nightmares

WHERE: The Leaky Cauldron, London. WHEN: March 1st, 2024 @ 15:58. WHO: Open to all adults. 

He wasn’t going to cry.

He couldn’t cry. 

Ron had to admit it; it was a bit early to get drunk. Or well, to drink. At his age, he couldn’t very well excuse drinking just for the sake of getting drunk, could he? Not even when all he wanted to do was either lie down on the floor and never get up again OR throw glasses at the wall until he bled from the shards that rebounded back to him. 

Fuck. He hated everything so much at that moment. From the rickety table he was sitting at, to the chair he was sitting on, to the looks of pity the bartender kept on sending his way. And she wasn’t the only one. Even McLaggen’s kid, bloody McLaggen’s kid, had sent a drink his way. Not that he hadn’t done the same to her a few nights ago, after he’d heard whispers of her sister’s death. Still, it stung. Ron Weasley used to be easy to pity. He used to find himself pitiful, even, but that had changed. Ron had changed. He was a grown man now, and he didn’t need to be pitied. Fuck. What he needed was his best friend back. 

He had spent the first eleven years of his life without Harry. That was a big chunk of time, and yet, he felt like the hole inside of him would have been just have big if they had known each other from birth. He loved Harry. He hadn’t said it enough. It wasn’t the “manly” thing to do, and Ron had always tried to prove himself. As the youngest of six boys, he had wanted to show he was strong. And telling your best friend you loved him had, apparently, never been a great show of strength, and how fucking much Ron regretted it was unbelievable. He had said it from time to time, but was it enough? Did Harry ever know that Ron saw him as a brother? As even more than that? Ron loved his brothers, sure, but Harry held a special place in his heart. A place that had been turned into a hole that would never be filled again.

It was his first birthday without Harry. Well, except for his first eleven ones, but Ron didn’t count those. Hell, he could barely remember them. His sixteenth birthday had been especially interesting, and Ron couldn’t help but quietly chuckle as he remembered it whilst staring into his glass of whiskey. 

Harry was gone. Harry would never get to turn forty-four. Harry Potter was dead. 

So absorbed into his thoughts and his whiskey, Ron didn’t even notice anyone approaching him until he finally looked up and saw that someone was sitting right in front of him. 

“Oh, bloody hell,” he jumped in surprised, putting his hand against his heart for a second before raising an eyebrow. “Kind of rude to try to give a guy a heart attack on his birthday, you know?”

“hm,” avalon looked up at the ceiling, though her gaze seemed to transcend the rickety wooden structure above them, considering the statement. would it be rude to give someone a heart attack on his birthday, rather than any other day? did it matter what day one died? or would it only matter if one lived through said heart attack? “I suppose it could be.” she wondered if people asked to be given a heart attack, now. how would one go about doing it on purpose?

the table beneath them moved slightly, jolting the montague girl out of her thoughts. “here,” she pushed one of the drinks across the table, her eyes setting on the man before her. his sadness seeped out of him like oxygen seeped out of trees; it permeated the room, drawing avalon’s attention away from her seating partner to him. the sadness was so powerful that it had taken her a moment to recognize him. so easy was it to sense people’s emotions, her sympathy was soon chased out of her mind by her imagination. the corners of her lips had turned upward in a wry smile, eyes shining bright at the opportunity laid before her. she wasn’t going to do much, of course. after all, there was always more fun to be had with her cousin by her side. but tonight, she felt like playing. 

her eyes turned sympathetic, now. her gaze turned toward the drink as she lowered her chin toward it, “you seemed rather sad without a drinking partner.” her eyebrows unknitted themselves as she looked at the man, her eyes wide. she lifted a corner of her lips, keeping her smile small, and lifted her own drink toward him.

WHERE: Anywhere that isn’t Hogwarts. WHEN: Anytime between February 25th, 2024, and March 6th, 2024. WHO: Open to every adult.

“Can you believe it? I just… I’m in shock. I’m sorry for being this way right now, but I just can’t deal with it. It’s so… Dehumanizing. No, that’s not the right word. Humans are not inherently better than anyone else. It’s just fucking awful. Oh, shit. Oh for- Please excuse my language. I’m just a tiny bit angry right now.”

cleo lifted their hand and shook their head in response to the woman’s apologies, “it’s fine. it’s definitely difficult news to digest.” although there was sympathy in their words, cleo couldn’t help but feel a small pang of annoyance at seeing the woman. despite their irritation, though, they did attempt to remain cordial. after all, the woman had never been overly aggressive or forceful as some others have in trying to recruit them, and felt it only fair to remain as cordial as they could.

WHERE: St Mungo’s.  WHEN: March 4th, 2024 @ any time. WHO: Open to all adults.

“Is there something on my face,” Piper asked suddenly to the person sitting beside her in one of St. Mungo’s waiting rooms. Lowering her voice, she added: “That man over there won’t staring at me and looking completely horrified, and it’s starting to terrify me in return.”

“hm?” cleo looked up from the book they’d been reading by the sudden interruption. their eyebrows furrowed as the girl continued on. their eyes shifted toward the man in question, then back to the girl’s face in case there had been something there. “I don’t see anything to cause alarm, no. has he been doing that for a while? I could go speak to him, if you’d like.”

Alice didn’t know what she was meant to do. Well, she knew what she should do, especially if she wanted to keep her cover intact, but… Shit. Seeing Charlotte so upset made Alice feel like her heart was squeezing in on itself, urging her to do something rather than just stand there and pretend she didn’t care. Alice had always thought of herself as a good liar, but she couldn’t lie to some people, like Ever and Violet. And now, Charlotte. Still, telling the redhead would put her in danger, even more so than before, and Alice didn’t know if she’d be able to deal with that.

Still, her question stung. She had known it’d be coming eventually, but it still hurt. She should be glad, really. Most, well some, people were believing in her act, no matter her family name, and she was proud of that. However, it felt quite… Weird to think that those people thought of her as a Death Eater. That they thought she agreed with the idea of blood purity and all that bullshit. Sure, Alice wasn’t the nicest person around, but still… It would have been a lie, another one, to say that it didn’t sting.

Alice typically just raised an eyebrow at questions like these, but this time, it was coming from Charlotte, and Alice panicked. She could feel her heart beating faster than usual, and she brought her hands together to wring them. In that moment, she was quite glad that she had learned all those breathing exercises, or Charlotte might have been able to guess that something was going on. Swallowing nervously, she looked down at the ground for a couple of seconds before looking back up at Charlotte.

“Do you believe I am?” she asked, her voice breaking embarrassingly in the middle of the question.

“I--” her words failed her again. she thought about it; the way she alice held herself with the rest of her housemates, how she could seem so cruel just as they were, how her words thrown at someone else could sting so hard on charlotte’s skin. still, charlotte didn’t believe herself capable of holding a crush on someone for so long if that girl actually believed she deserved to die. at least, she didn’t think so. was it foolish to think that she thought alice might not be a death eater in her heart? most likely. was she just a fool, then? “I don’t know.” she swallowed hard and lifted her head. “you can be so... cruel sometimes, but I’ve never felt as though you thought I deserved to die for simply existing,” she licked her lip and looked down, “but I could also be wrong.”

she looked up at alice and studied her face, half hidden in shadows from the dimness of the hallway, but the other half showing something... softer, charlotte supposed, than what she so often saw of alice when she walked with the other slytherins. how could someone act so evil yet seem so kind? 

she rubbed her face and ran a hand through her red hair and pushing it out of her face. she tried not to look as worried as she was as she waited for alice’s answer-- if she answered. merlin, she’d never thought about what would happen if alice simply didn’t answer. she could, if she wanted to. but what would that make of them? if she didn’t answer, would she have to assume the worst? or that there was still some hope? her other hand gripped tighter around the cane at her side, her knuckles betraying her attempts at calmness by turning white, while she bit down on her bottom lip.

art looks down at the coffee, then back up at the stranger. her head tilts. “i mean, it definitely does help. i don’t usually make a habit of drinking pre-tasted coffee.” she opens the lid. “americano,” she murmurs to herself in appreciation. it’s dark, bitter, and hot. that’s good enough for her. “thanks. most people would’ve just given it back and kicked up a fuss.”

cleo lifted a corner of their lips, “neither do I.” they agreed and watched as the other took a look inside the cup to ensure it was truly hers. “I’ve found that’s rather ineffective,” she paused, “and annoying. there isn’t much of a point in getting one’s knickers in a twist over a coffee, is there?”

“So this one must be yours.” Stassi took the cup with a grateful sigh, taking a long drink before Cleo had even finished speaking. Stassi shrugged, “I’ll be honest, the only thing that would keep me from drinking this before a ten-hour shift at the Wyvern is if you’d spiked it with Acromantula venom. Good thing you didn’t drink this, by the way. There’s probably enough caffeine in here to wire a giant.”

cleo opened the lid of the cup that was handed to them and nodded, “that it is.” they secured the lid back atop the cup and took a sip of the coffee, savouring the bitterness of the liquid on their tongue. “have you encountered many people who’ve spiked your drink with acromantula venom?” they lifted an eyebrow at the witch. “oh, I’m sure I wouldn’t have noticed until it was too late.”

Hermione had only started drinking coffee in the recent past. Before, she’d found the taste less than appealing - certainly far less appealing that a good cup of tea. But now things like taste didn’t matter any more and coffee just seemed like the sort of thing one should drink in these times. “I’m sorry,” she said, after starting at the comment. “It does look like mine. Thank you.”

“of course. I’m sure this is much more appealing than my order.” they smiled and pulled their hand away from the cup, leaning back against the counter as they waited, hoping that they hadn’t given their order to someone else as well.

where:  hogsmeade when:  4 march, 2024, midday who: open to anyone @ hogsmeade

most of the time, paris makes a point of being a fly on the wall - well, not exactly a fly on the wall. a physical presence in every room: a palpable watcher. some information is useful when others don’t know you’ve got it. but more useful is the ability to influence others. to be known. to be visible. besides - she has always enjoyed watching people react to her. so being public has never been an issue for her - she imagines, if she’d been a muggle, she’d have dreamed of being an actress. a performer. so she has no problem with the way she struts down the street, throws money carelessly towards a cashier, and orders a pair of coffees: then struts back over the street, into someone’s personal space, into an empty seat at a table. she smirks at the occupant, and holds one out. “you look awful broody today. caffeine for your thoughts?”

as per usual, cleo sat at a coffee table outside a cafe, accompanied by a black double shot coffee sitting between them and the newspaper they brewed over every day at lunch when they had a moment to themself. the day was a difficult one, however, after having spent the previous evening drowning out the worries in their mind in liquor, leaving them with pain behind their eyelids which made it near impossible to read the tiny font of the paper in their hand. they were entirely focused on the paper, attempting to decipher the text when their head ached further when the sound of a familiar voice broke the silence they’d grown accustomed to. “it seems you say that everyday,” they folded the paper and set it down on the table, understanding the impossibility of their attempts to read any further. “I’m afraid my thoughts are rather uninteresting at the moment, unfortunately, but I’ll happily take that.”

“Char –” Lily breathed, kneeling down next to her to place a gentle hand on her shoulder, hoping it would provide some comfort or – at the very least – ground Charlotte to her surroundings. “Everything’s going to be okay. I’m here and I’m not going to let anything else happen to you. I promise.” she whispered in the most soothing voice she could manage. 

But it was a struggle to console her classmate when the sight of her consumed Lily not only with despair but BLINDING, WHITE HOT FURY. All she could think was that it wasn’t fair – nothing about this was – Charlotte hadn’t ever done anything to anyone. She wasn’t even fighting for a rebellion, and yet here she was, broken and crumpled on the floor. Made to be an example for everyone else. It was sickening. “– who did this to you? Do you have any idea?” she urged. 

Someone would have to answer for this. Eventually. First, she had to help her friend. “I’m going to try to heal you. I – I can’t fix it. Not completely. But I can ease the pain, enough so you can stand. Can you stay still for me?”

her vision grew hazy from the pain shooting through her body; her thoughts obscured by it. lily’s hand on her shoulder was the only thing grounding her and keeping her from falling to the darkness she so wanted to reach for so that the pain could stop, if only for a moment. 

she shook her head, “I don’t know,” she said in a breath. lily’s words were barely a whisper in her ears, but after a few seconds of working through the words, charlotte nodded, placing her hands behind her. she kept her leg as still as she could, working against the shaking of her body.

“because i’m a model student, dedicating my free time to my studies?” z suggests, entirely joking. he can’t remember the last time he checked out a book for class. “i might point out that you’re just the pot calling the kettle black, travers.” he says, watching as she retrieves herself a book. “pressing assignments? after a nice, relaxed weekend?”

the side of odilia’s lips lifted in a smirk, her eyes turning to the ceiling, “of course you are.” she looked back at z and let out a bite of laughter, the slither of a smile now turning wicked as she made her way to the z’s table. “it was quite a thrilling weekend, wasn’t it, diggory?” she turned and sat on the edge of the table, peering quickly over her shoulder down at the book now next to her hips before returning her gaze to the boy.