Adelaide Greengrass

“This is ridiculous.“ Adelaide sighed as she watched Aurors begin funneling any previously wandering guests they’d found back to the feast hall. Some were getting ansty and demanding to be let to apparate home, only to be denied such freedoms ‘for their safety’. So many of the people she knew there lived outside of London, so whatever chaos they were worrying about was pointless. Adelaide saw the pointlessness in such efforts when she knew the Aurors would still say no, and no amount of name dropping would do anything. Instead she’d found a deck of cards in her purse and began to shuffle them mindlessly at a table off to the side, already cleared of the cold food they’d been served, trying to decide what game to burn time with. 

Fitzgerald had a strange relationship with his father. It was rather casual, much more so than many other pureblood relations. He referred to him as ‘Pop.’ And they had no pretenses with each other. The senior Greengrass knew of his sons precarious behaviors and seemed mildly bemused, if not admiring of such a carefree life. Though it had never actually been spoken, Fitzgerald felt that his father envied him and wished to prolong it as much as possible. Keep the youth alive, if you will. Better this than the undeniable suffering that came with falling in love.

His mother died when he was merely four and twenty years later her husband still seemed to be suffering as if it had happened within short-term memory. Fitz knew how wonderful the woman they lost was, if only fleetingly. He could feel the longing that seeped from within his fathers bones. There were parts of him that wished he could take that pain away, though the bigger parts of him had never known his father personally enough to reach it.

They were casual acquaintances more than they were relatives, as sad as it was to truly think about.

Adelaide had truly raised him, remembering that his favorite breakfast food was pancakes but only allowing them every so often, knowing it wasn’t viable to give a four-year-old sweets in the morning every day of his life. He would never forget or truly be able to repay her for it. But what he could do was take some of the weight off of her every day life.

That is why he allowed himself to slip into the family business. If he didn’t, it would surely be her - which was no place for a proper pureblood lady in their society. She’d never get a choice, otherwise. He hated it, but he’d do it if it meant one less thing for Adelaide to worry about. Even if their father had openly admitted that Fitz wasn’t ready for it.

He had been standing in the shadows outside their fathers office when she exited, watching her travel slowly down the hall and into the long-forgotten library. Only it wasn’t really forgotten. He spent an abnormal amount of time there. The dusty books on the shelf remained like-new, because he read them regularly. Though only his sisters would ever really know that. Fitz was fairly certain they hadn’t noticed they’d been touched at all, but if they did, they’d know who the culprit was.

He considered going into the office, but a sideways glance let Fitzgerald know his father was busying himself with something. His quill scratched loudly at a piece of thick parchment. Fleetingly, he wondered if he was writing to a wife who was long at peace. He left this thought to travel down the hall to where he had seen Adelaide go. He cracked open the door, listening to the quiet sniffle she would never openly admit if he called her out on it.

Audibly, he stepped into the room. Her snappy tone caused him to smile. “I wasn’t waiting,” he told her. “I was merely being vigilant.” He walked further into the room and picked up the first book he could get his hands on. A History of Magic. A snort left his nose as he tossed it down with a thump. “Ad,” he said pointedly, though gentle as it was, making his way over to a shelf he knew contained a number of books on herbology and, secretly, a few of Bronte’s classics. “I’ve been thinking we should go to South Africa - without father. Me, you, and Oh. Maybe see what the ministry their has to offer us in terms of exports.”

They both knew he didn’t really care, but it was the start of a much larger conversation. He wasn’t looking at her yet, offering her the simple respect of privacy. When he did turn to her, he dropped down to his needs, lowering himself so that he had to look up at her the way he had when they were children. His blue eyes, the ones they shared, were earnest and open - something only she would ever really experience. A boyish charm unlike anything he had willingly given in many, many years pulled the corners of a hopeful mouth. “And perhaps maybe some time off would do us all good. Me and you, at least. Ophie, bless her soul, will never really see the same struggle you do.”

“Mhm...” Adelaide hummed, watching her brother with a trained eye as he moved about the room. Her hum turned disgruntled and disappointed as her brother tossed down a book before moving on. Outside of that, she kept quiet as she listened to his proposition. Her mind was turning, trying to figure out just where such a trip would land in their schedules and just how much time she wanted to spend with her sister. She felt like she couldn’t leave the younger blonde alone sometimes, though the look on her brother’s face made her almost disregard the feelings of having to hover over her younger siblings.

Thunderbird January 31 Open

The Thunderbird was a pretty nice establishment for a speakeasy. Fletcher knew it was more trendy than truly illicit - the fact that one could pay galleons to remain on the list was proof enough of that - but after the events of several nights ago, he craved a more sanitised environment. He was also craving copious amounts of whiskey. The Thunderbird satisfied both of those needs. 

He hadn’t arrived with anyone and hadn’t sought out any company, so he sat alone, accompanied by his glass. 

In the quiet of his flat, he couldn’t stop the creep of memories. It wasn’t that he thought the Dark Lord was wrong in seeking more power though he regretted the method by which that power was gained. He had a soft spot for children and was only grateful that he hadn’t had to be the one to ensure their welfare until the sacrifice. The mess with Regulus was something altogether different - a message that they were expendable. 

He didn’t like it. 

However, Fletcher was not so naive to think that he could back out of the Cause now. He was marked, and he was inner circle. The only other option was to do what he could to make himself indispensable and that was something he didn’t yet know how to do. 

A shadow fell across his table. 

“I’ll have another,” he said, without looking up from the empty glass he was contemplating.

She was going to end up with a reputation if she kept frequenting bars like this. Not that Adelaide didn’t already do everything to keep her reputation -and her family’s reputation- pristine. She spent money to keep her family out of the unsavory parts of the Prophet, instead always convincing those pesky little reporters to reword anything concerning the Greengrasses. If the family was supposed to climb that damnable ladder that was society, she couldn’t let them get ass-level in rumors and bad press, and after such stressful and annoying meetings, Adelaide liked to get a drink.

The Thunderbird wasn’t always her first choice, but it was close this week and she wasn’t fully in the mood to go home just yet. Home was where Ophelia was probably causing problems and Fitz was-- well if he was there, he’d be encouraging it. Speaking of encouraging bad behavior, her eye caught Fletcher Travers in the corner, staring so deeply at an empty glass that she could have mistaken that look as one her father would wear, and the thought of Fletcher being like Mr. Greengrass... the cold feeling of dread nestling in her stomach made her very uncomfortable with the idea, for whatever reason.

Merlin, this is what she gets for still being friends with someone she’s slept with. She asked the bartender for a bottle of whisky she knew he’d like -even if she disliked the taste herself- and let her shadow fall over him.

It was hard, some days, to watch their father bury himself and give Adelaide little more than a list of meetings he wanted her to take for him and a few grunts of acknowledgment. It had hit her harder that day than it had been in more recent memory. She could feel her fingers shake minutely as she clutched the parchment and the tears prick at her eyes as she explained the week’s events and notable things she and her siblings had done -all positive, some complete fiction- and received nods and ‘that’s nice, sweetie’ in response.

There came a point where there was just no point to remain in the room, and Adelaide would quietly leave to nestle down somewhere and process how she was feeling. Today it had been a little corner of the house she was sure no one really lurked in, with a leather couch for her to bunker down in. A house elf was summoned and quickly got what Adelaide required of it; the best scotch in the house, a blanket, some books, and a charcuterie and cheese board so she didn’t have to leave for any real reason. The eldest Greengrass, once alone with her self and her feelings, could feel the pricking at her eyes get much worse than she wanted them to as silvery tears lazily drifted down her cheeks. It was not open sobbing but just the release of everything she was feeling.

“You do seem to spend rather a lot of time thinking about my bedroom,” he said, brow lifting momentarily, though it had returned to its usual position by the time she told him that his flat was not off the table. 

There were occasions when having a decent poker face came in handy even when galleons were not involved. 

That gave him an idea. 

Adelaide had said that she wanted to go somewhere interesting, and Fletcher knew a few places. The flirtations might have been fun but he knew better than to push Adelaide regarding their old liaisons, or rekindling anything even on a casual basis. He assumed that she knew well enough what she wanted and that she had the confidence to pursue it. 

“You were the one who offered to beg,” he pointed out before he stood up and refastened the button on his blazer. He was a little overdressed for where they were going - a seedy back alley bar with a particularly good reputation for poker in the exclusive back rooms - but he didn’t think anyone would be silly enough to question it. Just like he didn’t think anyone would give Adelaide too much trouble if she was with him. 

She was right to think that he wouldn’t knowingly take her anywhere that she might be in danger.

He took two steps towards the door before he turned back to Adelaide. “Are you coming?”

“It was rather nicely decorated, even for a bachelor’s flat, if I recall it correctly... I must get the name of your decorator.“ She shrugged off his insinuation easily, having only the desire to clear things up in his mind. Fletcher was always on that little list in the back of her mind of men she wouldn’t completely loathe for the rest of his life if she had to marry someone (Merlin knows, she’d out-live a few husbands if she were able), but marriage -even to further the family business- was after she finally got Ophelia into wifely shape and Fitz at least thinking half-way with his actual brain. 

Besides, Fletcher would rather die than be monogamous, that she could tell without him ever having to mention it.

“Only because I know it would work, my dear. You can never resist this pretty face of mine.“ Adelaide caught on quick that he was intending to leave, a lifetime of watching her father and other men in the business world taught her tell-tale signs, and she stood as well. Brushing imaginary dust from her skirt, she followed at his heels, obligatory purse for her wand and spending cash in her hand. She was eager to see what Fletcher had thought of.

She had wanted to kill her sister at the Black Christmas gala. For a brief moment, as her sister drunkenly swayed and fumbled with her words during their argument, there had been an inkling of a desire in Adelaide to pull out her wand and just make her disappear. Such a stain on the Greengrass name that she was more and more excited to throw Ophelia to the Crabbes and be done with her. It was never that easy, to be truthful, but by Merlin Adelaide wanted it to be.

She’d forbidden Ophelia from abiding alcohol for the foreseeable future after that night --punishment administered to the other blonde through a house-elf-- threatening to hex her into sludge if she even looked at it, before going on to enjoy the many parties and outings between Christmas and New Years. After the year she’d been having, she deserved it.

Going to the Malfoy or Lestrange parties meant seeing family members, maiden aunts and grandmothers who want her to put aside the suits and scotch and find a man to put a huge diamond on her finger and a baby in her belly. Bah, the old fools. There was more to life than being a wife and mother, and had she never had another sibling she’d have it all... and her mother too.

As much as she loves her siblings, she’d rather they were cousins.

So she was at the Selwyn party, where much younger members of pureblood society lurked, who wouldn’t question whenever was she going to get a proper man or cluck at how old she was starting to get. A champagne in one hand and the other occasionally stealing the smallest of canapes, not wanting to pop a button on her dress of course, Adelaide kept an eye out for someone interesting to talk to, perhaps the host or maybe Fletcher Travers was somewhere...

Fletcher put a hand to his chest and adopted a wounded expression at Adelaide’s comment that he was not a dashing rogue. 

“You always did not how to hurt me,” he said, but smiled a moment later so that she would know that he was not overly bothered by the comment. 

“My mother raised me to believe that what we say reflects more upon ourselves than those we talk about,” he drawled. Fletcher’s mother was the epitome of a lady. She was the only reason he had turned out to be half a gentleman, and without her influence, he knew his life would be headed down a more nefarious path than it was even now. He couldn’t say that he preferred all of the pomp and ceremony that accompanied pureblood life, but it undoubtedly presented him with a different set of tools to use in all of his dealings. “So go ahead and say whatever you like.”

“Hypothetically, I would say that if you have that opinion of this place, I am not sure you would like anywhere else I might take you. Assuming, of course, that you are not blatantly inviting yourself to my flat,” he said. He watched as she downed her drink before he took a healthy swig of his own. He thought she really must not be enjoying herself to treat the drink in such a way. 

The places he frequented were certainly fun, at least to him, though they were also, undoubtedly, seedy. It wasn’t that he thought he shouldn’t or couldn’t take Adelaide, but he also wasn’t sure that she knew exactly what she was asking. He couldn’t deny that at least a few choice locations had sprung to mind that he thought could be interesting when she said it didn’t have to be nice. Though there was one thing, in particular, that was of interest.

“Practically, I would be lying if I said I wouldn’t be swayed by a particularly good show of begging. And I do know rather a few spots that might be considered to be fun.”

“I was referring specifically the things we’ve uttered in your bedroom, but think what you must.“ She smirked, deep red stained lips betraying her amusement. Long ago she’d found a comfort in Fletcher’s arms (and mattress, eventually) and it had led to such a strange sort of friendship between the two. She wondered briefly if Mrs. Travers would approve of it if she really knew how Adelaide was instead of the mask she put on at public events. 

“Is that what mothers teach their children? Interesting... never knew that.“ Perhaps it was her lack of a mother that had warped into such a creature as she was now -highly likely, as she clung so hard to whatever she could as much as she had to her dying mother- but there was little now that could be done about it.

A short chuckle left her lips as she rolled her eyes. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d seen the inside of his flat. It’d been years, surely. “I do believe I’ve never said your flat was off the table.” Adelaide leaned toward him over the arm of her chair, blue eyes looking him over as her fingers turned the crystal cup in her grasp. “You know I don’t beg, Fletcher... not unless you make it worth my while. And I just can’t risk getting soot on this dress by getting on my knees. It will take forever to get out.” Jokes spilled from Adelaide’s lips, her smirk still soundly in place. She didn’t care where he took her to, she trusted him enough not to get her in horrible trouble.

The only reason Ophelia would step foot in a place like this was when she was looking for Ernest. But, thanks to the men in the room, he apparently had left an hour ago. So much for that lunch date. Sad and a bit disappointed, Ophelia turned to leave Sip and Smoke when she saw a familiar blonde sipping on a brown liquor in a leather chair. 

She probably shouldn’t have been as taken aback at her sister’s words, “Well, apologies for wanting to tell my sister hello. I thought I might catch Ernest here. But… seems he had left quite some time ago. What are you doing here Addy?”

It probably wasn’t the best idea to pry into her sister’s life, but it seemed a strange place for someone of her stature to be.

Originally posted by lisemeinens

There’s a instinct in Adelaide, the one that guided her through teaching her sister how to walk in heels and how to sort the spoiled boys from decent men, that rears it’s ugly head and tells her that Ophelia shouldn’t be there. It was a men’s club in all but name and policy, and Ophelia shouldn’t have the stench of cigar smoke and stale alcohol lingering on her. Cool blue eyes look over the younger Greengrass as Adelaide twirled the crystal glass in her hand. “You should have just sent him an owl instead of chasing him all around town hoping to see him, Ophelia. You don’t want to look desperate now, do you?” Usually she would ignore the question about her own reason for being there, but doing so might give Ophelia an out to try to distract her from more pressing matters. “I was meeting with some of Father’s associates for him. They left a few moments ago and I figured I’d enjoy a few scotches on their tab before leaving myself.” Setting the glass down, Adelaide looked at Ophelia before sighing. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be, young lady?”

“Busy?” He repeated with a quizzical raise of one brow. He was busy, always. Part of the fun of life was fitting in two different businesses, as well as all of the fun that made life worth living. Of course, the assignments for the Dark Lord sometimes got in the way, but it was just one more ball in the air to be juggled. But Adelaide didn’t need to know that. “I don’t know the meaning of the word.”

“Though I am sure if an invitation had been issued I could not have refused.” They had a history but Fletcher 

“Yes. Dashing rogues,” he said, answering the question with a rakish grin despite knowing full well that it did not require one. “Though I am not sure you can blame the men for having good taste. Though they might have waited for an occasion not related to business.”

Fletcher ordered a drink when the server arrived and another of the single-malt that Adelaide was drinking. He looked about the room when she mentioned it being a bit restrained for him and shrugged. 

“Too fancy, you mean? My mother would be horrified to hear that you believe that.” Fletcher did not mind so much. She had a point. It was not the sort of place that he preferred to spend time, even if it was better than most frequented by Pureblood Society. At least a little debauchery was tolerated in the club provided one spent enough money. “I had a meeting. And between the whiskey and the cigars, this place is not so bad.”

Adelaide rolled her eyes with a smirk at Fletcher’s ego. Yes, she’d spent a turn or two in his bed to try and get over her desire of Tristan Nott (and subsequently made her grandparents too keen to see her become Fletcher’s missus) but she wasn’t going to feed the beast by letting it inflate. She knew better. “If you know a dashing rogue, do please send him my way. I do get so bored at times.“

“Your mother would be horrified by a lot of the things I’ve said to and about you, knowing her.“ Her eyes cast a look around just as he did, seeing instead of the cigars and whiskey and leather, she saw the men enjoying them. Businessmen and old money with too much time to burn. Had her family worked in shadier businesses, they would be perfect marks. But alas, it wasn’t what she was meant for. Instead she had to be charming and make most men assume she wasn’t more than a pretty blonde housewife-to-be. The idea made her sick, but it was what she had to do. For the family. 

“This place is full of balding men who want peeks up a girl’s skirt and to avoid the nagging of their wives. The cigars and whiskey are just the deceptive icing on a very poorly flavored cake.” When the server came back with their drinks, Adelaide had to stop herself from downing hers in all one gulp, instead sipping at it delicately as she was meant to. “What would you say if I practically begged you to take me somewhere fun?” Perhaps the question was out of the blue, but with the prospect of going back home and planning a month’s worth of events -Yule was one of her least favorite times of the year, just because of that- and trying to wrangle her siblings in, Adelaide needed a moment to breathe and be herself. “And don’t think you have to take me somewhere nice. I mean... despite my more refined tastes, I like you after all.”

Sip and Smoke was Fletcher’s preferred venue whenever he had to undertake a legitimate business meeting. For everything else, he favoured the back rooms of the White Wyvern. Some things didn’t feel right when discussed outside of Knockturn Alley and some things could only be discussed far from the prying ears of aurors. 

Ever since the aurors that were amenable to bribes had warned him of the increased surveillance on the aurors themselves Fletcher had decided to lay low. He did not wish the end up in Azkaban for any reason. The happy side effect was that he was spending more time in the other half of the family business and it appeared to be doing well. It was almost enough to make him think he could turn legitimate. 

Almost.

His meeting had ended and he was on his way out when he spied Adelaide sitting alone.

Fletcher only smiled at Adelaide and the mild snark of her comment. It was good to set the tone of the encounter early and she had not disappointed. 

“Beggars, choosers,” he waved a hand as if to emphasise the cliche and to put it away. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that you should not drink alone?”

He undid the button on his blazer as he settled into his chair and called over a server. “What are you drinking?” 

The sound of Fletcher Travers’ voice in her ear made Adelaide’s mouth twist into a smirk that she hid by taking the last sip of the whiskey in her hand. Her delicate fingers gripped the fine crystal glass, turning it mindlessly after she had finished her drink, as she rolled her eyes at Fletcher’s words. The man may be the heir to a rival business, but she was not officially apart of the Greengrass companies, so it was no bother for her to be friendly with him. 

Besides, he brought a bit of fun to her life, though not so much as to distract her fully. “I drink alone quite a bit nowadays. You’ve been far too busy to join me. How rude of you.” The playful scolding rolled off her lips as she slightly turned in her chair towards him.

“A forty year old single-malt. Men that could have been our grandfathers decided to try to liquor me up to get in my father’s good graces...“ Legs crossed, her foot bounced to an unheard rhythm. “Or in mine. But we both know my type.” A shrug, and she brushed blonde curls behind an ear. “I am surprised to see you here though, it’s a bit too... restrained for you.” 

She’d never been a smoker, but her father’s associates were. However, she did immensely enjoy the 40 year old single-malt they offered her after she gently turned down their cigars. The meeting had ended an hour or so ago, but she was nursing the free drink they had left her with. The smell of smoke and the soft and deep tones of the customers was just where she deserved to be. She was feeling like she had a seat at the table her father denied her and gave to his son instead. Sitting next to one of the fireplaces, Adelaide stared into the fire and lost herself in just what she could do if perhaps her father took her as heir, how powerful she could make her family in the small society British purebloods had made, as she heard someone else slip into the leather chair next to her. Without letting the fact their appearance disturbed her play out on her face, she took a sip of her whiskey and glanced over at them. “Are you so desiring for company that you thought I was a good idea?” Self-deprecating as it was, it did better not to insult her new companion.