Hestia

Diagon Alley | June 1978

“A drink sounds good right now. In fact, a drink sounds great. But I can’t drink on the job”

Charity sighed. Why did people have to be so difficult sometimes? “I’m not trying to cause trouble, it was only a question.”

“There’s only so much we can do. My hands are tied from this point on. It’s in the hands of the Auror’s now.”

“Not a very pleasant way to greet a customer … Get up on the wrong side of the bed, Jones?”

“I....” she stopped herself, rolling her eyes with a small smirk. “Well, there’s only so much the investigation department can do... We investigate, you guys do the heroic stuff. People cannot seem to grasp this”

"Y’gonna stand there smiling like  someone slipped in a cheeky finger  under the dinner table or y’passing  one over?”

Hestia laughed in amusement. “Here, help yourself”

As she spoke, James smirked slightly to himself. He continued to drink his firewhiskey as she got herself situated. It was when she pulled out money, that he started to frown. It wasnt proper to let a lady pay.. His mother had been seriously adamant about it— the fact that the man was supposed to always pay. However, this wasnt a date. This was just them.. attempting to be friendly. Did that qualify as him being the one to pay? Not that he minded in the slightest, but what if he offered and she got offended? Says that she has enough money for herself thank you very much you arsehole, Potter. It was all too confusing, so instead of speaking up and offering, he glanced away from her money and took another long swig. He could bee seen as an inconsiderate prick, he supposed. That was better then putting his foot in his mouth so early on. 

Hestia snorted in amusement. “Firewhiskey, of course” she answered. Looking up, she turned to look for Rosmerta’s whereabouts. She spotted her after a few moments. “A Firewhiskey, please, Rosmerta” she called out with a pleasant smile upon her lips. Setting out the right amount of money, she left it so that Rosmerta could take it when she wished. After a moment, she looked to James. “Look’s like I’ve got to catch up” she joked with a smirk, allowing a less serious side of hers to come out. 

"Oh, no."  Dorcas  shook  her  head,  smile  tense.  "I’ve been here for a couple months now. Though, sometimes I still feel like the new kid around here.”

“Ah.” she said, before smiling. “Well it’s definitely my first day. So, don’t worry about being the new kid”

"Well that’s good. Oh I’m having a lovely day, nothing better than purchasing some new tools for work."

"New tools? What for?"

"Unless you’ve got a packet of   cigs, I doubt it.”

"You're in luck" 

"Your issues in regards of family matters are in no significance to me. If you’re searching for pity then you have the wrong man. Even still— as it is, you still shouldve taught yourself of how to act in public. As of currently it is nothing short of a mockery against the rightful system. Either dont be ignorant or stay away from those who wont mind teaching you some manors.”

"I don't search pity from those I pity." she said simply. Brushing her wild curls back from her eyes, so looked to the boy. "If that a threat Lestrange?" she asked lowly. "Because if we're talking manners here, you certainly have a few to learn.."

"Hmmm, what? Oh no, I was just wondering if you were having a lovely day?"

"Oh. Well, yeah, I suppose so. It's not been too bad at all. How about you?"

"You claim to be a pureblood, though you never act as such. Your mannerisms and tone direct that immediately and they nearly border upon obscene. Didnt your parents ever teach you how to rightfully converse with another pureblood?”

"You're only as pure as your blood is, right" she asked stiffly, using the elitist mantra itself to prove her point. "My parents were never around long enough to enforce such things." she said simply. "I talk to everybody in the same manner, unless they aren't deserving of that manner"

Last one standing ; Hestia & James ; 1978

Hestia made a habit of being on time. Although early was also acceptable, being late wasn't. Being late automatically put you into a category; the late category. Once, was excusable. Twice? That was a whole other ballpark. Then you were known as late. You were known as the late one. People didn't rely on the late one. People weren't impressed by the late one. So she was on time. She stepped into The Three Broomsticks with an apprehensive yet hopeful look on her face. It had been a good suggestion. Really good. Useful. Yeah, useful. They needed to get to know each other better. There was a certain amount of trust needed in the field. That was a lot easier to do when there was at least a small amount of recognition. 

"Are you referring to me?" Rodolphus questioned, a light eyebrow raise in her direction before turning his back on her. "Even if you could, I’m not interested in conversing with such of your status.”

"My status, such as a pureblood?" she asked with a roll of her bright eyes. "Just one who doesn't buy into the bullshit being plastered everywhere?" she added for clarification.

18.9.1975 | ministry of magic

"Your first day too?"