Any action, in the fullness of time, sinks to nothingness

Blaise hadn’t anticipated Theo being right behind him, in the way that he often seemed to just appear from thin air, but rather than the usual jump and complaint a smile spilled across his face. Theo seemed annoyed at him, if the hand that drifted away from his arm that had seemed like it intended to pull him elsewhere was any indication, but Theo was often annoyed at him for one reason or another and Blaise had come to accept that it was just their perpetual state of being. Perhaps Theo just liked being annoyed.

“Orange,” he agreed absently, turning his head back towards the suspicious stare being levelled upon them by Auror Shacklebolt. He’d been a little preoccupied at the time, but he remembered the odd shade the room had turned and a distant rumbling before he’d been thrown off his feet. “It ruined my shirt.”

The scraps of which he’d left behind in that strange, cursed room which was a shame because he’d liked that shirt. And apparently Auror Shacklebolt didn’t have much to say on the subject of his shirt, or Theo’s offer of a calming draught beyond an incredulous raise of his eyebrows and a polite, “No, thank you,” in a steady, smooth voice that made Blaise suspect that he’d never consumed a calming draught in his life. “The streets are in lockdown. How did you get in here? You’ll need to stay inside until the cordon is lifted.”

There was a hesitation, for a moment, as if the professionalism that the Auror had been projecting was struggling with something else before he asked, “Unless you need to go to St. Mungo’s — are you — were you both injured? I can escort you. Burns shouldn’t be left to chance, they’re a breeding ground for infection and if the fire was cursed then there could be complications. Resistance to healing. I’m sure that your team—” Shacklebolts eyes darted back to Theo from where they’d drifted off to Blaise who seemed to be busy frowning at one of the promotional cardboard cutouts perched beside a table full of creams, “—And your families would feel much better about if if you went to St. Mungo’s and got checked out. As a precaution.”

“It was a nice shirt.” His hand trailed up Blaise’s un-injured and un-healed arm, making a permanent note in his mind of just how soft his friend’s skin was. The burns had been jarring to see in person. Not just due to how phased Blaise was about their night at Club Raven ending in tragedy. (For he hadn’t jotted down high pain tolerance under the Blaise section of his head. The word found there was whining.) More so because imperfection wasn’t something he saw on Blaise. Only heard from him. Often.

“My elf.” Unwilling to remove his hand from the shoulder now keeping him from sinking to the floor as the powerful mixture of lavender, crocodile heart, and peppermint worked its magic through his body. “Madame Primp...Primper...Blanche is my step-mother.” Theo looked to the side at Blaise and raised a brow in question. He had wanted to go home. To curl up in his bed and lock himself away from the entire world except for his fiancée and forget all the twists and turns of Rabastan Lestrange’s game and Cavalier Avery’s fun house. The calming draught, heavy handed on the lavender, wasn’t his brew. If it was Theodore would have been able to do a bit more than lean against Blaise as his own head drooped. Staying in the shop wasn’t too bad now.

A cordon sounded serious. As did the aurors insistent that they go to St. Mungo’s. Nose wrinkling in dissatisfaction, Theo spoke his refusal. “No.” Only Blaise had been injured, caught up in the flames that had burst from the fireplace’s mouth like the displays of shimmering embers on Yule. “Thank you.” And he was fine now. Healed. “We’re fine.” All thanks to Jwi who was looking more worried than when Theo had first summoned him. “We’ll stay here. Right, Blaise?” 

Katie theorized one could never have too many friends, though she wouldn’t call it much of a theory. She would insist it was proven. That is why she was so friendly to everyone she met, though her friendliness teetered on questionable boundaries at times. At least that is how Theo had the tendency of making her feel. She was nothing if not kind, but he repelled her away as if she were a swarm of nasty summer bugs—some type of irksome little pest he wanted to swat away from his personal space. Katie was resilient though, she didn’t let negative connotations or outright rejection sully her spirit. At least not on her first, second, or fiftieth attempt at advancing their relationship. Everyone’s breaking point was different though, Katie slowly growing weary hers was lurking somewhere on the road ahead.

A laugh arose from her chest at his piqued interest in her experiments—was it genuine concern, or simply him doing his job well? She preferred it not to be the latter, as bad as that may sound. Maybe if she played her cards right there was still time to turn the odds in her favor. “ I’ve dabbled, ” she responded with an earnest shrug. In fact she’d recently had relative success tweaking her very specific love potion recipe into one of her all-time favorite pastries, but she didn’t want to reveal that particular secret to Theodore. “ Why? Are you familiar with the concept? ” Katie examined the bed of her nails, a casual nuance present in her tone.

No.

His tone was more dismissive than she hoped, and the actions accompanying his words delivering a harsh sting. Katie resisted the urge to roll her eyes purely on account it was rude, especially when you were trying to do business with someone.

“ Do you have a problem with me? ” Her voice fluctuated, a thread away from cracking at the sudden realization she’d been striving so hard to ignore for so long. That wasn’t what she was expecting to say, but sometimes her mind ( and mouth ) ran off on its own ( and truthfully, the witch couldn’t stand the idea of someone disliking her—especially when she-herself was so drawn to them like a candle stricken for warmth on a frozen winter night ).

“ No that’s not all, Theodore. ” Katie huffed at him irately. It took a lot to deteriorate her usually radiant surface, but right now Theo was managing to penetrate those heavily reinforced walls. She craved some sort of understanding. Why was he like this? Why did he continuously push her away and minimize any efforts to forge a friendship? Was it just her, or others in his life as well? And could she find a way to put an end to it? “ Busy with what? ” She promptly demanded. “ Are you even permitted to say that to me? I am a customer after all—one may consider it, uh, how do you say? Terrible customer service. ”

“No. I’ve never cooked.” The kitchens had been forbidden when he was growing up. A rule only broken when Jwi would sit him down on one of the tall stools, far larger than a child or house elf could have use for, to administer whatever potion, draught, cream, or salve was needed. Ten minutes at the most and he was sent back upstairs through the servants staircase. A steaming cup of chrysanthemum tea being allowed to accompany him on his journey. “It sounds reckless.” Not that he was surprised a hit witch and reckless were found in the same place.

“Do you have a problem with me?”

He almost laughed but managed to cough in shock instead, busing himself with the ledger behind the till and not checking to see if the strange tone in her voice was a sign that his very obvious dismissals of friendship were finally taken. “I have work to do.” Was this all it took? Did he just have to keep refusing and not fold and Theo could get the peace and space he desired? He should try it in other areas of his life. Would this work as well on Daphne? No. Not at all. She would just cry.

Regret did not live in Blaise’s emotional wheelhouse — he acted, he did what he had to do, he did not dwell in emotional disasters, he was present and didn’t get mired in the mistakes of the past (his or anyone elses). None of these things felt true, the longer he ruminated on them, and with the distinct lack of assistance or clarity he’d been gaining from the array of over-sweet and over-decorated drinks that had been sliding across the bar in lieu of what he actually wanted (perhaps he’d been here too many times, lately, if they were watering his drinks down so early in the night) it became apparent that whatever he’d been looking for at the Siren’s Tail was not there. 

Another sip from another absurd, twirly straw that tasted like nothing he should be ingesting in the middle of the season and he turned in his seat, eyes catching distractedly on a familiar head ducked against the crowd, trying to slink through it with decidedly less stealth than usual. Blaise shouldn’t notice him, he should go back to flirting with the bartender or his neighbours in an attempt to dispose of the saccharine drink in front of him in favour of something stronger, but his feet and then his legs and then the rest of him seemed to have other thoughts on the matter. 

Blocking Theo’s exit strategy was muscle memory, by now, a play so ingrained in the back of his head that he may as well have been in the air. Theo had the unacceptable advantage of a real drink in his hand and judging by the warmth of his cheeks and the wordless brush past, a cigarette invitation to follow, it wasn’t his first. Blaise hesitated, between the warmth of the bar, how much work it would take to break through whatever moral obligations were keeping him from an actual drink, and the cool air outside, the path to ruin he was sure lay in Theo’s footsteps outside, he didn’t need cool rationalism in his ear tonight. His feet, again, made the decision for him, night air spilling across his skin as he followed the waft of smoke around the corner to potted plants and weeds growing up between the pavers, Theo finding a corner to retreat into as per usual.

“How long have you been here?” he asked first, the taste of sugar on his tongue skewing his mood, more mercurial lately than he’d like to admit, towards sweetness. The monstrosity of a drink caught in his hand was discarded in all it’s fruit-laden glory onto sunbleached outdoor furniture and he perched alongside it, another frivolous accessory, as he hitched a heel onto one of the seats and leaned back, smile disarming and shirt rumpled, as he stared into the shadows Theo chose to lean into. His fingers itched for the cigarette caught between Theo’s. The ones he always said he didn’t want. His eyes darted to the drink in Theo’s hand. “I didn’t see you. Do we not say hi anymore?”

He hadn’t actually expected Blaise to follow. It was silly, short-sighted of him, to assume his friend wasn’t his friend anymore as though one two nights of rash decisions that led to the three people falling into a mess of touch and want between acromantula silk sheets instead of the two that usually slept their clothed would destroy a years long friendship. If the way he had been avoiding Pansy was any sign there was always a chance it could. There was no obligation here. Theo could easily fade from their friend group, leave everyone else to Pansy and Blaise in the amicable non-break up break up that followed stupid ideas and throw himself into his work until everyone took the hint.

The soft footfalls that followed him, the creak and slam of the old pub door as the long past needing replacing hinges did nothing to protect the wooden frame as it shook with impact, had Theo looking over his shoulder to confirm it was indeed Blaise following and not a different patron. Disregarding the chairs, stained and tainted by whatever regular usually occupied them, Theo leaned against the pub’s brick exterior and lit the smoke between his fingers. He made a gesture, starting extending the case in Blaise’s direction, but stopped. Shaking his head in apology as the silver holder made its way back into his pocket.

A shrug was given to the question, gaze caught on the smile his friend wore that rubbed Theodore the wrong way. Was it put on? Performative? Or was he simply reading too much into it? Protecting himself from unseen, and unreal, dangers like he had been conditioned to. “A while.” He was drifting from the stunted conversation he had decided to instigate, looking everywhere else but at the grin that had to be a taunt at his very existence when he landed on the ridiculously fruity concoction his friend(?) had ordered from inside. “You’re still mid-season.” And the sugar content in Peacock’s Feather was far too high even for him. 

“Hi.” Pointed and short. An obvious defense to a question he had no business answering when it wasn’t his place to make the choice of what they did and didn’t do anymore. “I didn’t see you either.” His hands fiddled with his smoke, tapping non-existence ash off the end over and over, as he took a large sip of liquid courage and kept his eyes off where he wanted to look. Where he wanted to take note of Blaise’s appearance and review the wrong and different until it made, at least, some sense. Knotgrass mead. Daphne popping up into his thoughts once more as honeyed tinged bitterness flooded his palate. That was Blaise’s fault, that he was overlooking every interaction with his ex. Examining their interactions for signs of carrying about some long lasting affection he wasn’t privy to. 

ofsolipsism​:​

Blaise’s instincts were usually fairly reliable — if something was off about this whole encounter than clearly it had to do with the weird energy radiating off of Daphne. It didn’t sound like she was terribly upset, though he’d heard enough white noise about stapler thieves to know that it was a pressing issue on her agenda, the more concerning part of that statement was, however— 

“Moody? As in Mad-Eye Moody. You asked that nutjob who was our — supposed to be our — you know, that guy, to find your stapler?” The complicated story of stolen identities and Death Eaters and whatever that had been the case of yet another failed Defence Against the Dark Arts professor all kind of blurred together into unimportance in his memory, save for that shining memory of the Ferret incident that had been replayed many a time on pensieve nights, but his mother’s natural suspicion towards Aurors always won out. 

Thankfully there were better things to consider than warning Daphne against welcoming someone like Moody into her life, though he was down a copy to show off. “It came out yesterday — I haven’t got a copy yet. Maybe we could pick one up from Flourish and Blotts after.”

The thought brought a smile to his face in the way that few things reliably did, a smile that swiftly slid away as Theo dropped back into his seat, knocking their knees together, and a dish of ice cream plopped down in front of him, a spoon dropping into the dish with a rattle and sliding around so the handle faced him. Like it was mocking him. “What is that?” he leaned back into the cushions of the booth behind him, eyes narrowed suspiciously as if it might somehow infect him, and his arms folded together across his chest. “That’s not what I ordered.”

In truth, there were very few things in life that Blaise took seriously enough to be bothered by — his quidditch season diet was one of them. He made to shuffle back out of the booth, eyes narrowing in on the kindly old man and his open mockery of the institution of the game of Quidditch. If his godfather had taught him anything it was that you couldn’t allow such offences to slide by. “Excuse me, Daph — I need to talk to Fortescue.”

@ofgreengrcss​

“I’ve been told he was once a very good auror. Thought maybe with that ugly eye whizzing around it would be easier for him to spot any pink bejeweled staplers that aren’t where they’re supposed to be.” She explained everything very calmly, as if this logic was completely sound. To be honest she could have asked anyone to be on the lookout, had actually already owled every auror in the department that this should be at the top of their priority list. Speaking to Mad Eye directly had just been an excuse to get a story or some gossip for the secretaries, she could hardly remember the time the former teacher had turned one of her closest friends into a tiny animal.

Though thinking back on it now Draco had been a pretty cute ferret.

“Now what excuse would Mamillan have for a pink stapler? I think blue would suit him much better honestly. Matches his aura.” A wave of her hand dismissed any further explanation on the subject as she zipped through the conversation topics. She picked up her ice cream spoon, thankful that at least she could eat something delicious as the discussion was steering towards less romantic subjects. Honestly couldn’t the mood stay there without her having to wrangle between the men in front of her? 

With reluctance she slid out from the booth, letting Blaise pass by her and only offering, “Flourish and Blotts sounds nice,” before he was gone again. She took the spot he left, this time facing Theo by himself. “I think this is going well, should we plan for a spring wedding?” She was entirely joking though by her tone of voice and mannerisms it would be hard to tell. This day wasn’t a bust yet but she needed to get everything back under control.

And then it hit her. “Theo!” she hissed, launching herself towards him and bumping into the table. “I have the perfect plan! Blaise of course will never kiss me in this circumstance, he’s too much of a gentleman to have a first kiss with an audience. Do you think we could get him to choke on something? Perhaps distract him while he eats and then I can perform CPR! That’s like a kiss right?”

@nottheoretical​

“It’s earl grey.” Flavored. “Lavender as well, I believe.” Theo tried his best to stay neutral, hardly glancing at Blaise as he set his sights on the veritable tower stacked in the children sized cup his friends had chosen from him. “You ordered tea. What did you expect?” His gaze followed Blaise out of the booth again as though compelled by whoever made quidditch practice clothes had imbued them with a notice-me charm. 

Daphne, however, was more direct with her need for intention. “Will you be telling him he’s getting married or will I have to sit here and watch as you lie to our friend?” It came out a bit meaner than he intended. “Daph, I didn’t...I could have said it another way.” Though that would have required a different situation leading them to Fortescue’s entirely. 

As was her way, Daphne managed to shock him after a lifetime of friendship and a minimum of seeing her four times a week at her insistence. “Tell me you’re joking.” There was slight lurch in his stomach, one that set Theo to take a spoonful of her ice cream and push his kid’s cup serving across the table to her in exchange. “I’m not doing that. If you want him to kiss you, ask him. He’s not a gentlemen...I don’t even know how I would go about that and that was not me asking you for suggestions. Just– you don’t think this entire day would go smoother if you told him what we were doing here? And no. It’s not.”

Blanche smirked as she watched Theo in all his dark little clothes. She protected herself by being bright, something to look at , it was how she kept herself above all the darkness. Theo camouflaged himself , no one could find you if you blended straight in. Thankfully he still dressed like a good young man. “What you don’t like it? I thought pink velvet and gold really would have appealed to you.” She plucked a strawberry off her little plate and chewed longer than normal. Blanche now realized that she had glamorized the idea of him coming over now that he was sitting right across from her. They had never been chatty with each other and now she just felt awkward.

Blanche made a point to ever so briefly touch Theodore’s shoulder before scooting farther away than she had been before. Mother’s comforted their children and Blanche knew full well she was not his mom. But she could try and be a good step mother, aunt, big sister. Whatever it was that could get him through life easily. “Of course, I figured it was time you came over to see it for yourself. What with everything that’s being put in motion.” Blanche sipped at her drink before gesturing roughly around her. “I bought this place right before your father and I got married. My mother would come back from the dead to kill me herself if she knew. But I wanted to make sure I had a place to get away from it all, to be safe, to be myself. I was marrying an older man, with a lot of connections.. with a son. I was merely fulfilling a blank spot in someone’s picture.- ” Blanche cleared her throat before standing trying to avoid any eye contact. “I’m happy with my decision. I have a nice home, a husband who lets me run rather free, friends.. and you were a surprise. I’ve quite enjoyed you.” Blanche grabbed her glass of champagne off the table to take a more un ladylike sip. Feelings like this made her so uncomfortable. “But it has always been and always will be a business contract for people like us. And you don’t have to make yourself unhappy to fulfill it. You do your job, and then you get to go home.. just like the apothecary. Does that make sense Theo?”

ᵑ

Her quip lightened the tension in his shoulders just a bit, a quiet huff exhaled as he made himself more comfortable. The straightness of his spine decreasing even if something was telling him this meeting was still a trap. Had he done something wrong? His progress with the daydream charms she requested was still lacking but to expect such a tight turn around when legacy and parental expectations were breathing down his neck was ridiculous. 

“I never said I didn’t like it.” He helped himself to a plate, picking a few strawberries up. “It’s just very you.” He froze at her touch, polite somewhat smile that had seemed somewhat permanently glued to his face since he had arrived falling. Of course. “I didn’t know he told you.” Friendly visits didn’t coincide with secret keys to tucked away flats. 

The more Blanche spoke, the less Theo found himself understanding. Had she wanted a family? A marriage based on something other than societal capita? In a strange sort of way, Blanche’s place by his father’s side made sense. Their businesses were practically dependent on each other. Their ingredients for her products. The last name of Nott, not that she ever formally took it, couldn’t hurt her standing in the potions community nor the pureblood one in the country. He hadn’t ever considered the shadow of his mother was large enough to feel like a threat. By the time the wedding was over, and many months before the engagement had even been announced, there was hardly a trace of her in Nott Hall. It had been his mother’s home as much as it had been his, which was to say not at all. Any personalization or sign on individuality regulated to their rooms where neither guest nor occupant of the home could see. Even family portraits had been swiftly exchanged for those bearing Blanche’s own face and– oh. That was her point.

ofsolipsism:

There was something ominous about the cheerful insistence that, “It’s just us!” ringing chirpily in his ears that Blaise probably should have taken note of as Daphne slid into the booth after him and kept on sliding, settling right up against his side. That wasn’t weird. Daphne had always been, by far, the most affectionate of all their friends — largely, he suspected, because she forged through the array of weird personal space issues the rest of their group seemed to project out into the world. Blaise could relate.

Maybe she was having a tough day? It would explain the emergency need for ice cream and Theo did seem even quieter than usual, except to pitch in the occasional comment on why the rest of their friends were missing. His forehead furrowed faintly, turning back around from his inspection of the alley outside to consider what that was supposed to mean as Daphne’s head settled against his arm. This wasn’t weird. “Are you okay, Daph? Did something happen?”

Was she really so down that she wanted to go for walks in the rain?

It wasn’t that Blaise was incapable of noticing other people’s problems, it was that they so rarely impacted upon his day, and people of importance were so rare, that he didn’t deem them necessary of his acknowledgement. Theo, the traitor, had already made a break for it out of the other side of the booth to retrieve their order and now he was left with this. Maybe he could cheer her up? “Did you see the new Quidditch Quarterly cover?”

Daphne had always been the most enthusiastic of his friends when it came to his press coverage.

@ofgreengrcss

Daphne shot Theo a look. It was unnecessary for him to include that information even though Daphne wasn’t trying to keep it a secret. She just didn’t think it was necessary to mention, Blaise surely didn’t care that the whole group wasn’t here? They hung out without her sometimes and she hung out without all of them at others. They weren’t all attached at the hip even if she did make time in her schedule to hang out with Theo or Pansy at least 4 times a week. 

“It’s raining?” she questioned, momentarily lifting her head from Blaise’s arm to look out the window. In that time Theo disappeared, going for the ice cream and refreshments they had ordered earlier. Now she was left alone with Blaise, which was nice for their date but completely inappropriate that their chaperone had left them alone. The scandal! She’d have to give Theo some reference books on what a good chaperone did. It was entirely plausible she’d need his assistance again for future dates since this one was obviously going so well.

Even if Blaise for some reason thought something was wrong. He just cared about her of course! Blaise was a good boyfriend. “Hmmm nothing unexpected.” She sighed. “My pink stapler went missing again. I’ve been trying to convince Moody that he should put it at the top of his todo list. You have to stop Ministry thieves early!”

With a start she jerked up again, though she still kept herself close. “No do you have it? I’ve been so stuck on the thief I didn’t have a chance to grab one!”

@nottheoretical

Unperturbed by Daphne’s silent communication, Theo made his escape. It was tempting to turn to the right, the glass door providing a view of the storming outside. It’s occasional streaks of lighting not foreboding or ominous enough for him to throw away the idea of leaving. The only thing that kept Theo making a left was the threat of dealing with Daphne’s tears if he did choose to leave. That and the promise of ice cream. (His sweet tooth was a terrible weakness he indulged in rather too much but there was much to be said about childhood forbidden treats being overindulged in once adulthood was reached.) 

Eyes set now on the three ice creams in front of him, Theo dared a grin. A dish of strawberry and birthday cake topped with chocolate fudge, a kid’s cup towering with vanilla and sticky toffee pudding topped with caramel, and the final order. Blaise’s tea, a kid’s cup of early grey and lavender. 

Wand extended, he floated their orders along with spoons and napkins back to the too small and too crowded booth. Once safely levitate down in front of their respective customers, Theo slid back into his seat. His own knees knocking into Blaise’s in a petty move of mockery of his friend’s earlier actions. 

“Have you asked Macmillan? He works in your old office, doesn’t he?” 

This year isn’t going to be any different. Daphne didn’t know what he meant by that. She assumed that it meant that he was grateful it would be their regular group of friends. That maybe he’d have a fun time? Didn’t sound very Theo like but at the same time she didn’t understand why he wouldn’t have fun with the people he chose to call his friends. Wasn’t seeing people you like supposed to cheer you up? She’d ignore any negative connotations.

“I’m thinking it would be nice for you to get a little color in your wardrobe but you don’t have to wear it if you want. Regift it to a cousin or something,” she said. It was very un-Daphne like for her not to tear up at the thought of Theo never touching a gift she bestowed upon him but she was still sensitive over the fight she’d had with Draco. Which is why she’d dragged Theo along for some shopping. Shopping and getting her nails done with Theo or Pansy always cheered her up and it was already doing so right now, Maybe not as much as usual but her spirits were lifting slowly.

“So do you want Mills to come? I’ll be nice to her just for you, she’s always giving me a weird feeling. I think we ran into each other the other day, but…” Daphne paused trying to remember what the two of them did. When her mind blanked out she moved on. “never mind. What type of cake do you want? Or do you want cake? We could do a birthday pie.”

She sounded horrifically like his stepmother in that moment. “I don’t see my cousins.” He moved to block both her path and vision from the maroon robes behind him. “And I have color in my wardrobe. Maroon isn’t...You’d look much better in it than I would. Show me what you were looking at before.” He hesitated, looking down at his watch and sighing before reluctantly continuing. “You should try some things on.”

“you sure about that?” she shook her head, judging them with abandon as they stood in the apothecary. “i mean, yes i can brew that for you but it won’t actually help, you can try primpernelle’s but she sells nothing but water in those pretty little bottles of hers, you want the real thing you come here. but like i said, the chances of it working for you are slim to none.” she sighed heavily, looking around for theo but they were likely hiding in the backroom again. 

“let me offer you a special brew, of my own making. i can actually guarantee results with it, but it’ll cost quite a bit more than this junk.” she tossed the bottle aside and let it roll down the counter, coming to a stop against another display. “now, what do you want? cheap but useless or pricey but worth it’s weight in gold?” it didn’t seem like a hard choice to her. 

ᵑ

“Hestia.” The word came from Theo’s lips with a long practiced annoyance of once again finding his star employee, for she really was a better brewer than him by far, bad mouthing his step-mother’s products. It didn’t matter if he had a personal hand in those pretty little bottles full of water. It was the careful line she danced upon that drew out his frustration. Manager in title and all action but the power of hiring and firing, Theo often wished he could fire the younger woman just for a day. Not that his father would allow it. The senior Nott was blind to the operation cutting into their sales happening right under his nose. How had she gotten this job again besides innate skill? Family connections? Both their fathers sharing a servitude together was his best guess.

ofsolipsism​:​

Blaise was never entirely sure what went on in Daphne’s brain, so the faintly smug expression on his face didn’t falter at her request for heart-shaped biscuits (it was often better to just let these things happen) and instead chose to focus on why Theo’s sweet tooth had disappeared for the day. Perhaps he wasn’t very hungry? “Add another scoop to that one, your pick,” he added to Florean, trying to slide a couple of galleons out of his pocket — their uniforms weren’t built with storage in mind — against the opposing force of Daphne’s patented death-grip when she had a goal in mind, triumphantly sliding them onto the counter before letting himself be pulled away towards the table by the arm.

“This is England,” he offered pointedly as he slid into the booth, scooching over to allow room for Daphne to slide in and knocking knees with Theo as he stretched out his legs in the process, “Everywhere sells tea.” Or they certainly should. Blaise shifted to try and make himself more comfortable in the booth, elbows settling upon the edge of the table as with a sneaking suspicion he asked, “What’s the emergency then? Is everyone else running late?” His head craned towards the window at his back, as if he might catch a glimpse of one of their other friends hurrying in out of the rain. When Daphne started co-ercing Theo into doing something it was .. a day ending in y, but it also usually involved more people. Three felt like a curiously charged number.

@ofgreengrcss​

As they slid into the booth Daphne pressed herself against Blaise, thinking the hint was subtle enough to let him know that this is what they should be doing on a date. She wasn’t concerned with him having enough room ,even as he stretched out and his arm blocked off the part of the table that was in front of her. Maybe if he didn’t move and she couldn’t reach the ice cream itself he would feed it to her. That would be romantic!

“It’s just us!” Daphne chirped. She leaned her head against Blaise’s forearm. “I thought that this would be nice. Just the three of us. Theo and I usually do these types of things together but why not invite you as well?” She didn’t even pause to consider why Blaise had asked why the whole group wasn’t on their date. Perhaps he was wondering if Pansy should have joined for Theo, which Daphne had previously thought would be a good idea. A double date! But ultimately she’d decided that could be done another time in the future. 

“Hmm is there anything you two want to do after this? We could go take a stroll and see the wildflowers.”

@nottheoretical​

There was an instant reminder that these booths were built with children in mind. Or dates between two people and not between three people. Theo slid over, across from Daphne where Blaise’s long legs couldn’t tangle with or knock into his own. He was sure the move was purposeful so he ignored it, eyes trailing to look outside instead of be present for the date between his two friends.

“Meaning she didn’t invite them.” Because this was, like all of Daphne’s ideas, a mess. A secret plot with nefarious goals that would never be accomplished because she didn’t say them outright. Out of all two of her exes, Theo couldn’t understand why he was the one forced on this adventure. Draco would have been more keen. Sure, he may have spilled the secret nature of the secret date immediately but he was far more talented at keeping conversation going than Theodore ever would be.  His head swiveled back to Daphne, a creasing line appearing between his brows at the sight of her cuddled up to Blaise when their friend had no idea what the true nature of this ice cream social was about. “It’s still raining. Something indoors, Daph. Please.” He didn’t want to be expected to maintain an umbrella charm over her the whole rest of the day while he got poured on. He also wanted to go home but before he could voice this wish they were interrupted by the dinging of a bell signalling their orders. Theo nearly jumped at the chance to leave the booth, half tripping on Blaise’s foot that really should stay on the other side of the booth. “I’ll get them.”

Theo: It's time to start oppressing jocks. You like sport? Sounds lame to me

Magic Librarian

Books and libraries in fiction can be mystical things; keepers of information, certainly, of secrets and sometimes of magic, as well.

Situational Sociability

A character with Situational Sociability is someone whose ability to socialize with others can vary depending on the circumstances.

Inadequate Inheritor

The irony of the name of the pub Theodore had wandered into was lost on him. Until he looked up from his second bottle of Knotgrass (and didn’t that brand give him a strange pang of regret when it came to the way he had been treating Daphne lately?) to order another and caught sight of a broad set of shoulders draped in expensive, and wrinkled, fabric sitting far away from his tucked away corner where it seemed every barmaid and busser and barback couldn’t peer into the shadows to see the Nott heir steadily drinking himself to a state where he could forget just exactly why his step-mother had invited him over for lunch that afternoon. 

He was tired of it. The wedding planning that seemed to go on forever and still couldn’t take long enough. The invasion of his friends into his home that had Theo changing his wards until they could respect his privacy. The Blaise of it all that was staring him in the face and mocking his inability to navigate the planned course his life was on. Loyalty, discipline, nunchi. He had mastered the first two. The third had never stuck. Having to be always aware, reading between lines of social interactions for hidden meanings, was impossible when your brain supplied only negative connotations for what people could mean.

Theo needed another drink. Approaching the bar with less than usual skill of staying unassuming and out of sight, he procured his third bottle of mead. His cigarette case already out as he strolled to the back of the pub to find a better spot in the little patio. He just hadn’t anticipated his way being blocked. Maybe he should have turned around before Blaise could see him, gone back to his little ill-lit corner. The one without the window to the street where he could focus his attention on something other than the bar stool Blaise had taken residence on (because the little ill-lit corner with the window to the street where he could have focused his attention on people watching had been taken upon arrival). Where he still should be so an escape outdoors wasn’t an impossibility. Blaise loved ruining his chances at retreat, throwing him under the night bus that was Pansy or Daphne or Draco. Why should that change if they were the only two who found themselves here? 

“ It’s a project I’ve been working on for quite some time now, ” Cavi spoke carefully, allowing a brief pause before selecting his next words: “ Since before my father’s passing. ” He received many questions pertaining to his businesses. Most of the time they seemed harmless, but one could never be too cautious—especially knowing there were those out there with foul intent. Sometimes those individuals were much closer to home than he would care to admit. Around ever street corner he stumbled upon someone always eager to pass judgment. He was undeserving. He was ruthless. He was a monster lying in wait. These were just a few of the whispers that made it to his ears.

Cavalier however would not describe himself as such. These people didn’t know him; they were just misinformed, assuming he was merely a byproduct of his unfortunate situation. Whatever that meant.

The truth was Cavi asked for none of this. He worked hard for Club Raven, erected from the dust out of spite—spilling blood, sweat and tears along the way he didn’t think possible for a man such as himself. The kind of spite only a severely wronged son could arbor for his father, a man who failed him in every single way. Surely it was the wretched Avery Family curse striking again. The miserable waste of a man wasn’t even alive to see his success. A fact that tormented Cavalier first thing every morning when he opened his eyes and at night before shutting them. 

The cherry on top was only discovering he of all people was somehow listed as the prime beneficiary of his father’s estate upon his death.

Him. The half-prodigal, half-disowned son.

This had to be some kind of cruel joke, but alas, it wasn’t.

Deeds to The Raven and Avery Manor immediately fell into Cavi’s possession. He was assigned guardianship over his ailing mother and any relation with Simone immediately dissolved. That also wasn’t by choice.

In fact, the more he thought about it the more he began to realize most things were a direct result of actions he had no choice in whatsoever. He could involve so many people in his sloppy schematic, the need to assign blame and point fingers raging deep inside him. His father’s death. His unacknowledged fetish that got him killed. His betrayal after death. Simone’s estrangement. He allowed none of these knives to be plunged into him willing, and certainly not for them to be twisted time after time—the wounds festering and infecting. Obvious signs he was no where close to healing from the trauma. Instead the afflictions spoke for themselves, Cavi left behind to scramble in the aftermath.

“ Absolutely. I recommend The Raven—it is one of our specialty cocktails, the most popular one. Based with a rare Bordeaux and a strong Chambord and blackberry accent, ” Cavi gestured for a nearby barkeep to mix him up a drink while he simultaneously described its components. He half-bobbed his head to the employee who nervously slid the beverage toward Theo, a notion that couldn’t be deciphered as courteous or irate based on the neutrality of his iced expression. “ Of course I can get you anything else you’d like if that doesn’t interest your palette. ” He finished, a smile fluttering on his lips as if it were ushered in on cue. “ After you are settled with a refreshment, then I can show you to my private office? That is where I always prefer to talk business with my closest colleagues. ”

Quite some time might have been the understatement of the year. Theodore’s knowledge of event planning and venues had unfortunately grown tenfold in the past year as wedding ideas and plans were thrown at him and Pansy with a violent motherly ferocity. “It shows.” He had thought Cavi’s and his fathers were alike from the few times he has met the deceased man. Zealots marked with a shared cruelty that, while might have been hidden well in public, was easily spotted by someone familiar with that idea of raising a child. 

☾*✲⋆.

     "I suppose there is a lot of people here…” Luna starts, her head tilting in consideration. “I didn’t expect to see some of my friends, I thought it was a trick of the eye, at first.” She shakes her head, pushing the thought away at first. “Oh, it doesn’t matter anyway.” Luna had sworn she saw a few redheads around, but despite the thickening crowd, she mostly found herself to be in the company of the Slytherins— people who she never thought would speak to her with kindness, let alone invite her to their parties and get togethers. She supposes it’s not all bad, really, being friends with them— if the trait of loyalty was in their upbringing, it might be nice to have friends like that.      Working a piece of hair in and out of a plait, Luna bites the inside of her cheek at Theo’s words. Daphne didn’t seem that way to her, but when it came to women… Luna was a bit unobservant— or even too observant that she just missed everything. She spent a little too much time observing them in her own little way. “That just shows how much you know about me, Theo,” Luna says, twirling around and giving him a wry grin. “I prefer others to make my decisions.” She shrugs then, letting out a short giggle, winking at him quickly. “Especially if they’re a pretty wix.”      “I suppose you ended up having to play with them anyway, if the current situation is anything to go by… It seems she’s got you all wrapped around her finger. Not that I’m surprised,” she shrugs again, her hands combing out her messed up hair. “It seems you ended up in the snake pit, and I the lions den.” She smiles at him, her expression both curious and friendly. “No, she hasn’t…” Her eyes widen slightly. “Oh, they don’t involve sirens, do they?”

That made two of them then. Theo didn’t often think of people by their school house, not really at all since graduation, but the invasion of all things Gryffindor at what could be called a typical Slytherin birthday was such an oddity in behavior that he thought perhaps the need for a separation of people by houses was something they should bring into the real world. Or Daphne needed to remember that not everyone enjoyed socializing to the extent that she took it to.

Slowly comprehension dawned on Theo, the expression of befuddlement fading to a light dusting of pink across his cheeks as he nodded. “I’m sorry. I guess I don’t know you.” Could he say he was any different? He hadn’t been single for longer than three months since he was fourteen. Breaking up with Daphne only to be told Pansy was his future shortly afterwards. They were both opinionated, strong personalities that usually made the decision in the relationship or friendship masquerading as one. “I wouldn’t say I prefer it but it does seem to happen to me far too often.” He liked that Pansy always knew what she wanted or what he needed, often better than he did. He was thrilled that someone in the home had no trouble making decisions and taking decisive action when he hesitated and worried, usually overthinking himself into a panic.

☾*✲⋆.

     “Theo it is then. You can just call me Luna. Um, I think you do that already though… Oh, ignore me, I’m getting the jitters. Crowds do that, sometimes,” she wrinkles her nose, pushing a piece of hair back behind her ear. “Must be the nargles, of course.” Luna takes a peak at the bottle he seems so focused on, but not finding anything of interest, she tries to catch his eye again. Realizing just how awkward that is, she looks away, at the display of bottles to her right.      “It’s alright, I know you’ve probably got a lot of people to catch up with, and it’s your friends birthday after all.” She fiddles with the present handing from her wrist, still annoyed by its persistent presence on her person. The last time she had encountered Theo, it had been a bit of a weird evening. Having smoked before the party, she was buzzed for most of the event… and if that hadn’t had her feeling wonky enough, that experience with the siren definitely did. Luna figures that Theo is feeling a bit embarrassed by the whole thing, having nearly stripped himself naked just to get the creatures attention, so she excuses his shifty behaviour.      She frowns. “Why wouldn’t we be? Daphne’s lovely, and beautiful, too. You’re all relatively close, aren’t you, Everyone from your house?” Luna walks further into the room, looking at the bottles, selecting a nice goblin-made white wine. “Ah! This one. I think our friends upstairs would just love it, no?” She turns to him, a wide smile on her face. “Something fun to keep the party going.”

Even with the heavy weight of shame that insisted on instilling itself any time Luna came back into his consciousness, Theo couldn’t hide the small grin of understanding at Luna’s words. “Why do you think I’m hiding in here?” But life had to fall into the same pattern it always did and the word nargles was a heavy handed reminder of just who he was speaking to. He’d heard her say the word before and it wasn’t a plant he’d ever heard of which left him with a furrowed brow as he searched his mind for something to connect nargles to except for the word Luna. 

Out through the door and into the shop he slipped, ignoring the sounds of protests from the eerie little elf or the faint noises from behind as he followed the sound of knocking through the dark-storefront, through the aisles and displays towards the main entrance of the shop and the dark figure silhouetted through the glass who was knocking. A wand lifted, light searing from its tip and Blaise lifted his good arm to shield his eyes against it, blinking lazily as words filtered through into his thoughts and he turned back towards them. “I’ll tell them you’re closed,” seemed a perfectly reasonable solution.

It would be impolite not to open the door now that they’d seen him.

He reached for the door-handle, pulling his hand back at the sharp snap of the wards and the immediate tingling through his fingers at that friendly little warning to remind him this wasn’t his home. “I can’t open the door,” he offered bemusedly aloud, like an explanation, before digging into his pocket for his wand which had come out of the night remarkably in tact. He remembered with startling clarity, running through the basics of how to break through wards with his mama, that sometimes it was faster to slip around them than to break them apart. A fist knocked again, politely this time, as it to remind him of the person on the other side of the door.

Evanesco was a spell that he could manage in his sleep, the thunk of the lock mechanism falling apart as the doorlock vanished sending the wards anchored into it peeling away, untethered. The door creaked open, knocked ajar by another gentle rap of knuckles against the glass pane from the other side and the face that appeared in the space seemed just as surprised by this development as Blaise did. Blaise blinked a few times against the glare of light from his wand, the night air prickling across his skin, and it occurred to him suddenly that he thought he might recognise this man.

“—ror Shacklebolt, I was canvasing the area and saw the light coming from the back of the store. Are you alright,” the Auror, because that was the badge being presented to him and his mama’s warnings about Aurors crawled up into his hazy brain, about never volunteering information and always keeping in mind your rights and why was this stranger giving him that weird look? “Blaise — are you in need of assistance?”

“The fireplace exploded,” Blaise offered absently, craning his neck back around towards the pulling on his trouser leg. It was Theo’s weird elf again. It had seemed so pressing earlier that they find help but there was a distinct lack of urgency to the way he glanced further back into the shadows of the shop to ask, “Hey, Theo — do we need assistance?”

He blinked at the sudden light, taking shelter behind his friend and looking down to stop the bright light from invading his vision. “You don’t work here.” It felt important to repeat himself, the pulling of the wards on the back of his hand rising to an itch Theo had to rub away as Blaise tried the door. He stepped up to open it himself– No. To pull Blaise away from the door and back into the storeroom to sit down.  Except he couldn’t. He stared, mouth falling open as the magical warning crawled up his arm and demanded attention that the calming draught wouldn’t let Theo give. “You just...I could have. If you waited.” He hadn’t and now a man his father often cursed about was standing in the doorway like Theo should be grateful to see him. This wasn’t good, was it?

Alright was most definitely what they weren’t. He glanced between the pair and the door now unwarded. He’d have to fix that tonight before they left. What time was it? It was still dark outside but Pansy would be home and he shouldn’t get home too late but he hadn’t mentioned he was leaving, had he? He hadn’t seen her since before his night had taken a ridiculous turn for the worst.