justin finch-fletchley

If you had told him a month ago he’d be having lunch with Anthony Goldstein, Justin would have laughed in your face if he believed it at all. Scratch that, if he was told he’d be having lunch with Anthony and that he’d be looking forward to it, he wouldn’t have been able to conceive of it. Yet, here he was, standing outside the Leaky Cauldron and trying his very best to look nonchalant. He was just waiting for a friend, of course (only he’d never been nervous to meet up with Ernie or Hannah for lunch, but that was besides the point). 

Anthony’s approach managed to catch him off guard despite a valiant effort to anticipate his arrival. Great job, Justin.  

“Anthony!” he said, jumping a little, “Merlin, sorry, you scared me, you casanova! You should wear a bell round your neck so you can’t sneak up on me.”

Something was off. He’d never used alohamora on Ernie’s door before, but tonight he had to, so either he was interrupting his sleep or he wasn’t home at all.

Or, apparently, maybe he was sitting bed with the lights off.

“Ernie? Mate, what’s–I’m gonna flick the light on just a sec, brace yourself,” he said, flipping the lightswitch to see him more out of sorts than ever before. He was clutching a wine glass, which wasn’t entirely unusual save for the fact that it was alone and in the dark, and Merlin, he looked like he’d been put under a mortar and pestle. What had been an expectant smile dropped and turned to concern, and Justin stood with his mouth agape at the doorway. “Ern, darling, what’s happened?”

Or, at least he was convincing himself they were innocent. Justin’s communication with Theo Nott after Hogwarts had grown increasingly sporadic, but something he’d taken his fair share of joy in. In retrospect, he should’ve written first, but this was the kind of impulse that could hardly wait for permission, so in consolation he brought a steaming cup of coffee, prayed Obscurus’ wasn’t busy, and took care to show up close to closing. 

He found Theo tucked away in some little corner, putting away books or whatever it was that bookstore clerks did (it wasn’t a medium Justin had made himself very familiar with). “Hi, Theo,” he said, realizing now he probably should’ve thought about what he would say before this very moment. “Coffee?”

@thoughtnott​

“You’re the one being incredibly stingy for fun.” Ernie shot back, no fire in tone. Only playfulness. His anger born from concern hadn’t dissipated but Justin seemed strangely fine. Maybe the shop attack wasn’t as big of a deal as he assumed. No. That couldn’t be it. He always assumed right. “Oh! Massages! Yes. Most definitely now that you’ve offered.”

Ernie raised an eyebrow over his glass, taking a sip now that Justin had finally returned his cheers. Perhaps it wasn’t appropriate to make light of a promotion that only occurred because your boss had been attacked and your shop ransacked but Ernie didn’t care. They had been through so much turmoil that never seemed to end.  He would continue celebrating all the small victories they had accomplished. 

He placed his own glass down, watching Justin continue to drink and lifted up the bottle to refill his friend’s glass when he had finished. The eye contact he received after he was done was by far a Justin brand of intense. “Tonight isn’t about me. You tell me everything about you and then we can talk about my life. Justin’s system check is a go? What happened yesterday? You’re not hurt. Are you hurt?!” Ernie tried to keep up with the muggle language his best friend used and after years of knowing him, almost stayed on top of it. Well, sort of. 

“Mm, let me drink another glass and I’ll show you fun,” he said, smiling. “Incidentally, let me drink another glass and I might give you an advance on that massage”

“I - there’s not much to say, really,” he said, though if he cared to get into it there’d be quite a lot to say. The past few days had been the stuff of dreams, all too reminiscent of the later bits of his teenage years, and really what he wanted to do was forget about it while he could. Tomorrow morning, when he went into work again, he would of course be reminded, and then he could worry again. But for now, he wanted to hear Ernie talk, and he wanted lean his head on Ernie’s shoulder (which, upon realizing that was what he felt like doing, he did promptly), and he wanted to drink more of this champagne. “I’m not hurt, it’s just... it was scary, you know, obviously. I got a promotion I’m not qualified for out of it though, so... all’s well that ends well, or something like that.”

Secretly, Justin was happy that Ernie was as concerned as he was, but he didn’t want him to carry on worrying about him. “Okay, I said my thing,” he said, closing his eyes and feeling like he could go to sleep here if prompted. “Your turn.”

“I’m not that smart, Hermione always got top marks.” Anthony pointed out, as if intelligence was only achievable by getting the highest marks in the grade and nothing else. His mind was still working to fit itself around all this new information. Justin hadn’t liked him at Hogwarts because he’d been annoyed at Anthony’s intelligence? Not entirely unfeasible, he’d often been frustrated he could never measure up to Hermione in class, or Michael and Terry in a social situation. Justin thought Anthony had hated him, which hadn’t been entirely true.

“I had a lot going on at school.” All those thoughts constantly constantly pressing from every direction on top of the entire rest of their school-aged experiences hadn’t really painted him in the best light. He was getting better now. Sometimes he could even hang around in the Ministry lobby with his guard down and let it wash over him without wanting to cry. But that wasn’t the point right now.

Anthony looked between himself and Justin for a moment before reaching forward to pinch the other boy on the back of the hand. He’d thought very briefly about pinching his cheek but entirely lost the nerve the moment his hand had started moving. “I’m not a figment of your imagination, am I? If I am, please give me abs.”

“Sure, but she was always a bit of a teacher’s pet, wasn’t she?” he said, shrugging. If Anthony being smart made him annoyed, Hermione being smart infuriated him - perhaps he should’ve been proud to see another muggleborn outpacing the rest of their class, but something about it got to him. Plus, she was a Gryffindor, and back then he’d held a grudge and then some against most of the Gryffindors. “Besides, there were like fifty billion other factors in our marks than just cleverness.”

“That’s... good to know,” he said, thinking that made an awful lot of sense. He’d always had some tiny inkling that Hogwarts hadn’t been all sugarplums and dewdrops for Anthony, but was far too self-centered to consider that might have contributed to their relationship. “Wait, so - you didn’t hate me?”

This was something. He could so play this out, and Merlin, he wanted to. If Justin from Hogwarts could see him now, he’d lose his mind. “Of course, of course. I’ll put that in my notes.” But I can’t think you’re a figment of my imagination, because if you were, you’d be doing a lot more than sitting pretty with your imaginary abs. Merlin, there was something wrong with him today. Maybe he was more out of practice than he thought, because every time he thought of something to say that would make his intentions more clear he couldn’t bring himself to say it. “I think we can conclude that neither of us are hallucinating or dreaming at this point. If I were dreaming, I’d be a lot taller, and maybe a lot less sober.”

Apparently, the decision to refrain from joining the New Order might have been a little more detrimental than Terry had originally thought. He’d wanted to join of course, but his parents had been harshly against it. As a family that grew up with one foot in the British Wizarding World and one foot in the American one, they’d had to be careful of what fights they chose to participate in and how that would affect their reputation. Especially with Terry’s father’s political career. They were things he’d had to consider but recently fighting for what was right seemed like the second reason to join, the first of course being able to keep tabs on Ernie Macmillan.

“Are you really going to pretend to be mad at me about possibly not telling you about a child army?” Terry asked, worry bubbling up inside of him. Terry was a little high strung and sensitive when it came to the rumors, though underneath that he could see there was nothing to worry about. It just seemed ridiculous that he was even talking to Justin about any of this, but nice to know that the other boy didn’t care about what was being said. “Of course it’s not true, I wouldn’t turn my back on you.”

A weight Justin hadn’t been entirely aware of lifted itself off his chest. Of course it’s not true. He’d known that, or at least been 99.95% sure of it, but still the confirmation felt nice. This was the sort of thing he’d attempt to tell Ernie later, but he’d most certainly lose his nerve somewhere in there. Besides, he told me so wasn’t the kind of argument that would win any Terry points with his best friend.

“Not mad, just overwhelmingly disappointed,” he said, smiling. The whole situation was a bit uncomfortable (perhaps it had something to do with admitting he had even a fraction of suspicion that one of his oldest friends had betrayed him), and in Justin’s book, the only way to deal with that was to smile and push on. “Sorry for - I didn’t really need to ask, it was just to make sure. What’s got Ernie so intent on exposing your evil agenda, anyway? He’s been... well, you know how he’s been, I suppose.”

This was definitely not what he expected from Justin. Some light hostility or snide jokes seemed more like what they usually did, not this. The flirting had thrown him for quite the loop. He didn’t know what to make of it. Should he reconsider their entire past, was this something new or had it always been there and he’d just never noticed?

He was too far in his own head to focus on Justin’s thoughts. His own seemed confusing enough. It wasn’t that he minded Justin flirting. Anthony had figured out he liked boys as well as girls ages ago. But he hadn’t expected anyone to actually ever flirt with him. Maybe it was just that Michael wasn’t here? No, Justin preferred hanging around Terry, but Terry wasn’t here either.

“Ow.” He said as he pinched himself, looking between Justin and his own arm for a moment. Right. So this wasn’t a dream. Could be a very strange spell but he’d never heard of any spell creating weird friends flirting with you scenarios. Couldn’t be a love potion because he hadn’t had anything to drink and this table wasn’t a direct line of sight from the door. “So, you’re real then. And you think I’m clever.”

What did someone say back, when they got flirted with? A compliment, right, but with more meaning? That sounded…doable. “You’re quite cute when you’re not very annoying.” Alright so that could’ve gone much better. “I mean, you have a nice face?”

Oh, this was entirely too good. Something to add to a mental list of facts about Anthony: he was awful at flirting. It was a nuanced art, to be fair, something that took practice and an occasional complete disregard for one’s ego. Justin had been working at it for years now, and even with that much experience under his belt, he got worked up too. Granted, he couldn’t remember ever being this bad at it, but he had to hand it to Anthony - the effort was there, if nothing else. 

Scratch plan A and plan B, he was leaning into this as much as possible. Lay it on thick, partially because he meant it, and partially because he was getting a hell of a kick out of this. Plus, he was already planning on detailing this entire encounter to Ernie later (as he always did where this subject was concerned), and he’d much rather say he put his heart into it than half-assed the attempt.

“Why do you think I couldn’t stand you at Hogwarts?” he said, grinning. “It always used to annoy me, you know, you being so - so smart. That, and I thought you hated me, so I had to return the favor somehow.”

“Maybe I’m dreaming,” he said, “In all our years knowing each other, I think that might be the first time you’ve complimented me.” Alright, Finch-Fletchley, game time. “Pinch me?”

On his toes was an understatement for how Ernie currently felt. He had been at work and unable to leave when he heard the news about Ollivanders yesterday, only able to send off a quick patronus to Justin to ensure his best friend was okay. Seeing him in the flesh, unharmed, and smiling was a giant relief though he still worried that the shop would be attacked again. Ernie moved to give Justin another giant hug, although he couldn’t manage to make it as bone crushing as his friend could. There weren’t many boundaries that he liked to follow but Ernie tried his best with his closest friends. Not that his best was any good. It was only reassurances that Justin was fine that had stopped him from storming Justin’s home yesterday. He planted another large kiss of Justin’s cheek and leaned against his friend, reluctantly to let him out of his sight or touching range now. 

“If there’s a five star continental breakfast, you expect me to hand crack coconuts? Ridiculous. You want me to suffer.” Ernie pulled the open chair as close as he could comfortably manage it to Justin, kicking his feet against his friend’s in a mock game of footsie, before reaching for the bottle. He preferred to do some things the muggle way, despite not being raised in them, and opening champagne was a special kind of satisfying muggle trick. With the cork popped, he poured a hefty glass of bubbles for both of them. “I’m mad at you but I suppose a trip away could make it up to me.”

Ernie knew on some level that the attack on Ollivanders wasn’t Justin’s fault but the mother hen in him couldn’t help but have anger towards his friend. He should try harder to stay safe. He held up his glass with a grimace and a harsh stare, “To our imminent doom, your inability to stay out of trouble, and your new promotion?”

Justin was just as much a touchy person as the next overly confident Hufflepuff, but this became most evident around Ernie. He was more affectionate with his best friend than he’d been in most of his touch-and-go relationships, because, well... it was easy. Their friendship had always been that way, and while he might’ve taken that for granted in their younger years, Justin was more than aware of it now. The war had put things into perspective in a way that was difficult to forget, even years later. So, when they hugged, he lingered in it; when Ernie kissed him, he let that aching bit in his chest melt a little. 

 “You’re so needy, Ernie,” he said, sighing. “Fine, fine, I’ll crack coconuts for both of us. Are you going to ask for a massage, too, or should I leave it at tropical drinks?” He halfheartedly returned the footsies, feeling suddenly very thirsty. Thank Merlin Ernie came prepared.

“And to your dashing good looks and ability to choose exactly the right drink,” he said, clinking his glass to Ernie’s. The drink that followed was perhaps longer than it should’ve been, and certainly less delicate than he usually liked to be with champagne, but damn it, the world was ending. Not ending, but teetering precariously on some high precipice, and the best way to look past that was to get appropriately tipsy. Nothing overboard, not tonight (though he had a nasty habit of thinking he was drinking in moderation and ending up drunk as a lord).

“Okay,” he said, looking his friend squarely in the eyes, “I’m not going to have you over without a systems check. Are you... how are you holding up, mate?”

Terry like Justin, he’d always been nice to him and they’d gotten along well in school. If there was one downfall it would be his friendship with Ernie, but Terry wasn’t about to hold that against an old friend. He may not agree with the slimy lawyer’s assistant but he generally ignored him. That was of course until Ernie went on this weird crusade against him. 

“I– where did you hear that?” Terry asked. The obvious answer was that he’d heard it from Ernie, he’d asked Terry not to tell the man. It just completely blew the former Ravenclaw’s mind how fast the rumors were evolving. Child army? Where would he even get the children it wasn’t like Terry had very many young cousins or brothers and sisters. “I definitely don’t have a child army, Justin. Can you imagine me trying to raise a child army?! Wait! Nevermind don’t answer that, but I guess if I did, I would tell you.”

Justin had been quietly disappointed when Terry hadn’t joined the New Order. He’d mentioned it maybe twice with him, but pressing the issue seemed fruitless, and frankly, if he were pureblood, Justin might not have joined either. Plus, after all they’d gone through during their last years at Hogwarts, he could hardly blame him for keeping out of it. Still, though, remaining neutral and joining up with the redeemers were two entirely different things.

“Terry, you cherub, do you really need to ask?” he said, grinning. To be fair, Ernie’s rumors were probably a good bit less endearing to Terry than they were to Justin, seeing as a) Justin wasn’t taking the brunt of them and b) Terry hadn’t developed quite the sense of humor it required to simply ignore a child army accusation. “You guess? Wow, ok, yeah, I see how it is. No, that’s fine. Totally fine. And all the - the redeemer business, that’s not true either?”

There was something different about a coffee shop, especially one as picturesque as the one they currently took up root in. Justin had always been the friend Susan needed when the wizarding world got too much. It helped that he was also always up for an adventure with her. As she held the warm mug between her hand she surveyed the surroundings as he spoke. He was right there were very few things that could compete with content Susan was feeling in the moment. It was almost as if all the craziness awaiting them back home had dissipated for a moment.

Savoring her sip she nodded in astounding agreement. “That is because magic takes away the time, effort, and love that’s put into each cup.” There were few muggle things Susan actually missed. Coffee being one of them so she was thankful Justin had convinced her to leave her flat. “How are you doing?” She questioned with genuine the concern for all her friend bursting to the forefront.

There it was - that question, that ever-persistent question that had permeated Justin’s life over the last few days. Of course, it meant a whole lot more coming from Susan than it did from most anyone else. There were certain things he’d felt that few of his other friends could understand, no matter how empathetic they’d been. The muggle world wasn’t something he thought of often: he was just as much a visitor to muggle London now as he’d been a visitor to the Wizarding World in his first few months at Hogwarts. There was a callous there, keeping life before Hogwarts conveniently tucked away in his memory. 

It was nice having someone that understood. 

“You know, I’ve been better,” he said, shrugging. That was certainly one way to put it. “But I’ve been worse, too. What about you? Anticipating our fateful return to war?”

Anthony felt chastened in a way he hadn’t known Justin Finch-Fletchley could bring about these days. He hadn’t meant to come off as angry, he honestly hadn’t. A year spent watching the whole school get held in sway of two sadists tempers had really inspired him to work on his own. If it wasn’t helping then he needed to try harder and– wait a moment, angry suited him?

Startled, Anthony furrowed his brow as he tried to figure out what on earth to make of that when– ‘That is the last time you flirt with Anthony Goldstein tonight’ floated through the back of his mind and what? That hadn’t been Justin, had it? Thrown completely off-balance he glanced around them as if to find anyone else somehow flirting with him. Had that been flirting? He’d always thought it was a bit more loud and obvious, like the way Michael did it. Had that really been Justin, flirting with him? Anthony had never really pegged himself as someone people flirted with before. What was he supposed to do next? Did he flirt back? How did he even go about doing that? Maybe he just needed more sleep. Maybe this was a very strange hallucination.

His cheeks grew distinctly pink. Should he have noticed the flirting, without the mind-reading? Would someone more normal pick up on that? Why didn’t he have any non-mortifying options to talk about this with later?

Blinking rapidly, Anthony opened his mouth and then closed it entirely unsure of what to say. “…You think I’m clever?” He asked at last, which hadn’t really been what he’d intended to say but he also hadn’t the faintest idea what he had intended to say. “I am… awake right now? Right?” Possibly-weird-dream-Justin probably wouldn’t tell him if it was a dream but it seemed worth a shot.

This was new. In school, their relationship had been barely friendly at best, and at worst, it had edged on sort of pseudo-rivalry. They didn’t run in quite the same circles, but their lives overlapped enough to let them interact, and the resulting clash of their personalities didn’t exactly lead to the warmest friendship. Justin had always thought Anthony could’ve done with a nice long nap, and then maybe he’d be tolerable. Now, though, they’d developed some level of distant respect, and since Terry still liked him, Justin had begun to admire him just a bit. Not like he’d ever admit to that, but still, Anthony was a hard worker, and they were in the New Order together, and that counted for a lot. 

Okay, scratch the first plan, flirt with him just a little. Maybe it was just his imagination, but Anthony was either bothered by this or he was flustered, and he was hedging his bets on the latter. Justin was rusty at this, but there was some solace in suspecting Anthony was even rustier (which, to his credit, he doubted he had any time for this sort of thing). The only question, really was how to go about it. He could just come out and say it: you’re stressed, I’m stressed, I’d be mad at myself if I came away from this without having at least tried to kiss you; he could play the long game, too, which seemed more fun but would require more restraint than he had. Begrudgingly, he settled somewhere in between - feel it out, and figure it out from there.

“Well, I’d hope you’re awake and I’m not a mere figment of your imagination? But that’s exactly the sort of thing a figment of your imagination would say, so don’t trust me,” he said, smiling. There were a few choice things that came to mind that he could say, now, (for example: if you’re asleep, I can think of something to wake you up), but they were all quickly vetoed. “Give yourself a good pinch, just to check.”