𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ,

Two taps of a singular finger on the table has a larger teapot and an extra cup placed on the table, all without so much as a word or glance from the dark-haired witch. Instead takes the opportunity to conceal a far more genuine smile behind an unnecessary review of her lipstick in compact mirror. The other woman's navigation through social graces remind her of a ballet dancer in wellingtons - an element of natural elegance, hampered by the wrong equipment. Observation brings Narcissa a discrete sort of pleasure. It might be delight in private quarters; in such a public forum it was a measured, but irrefutable, declaration of favour.

"Take the credit where you may; there's little enough of it for us women to share around. And if Severus continues to foolishly withhold his sentimentality, I may be inclined to remind him of the hobby I had as a girl of creating new hexes." Flash of vulnerability in bitterness, indication of true friendship, glided over with crafted humour. "Actually, if he ever displeases you, tell him I'll be teaching you the chapped and chafing hex I developed when he was in first year to deal with little boys who fancied themselves men."

Lyra's question slides along her veins, envelops her spine in ice. Posture, already immaculate, becomes carved. These are the other woman's wellingtons - a personal question asked on stage. Little concern, a situation Narcissa has navigated since before she could walk. Cerulean gaze wanders the square, landing heavily on poorly disguised reporters and even more poorly disguised social climbers. Blue becomes a blade, slicing through the crowd until it disintegrates.

"I am far less encumbered than I was some hours ago - indeed, I think I have lost close to 200 pounds." Eyes glimmer like crystals caught in sunlight, no less beautiful for their hardness. "I even feel as though I can breathe better, as though a hand has been taken from my mouth. It is remarkable what a reduced burden can do for your health and happiness." Layered answer, truth refracted in glittering performance.

there's a fair amount of caution to be had here. palpable, with a pulse and a rhythmic breath all it's own that even someone far less socially adept than @faithwounded could pick up like an altogether rotten scent. it was nestled just beneath lyra's kind smile, dug into her demeanor like a shallow grave .. and if narcissa herself was not the sole cause, the carrion vultures that circled their conversation were undoubtedly the culprit ( though let it be known that, in truth, it was a bit of both. )

regardless of any discomfort, she was steadfast and collected as her irish mother had raised her to be. even as a woman grown she could scarcely forget the feeling of getting her knuckles cracked.

while of course lyra was hardly unaccustomed to the company of vipers, she'd shed the naivety of her girlhood long ago and knew now rather well that any creature with a mouth ── regardless of how amiable it may seem for a moment ── could strike out with its teeth. alas, she observes privately that narcissa could not less resemble a snake if she tried. she appeared as statuesque and vaguely inhuman as an ancient deity might be to behold with mortal eyes... only she wasn't a deity, was she? ( her family was legend, that much was true ) ... ( her ex husband's family was legend ) yet here, under rays of sunlight that dappled the english sky, she appeared to be just what lyra herself was: a woman. she had an innate feminine mystique which, when accompanied with her other traits, made her all the more captivating.

the healer's radiant smile dimpled into her cheeks and she raised her teacup a little in gratitude before drinking from the rim. feeling the warmth sink through her innards, letting it slough the ice off her bones. ❝ sláinte. reckon i'll be keeping that knowledge in my back pocket, just in case. ❞ she mused with a wink that suggested she knew well by now how to handle her enigmatic lover, but appreciated the support from someone else either way. considering indulgently that someone other than severus might just have her side, despite all that she was ──

&. just as quick as it had been lifted, the veil fell between them once again. cool grey eyes swept their surroundings and then found narcissa again, to whom she offered every manner of politeness. a smaller smile. a nod of her auburn-haired head. wisely, she didn't press. instead she let the other witch's response roll over her shoulders and felt as it fled her other side.

all of the following prompts are taken from party banter between the companions in larian studios' baldurs gate 3 (2023). there should be no spoilers! also, a disproportionate amount of these are from astarion and karlach. i'm not sorry.

I am enjoying our walks together, aren't you, [ name ]?

You'll be as depraved as the rest of us in no time.

Friend of yours?

Were you always so sneaky?

If there's hope for me there's hope for anyone.

How are we not there yet? My feet are killing me.

This is what I get for trying to strike up conversation.

We're not going to have trouble, are we?

If we continue this way, we may get too close for comfort.

Don't get too comfortable. We shouldn't overstay our welcome in such a place.

Do you have pet names for each other yet?

[ name ]! Was that a joke?

You know what - that is not the easiest of questions for me to answer.

Given your own nature, are you really the one to judge?

You can read?!

I'm surprised - I expected you to turn your back once you got what you wanted.

I wouldn't know a flirtation if you whacked me alongside the head with it.

Why stay somewhere safe and comfortable when we could be in mortal peril?

Can't say I love what they've done with the place.

I'm learning to enjoy the taste of chaos. Count me in.

At least you didn't tell me to 'be myself'.

You have so much to learn. Repeat after me: honey muffin, sweetie pie, sugarplum.

Nice to be in a crowd of normal people for once.

So [ name ], how is your sad, hopeless pining going?

You seemed a million miles away just then.

I fear I've been rather hasty to judge you, [ name ].

Ready to enter the belly of the beast?

Step one of starting a conversation: think before you speak.

I hear your relationship has taken on a new aspect recently…

All right, just keep it down. We're conspicuous enough without your hyena call.

Not one for roughing it, I see.

Why not have a little fun?

You're right, of course. Forgive me.

My money's on you, [ name ].

The echoes - listen! They're coming from three directions!

Want me to carry you?

Feeling at home?

Treat them right, or you'll have me to answer to.

Oh, darling, would you?

No doubt they found me too intimidating.

A girl could get used to this.

Now I don't know what to believe.

Well - yes, it was a joke.

I know that, too. It just wasn't funny.

And here I thought I rubbed you the wrong way.

Man, it's good to be home. First round on who?

Oh, I wouldn't actually leave. After all, where would you be without me?

You've quite the knack for finding the bright side of things, haven't you?

Well what would impress you, then?

Let's just stop this conversation right here, shall we?

Must've been an awful day for the people who lived here

You've clearly thought this through a great deal. I'm impressed and appalled in equal measure.

Sure, but think of the stories you'll be able to tell.

I never was scared of the shadows.

I know you're not really as heartless as all that.

I judged you wrongly. I'm sorry.

Are you charging for this sage advice, or is sticking your nose into my business just a hobby?

Pragmatism, thy name is [ name ].

That's ironic, coming from you.

We're either very clever or very lucky.

You do not need luck to survive, [ name ]. Not when you have me.

That will make getting word to my mother rather tricky.

Stop gawking at the decor. This place is dangerous.

I can't tell if you're joking.

So, what's it like caring for someone other than yourself, [ name ]?

You think I'm beautiful?

I feel it too. Here if you need a pick-me-up.

Yet another thing we have in common. We're two peas in a pod.

Is it so unbelievable that they would simply like me?

Use your words.

You gonna catch me if I eat a brick?

[ name ], I've heard you talking in your sleep.

Let's never speak of this again.

You can take a day off once in a while, [ name ]

Hey! Something bit me.

Cheer up. It might be all downhill from here.

I love a nice secret hideaway, don't you?

it's a subtle detail. one that doesn't go unnoticed, despite reed's choice not to acknowledge it. her first response to his question is naught else but stretch of silence; within which her silver-grey eyes dance back and forth between @estarion's as though weighing whether or not to tell it true.

alas, lyra was skilled with many things ( ... ) but she was decidedly a rather poor liar. ❝ a werewolf, ❞ she finally reveals in a low tone, almost shy. ❝ and a particularly savage one at that. ❞

❝ does it look that bad? ── if i were a man, it might be quite dashing .. a scar like this.  ❞

the   witch   let   the   matron’s   words   linger   within   her   thoughts   a   moment   longer   before   finally   raising   hazel   eyes   to   meet   hers   .   (   there   was   still   something   searching   in   her   expression   )   ,   faint   confusion   tracing   her   features   .   gifts   rarely   arrived   without   expectation   :   everything   demanded   repayment   in   one   form   or   another   .   and   yet   ,   for   the   first   time   ,   amelia   felt   a   genuine   (   urge   to   offer   something   in   return   )   .   had   miss   reed   ever   received   kindness   back   for   her   own   ?   what   could   she   possibly   desire   or   need   ?   it   unsettled   her   ,   this   sudden   concern   -   amelia   had   never   before   paused   to   consider   another’s   feelings   so   carefully   .   finding   them   trivial   and   too   much   .

❛   i   cannot   in   good   conscience   let   this   remain   one   sided   ,   miss   reed   .   i   will   ensure   that   the   favor   is   returned   .   .   .   appropriately   .   ❜   (   there   would   be   no   arguing   with   the   witch   )   .   ambition   and   determination   had   always   lived   within   her   -   virtues   woven   into   the   very   roots   of   slytherin   house   .   (   surely   the   matron   had   known   that   )   .   after   a   brief   pause   ,   amelia   gathered   the   courage   to   open   the   box   at   last   .   her   eyes   widened   ,   if   only   slightly   ,   at   the   sight   of   the   beautifully   crafted   mittens   resting   within   .   ❛   i   .   .   .   these   are   beautiful   .   ❜   a   subtle   falter   touched   her   voice   ,   nearly   imperceptible   ,   as   her   hand   moved   to   caress   the   soft   wool   ,   testing   its   texture   with   careful   reverence   .

❛   i   shall   wear   them   at   my   next   quidditch   match   ,   miss   reed   .   and   should   i   manage   to   score   (   which   i   will   )   ,   i   will   dedicate   it   to   you   .   ❜   rarely   did   amelia   speak   of   quidditch   ,   (   guarding   it   as   carefully   as   she   did   the   rest   of   her   private   affairs   )   .   and   yet   ,   whenever   the   subject   slipped   past   her   defenses   ,   there   lingered   a   quiet   pride   in   the   way   she   held   herself   .

ever so subtle, amelia's reaction is studied; cranked opened up at the chest and examined like an emotional autopsy. reed's pewter grey eyes become almost calculative to behold, regardless of whether or not she had predicted that such things ought to be handled delicately .. cupping an infant bird in your hands, offering it water and warmth before placing it back in the nest and moving on. hoping it would thrive, even in harsh conditions. in truth, she'd prepared herself for a more severe reaction ── purely habitual. there were many among them that responded to kindness with venom. lyra was more than weathered to the sting ( ... ) it certainly never stopped her before from offering the hand that feeds even after being bitten.

❝ i understand,  ❞ she says plainly, ❝ believe me, i do .. as long as i know it and you know it, that's all i can ask for.  ❞ ( as though to say i see you, and i accept you as you are. ) likely a rather strange, startling thing. being known was rarely a comfort to feral things; snakes in particular.

it   was   unfamiliar   territory   to   her   ,   and   amelia   merely   blinked   at   the   small   box   for   several   long   seconds   before   reluctantly   accepting   it   .   she   turned   it   over   in   her   hands   ,   (   studying   its   edges   )   .   the   slytherin   could   not   recall   the   last   time   she   had   received   a   gift   -   nor   the   last   time   she   had   deemed   one   worthy   of   acceptance   .   most   had   come   wrapped   in   mockery   ,   false   sentiment   ,   or   unwanted   (   declarations   she   had   no   use   for   )   .   but   miss   reed   was   different   .   her   gestures   carried   no   ulterior   motive   ,   only   a   sincerity   amelia   struggled   to   comprehend   .

❛   miss   reed   ,   i   fear   i   have   nothing   to   offer   you   in   return   save   for   my   gratitude   .   .   .   ❜   there   was   a   sincerity   in   amelia’s   voice   rarely   granted   to   anyone   ,   (   an   echo   of   the   child   she   had   once   been   )   ,   receiving   a   gift   from   loving   hands   .   yet   the   contrast   lay   in   her   composure   :   no   bright   smile   followed   ,   only   a   quiet   inclination   of   her   head   ,   gratitude   expressed   without   spectacle   .   ❛   .   .   .   it   is   rare   that   i   receive   anything   not   steeped   in   disdain   .   though   i   bear   responsibility   for   that   ,   i   value   your   gesture   nonetheless   .   ❜

it was always the proverbial extra kilometer walked, even in her other professions, that made her almost insatiably easy to love. the hardest of hearts warmed to the fire that kissed her hair in the womb as though there'd never been any other choice. sometimes it was immediate, sometimes it took an age of persistence. she never pretended to dictate the terms of that love, nor did she try to force it before its time. caring for other people was what she had been crafted by her gods for, ( wasn't it? ) ... and she'd drag her weary bones across cold ground or hot coals to prove it again and again and again, if for NOTHING aside from the knowledge that some needed the extra effort more than others.

so, the matron reed scribbled down every birthday. she made it a point to hand out flowers and sweets over the holidays to everyone, carefully avoiding that anyone ever felt left out. the feast of lyra's affection was bountiful, and all received an invitation to eat. in the far corner of the infirmary, a floating quill worked tirelessly to fill out individual cards for each of hogwarts' many students ── ( if they didn't pass by to receive it, it would be dispersed onto their beds before curfew to enjoy. )

for @cbitus, a pair of knitted fingerless gloves were stashed inside her sweet box; the colours of her house. it wasn't much, but it was something.

"That depends," she replied with threat of a smirk on her lips. "What do you have to offer for the pain?"

beneath a contemplative hum, lyra's stormy grey eyes stole a glance upward. blinking her long lashes .. cleansing her hands of the VISCERA before she began to rifle through her stock of potions with the softest chime of clinking glass. each movement was as measured as it was purposeful; astonishingly careful not to make a clatter without reason.

❝ i have some fairly basic remedies and spells at my disposal,  ❞ was her initial response, uttered in strict professionalism only before she caught sight of that budding smirk ( ... ) vague realization bloomed across her expression. she reciprocated with a flash of her own amusement──

Dumbledore's speech settles into his stomach like a potion brewed by a first year. Poetic ruminations on loyalty and light curdle until Severus is forced to set his spoon down. Attempting to eat while listening to passionate pleas to care for one another was not proving successful. Especially as he had not even enough time to bathe since his last jaunt to find a cure for the rot currently creeping along the headmasters hand.

The only thing to stop him from hastily departing the room at the next sentiment about truth is the tender feel of @m4tron slipping delicate hand into his, concealed beneath the table. Need for subtlety and decorum prevents the wizard from turning his gaze to the beautiful redhead, where he would much prefer it be. But there is marginally less venom in coal that studies the throng of students before him. Can't help but wonder how many will recall this speech when they turn wands on each other in the war brewing like a storm on the horizon.

it had been a moment of weakness which threatened the matron's conviction ── a surge in the foaming waves of her emotion threatening to spill over the bow. one she fully expected him to reject. a brush of the fingers, maybe, followed characteristic swat ( but she found herself undeniably sated when his reaction favoured acquiescence above opposition. ) lulled like a nervous dog, even when their skin was mostly separated by the fabric of his sleeves .. finding she never wanted to let him go, despite how problematic such a thing was like to become.

she didn't dare look over at him, until ( ... )

the matron stifled the resulting chortle behind her opposite hand as applause erupted all around them, pulling the appendage locked in is back only slightly before finding herself astonished that his sought to remain in hers. at last, her restraint shattered. she glanced over at him from her periphery with her brows pinching ever so slightly together. soon convincing herself it was petulance that kept them bound, as opposed to sentiment. .. then again, while they were there──

amelia   was   not   a   woman   inclined   toward   easy   trust   ,   least   of   all   where   surprises   were   concerned   .   presents   ,   (   though   well   meant   )   ,   bore   the   faint   echo   of   caution   in   her   mind   ,   as   though   kindness   itself   might   conceal   intent   .   and   yet   ,   when   lyra   requested   that   she   close   her   eyes   ,   she   complied   without   protest   -   (   a   rarity   in   itself   )   .   though   sight   was   surrendered   ,   her   senses   remained   sharpened   :   the   footsteps   drew   farther   away   ,   the   silence   stretching   like   drawn   silk   .   expectation   stirred   within   her   chest   ,   fragile   yet   undeniable   ,   until   amelia   was   finally   permitted   to   open   her   eyes   .   the   vision   before   her   rendered   her   pallid   and   wordless   ,   (   as   if   wonder   itself   had   struck   her   still   .)

❛   lyra   .   .   .   what   are   .   .   .   what   is   this   ?   ❜   broken   ,   trembling   words   slipped   from   a   throat   that   constricted   within   seconds   ,   (   each   syllable   fragile   as   glass   )   .   hazel   eyes   ,   already   glistening   with   unshed   tears   ,   lifted   slowly   to   the   tiny   feline   cradled   within   miss   reed’s   hands   .   for   a   fleeting   span   the   witch   refused   to   believe   the   vision   real   ,   (   certain   she   had   wandered   into   memory   once   more   )   ,   to   that   distant   seventh   birthday   when   silithus   had   first   been   placed   into   her   arms   .   yet   she   was   no   longer   a   child   ,   was   she   ?   no   -   she   had   grown   into   a   woman   of   strength   and   study   ,   a   witch   forged   by   discipline   .   .   .   ,   by   horrors   unnamed   -   and   still   ,   the   sight   before   her   threatened   to   undo   that   (   carefully   )   built   composure   .

❛   merlin   above   -   do   not   tell   me   this   tiny   angel   has   been   concealed   within   your   house   all   this   time   ?   ❜   still   ,   amelia   had   not   yet   grasped   the   truth   of   it   -   that   the   small   feline   had   been   meant   for   her   all   along   .   instead   ,   amelia   rose   slowly   from   her   seat   and   extended   her   hand   with   careful   patience   ,   allowing   the   black   and   white   creature   to   scent   her   fingers   (   before   daring   to   brush   them   )   through   its   impossibly   soft   fur   .   ❛   would   it   be   odd   to   confess   that   i   scarcely   remembered   how   gentle   a   cat’s   fur   feels   ?   ❜   (   mourning   ,   always   and   forever   )   .   in   that   quiet   exchange   ,   unnoticed   by   her   own   awareness   ,   the   tears   gathered   at   the   rim   of   her   lashes   finally   slipped   free   and   traced   silent   paths   down   her   cheeks   .   and   yet   ,   a   smile   emerged   -   fragile   and   tentative   .   ❛   tell   me,   is   the   little   one   a   he   or   a   she   ?   .   .   .   and   have   you   settled   on   a   name   ?   i   have   kept   a   few   toys   from   silithus   -   i   would   gladly   offer   them   ,   if   you   would   like   .   ❜   (   so   utterly   oblivious   to   the   truth   )   .

even as a maiden doomed to bear the weight of incomprehensible tragedy, lyra stepped into the role of caregiver with the grace of a classically trained dancer. when her earthly body was bathed in sunlight and someone to care for presented themselves to her, it made her seem that much less a phantom haunting the hallowed ground of her own home. for but a few choice moments, respite was found beneath the glum .. unearthed, like something pulled from the garden bed. amelia's joy opened her up and poured warmth into each fiber of muscle that built her from her bones. at long last, a smile dimpled into her cheeks; not as something forced for the comfort of other people, but because ── in the moment ── she could put her grief down. she could sit beside a girl she'd long had motherly affection for and bestow upon her something good from the world.

she didn't forget her grief ( ... ) it was impossible to forget. inside the walls of her brick and mortar sanctuary were severus snape's books. inside her son's bedroom was the trunk of desmond's belongings, locked. tucked comfortably out of sight, save for the brief periods where she was strong enough to go through them and reminisce. she carried her infant daughter's loss in her heart wherever she went, and had done for many years. those she'd taken under her wing as matron were all she had left. amelia particularly, who had shed the skin of her youth and was blossoming into a successful woman. the kitten was a gift. she reiterated that fact by plopping the little creature in the girl's lap, and giggling softly.

“ as a matter of fact, this little angel has been waiting for you to come 'round for about a week now. her mum wasted very little time weaning the litter ── can't say i much blame her for it. ”