hestia

get to know me meme:

[3/?] favourite human beings → Aubrey Christina Plaza

The two large dalmatians seemed to know there was something different when Damian came home early. With an easy smile Damian clipped a leash to Pax’s collar and gave his better behaved sister, Petal, a quick scratch behind the ears before opening the door and heading out into the sunshine.

They had not been walking long when Damian heard a shout from up ahead, a few seconds later a small terrier came running up to Damian. Petal stopped her sniffing along the sidewalk to look at the small pup uncertain if she wanted his company. Pax on the other hand was quick to wag his tail and bark in greeting. "Hello there, boy." He smiled.

Damian was just bending to pick up the leash when someone scooped it up first. "Not to worry." He said with an easy chuckle as he looked down at the young woman. "There’s a reason I keep a tight hold on this one." He nodded down at Pax who’s tail was still wagging. "My girl is a bit more cautious." He scratched Pteal’s head as she moved behind him and rested her head against the side of his leg.

That was usually how it happened: she noticed the animals and then the people. It wasn't that she tried, of course. It just sort of...happened. 

And the dalmatians were gorgeous, even more striking for being in a pair.  At least their owner didn't seem too upset by the run-in. 

"Should've named him Houdini, I swear. He's an escape artist. I get him to stop slipping his collar so he just takes the leash.  I should start selling tickets." 

It would probably pay better than the Ministry. Speaking of which...

"You look familiar. You don't happen to work in the Ministry, do you?" 

Hestia, whose hands were soft and whose words were sweet and whose eyes weren’t always focused on what was around her. Who was in all technicality a Hufflepuff, and who deserved unquestionably to be there, but who exhibited a vivaciousness, cheerfulness and strength of spirit that endeared her to him almost as a fellow Gryffindor. Who made him laugh, and made him smile small, private smiles meant only for her. Hestia, whose hands were on him now, affectionate and teasing, and the pain in James’s heart jerked him back to the present because in that moment all he could think about was how he wished it was Lily’s voice greeting him.

He had to bite back the clever repartee that played on his tongue – something about how one didn’t chase the Quaffle when one saw the Snitch, and how she, after all, was his Snitch. It was a close thing, the flirty, witty response being his reflex but he managed, although he did not stop himself from kissing her on the cheek in greeting. He wondered briefly, even as his lips touched her skin, whether he’d come to regret this display of affection, when the whole thing was said and done.

“It’s not Gryffindor Tower I’m looking for,” is the response he settled for, forcing it to sound somewhat light and teasing.

He had debated for a long time how best to do this part: quickly, to get it over with, or slowly and as sensitively as possible? Hestia deserved as little pain as possible. He felt like a liar, the promises he’d made echoing in his ears; he’d sworn Lily meant nothing to him. Now he wasn’t sure if Lily Evans would ever mean anything but everything to him.

They were like this, the two of them. It was so easy to start to fall for like James Potter. Because even though her friends had been wary of it at first, he'd been nothing but sweet to her. Always laughing, always smiling, kisses on the cheek and hands held in the corridors. It was more than she'd ever expected, to be James Potter's girlfriend. She had reminded herself, whenever doubts crept in, that he had chosen her. 

For however brief or long a time this would last, he had chosen her. And that in itself felt something like a first. 

"Oh." Her grin faltered, slipped, became a rather more uneasy smile. "Yeah, of course. Um...where d'you want to go?" 

We should talk. Three words, and she could all but taste what was coming next. How else could this end? What else could that phrase lead to? People didn't say "we should talk" and then tell you how much they liked you. And it hurt, now that it was close enough to grasp. It did.  Maybe he's not, though, whispered a hopeful little thought. Maybe you're jumping to conclusions. 

Maybe. But she rather doubted it. It had all been too sweet, too easy, to last. But she wouldn't let it show on her face - if she could pretend she thought this was nothing more than a chat, all the better. So beyond the faltered smile, she kept her expression free of any expectation either good or bad. What was going to happen would happen, and it would hurt or not, and she would puzzle her way through it. She always had. 

In the end, everything was going to work out as it should. 

♬: A playlist of 5 songs my muse associates yours [or their relationship] with.

☠: One thing my muse would tell yours before dying.

✍: Handwritten Letter.

✘: My character reacting to the death of yours.

▨ :something my character has written about yours in their diary.

‘✉’ for an unsent letter from my character to yours

♛ and I’ll summarize our muses’ relationship with a gif.

✖ and I will give you a fear that my character has in dealing with yours

♠ for what my character thinks of yours in three words

♧ for my character’s reaction if your character were to express romantic interest in my character

To say James was restless would be an understatement. His foot tapped incessantly, his knuckles drummed against the wood of the study desk he had claimed in the library, his teeth worries at his bottom lip and his eyes stayed fixed upon his father’s pocket watch, sitting on the desk in front of him. There was an anxious feeling in the pit of his gut that had been there for days; at this point, James was certain he had no stomach at all, that it had been gnawed away entirely by the guilt of what he had done. Or not done, to be more specific. 

Five twenty-six fifty-eight, five twenty-six fifty-nine, five twenty-seven. 

She’d be out of class soon; he could meet her on her way to her Common Room. Ought to meet her. Ought to do what he’d been putting off for days, pretending he was sick and then busy with Quidditch Practice, and now - well, now he was out of excuses, and it was time. Time to break Hestia Jones’s heart. 

Despite the shame that was crawling through him, making his blood ice cold, James finally stood, and made his way from the Library in the direction of the Hufflepuff Common Room. He took the most likely path to lead her there from her class, hoping to run into her on the way. It made him ashamed, but it had to be done. 

Her Muggle cousins were the type of Christian who knew their Bible verses inside out and backward. The type who could hear all of two words and give you back a citation and a smile. It had mostly been their mother's influence, and on one of the rare occasions Hestia had stayed with them over the summer, she'd heard the phrase "guard your heart". 

And while she might not have been particularly religious herself, something about the phrase stuck with her. And remained. 

It didn't mean that it hadn't hurt when she'd noticed James spending more and more time elsewhere. It didn't mean it didn't hurt when she saw James' eyes wander, looking for red hair and green eyes. Hestia Jones might be eccentric, but she certainly wasn't a fool. And James wasn't exactly good at hiding. Not, at least, when it came to this. Used as she was to feeling second-best to Gwenog's first, there had been some soft, silly part of her that had hoped - for just a second - that maybe this could be different. The one part she hadn't kept well-guarded. And if you were dating James Potter, well, people tended to look at you differently. She had liked that. 

Maybe things didn't feel the way she'd always expected them to. Because while she liked James, a lot, she'd always doubted that she'd actually fallen in love. Falling in love was supposed to be bigger than what she felt. Falling in love was supposed to be special. Falling in love was supposed to be the way James' eyes found Lily all the way across the Great Hall without even meaning to. 

Because even though they'd always got on so well, even though it had seemed like the easiest thing in the world to go from friendship to relationship, even though Hestia was about as different from Lily as the moon was from the sun, she'd 

Sometimes, she wished he'd just hurry up and realize that instead of keeping on like nothing was wrong. But until then, she'd enjoy whatever was left.  That little part of her that had made the Hat murmur "but what about Gryffindor?" was in full force when it came to that. A perfect little Hufflepuff might have given him up voluntarily. 

Class ended, startling Hestia out of her haze of thoughts as chairs screeched back and books thumped closed. She packed her things away and left with a friend, chatting amiably until the other girl nudged her in the ribs. James' distinctive messy head of black hair was just in front of them. The friend vanished into the crowd and Hestia hopped forward, wrapping her arms around his shoulders from behind.  "Gryffindor Tower's the other way, you know. Good thing you're a Chaser, James. If you're this bad at finding things, you'd never catch sight of the Snitch." 

modern myths // hestia // x