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“hmmm, well we can always be better friends to them now, can’t we? that’s what the gifts are for, a symbol of a fresh start,” astoria smiles sadly as she examines laurel, the magical equivalent of a daffodil now resting in her hands, their delicate petals shining in the light. “i’m sure that’s not true, you’re just a little hard on yourself,” she answers, wondering whether anyone had ever taught the girl how to care for cacti. “all a cactus needs is sunlight, and water once a week. if it starts changing color or leaking, you’re overwatering. i know london’s gloomy, but some artificial sunlight will work just fine.” she pauses, smiling as she hands the girl, a pot anyway. “i can owl you instructions on how to keep them alive. having plants in your home is good for your sleep and overall wellbeing.”
laurel shrugs. “what if it’s too late for that? not everything can be saved.” she looks down at the flower, head tilting in curiosity. there’s a beuty in all living things - one she’s learned to appreciate in her new life. she never thought much of plants when she was younger. she never knew them - but their magic, their inherent ties to wandmaking - they’ve become something new to her in her training. “i’m much better once their lives are gone, in truth. i can press plants, i can do plenty with a branch or a twig. thank you, for your kindness - but truly, i’m not to be trusted with them.”
“i don’t think so, no.” cho, of course, has more thoughts on the subject - but she goes back to stunned silence, letting her words hang in the air as she looks at the cigarette. it’s not a habit she’d condone, especially not as a healer, and the act reminds her of her own parents who had the occasional smoke after a long day. still, she doesn’t comment on it, her mind working too quickly for her mouth to catch up. if people can’t escape who they are - then who is she? at least, to the girl who stood in front of her? a poor friend, a selfish girl, a confused heart. perhaps frozen in time back to when she was young and scared and freshly heartbroken. to when, even then, she stayed to fight. and laurel had left. thoughts that she had repressed for years - easier to not think about without the other witch there to remind her - seems to crush her all at once. “laurel,” she begins, a mixture of bitterness, shame, and guilt weighing on her tongue, “i didn’t realize you had come back to england.”
laurel knows when she’s being judged. she’s not used to it coming from smoking - france, after all, is rife with smokers, even in her tiny wizarding village. she chalks it down to the fact that it’s her. laurel burke, returned from the myth of the girl that left. she didn’t stay. she didn’t fight. cho’s right to judge her for that much, but it doesn’t make her any happier about the judgement. “grand. i guess i’m stuck with myself.” she mutters, rolling her shoulders in an attempt to look more casual than she feels. “to be honest, i don’t think i realised it either. i’m not exactly rushing about to announce my reappearance. for obvious reasons. lovely to see you too, cho.”
“you know in muggle london, loitering is a crime.” actually, to be fair, makena wasn’t so sure that it WAS ( at least not anymore ) - but they usually got away with blanket statements such as those, given how LITTLE the magical world really knew about muggles. she’d spent most of fifth year spinning the most ‘out there’ stories about ordinary people and their habits, and had half her year convinced muggles had double the amount of teeth they did for as long as it took madam pomfrey to explain basic biology. “and talking to yourself isn’t a good sign anywhere, so… you might wanna work on that.”
“i doubt that’s true.” she bites back, eyes narrowing a little. “maybe a minor offense against a landowner, sure, but i get the feeling it’s not a crime.” laurel turns and sizes up the stranger. she takes a drag from her cigarette, then pulls it away from her lips. “thanks for the tip. i had no idea. i’ll... try not to, in future. if i might return the favour, though - people generally won’t respond well to two insults in one go. especially not from a stranger.”
Pansy would never get sick of the way people looked at her when she appeared unexpectedly in front of them. The utter shock, that she was speaking to them, mixed with a small amount fear had always given her a thrill. It was quite often accompanied by a stutter or sudden burst of clumsiness or complete paralysis, or all three, any of which were good for a laugh. Was there something wrong with wanting to strike fear into the hearts of others? Probably, but she didn’t really care. And, besides, it’s not like she ever did anything truly awful with the power. Pansy smirked as she sat down across from Laurel. “Burke. How are you? Long time, no see,” she asked politely.
there’s a look of satisfaction about pansy that has always irked laurel, to an extent. she reveled in it, once - the look of disgust or of shock that appeared on purebloods faces when she appeared near to them. now, however, she’s simply tired of it. what happened to pansy, in the war? she wonders briefly. did she choose correctly? did she choose at all? laurel goes back to brushing the unicorn tail. “i’m well, thank you. and yourself?” she replies with as much courtesy as she can muster, “i’ve not seen anyone in a while, actually. i only just got back from avignon.”
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possible locations: diagon alley, hogsmeade, any magical residential area ?
astoria’s smiling as she levitates half a dozen potted plants beside her. they’re of the decorative variety, a species she grew strictly for pleasure rather than the potions ingredients she usually grows for work. “they’re gifts for friends,” she says in response to a curious stare or a glance – she couldn’t quite tell. “i figured i haven’t been a very good one lately,” she adds, more to herself than the other, referring to her constant travels and tendency not to send word about where she’s going or for how long. “would you like one? they’re very low maintenance. however, i do suggest you talk to them to make sure they grow good and strong.”
“that makes two of us.” laurel hasn’t been a good friend for years - in some ways, she thinks she never was. she selected her friends for their shock value - sure, it turned into genuine friendship, but she’d never had honest intentions. “oh, i would, if it weren’t for the fact that i can’t be trusted to care for anything. not even a cactus.” she smiles, the feeling strange and tight. “you ought to give them to someone who’d keep them alive.”
the air is nothing short of awkward. well, what else could one expect? they had been friends as teenagers and now they were full fledged adults. a lot had changed, but even then luna felt like she had never truly scratched the surface of laurel burke. she could never blame the other for starting a new life, there were times she wished she had the courage to do that too. “i’m good, still alive miraculously.” she replies, there was a hint of sadness that lingered in her voice. others hadn’t been so lucky and even all these years later, it still stings. “how are you and france? are you just visiting?“
“that’s always the baseline, yeah.” she says, lifting her cigarette to her lips once again, wishing it would do something to calm her down. this was too big, too much, all at once. she looks down, thinking of anaïs. her throat suddenly feels dry. “france is lovely as ever. as for me... i think i’m doing fine. i’m looking for work here, actually. so i’ll probably be back for a while. but, um... would you mind keeping it quiet that i’m around? i don’t want it to be a big deal, or anything.”
luna hadn’t seen laurel in… years. the last time was sixth year, right before she had ran away. luna doesn’t like to think about sixth year too much: the previous summer dumbledore had been killed which left snape and the carrows in charge and of course she had gotten kidnapped that december. but as much as luna worried about everything going on around her, at least she knew her friend was safe. “yeah… it’s– it’s good to see you.” the raven haired girl manged a small nervous smile. “sorry, do you want to be alone?” she had to ask because it looked like the other was in deep thought.
before she can stop it, laurel’s mind rushes back. her unhappiness at school - everywhere - was unrelenting. her only sense of joy came in pissing people off, in sticking it to her parents, her teachers. and even then, it wasn’t real joy. it was just anger. “you, too.” what goes unsaid is thank god you’re alive. thank god you survived it. “no, no - i just. i wasn’t expecting anyone. stupid, really. this always was the hub of everything and everyone.” she looks down. “um. how - how are you? i never, uh... i haven’t been keeping tabs.”
diagon alley is a place you’d find luna often. working with magical creatures alike is certainly a challenge in every aspect. especially when it came to almost always needing supplies from the magical menagerie. it was supposed to be a quick trip, really. maybe even stop by florean fortescue’s ice cream parlour. however, she stops in her tracks when she notices a face she would know anywhere. the raven haired girl has to do a double take because what were the chances it was really her? and not just her mind playing tricks on her? “last names may be apart of us, but they don’t have to define us.” luna responds softly, looking at borgin and burkes. her dream-like voice ever so evident as she decided to dare ask. “laur?”
“so people keep telling me.” comes laurel’s reply before she can stop it. much as she might deny being a true burke, she became who she was - and is - because of her name. because she didn’t want to be like her parents. did that not mean the name defined her? she taps ash from the end of her cigarette, almost carelessly, until the old nickname whips her from her stupor. “shit.” she says, turning. it’s luna - of course it’s luna. she’d thought she might have more time to prepare before facing her past in the flesh. clearly not. “it’s been a minute since i heard that name.”
the entrance to knockturn alley seems to stare at her, its darkness almost magnetic. she hasn’t been down it since her father last took her school shopping - how long ago now? eight years? nine, even? she’d taken to fending for herself quite early - her parents money, sure, but they never wanted to go along with her. not that she’d asked them after she turned fifteen. a pinch of floo powder and she’d be free for a day - two, if she managed to get a room at the leaky cauldron and felt like a trip to hogsmeade as well. but now, she just stares stupidly at the sign, cigarette drooping dumbly between her lips. the old family business was mere meters away. her past had rushed up to catch her unawares. “fuck me,” she mutters finally, still rooted in place - though she does take a drag from her cigarette, entirely unaware of anyone nearby. “no escape from who you are, i suppose.”
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“yes. yes. what seems to be the problem?” bill asked the person standing in the middle of an open vault. he had been called out of his office during his lunch break, which normally wouldn’t have been a problem, except he was rather enjoying the food his wife had made for him. “a multiplication charm? well that seems rather odd.” bill examined the item on the floor, careful not to touch it. “and you weren’t the one who put cast it? no? alright well, i know a counter curse that should work.” he motioned for the person and the goblin to step aside before taking out his wand. he pointed it at the object and spoke the incantation. “should be good as new!”
laurel stares at the thing - an old necklace, one she doesn’t really care for but she knows is worth more than anything else she owns, and sighs. “i thought gringotts was the most secure place in all of england. clearly i was mistaken.” she waits until his countercurse has faded into the air, then reaches down and picks it up. “thanks.” she tosses it aside again, and reaches for a handful of coins instead, filling her small pouch. “i’ve no idea who did this. so you may want to double check your security measures.”
When Pansy had left England there had been no cafes on Diagon Alley. The closest you could get was the Leaky Cauldron which, really, was nothing like a cafe. She had been pleasantly surprised to discover that there now was a cafe … and it was practically next door to the Daily Prophet offices. She spent practically every lunch break there, listening in on other people’s conversations while pretending to read. Or actually reading, if nothing interesting was being discussed. On this particular day the place was quite packed, so she walked determinedly up to a nearly-empty table and pointed to one of the empty seats. “Do you mind?” she asked, in a tone that suggested she was going to sit no matter what the answer was.
there’s a deep discomfort to being there, to having returned after so long. she’s changed - she’s changed a lot, no longer clad in ripped blacks and leather, no longer just a rippling ball of teen angst. diagon alley is not what is was when she left - the stores are open, there are people in the street. there’s even a cafe. she can sit, sip coffee, clean a strand of unicorn hair while she reads. it feels like an entirely different world - until she hears a voice. it’s odd, the way that voices have stuck with her. and there was no one - not a single slytherin of her age - who could forget that one. pansy might have been a year above her, but she was known nonetheless. “oh,” laurel says, hands freezing around her task. “yeah, of course. it’s all yours.”
hey, isn’t that LAUREL BURKE? i read a daily prophet article on them, once ; the TWENTY THREE year old pure blood WITCH is a SLYTHERIN alumnus who has gone on to be a WANDMAKER’S APPRENTICE. i’ve heard they can be quite ELOQUENT & INVULNERABLE, but i don’t know… they came off very BRUTAL & HEDONISTIC in that interview.
thoughts by charli xcx + leatherbound books, dust-ridden and stained with droplets of coffee, pages ruffling in the breeze of a window left open; abandoning blood for passion, for belief - a runaway on a train clad in silken scarf and thick woolen coat even as tears stain eyeliner down your face; the taste of women, whisky, and wine mingling on your tongue, a beautiful elixir that helps to forget, that transports to a better life, a new self. ⧽
HELLO all i am vic and i am very excited to be here and 2 bring my baby laurel to you all!!!!
EARLY LIFE:
Born the eldest child of Hector and Cosette Burke, in a small estate near York.
she wouldn’t realise it for many years, but she was a disappointment the moment she was born: the Burkes had desperately wanted a boy as an heir to continue the family name.
For the first eleven years of her life, she was an angel child. Laurel read the books her parents gave her, always said please and thank you, did whatever she was asked, wore whatever was bought for her. All she wanted was to please and impress. She tried her best.
She controlled her magic as best she could, only allowing its escape when she sneezed or was stung by bees.
HOGWARTS:
The sorting hat saw her determination, her willingness to do whatever it took to get what she wanted. It saw her ease with people, her confidence and charm. She was Slytherin, born and bred.
But it took all of a month for her parents to stop writing her. Her only correspondence with them became inquiries after her grades. Her love, her eagerness to please them, all of it quickly soured.
It didn’t take her long to tranform into something of a rebel: skipping class, acting out, and worst of all for her parents, finding friendship and belonging with muggleborns.
It only got worse when, in her third year, she came out as a lesbian.
Her teens cemented her as the undesirable of the family, the one who wouldn’t answer back but would, instead, simply act against their pureblood ethos. She never went so far as to declare herself against them, but her actions spoke loud enough to make her hated among the Burkes.
She was tolerated only because she was blood - that is, until she ran away just as the war truly broke out. Her sixth year of school, cut short.
AFTER:
Laurel, at the end of the day, saw herself as a coward, as an actor only against her family. She could not side with them in the war, but she could not join the Order’s side, either.
She fled to France, where a friend who had been in the year above her at school then lived.
She lived in a small wizarding village, mostly hiding, going by Ellie rather than Laurel - she told almost no one her last name.
Despite the fact that she had thought she might get into translation or curse-breaking whilst she’d been at Hogwarts, it was a wandmaker who took her under her wing there. For some reason the woman - Anaïs, had thought she had potential.
For five years she stayed there, learning the trade. She quickly fell in love with it, and despite having only one friend other than her boss, she was happy.
But all good things must come to an end: Anaïs fell ill, and despite leaving the shop and all her equipment to Laurel, she implored her to return to England. You will not be happy, not truly, and you will never be great until you are at peace with yourself. Her deathbed urging sent Laurel packing, and despite herself, returning to the land she had forsaken.
NOWADAYS:
Laurel is newly returned to England, and in search of a new master to continue her training.
She hasn’t made contact with any of her family: she is far too scared of them and of herself.
She’s far more outspoken and confident than she was in school - but she’s not one to pick a fight, only to continue one.
She has a taste for all sorts of fun - alcohol, drugs, you name it. It was part of her teenage years, and she never really kicked any of her habits.
Honestly she’s just looking for redemption and peace = but she’s not so good at being kind to herself, so.... yeah. She’s trying though!!!
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