a walking punchline.

NESSIE’S patience was wearing thin, the group of men, if one would even call them that was making a ruckus. Loud, messy and crude. Unfortunately, however for Nessie, they were regulars and the boss insisted they put up with it. So, they did, doing their best to bite their tongue. But as Nessie worked to mop up one of their most recent messes, they felt a hand brush near their torso, just barely resting upon the scarred tissue causing them to snap. 

“If you don’t remove your grimy hands from my sight, I will do it for you.” The dark haired wixen hissed, head snapping back, glaring at the culprit with a feral look. “You and your hooligans have caused enough discomfort for tonight, I suggest leaving.” The words sounding off as more of a threat than a warning as they waited, standing their ground. 

Once they finally had left, and Nessie finished mopping up, they returned to the bar, apologizing instantly once they realized another customer was there, “I’m terribly sorry about that, I usually am better about keeping my cool. Can I get you something on the house to make up for the scene?” 

FRED felt it strange to be on the search for a blackmarket vendor but at this point he was too desperate to really care. he made his way to the end of the bar and ordered his first drink from a bartender he wasn’t looking for. honestly, he wasn’t sure who to look for. his sources just led him there. then he heard them, telling off other guests and couldn’t hide his chuckle. he was surprised about their offer for a free drink. 

“uhh, yeah, i’ll get another ale, thanks,” fred said, pushing his empty glass cup away from him. because of their call outs to the other guests, they were alone in the bar and fred wasn’t one to waste anyones time. “so, uh, i heard you brew some interesting potions for interesting folks.”

open .

                 the  crisp  february  wind  tousles  raven  locks  .  he stands ,  unsure  .  pulling  his  coat  tighter against  him  to  ward  off  the  cold  seeping  into  his  bones  .  home  ,  again  .  he  has  grown  since  he  was  last  seen  .  he ‘ s  taller  ,  and  thinner  .  his  hair  is  longer  ,  and  his  cheeks  are  hollowed  .  his  eyes  ,  they  remain  the  same  striking  shade  of  green  .  lighter  though  .  happier  .   —  unsure  of  how  to  act  ,  and  with  his  hands  in  his  coat  pockets  he  musters  up  a  crooked  smile  .    “  you  alright  ?  ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶   you  look  like  you ‘ ve  seen  a  ghost .  ”

fred gave his dad the day off and was locking up the doors to WWW. diagon alley was at this point deserted, the only ones there were him and the footsteps approaching him. he had an unlit cigarette between his lips as he said, “sorry, mate, come back tomorrow--” when he turned around, he sucked in the crisp air and his eyes went wide. the first thing he did was try to hide his cigarette as he tried not to let his family know he smokes but as he was fiddling with his pockets, he brought al into his arms and squeezed him so tight. “oh, merlin’s beard, al. I--I cannot believe--” he pushed him away when he realized how long he was gone. “so, what, you just leave your favorite cousin in the dust? you know who told me you were gone? you were gone for maybe five weeks at this point--the daily prophet. I remember the headline: ‘middle potter gone’ dot dot dot ‘for good’. i confronted my dad and he was like, ‘yeah, you didn’t know?’” fred realized he was talking for too long. “yeah... you look good, man. need a haircut, but still.”

stefan parkinson ––– open starter

“listen sweetheart.” stefan said as he leant against the bar and looked at the person opposite him. “as much as i enjoy hearing about how much your life sucks, i’m a bartender, not a therapist.” the former slytherin stated before standing up straight. “so either order a drink or leave.”

@ministrystart​

fred looked up with his eyebrows furrowed. “don’t call me sweetheart and i literally just said, ‘man what a long day.’ blimey, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” the former gryffindor mumbled, sipping on his beer. “you expect to get lots of guests with an attitude that sour, parkinson?” 

partner in crime (literally): so fred looooved being an auror and loved being an auror with your muse. they would solve magical crimes together and lock up the bad guys. when fred loses his magical abilities, he is terrified to tell your muse. 

fellow hogwarts prefects: so fred wasn’t the most perfect prefect. not a lot of people agreed with the professors that made him one. the only reason he took the job was because it would look good on (whatever the magical term is for) his resume. your muse either hated him or liked him (somewhat). either way, they grew close trying to settle down hogwarts students’ disputes.

criminals that fred caught or almost caught: since he was an auror, he came across some some “bad” folk. 

his last chase: on the day he lost his magic, he was chasing a criminal he was trying to look for years. he let your muse go because he was distracted by not being able to do magic. 

comfort in all the wrong places: you know, fred was never great at commitment. your muse and fred would just meet up whenever any of them were feeling particularly lonely. 

scrimmage buddies: although he wasn’t going to be a pro quidditch player, he still enjoyed flying in the field. on days off, or on days he needed to blow off some steam, he would link up with your muse to play a little game of quidditch. 

bff: together through thick and thin, together since forever, till forever. 

❛ A pinch of moral corruption is a small price to pay. ❜ She turned the vial of black market magic in her hands, scoffing at what was nothing more than calming draught. She had tried finding a dealer herself, to get some sort of lead on finding the root of the increasing problem, but no one wanted to sell a Potter illegal magic, especially not one that was a freshly minted Auror. So, she had resorted to sending someone else in her stead, opting to watch from a careful distance. Unfortunately to no avail, but at least it had led her to a tavern.  ❛ Would you sell something illegal to me, like, hypothetically speaking? ❜

fred entered the tavern in his hour break. officially, it’s an hour break but being the owner’s boss and now a “store manager” whatever that meant, and hour can be two or three. he sat in the bar and ordered a butterbeer for starts. he was people watching mostly, thinking about how just a week ago he an auror, his most favorite job in the world. now… what was he? speaking of aurors, he saw the little firecracker herself, miss lily luna. something about her just made him feel a little more comfortable but that went away as soon as he realized he didn’t tell her that he wasn’t an auror another (and that he caught the squib virus). oh god, does she know i quit? the question came out of nowhere. “err… what?” fred straightened himself out. his voice got lower. “are you okay? like… really okay?”