silencio

   It was ridiculous, to have come all this way for something that she didn’t really need. Miranda knew this, of course she did, but she’d gone anyway. She’d been irritable lately, and tired, and her feet ached constantly. Worst of all, she’d been getting sick more often than not, especially when certain smells caught her attention, and breakfast had been the worst culprit. And so, there she was, scanning the aisles for cereal from her childhood. She wasn’t even sure if they made it anymore. It had been in the ration books, and had been her favorite treat whenever it popped up, but it was blessedly not cooked, which meant no smells to turn her stomach. The only problem was that she didn’t see it anywhere. 

     She knew, of course, why the craving was so intense. She knew why all of her symptoms had popped up, but it was easier to deny it until she wouldn’t be able to anymore. She  exhaled, fanning herself despite the grocery shop being relatively cool, and February’s chill still requiring coats. Suddenly, a waft of something from the sample table caught her attention. Her stomach turned immediately as she quickly lifted the collar of her coat, willing it to pass. Not here. Please not here. She took deep breaths, catching her perfume instead before she calmed. “If I give you money, will you purchase four boxes of cereal for me?” She asked the closest patron, having spotted the boxes at last when she’d turned away from the smell. She needed fresh air, but she was determined to get her damn cereal. 

who: open

where: diagon alley? hogsmeade?

Cygnus had been advised to lay low for a while, but Vega had chewed through yet another leash and so he found himself in search of a pet store. Get dogs, they’d said, much easier than horses. Absolute lies, Nyx and Vega could be just as much of menaces as Juno when they put their minds to it.

He was reminded of why he’d been advised to lay low, however, when someone approached. “Before you say anything,” he sighed, “do you actually think I’m capable of that magic?”

-

  She hadn’t been planning to say anything to Cygnus, but his immediate defensiveness, and his words, had her tilting her head, interest piqued. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage,” She countered, studying the young wizard. “I’ve no idea what you’re referring to, nor do I have any reason to claim assessment of your magical talents or weaknesses. What magic do you not feel yourself capable of?” She pressed. 

Vulcan felt his lips twitch. It was somewhat refreshing to have someone who didn’t want to know one way or another. Vulcan couldn’t put it entirely out of his mind but that was the journalist in him.  He hummed, happy to consider something other than the death itself and his parents.

“No, but it’s an interesting piece of spellwork. I’ve not seen something stay up that long without dispelling. And it moved didn’t it?”

–

   Miranda nodded, agreeing, though it seemed dangerous these days to admit something like that. Things could be awful and incredible at the same time. It was ridiculous that fear kept people from recognizing the talent and potential of things less savory. The spell could just as easily be used for good, no doubt, why fear the spell itself and not the intention of the person wielding it? It simply made no sense. “It certainly is.” She agreed, “and neither have I. I do wonder about it’s formation, the incantation and energy necessary to perform it. It did move, it was incredible.” She added, having already scribbled notes about her initial assessment. “I wonder––” She began, before pausing, shaking her head. “Nevermind.” She needed to be more careful. “Are you well, Mr. Carrow?” She questioned, wondering if he’d been having a hard time with people harassing him. 

Normally, she would be insistent. Even a total bitch if she was really in the mood. But she knew Miranda’s hexes. The last thing she wanted to do was be on the other end of one. “Deal.” Half was better than none. And better than having to walk out of here under the effects of a spell she didn’t know. Just as she was about to offer to pay, the other witch offered. Georgie knew when to keep quiet and this was one of those moments. “Thank you. I’ll get the next one then.” There most likely not be another time but they would cross paths again. Georgie was sure of it. 

-

  Miranda gave a curt nod in response. She wasn’t going to bend away from half for Georgie. It was half, or nothing, and the other witch had sense to take what was offered. She knew there wasn’t likely to be a next time, but the sentiment was polite and appreciated nonetheless. She ordered, taking the items as she waited for Georgie to get her drink before she gestured for her to come and sit with her. Carefully she sliced the treat in half, putting one part on a napkin for Georgie. “There you are.” She smiled, looking her over. “You’re looking well, Ms. Parkinson.” She added, bringing her drink to her lips. “Last time I saw you, you were still a girl. How’s adulthood treating you, hm?”

eileen sat up, shrugging as she went, hair falling from the loosed ponytail she had on. “i don’t know, i suppose i like to torture you” she mocked, tone made softer by the look on her face, a hint of amusement seeping through. miranda was obviously working on something, which might not have been the best moment to pester her, but again: piles of untouched documents on eileen’s desk. someone had to entertain eileen. “besides, you’re the type of person who could have heard something interesting!” she told the other with a vague gesture of her hands.

-

   Miranda felt the edge of her lip quirk upward. Eileen was something else, certainly, but she wasn’t unwelcome or unpleasant company no matter how agitated she seemed, more frustrated with the fickle nature of her muse these days than anything else. “But of course, you’re so good at it.” She hummed, reaching to bring her drink to her lips. Now was as good a time as any to take a break, she supposed, though it was reluctant. “And why is that?” She pressed, curious to know why she should know anything of interest. She was just another witch, and she didn’t have ties to the Ministry, thank Merlin. 

where; oot and aboot whomst; anyone

“Considering that my parents, godwilling, are in Azkaban at the moment and will be for the rest of their natural and unnatural lives,” Vulcan said without looking up. He’d fielded the same question at least six times within the last week alone. It was getting boring at this point. “No, I doubt they killed the Minister. You’re going to have to come up with a new theory.”

–

    Miranda’s brow raised curiously as she watched Vulcan. She’d never accused his parents of killing the minister, but his defensiveness was curious enough. She understood the desire to protect ones self when questions came too frequently, but he wasn’t doing himself any favors. “I have no desire to come up with any theory, the proper authorities will handle it.” She shrugged, indifferent. It was scary, yes, but there was no sense in panicking when there was nothing she could do about it. She didn’t like the snake though, it bothered her, the magic compelling, intriguing enough to study, but so very haunting. “I’m more curious about the charm. Have you ever seen anything like it?” She wondered, stepping in as she shooed the other wix away. 

location: the white wyvern status: open

eileen looked around the pub, her eyes half-lidded and her chin in hand — looking almost bored. at home, three piles of documents sat untouched on her desk, everything she had to go through for the next day at work. a sigh, then she focused back on the person sitting on the other side of the table, smile growing. “listen, listen!” she started, voice growing in level at the end “i know you don’t want to be pestered with this, but have you heard anything interesting about the minister?”. it was, after all, a bit of a weird occurence.

-

   Miranda reluctantly lifted her head at the incessant listen coming from the other witch’s lips. She fought to keep the scowl from her lips as she stilled her quill, having finally drawn the wand motion for the spell she’d been working on. It was a charm, no less, and the thrill that had come when she had felt the quill cooperate with the thoughts running rampant in her mind was addictive to say the least. She let out a long suffering sigh before shaking her head no. “Nothing more than anyone else. If you knew I wouldn’t want to be pestered, why pester?” She questioned, frustration in her tone. 

“I fear I may go overboard in compensation,” he confessed, grinning, despite his best efforts not to, “because for whatever reason, people just love to let a promising light’s shine be overshadowed at even the hint of thunderstorms others brewed. It’s envy, I expect, indirect and mostly-blindly unaware though it appears to be,” he continued, though the time for compliments and their discussion had past, and he had now reached overkill. But it was so delightful to hear, in return, that Mira had met several children, babies even, and, by the look of it, found that to be an enjoyable thing as well.  “The Lovegoods aren’t really … anybody, in terms of things, and I’m not really what most would consider close, to my nearest cousins – on the tree, or in age. There was Brienne, but she moved to Tuscany after her marriage, and I haven’t seen her since. An old friend, though, came to visit a few weeks ago as a surprise and brought her baby. It’s been a wonderful change to my usual routine.” He realized, though, as he told her how to build a clock when she asked for the time, that he’d never considered how to avoid using the child’s name or acknowledging the child’s confirmed presence, lest they be discovered. “I always butcher it, the poor thing, so I call them Peanut.”

Of course, he was sure that Miranda was just being kind, herself, now. After all, she let him babble on endlessly, and frequently, and still found it in her to say that he should babble for the world. Truly, people this kind were few and far between, and Llewellyn was glad to say he knew her. “Perhaps I should, that could be fun,” he agreed, nodding. “It would give us something to look forward to, each week. What will we learn next?” What, indeed, and what a thought. He was grinning ear to ear, and nodding happily at all the agreement they seemed to find between them. “I simply don’t see the point. You either want to do something, or you don’t. Tradition adds value, or it falls away. There’s no in between, no gray. Why should December/January promises be so special?”

-

  His words were nearly poetic, Miranda noted, and not for the first time. She liked Llewellyn a great deal. He was kind, and tenderhearted in a way that was far from fragile hearted. Despite his penchant for babbling, he appeared to be someone of sound mind and reasoning, and that was something Mira had always admired. “I do believe you may be right, Llewellyn.” She agreed, thinking that envy would explain many things about many people. The world had decided that happiness meant having it all –– all the brains, all the brawn, all the beauty, and anything and everything you could buy at one’s fingertips. It was a flawed argument, but one people ascribed to more often than they admitted. 

     She listened as he spoke of his family name, a frown forming on her lips. She would never understand the classism, the elitism that came at the behest of a surname. What was in a name anyway? Possessing it did not make one great, or talented, or wise, or any manner of things, but she stayed quiet, letting him explain how the child came into his company. “Peanut,” She laughed, brightening as she listened to him explain. “I’m glad you got to see your old friend, and their child. You seem smitten already.” She teased, gently nudging him with her elbow. “My sisters have all mostly had children so far, and cousins seem to continue to pop up every time I look around, but I must admit, I’ve been thinking more and more of having my own. Time is well, not kind, is it?” She frowned, the alcohol loosening her tongue on such matters of heart. 

    Miranda laughed, “I’d read it dutifully,” She promised, though she was completely serious. “I think it would be delightful, you really ought to give it genuine consideration, when we’re both sober.” She added, appreciating the brightness of his smile. He was all warmth, wasn’t he? “I agree, we ought to insist on making resolutions throughout the year. Enough of December and January superiority. I always thought February to be a better month, it is my birthday month, after all.” She teased. 

location: ministry of magic

It had been a long morning. Filing the paperwork after her cases was always the worst. Normally, she could get Agnes to do it but it was her birthday. The least she could do (other than the extravagant gifts she had been giving her) was do this. After another fight with Charles in records, she was in a sour mood. He didn’t like her. Not at all. And he didn’t keep it secret. She really needed to get in good with one of the secretaries to know when he was manning the desk to avoid him. The file of papers that (now) needed editing were tucked into her briefcase as she made her way to the tea cart. The line wasn’t long but she could see there was only one chocolate croissant left. With the morning she had, she needed it. The line moved until there was only three people in front, the paistry still there. The older wizard ordered an earl grey, not the crossiant. Not wanting to take any chances, Georgie tapped the person in front on the shoulder. “I will pay for your drink and give you ten galleons if you don’t order that chocolate croissant.” 

-

  Miranda turned, listening to the question and the offer made in return for agreeing to it. She didn’t need her drink paid for, or galleons. She wanted the chocolate croissant. She wasn’t a total bitch though, it was clear the young Ms. Parkinson also greatly desired it. She sighed, looking back at it. “Split it?” She countered, thinking it was also fair. It could easily be cut in half and then they’d both have something to satisfy their craving without either having to entirely give it up. She wasn’t willing to do so entirely, after all, she’d been waiting in line just the same as everyone else, and her mood wasn’t the best. It was the perfect pick me up, though no doubt Georgie felt the same way. “And no need to pay for anything, I’ll buy it.” She added, clarifying that she didn’t expect anything in return. 

Very few people could ever put him in his place. Or, at least make him see that perhaps a path he was heading down was perhaps a bit too much Louisiana male and not civilised Government worker. Achilles would never admit that Mira had that power to make him reconsider his actions so quickly. No one, with exception of his mother, had even come close in nearly fifteen years. Not since Audrey, who’d been her own brand of fire cracker and strong enough to even make Achilles heel when needed.

But still, now, with his blood still rushing and the itch to get out there and start crushing skulls and spitting blood faded the moment she spoke and he bit on his tongue to stop him arguing back straight away. Through his distraction, he’d stopped seeing faces and just blurs and he cleared his throat, eyes narrowed still slightly but he took a breath. “I’m sorry, ma’m. Tensions are high, but it’s good to see you.” he replied, tone less gravelly than before. On instinct, his hand reached out and grabbed her elbow -nicely- to move them out of direct sight in the corridor and into one of the smaller alcoves.

He couldn’t show weakness or distraction, not when eyes were everywhere. But at least here he could will his temper down and stare into the eyes of Mira and simply breathe.

“I’m fine, okay, just give me a minute.” he murmured, hand remaining on her elbow as his other settled on her waist as he used her to ground himself further. He wasn’t, no one was fine, but it would be enough for now. At least until the rage had moved past him and he could give her a proper answer.

-

  Mira’s shoulders eased, the tension disappearing as Achilles regarded her, and apologized for his gruff demeanor. He was a good man, under immense pressure. She knew that, even if things had been complicated when she’d first learned the true nature of his position within the Ministry. She had no desire to fight with him, not now, and certainly not over a sharp tongue ill positioned. She didn’t flinch as he took her by the elbow. It didn’t bother her that he was wordlessly commanding her to go where he bid, he was gentle about it, and she moved easily to the alcove, exhaling as they were mostly out of sight now. 

    It was a relief. The Ministry was too loud, too crowded, too flooded with people seemingly unsure of where they were going, and with the increase in visible security ( and no doubt, unseen security ), the tensions were downright palpable. She watched his face silently as his hands settled against her, giving him the minute he needed to simply breathe. She wondered how many times he’d needed that and not gotten it in the last few days. She didn’t envy him for it. She nodded, her own hand moving to gently stroke her fingers against his forearm. “You’re alright,” She reassured. “I know tensions are high, you’ve apologized, all’s forgiven.” She promised, not one to hold an unreasonable grudge. 

    She leaned into his space just a bit more, the scent of her perfume caught between them, smelling of a flower not grown in England. A gift, from her mother, but her favorite scent all the same. “I understand you won’t be able to talk about things, but if you need a moment longer, or just someone to be quiet with you, I’m here.” She offered, letting him otherwise take the lead. He was the one operating within a largely secretive division, not her, after all. 

location: ministry of magic with: open!

His night had been great, the morning even better- especially when he woke up tangled in the sheets with a certain woman who had driven him up the wall with in frustration in every sense. To get to enjoy the full night off had been a luxury and a blessing, and like most blessings- came with the eventual cold awakening of tragedy. The warm, relaxed feeling he had felt was long gone, even though it had been hours ago and instead he found himself suited and booted in his uniform once more and listening to the crisis talks from the Ministry. 

It was a shock to the community, word was spreading fast and all aurors, hit wizards and international transfers had been called in. Orders were given left, right and centre and he’d left clutching his missions with a look of intense ferocity. Achilles felt like he had been transported back, his adrenaline shot in the high numbers and blood boiling at the idea of intentional murder. He’d battled one war, was this finally the beginning of another? As he marched through the Ministry building, his path was blocked by another figure and he huffed angrily, trying to side step.

“It’s very simple, move left or right-” his tone showed he was not in the mood to be messed with. 

-

   Perhaps it was foolish to head to the ministry when things were no doubt in upheaval, but Miranda had always sought to keep her commitments, and she had reluctantly agreed to drop off some paperwork to the education secretary, a very brief explanation documenting her intentions with her school book. She’d promised to do it right after the New Year, and so there she was, heading into the Ministry despite the chaos. Her senses were heightened, eyes scanning the entryway for any sign of trouble. There were too many people here for it being such an intense time, but Mira intended to be in and out as quickly as possible.

    That was until Achilles snapped at her. Her eyes narrowed, frown deepening. It was different to see him this way, after New Years had been so very different. “You want to try again?” Miranda pressed, lips pressed together in a frown though she moved to the left anyway, understanding he was no doubt under an intense amount of stress. “Achilles,” She added, softer, “It’s good to see you,” She admitted, thankful to know he was alright in all this mess, even if he was clearly in a mood. “Are you alright?” She added, hoping to give him the opportunity to vent if he needed it. 

“Yes, probably,” he agreed, finding himself in a very agreeable mood just then, “but then, isn’t it better, sometimes, to be sure your compliments aren’t mistaken, rather than having to explain them for what they are?” He laughed, though, shaking his head. Mostly, he figured, it was just a him problem, but that was a clarity only afforded to him temporarily, and with alcohol. “But I should explain that,” he added, at her question. “Not an actual potato, no, but an infant I find I’m very fond of. I’d never met a child before, but I rather fancy they miht currently be my favorite human alive. Infants look rather like potatoes, don’t you think?”

He laughed again, though he was willing to follow where she led. “I suppose that rather proves your point, though, doesn’t it? About the unexpected. Sharing, though, that I’m always happy to do. I don’t really care much for secrets, they lead to distasteful things. Things are simpler when everything is on the table. And I’m glad you were able to reap the benefits, there. So many people just keep things to themselves. When did selfishness become an honorable trait?” He shrugged, though, considering her next question as he followed down the hallway, eyes everywhere but her her person. “I’m not, actually. But I don’t think I’d ever thought about it before. What about you? Do you do resolutions? In a way, I suppose, I can see the allure … but what is so special about these goals that they can only be set at the new year?”

-

  Mira smiled, finding that Llewellyn’s way of seeing the world was refreshing. She had no doubt that he wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but she didn’t mind him at all. “I appreciate them, absolutely.” She agreed, before softening as he explained the ‘potato’ ordeal. “You’d never met a child before just recently?” She asked, amazed by the idea. Her family was so large, she couldn’t imagine not seeing babies all the time. She had sisters upon sisters, and cousins upon cousins, and with it came nieces and nephews and second cousins. She knew all too much about infants, even though she didn’t have one of her own. “I suppose some of them might look a bit like potatoes,” She laughed, nodding. “I’m happy you’re fond of the child, I’m sure they’re very fond of you as well. What’s the child’s name?” She asked, curiously. 

   “They say that’s a picture of Heaven,” Mira agreed. “Everything at the table, everyone sharing so everyone gets what they need.” She explained, as she walked with him, considering the advice he’d shared. “You ought to add to your Quibbler, Llew. A section on tips for herbology, or potions, or whatever subject you’d like to share advice on. I’m sure your readers would love to know about the lacewing silk.” She noted, finding that she agreed people seemed to praise selfishness these days. “Oh, I’m not one for resolutions either. If I’m going to make a goal, it doesn’t need to wait for a special date.” She agreed. “I think people have done them more out of tradition than desire, but why do something simply for the sake of tradition if it’s of no true benefit to you?” 

It had been years since Persephone had drank like this. Since she had let the steady hum of the alcohol burn her insides. It was Christmas of 1952 when she had gotten rip roaring drunk and given a not so welcome toast to the Rowle family golden child. It was Perseus who escorted her off their childhood estate and gotten her home. Most would assume with the amount of alcohol she had consumed that she had blacked out and had a hangover the next day. But she didn’t do either of those. Persephone remembered everything. She remembered every last bit of it, including the apology her mother had given upon her exit. She gave Miranda a soft smile that was so out of her nature it was painful. “Thank you,” she managed, “I should be alright though. If there was one thing my father taught me it’s how to hold my liquor and conduct myself while intoxicated.” 

There were very few that knew that her father was actually drunk at most, if not all, of the family events. Merlin knew he had to be to stay married to her mother. The woman was a nightmare. Seph nodded as she, too, raised a glass of champagne. Thinking it might be time to slow down. “To a gentle start,” she agreed. Merlin help them all.

- 

  Miranda nodded, not protesting further. If Persephone felt she could handle her alcohol well enough, then who was she to say otherwise? The offer had been made, that was all she cared to do. She sipped her champagne again, the taste not her favorite, but that was alright. She’d find something she preferred more as the night went on, for now it would do. She smiled at the toast, nodding in agreement. She had proposed it after all. “How have you been, Persephone?” She wondered. She knew very little of what had become of her former classmate in the years since graduation. They hadn’t been close enough to stay in touch, after all, but it was still always interesting to know what classmates had gotten up to after school. She couldn’t help but wonder if she still hung on Tom’s arm too. That question would have to be asked subtly, if she asked it at all. “I heard you’re working for the Ministry now,” She noted, her feelings toward the Ministry complicated. It was necessary of course, and there were hundreds of jobs under it’s umbrella, but there were parts of it that she loathed. “How’s that going for you? You must get to see so many people.” 

“I usually am,” he answered, not so humbly (for once). Even Abe was allowed to brag every now and again, and it had to be one of his favorites, in terms of things often said of himself, that he was a man with answers, (seemingly) regardless of the question. The acceptance of the flask was better, but better still was the fact that Mira did not need to be encouraged to drink up, and Abe grinned, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Pleasant, I like that. That’s reasonable. A pleasant New Year,” he echoed.

He didn’t hesitate to drink to this toast himself, either, when the flask came back, and it kept his hand out of his pocket, to boot. “Normally I do prefer the pub for this holiday, I do, but everyone else was going to be here … It almost seemed sad, even for me,” he said with a laugh, though he didn’t really believe it was entirely true. Abe had never actually been disappointed by any of his nights alone, with or without the animals. “I am,” he answered, though, happy for the distraction. “And that’s probably, actually, the only reason I’m really here. Any excuse to camp, although I usually go less ….. magical, on the tent. The eases and trappings of home are not the point of camping, but camping isn’t really the point, here, either, is it?”

-

   She laughed, not the least bit surprised by that. It was sort of in the job description wasn’t it, to know when and what to drink? She smiled, pleased that he seemed to agree with the sentiment. Pleasant was relatively safe, it didn’t expect enormous outcomes, it didn’t pretend there would never be anything off putting, annoying, or inconvenient. It just suggested that overall, the new year would be more tolerable and good than not. “We’re of the same mind,” Mira agreed, not shy about holding her hand out for the flask back, almost teasingly wiggling her fingers to silently request another drink or two. She’d find one of her own soon enough, but for now, she didn’t think he minded sharing. 

    Miranda listened, giving him his time to speak. She wondered how often he got the chance. He was always listening to everyone else, and while it could be nice, she was sure she’d get exhausted of it before long. She smirked, nodding, “no pity parties of solitude on New Years Eve, got it.” She teased. She reached up to brush back some of her hair, thinking she ought to have pinned it up, before nodding. “Camping is nice, we only tried it once when I was young. It was a lot to manage, the nine of us girls, and then my mother and father, and of course my uncles had to come too, and their children. It was less camping and more building a commune. We had several tents, one dedicated just to meals even.” She laughed, “It was before Romilda got married, I remember because she wouldn’t shut up about her new fiancee.” She huffed, thinking of how insufferable her older sister had been. “I’d love to swing by your tent, I’m sure it’s far nicer than anything Dad came up with.” She laughed. 

Avoiding her family was proving particularly difficult when her sister was around every corner. For the majority of the time since she had been there, Persephone managed to avoid her by simply turning her back whenever they were in the same room. But there was only so many times she could do that and only so much time before Hera figured out that the blonde in the silver opaque dress was her little sister. The very same one who had turned her back on the family for the last five years. Honestly, it was incredible how many martinis and shooters of champagne one could drink in an hours time. 

At first, she had made a game out of it. Exactly how many drinks could she down in the span of time until festivities began? Seph was on her thirteenth martini when a familiar voice made a shiver run down her spine. “Persephone? Is that you?” Surprisingly, it wasn’t her sister, but her mother who had caught her. She had only turned to give her mother a smile when it began. “Merlin, are you drunk?” The accusation stung like she had slapped her. Persephone had yet to say one word to her mother when she began to dive in headfirst about how Hera could hold her composure much better and how her mother had thought she raised her better than to get drunk at a public function. She had only barely opened her mouth to announce that she was not drunk when her mother had held a hand up and walked away in a disappointed huff.

No sooner had her mother walked away was there another familiar voice at her side. Only this time, Seph was pleasantly surprised to see a classmate she had not thought she would, Miranda Goshawk. Word traveled fast in the circles that Persephone ran in these days and Miranda had been at one point in time been a hot topic of discussion. While she had never given her thoughts on the matter herself, she had, however, listened carefully. She was even surprised that Tom hadn’t asked her to use divination to see whether or not it was wise to go the same route Grindlewald had. But then again, Tom was much too clever for that sort of thing. He knew better to play copycat. Persephone raised her next champagne glass at the other witch’s question. “If you’re going to start, you might want to catch up,” she said, tossing the bubbly liquid in her mouth, “I’m at least fifteen drinks ahead of you.”

-

   Miranda smiled, polite as she watched Persephone. She wouldn’t claim to know her well despite being in the same year in school. They’d been classmates, sure, but they hadn’t been housemates and if she recalled correctly, Persephone ran in very different circles than Mira’s own. She knew very little of what the other witch had been up to since graduating, but it had been long enough now to really view the other as a near stranger. She raised a brow at the comment, surprised by the sheer quantity she’d claimed. Of course, she was likely exaggerating. “I’m afraid I have very little interest in catching up to that degree, Ms. Rowle,” Mira teased. “I’d like to begin the new year in decent shape, though if you do need assistance tomorrow, I have a recipe from a dear friend of mine that should quiet your head, and ease your stomach.” She offered, preemptively. 

    Still, Miranda reached for a flute of champagne as a waiter passed by, and held it gently before lifting it in toast. “To a gentle start to our year?” She offered, thinking it a safe request of the world. She craved the quiet, steady focus she’d lacked as of late, the crackle of fire slower than the scratch of her quill against parchment. She longed to set the messiness of the past year behind her and move on. It was long overdue. It was also a safe conversation for them. Persephone was not someone Mira felt she could trust to deeper conversations. She’d learned her opinion was too easily skewed and used, and she wanted to give no one any fuel for it. 

. “I do rather enjoy the way your mind works, Ms Goshawk. Truly. Wicked, but in the most wonderful way.” Llewellyn’s grin could hardly have grown any larger just then. Delighted, once more, by the company he’d found himself with, and with the opportunity at hand to learn something new and potentially little-known. “My original plan saw me at home with a potato this evening, but my cousin insisted I join, lest I miss something important. Consider me …. entirely on borad, please.”

Of course, if she was dizzy, that nodding wasn’t likely to help, but Llewellyn found himself mirroring the movement regardless. “I am well, thank you, Mira. My plants as well, the tomatoes and the silk are getting along so kindly. Dizziness aside, though, you, yourself, look marvelous. I’d love a walk, yes, and perhaps it will help to either clear your head, or help us find a path far less travelled, in a home whose halls seem even less so.”

-

    “You’re far too complimentary, Mr. Lovegood, but I appreciate the sentiment nonetheless, thank you.” Miranda agreed, cheeks flushed both from the praise and the drinks she’d finished. She’d never been one to drink very much, but lately she’d taken to it far more often. She listened, pausing at the comment, her brows furrowing. “I beg your pardon? You wished to spend your evening with a root vegetable?” She asked, not the least bit understanding what on Earth he was on about. “I’m happy to have your company,” She mused, “but I must confess I’m never sure what to expect with you either.” She laughed, almost fond of her former classmate. He wasn’t in her year, but they hadn’t been too far separated. 

     She smiled at the response, pleased things were going well for him. She’d tried the idea herself and had success with her vegetables taking to the silk as well. “It was a very clever idea, Llew. I appreciate you sharing it with me.” She admitted, glancing down at her gown as he complimented her once more. He was full of compliments today, she’d noted. “I agree,” she moved to take his arm, gesturing for him to walk with her. “Do you have plans for this year, Llewellyn? Are you one to make resolutions?” She wondered, deciding to go down a quieter hall.