question, seemingly unaware of any boundaries having been broken. The Marge that originally came wasn’t the one in Charlie’s room. That Marge was big and loud and bold. But current Marge resembled that of a scared little girl, afraid of the big wide world. “I got home, and I don’t know. It was quiet. And lonely. And no one was there. And all I wanted was to have plans and be busy. Because we’re not old. We are young. And young people have plans.” Marge had to take a breathe. This was becoming all too real. All too serious. “And I knew you wouldn’t be asleep yet. So I thought we could make our own plans?” She tried to sound calm and collected, but what came out was barely a whisper.

Marge was already gathering her belongings, “You know, I don’t break out the jazz hands for everyone, but I thought this would warrant them.” She laughed. “And I love that deli place. The cheese toasties are great, but my favourite is their classic sandwich. After you,”

“Trust me, I know and I feel very special and honored that I’m the one you broke them out for.” Casey commented, holding her hands over her heart as she spoke. “Please, food always warrants jazz hands.” Casey commented with a small scoff. “Are you telling me that you like me more then your favorite sandwich, or asking me to lead the way. Because if it’s the latter I might just pretend it’s the former so my ego feels good.”

“I can try to move, but I fear my legs have officially fallen asleep under this pile of books and bags.” Marge chuckled. “I do offer arms to hold and suitcases and a nice table that can hold a laptop and I won’t bother you if you need to sign. Though all I ask is why have you had such a bad day.” The last part of the sentence was said in a much more serious and empathetic tone. “I know commuter traffic can be a bitch, but there must be something going on. And everyone always says it’s best to tell your problems to a stranger.”

“I don’t need to use my laptop, just need somewhere to put my phone down and my guitar case so I can actually talk to my girlfriend.” Jasper commented, realizing that loud, busy trains were really not accessible for people like him. “University just didn’t go the way I wanted it to go today, I keep leaving my hearing aids at home and when you go to a school that is music based- well, it’s even harder when you can’t exactly hear it.” He had explained the situation to his professors and they understood, well apart from one. 

The train ride was already too long. But then again, any train ride to Marge would’ve been too long. Especially for coming home. She’d been out of town for work, traveling and interviewing everyone from players to coaches to the crazed fans and those who still had their marbles. But not anymore. Soon enough she’d be home. In her own bed. With her own fridge. 

A voice came from the aisle. Or technically, shoes came first. Then a jacket second. The voice was third. Not that Marge was really listening. 

“No, one’s sitting next to me. But I can’t really move to stand up myself, so I’m afraid you’d have to move around me.”

“I mean there’s not much space to move around you, unless you want me to literally climb over the top.” Levi commented, gesturing to the fact the seats weren’t the roomiest and the other seemed to be pretty set in her not wanting to move an inch. “I mean, I don’t exactly mind climbing over the top, but I can’t promise that there won’t be any accidental kicking.” He was tired from touring venues though and there was still a rather long journey left and he would take any free seat that he could.

Marge moved her legs, mainly out of politeness and respect. And when a handbag came crashing through, she kept from it like the grinch with hooville on Christmas. “I guess when I get off the train, I’ll have enough time to catch any falling books and notepads.” She trailed off. “Plus my stop isn’t for another couple hours, so I imagine I have some time to workout any kinks in my nonexistent plans.” Marge laughed, even as the other’s attention seemed more fixated on her own agenda. “What about you, big plans for the rest of the day?”

“I don’t know about busier, you are thee captain of the Magpies” Marge joked, handing him another plate, the penultimate thing that needed to be washed before they turned the television on. “But I can empathize with what you mean, with the whole special treatment thing. Like what I’ll write in an article was changed because someone opened a door or didn’t open a door.” She was getting too serious. Memories long hidden were trying to bubble up. “But I don’t think anyone could think you were a dick, you give off the vibe of a boy scout that’ll walk an old lady across the street, not flash her on a Tuesday.” She laughed. “Hey after you dry this one, we’ll be done. Trashy muggle tv for the win? I vote for Real Housewives of Orange County. Though, I have heard rumours of a Real Housewives of Hogsmeade in the possibility.”

“Well you’ve got me there.” Aiden chuckled, drying and putting the final plate away before leaning against the counter as he listened to the other talk. At her words he couldn’t help but let out a bark of laughter, “I mean, I would hope that people wouldn’t think I’m the type to go around flashing old ladies, especially on Tuesday’s. Flashing is totally more of a weekend kind of deal.” He teased, “But yeah I’ve gotten the whole golden boy thing a lot, I’m a Gryffindor through and through clearly.” Not that it was a bad thing, but it did mean if he got into trouble or if his secret got out, the newspapers would have a field day. “A Real Housewives of Hogsmeade? Now that would be interesting, we really do need some good Wizarding World tv though, I imagine there are a million ideas they could work with in this town.”