Artemis

Maybe she wasn’t familiar with ordering pizzas?  The hesitance told him something, he just wasn’t sure what the issue was.  Maybe she didn’t like pizza?  “There’s this shop down the street.  If you call them up on the telephone they will cook some food and bring it to you.  It’s certainly nothing special, mediocre on a good day.  But it is unbelievably convenient, and we do it now and again on those nights when we have to work late.  So yes, if you aren’t a fan of the lasagna we can see if you like pizza a bit better.”

“I think so?”  He didn’t know exactly how rice was processed, or even what rice looked like as it grew, but it had to be sort of similar.  “Rice grows on plants, right?  Pasta is something with ingredients, but I’ll bet the drying process is similar.”

He cracked a small smile, not turning to look at her.  It was a relief to know that she was feeling more and more comfortable in his home and with Neville.  “Garlic makes everything better,” he agreed.  “do you ever use it when you cook?  I think you can grow it, but I guess I’m not sure if it would grow well here.  I’m more of a store bought type of person myself.  But yes, if you like it eat as much as you’d like.  It’s meant to be an appetizer anyway, and I can always pop some more in the oven if we’d like some more.  You can hand Neville half of a piece as well, if you’d like.  He loves the stuff too.”

“Oh, I see,” Artemis said. “I’ve had pizza but I’m not a big fan, really. It doesn’t settle in my tummy properly.” There was a pause before she asked, “What’s a telephone?” She nodded in confirmation when Frank asked about rice growing on plants and was surprised to hear that pasta wasn’t the same. It always surprised her to find out how much processing went into a lot of foods when there were so many that could be eaten the way they were naturally found in the world.

“I do! Sometimes, anyway. Not everyone in the pack like it so it depends who I’m cooking for. I grow it, as well. It grows pretty easily here, actually, early in the year. We don’t really go to the store much, if we can help it.” That, she supposed, was the other thing that was taking some getting used to. While Artemis had never hidden that she was a werewolf amongst her colleagues, she never felt all that comfortable bringing up the way she lived so casually but Frank had shared his life and home and family with her and it was only right that she did the same in return. She took another piece of garlic bread and ripped it in half to share with Neville. “Yeah? We must have similar tastes, Neville. What’s your favourite food?”

Priya wasn’t used to having a shopping buddy, but the idea sounded nice the more she thought about it. “Perhaps another day, then,” she offered with a soft smile. Spending too much money was definitely not on the agenda for today, so she couldn’t possibly expect the other to. Still, the extended invitation would be one with no expiration date. Priya hoped that the other didn’t assume she was recklessly spending, since she was buying a few different things all at once, but considering she’d left most of her wardrobe behind, she was in a bit of a pinch when it came to clothing. “Thanks,” the woman replied, a bit excited that someone else had her similar taste. The comment about her budget made her wince internally. Priya never liked talking about her economic status with other people. It never ended well when you knew how much someone made. Whether you make more or less, or even the same amount, it tended to end poorly one way or another. She couldn’t very well say that she didn’t have a budget, as that would make her sound pretentious. Plus, she did have a budget, to an extent, but it was likely higher than the average wix. “I think this would be the last purchase for a while, if I do get it. I haven’t bought myself clothes in a while, so I guess I went a little overboard.”

For a moment, Artemis’ eyes went wide in surprise at the offer for a future shopping trip together and then her mouth stretched into a smile. “Perhaps another time,” she agreed. “That would be fun. I don’t go shopping with other people very often and definitely not with people with a similar taste to me.” The pack was all about cheap and comfy and durable which was good but didn’t make for a fun trip, while the couple of times she had ended up shopping with girls from work the differences between them had just seemed greater than ever to the point where it was an uncomfortable experience. She hadn’t expected any solid answer on budget as she was well aware that most people didn’t like talking about such things. “In that case, I suppose it depends if there’s anything else you think you might want more? If not, then there’s nothing wrong with getting it. It would look lovely on you. I think we all go a little overboard from time to time, don’t we?”

Greyback had worked hard to fit in with the packs when he moved to London. It was easy in some ways. He had turned so many wolves that he had a small pack of wolves who were loyal to him. The existing packs were harder. He had a feeling they respected him, but seemed more out of fear than anything. He wasn’t sure if that bothered him. Respect was respect, wasn’t it?

“Want something else then?” he asked, recognising Artemis as she came into view. Fenrir knew she didn’t trust him and it hurt him to know so. He wanted nothing more than to pull her in. “I have other things.” He didn’t specify. He had a feeling she knew. “Well, the people have a decision to make,” he said. If one they had considered their own was less than human, they’d have to decide if they wanted to consider half breeds as they were. Fenrir didn’t think they were ready for that. “As for the Minister herself, I don’t think much will change. If she really is what they say, she’s gotten where she is pretending to be what she’s not.” He paused, realising it was what he was doing with The Dark Lord to some extend. Or at the very least, turning a blind eye to the fact that he’d never fully be accepted as their own. “Why? What’s on your mind, Pet?”

There were members of her pack who would really appreciate it if she took back some of Greyback’s wares with her, even if Artemis wasn’t so interested herself. She would, from time to time, but less so since she had been working at the spa and expected to be a bit more put together when out and about in the wizarding world. “That depends what you were looking for in return.” If she could get away with it, she would rather not pay in money. Coins were the currency of the human world and she would prefer to keep what she had for when she needed it. If possible, the better option would be able to do a trade of goods for goods. A basket of home-grown chestnut mushrooms for a handful of more interesting ones, for example.

Most people were easy to read, but that wasn’t the case as far as Artemis went.  She was more mysterious, something Freya respected if she were being very honest.  A girl who knew how to keep her cards close to her chest was a girl after her own heart.  “You’re so sweet,” she laughed, linking her arm with Artemis’s to lead her off in the right direction.  She hoped the family friendly atmosphere of the ice cream shop would help Artemis feel relaxed and know that Freya meant no harm.   

“They’ve got a nice variety, I think.”  She had never gotten anything but a nice, strawberry milkshake from the shop, but she knew they had a large menu.  “I’ve gotten a few non-dairy things as well.  And they have waters and coffee, so probably tea as well.  We’ll find you something that you like.”  She led the way into the shop, ordering her strawberry shake and a cookie.  “Get whatever you’d like.  It’s my treat!”

She was friendly but almost too much so. It was a little weird, actually. Freya had joined their arms together in a way Artemis wouldn’t do with many people she had known for years and she shot her a confused look but didn’t know how to address it. And to call her sweet, as well... That wasn’t a word she remembered having applied to her in a long time. Not since her bite, probably, unless it was from an older werewolf but Freya couldn’t be any older than her, she didn’t think and she didn’t really have the feel of a werewolf. It made her wonder if that meant the other woman had no idea what she was. Perhaps she even was someone from her past life. And yet... there was nothing off about the interaction other than it feeling too familiar. So maybe this was just what Freya was like. It was hard for Artemis to wrap her head around but her inclination was to give her the benefit of the doubt.

“Oh, I’m sure. I’m not really that picky.” At least, she didn’t feel she was. It wasn’t her problem that wizards had so much food that made her stomach hurt. They ate such weird things sometimes. It was hard not to be suspicious about Freya’s offer to pay. Nothing was free in life. Even with supposed ‘treats’, people always expected something in return, at some point or another and Artemis had grown not to let herself be indebted to wizards as much as she could avoid it. “That’s okay. I’ll buy my own.” She saw some of the bright blue sugary crushed ice drink that she remembered liking when she had it at the Quidditch final and pointed to that to order it. As she put the exact change on the counter to try and further discourage Freya from trying to pay for her, she turned to her and, still trying to figure out who exactly she was, asked, “So what have you been up to recently?”

Her first answer just proved how confused she was. “Yes. At the ministry.” May Merlin help him if he’s going to have to deal with someone who’s a bit slow. Incompetence has always been a pet peeve for Barty. He let out a deep exhale as he showed her towards the elevators. “I suppose you’ve never had to? Have you?” Barty was slowly realizing that she might not be anyone worth noting at all. But that doesn’t mean that he still couldn’t learn a thing or two. “My. I hope it’s nothing too serious. Where do you work exactly?” Hopefully, she won’t think that was too much for him to ask. “And you don’t remember which way you came in?” How she came in could tell him a lot of things already. For example, was she simply a victim? Or was she a suspect? One of the instigators of the fight perhaps? “They probably just assumed you could find your own way out.” Like any adult, Barty added in his thoughts. “Oh no. I’m not. I work directly under the Minister. I’m no Auror, nor do I have any plans to be.”

Who: Open

Where: Corner between Diagon and Knockturn Alley

When: April 4, 1983, late at night

Such a bad habit. He heard Geri’s voice every time he opened a pack of cigs. Couldn’t quit ‘em though. Whenever he scrounged up enough money, he bought a pack. Ironically enough, he preferred them to anything he dealt. Maybe his profession caused anything else to lost its luster.

He didn’t expect anyone to be out. It was his favourite time of day - so late it almost became early. It was quiet, even in the busy place he found himself. He was finishing a deal and wanted to smoke before he went home. He always got reprimanded for smoking. Ingrates, the lot of them.

He lit the cigarette without his wand. He had one, barely used it. Stole it off a kid they killed during a raid. Never felt right. Never felt like his. Much preferred nonverbal.

He smelled them before they saw them, his eyes darted up, cigarette poised between his lips. He was shocked someone else was out at this hour. “Betcha gonna try to bum one off me. That was my last one.”

If there was one thing she had learned in eighteen years of living in a London pack, it was to be aware of Fenrir Greyback if he was around. Not to beware of him, exactly, just to be aware. His attitude didn’t fit in with Artemis’ view of their life and she privately felt he gave werewolves a bad name but at the end of the day they were all werewolves and their loyalty was to each other over any humans.

Cooking was an interesting concept, and it shouldn’t be as difficult as it was.  Brussel sprouts and ice cream were both delicious, so it would have made a lot more sense if they tasted good together.  How was it that two great foods would have been so foul together?  “That makes sense.”  He couldn’t make much, but potatoes sort of went with lasagna, so he had a bit of experience there.  “Potatoes don’t taste like much, so they’re fun to cook.  They just sort of soak everything else up.”  He hesitated, still unsure of when to push and when to let things be with her, but it was getting easy.  “we should just find a really tough recipe that we both think sounds good one day and just make it.  And we can order a pizza or something if it turns out to be completely disgusting.”

“Oh yeah,” he nodded, knowing what she meant.  “it’s just like that, just a different shape.  Those sorts of pastas are that texture too before they’re prepared.”  He didn’t know how to make fresh pasta, so his next explanation was more theoretically than spoken from experience.  “With some sorts of foods it’s easier to freeze them to keep it fresh.  But with pasta it’s easier to keep fresh when you sort of dry it out by some kind of Muggle and culinary magic.  But when it’s fresh it’s more of a putty and you can mold and shape it.”

He bent down to pull the bread out of the oven.  “The lasagna needs a bit more time, but if you want to try the bread.”  He gestured to pan.  “It’s fresh out of the oven, so it’s quite hot.  But it’s best that way, in my humble opinion.”

“That sounds like fun,” Artemis agreed, easily. She supposed it was one of the main ways her upbringing had changed her that now the best way for her to bond with someone was to share in an activity like that, whereas when she was younger she was more often than not pushed to be more independent. “We can... right.” She didn’t want to admit that she didn’t really know what he meant by ordering a pizza. Going to a restaurant, probably, though why pizza was the only option, she wasn’t sure.

“Huh.” It really was fascinating the lengths people went to to make their food last longer, particularly to someone who only ever really ate what was fresh and available. “Like rice,” she offered, because that was the one thing she did buy dried from time to time. It was possible to buy massive bags that lasted for ages and she found it easy to cook in a bowl of water over the fire. Maybe she would have to look into doing the same with pasta to mix it up a bit. “It’s amazing. How do they even work these things out? It must be easier just to get things when they’re fresh.” Although, now she thought about it, she had heard of a rice plant, even if they weren’t native to Britain. She had no idea how pasta grew.

Although the fire wasn’t visible with Frank’s oven, she knew that there must be something in it to cook the food and it being invisible made it feel more dangerous so she was hesitant to touch the bread straight away, even without his warning that it would be hot. A glance at Neville for encouragement, however, made her think it was probably better she tried it first, before he did, as he probably would have more sensitive skin. She tentatively teared off a piece, almost dropping it again from the heat but she managed to keep a hold of it and nibble the edge. “Oh,” she said, surprised to find how much she liked it. “Oh, that’s definitely better than normal bread.”

Truthfully, nothing was stopping Barty from completely ignoring the lost damsel and continuing his merry way. First off, Barty Crouch Jr. memorized every single face that could possibly matter in that side of the wizarding world long before he had to work for the Ministry. And the confused face that the woman was wearing did not belong on that list. He could ignore her scot-free. But if she was someone important. Or at least, if she knew someone important… then Barty might unknowingly put himself in harm’s way by casting her aside.

All of these calculations only took him a second and a half. Finally, Barty sighed and took his chances. Surely, this won’t take long. “Is this your first time?” he asked. If it was, what would that mean? Was she a foreigner? A delegate of some other governing body from another country? Her accent and features didn’t seem to indicate that. Was she perhaps a mistress? Visiting her unwitting lover out of the blue. “What was your business here?”

The way Artemis visibly relaxed told Freya that she was on the right track.  It was reassuring to know she hadn’t fully lost her touch when it came to this, her strongest attribute in the whole war situation.  She knew that drawing in someone like Artemis would be one of her greatest wins thus far – but it was going to take some time.

The werewolf fully didn’t recognize her, but her bright smile and friendly attitude may have been enough to fool others.  “Avery,” she added, hoping the additional information would be enough to show Artemis that she wasn’t a threat.  “Freya Avery.”  She brightened considerably at the offer of drinks.  She wouldn’t drink alcohol, not while she was working, but if there was an opportunity to develop a real sort of friendship this quickly she would take it.  

“Absolutely, but would you think I was a total child if I suggested a milkshake?”  She gestured the direction they’d have to walk if they were going to head to the ice cream shop.  “I think that I’m in the mood for a bit of sugar, and they have delicious ones.”

Artemis nodded as if the addition of the surname was everything and not just another name in a string of ones she had learned to filter out. If she remembered back to lessons of the who’s who of the pureblood world, then there would be too many clients she would feel compelled to act differently around. It was better she treated them all the same and didn’t think about where they came from. “Of course!” She smiled like that had confirmed for her who Freya was, and she conveniently used the fact that she was the one who had been recognised to avoid giving up any surname of her own.

“A...” She frowned over the mention of something she was fairly sure she had never tried. At least, not in any recent memory. Then again, Artemis didn’t really like milk. Even a splash of it in tea ruined the drink for her so she figured anything that had ‘milk’ in the name was going to be something she didn’t like. Like one of those latte things that had made her ill after being bought one by a colleague. “I don’t see why that would make you a child. Do they do anything else? Maybe... tea?” It would be easier to make a suggestion if she was more certain what a milkshake was beyond presumably milky and probably non-alcoholic given it was apparently considered a childish option.

where: Ministry of Magic who: Barty Crouch Jr. and anyone

The minister was absolutely unforgiving once Barty returned to work. He only missed a few days after taking a leave of absence, but the other junior assistants did not pick up the tasks he left behind. The tasks were all waiting for him once he got back. 

With an intimidating to-do list pile neatly stacked on his table, Barty couldn’t afford to be distracted. His day at the office has barely started but he was already up and about doing the various tasks at hand. With a couple dozen of  folders tucked in his arm, Barty dropped by documents going from office to office.

Barty kept his pace fast and his face stern. Hopefully, it was enough to deter anyone who might try to keep him from doing his work. Unfortunately, some people just couldn’t take the hint. “Yes, can I help you?”

Artemis was nervous to be at the Ministry but an incident had happened at work with one of her colleagues and a client and she found herself there as a reluctant witness. She kept waiting for someone to turn around and say she needed to be locked away, the werewolf engaging in sex work, but somehow neither thing had come up. She was allowed to leave the office after her interview without another word but there was no staff member to accompany her back to the atrium and within minutes Artemis realised she was lost.

forty minutes.  that was how long the clerk had said it would take.  but it seemed like his robes weren’t ready yet, so benjy resigned himself to another lap around madam malkin’s.  he didn’t want to be impatient, especially considering it was his own stupidity that led him here.  benjy was flooing from one meeting to the next a couple weeks back and ripped a hole right in the side of his robe.  he must have caught it on a fireplace poker, which was a stupid thing to have when your fireplace was never used for fires.  he glanced out the window, and it looked nice enough outside that maybe he could wait out there until his robe was ready.  benjy decided to head for the door and nearly collided with someone on the way out.  “oh, my bad.  lemme just — ”  he scooted to the side to make room in the doorway.  “ — after you.”  

“I wouldn’t say my failures have ever disappointed many people. Perhaps as a child some of them disappointed just my parents but there isn’t anything that I can think of in particular. I suppose I never had to do anything so young that I could have failed at so terribly. Growing up and learning with the pack there was never any disappointment in failure. We all encouraged each other to do better but failure just meant more opportunity to learn. I had no formal education so trial and improvement was the only way to figure a lot of things out. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about or disappointed in.

In her hasty decision to move back to England, Priya hadn’t realized that there were things she was going to need to get, coming back. Most of the clothes she’d taken with her during her travels were now too small, or just worn out. She hadn’t taken a large amount with her, wanting to live a more minimalistic lifestyle, but it had been enough to get her by. Now that she was back, though, she decided that she should treat herself to a new wardrobe. She’d already picked out a decent number of tops and bottoms, and a dress or two, but her eyes had fallen on a rather cute blouse. Priya stopped, gaze lingering on the blouse as the inner monologue in her mind debated whether or not she needed it. Sometime during her mental conversation, a voice had interrupted her thoughts, and she saw a woman reach carefully in front of her. Taking a step back, Priya shook her head. “Oh, no, please, you’re fine. I was lost in thought, there.” Looking down at the piece that the other had noticed she’d picked out, her eyes traveled up to meet the others. “Really? Merlin… that’s so strange. I mean, in a good way. I guess we both have good taste,” she chuckled. “I was thinking about getting this as well, but I haven’t decided…” Gesturing casually to the blouse still on the rack, Priya turned back to her, silently hoping for the other’s opinion.

Artemis couldn’t help but giggle. “I completely know the feeling. I suppose I must have been as well to leave my purse behind.” She nodded, also looking at the top that they had both bought. It was a funny little coincidence but she also supposed it made at least some sense. They had similar complexions so similar colours were going to suit them. “It looks that way. I’d say maybe we should shop together but I really don’t think I should spend any more today.” She didn’t add that it was a little overwhelming to her that the other woman seemed to be buying multiple outfits. Artemis was so used to making the same few items of clothing stretch as far as possible and the only part of her wardrobe that was really well-stocked was lingerie. “Oh, oh yes that’s really nice,” she said, looking at the blouse. She could see the temptation. “I think it would look really good on you. I suppose it just depends what your budget is.” She was torn between encouraging her to go for it and not suggesting a complete stranger spend their money in a way that was potentially irresponsible.

He nodded. He didn’t think he had ever felt that. If his uncle didn’t come to get him, he wondered if his father would have just kicked him out. He wondered how he would have done on his own. “Yeah, I guess you have a point,” he said. He felt bad for saying it. He had no idea what his life would have been like if he didn’t have magic. It was a strange thing to be talking about, but perhaps only because he was talking about it with a stranger. “I guess so.” He looked around, trying to find an excuse to leave the conversation soon if his companion wasn’t going to end it for them both first.

She was still feeling that stab of jealousy and when the conversation stalled it seemed futile to try and save it. He was nobody to Artemis, just another stranger at this carnival. Her whole evening was going to be spent pretending to have more interest in strangers than she really did so she had no desire to start with someone who by his own admission planned to leave soon. “I really should head off. I need to change before I start work. I hope you get some enjoyment out of the carnival, even if you don’t expect much.”