{ 𝔱𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔪𝔶 𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢,

she didn’t have to ask him herself. she didn’t have to ask at all, really - could’ve taken her chances and hoped for the best when one of the servers made another frazzled round - but if she’d waited for just a few minutes longer, ernie would have done it for her. his famed pride wasn’t the one most liable to take a hit when it came to zach, but hande had made the conscious choice not to think more deeply than was necessary on the exchange. tonight was a nice night. tonight was literally built for looking ahead. and, settling all of that aside… those strawberries really did look that good from the next table over. “you’ve all had your chance,” she gets in the joke, another choice, her answering smile a whole lot smaller but crucially still present. she plucks two berries - one palmed, the second held between pointer and thumb - and then, to save him the hassle of holding up the platter, sits down in the empty chair at his side. she’ll pile some onto her plate in a moment ; for now, she sets it down with the extra strawberry on top and twists the green stem off of the other before popping it into her mouth in one. though she shrugs, silently, she takes great care to chew and then swallow before she comments. “i think they go for quality of staff over quantity. i haven’t seen a server on this side of the atrium in ages - ernie’s had to go all the way up to the bar just to get another drink.”

Zach was never really good at taking a hint, but he likes to think he’s gotten better at it. Their relationship was already strained, there was no reason he had to make it any more than it was, but it always seems despite Zach’s best efforts ( was it really his best effort though? ), he came up short. He chews at his bottom lip, foot tapping along the marble floor as he watches Hande pluck the strawberries from its tray, tongue running over his teeth, the taste of fruit on his lips. “Yeah, well, the quality of this party is rapidly dwindling due to the lack of alcohol quantity in my system, if you know what I mean,” He sighs, running a hand through his hair, “Looks like Ernie’s got the right idea, I’m gonna have to follow suit. What about you? What are you drinking tonight?”

𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽  :  the ministry of magic ( atrium level ), london  !

“excuse me-” worried that she may have snuck up on them under the cover of the orchestral music, hande not only announces her presence behind them but gives the shoulder a gentle tap to draw their attention, sheepish already tugging at her lips. “are you going to finish those?” she motions towards the serving platter still overladen with fresh strawberries at the center of their table and  raises the empty dessert plate she clutches in one hand a little higher. she can’t wait for the overworked servers to come back around again when there’s a platter of them taunting her from the next table over, and she doesn’t even have it in her to feel mortified for what she might’ve considered a bold request a few months before, adding, hopefully, “would you mind if i took some?” 

Zacharias raises a brow at the small voice, annoyance already flaring up within him for simply being bothered, let alone being touched, before he realizes it’s Hande. He blinks at her, dumbfounded for a moment, peering at the dessert plate in hand that she raises at him before following the direction she points in, blue eyes settling on the lone strawberries at the table. “Merlin, Han, save some for the rest of us, won’t ya?” It’s a joke, the grin pulling at the corner of his mouth giving him away. Zach finally reaches across the table and grabs the tray of fruit, holding it out between them. “You’d think the service around here would be a lot faster.“ he rolls his eyes, popping a grape into his mouth. 

𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽  :  commoratio alley, london  !

she’s not actually going to be able to unlock her front door. even if her arm was long enough to reach the deadlatch, the thin slot her mail gets pushed through doesn’t provide nearly enough give for her to grab the little handle and pull it down, and she knows she’s nowhere close even as she desperately pushes herself against the wood and tries. she’ll be lucky if she doesn’t get STUCK there, but she can’t do nothing when her cat sits on the bottom step inside and yowls as if his life depends on it, surely playing up his hunger but with such conviction she half believes him. she cuts a rather pathetic picture to passersby, and the keen awareness of that - and the sinking, hopeless feeling the more she struggles - combines unpleasantly as she begins venting that on them, muttering beneath her breath as she continues to try reach her lock, “just keep walking- totally fine, here- it’s not as if it’s life or death or anything- you bastards-” 

they     don’t     even     try     to     bolt     down     the     lightning     strike     of     delighted     laughter     that     follows     zach’s     disgruntled     outcry          ;          rather     ,     they     sidle     ever     closer     ,     let     narrowed     hues     rake     cavalierly     over     the     technicolour     board     before     they     refocus     ,     land     on     him     .          (          infinitely     more     𝙰𝙼𝚄𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙶     ,     really     ,     if     you     ask     parvati     .     inanimate     objects     lack     zach’s     particular     brand     of     charm     ,     if     that’s     what     they’re     branding     it     tonight     .          )          ❛          you     must     be     bored     shitless     then     .          ❜          syllables     are     drawled     out     ,     𝒖𝒏𝒉𝒖𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒅     even     when     the     slope     of     their     mouth     twists     into     an     uneven     simper     to     match     his     own     .          ❛          that     depends     on     the     kind     of     LUCK     you’re     thinking     about     .          ❜

He never knows exactly where they stand, which is something Zacharias likes about what they have going on. It keeps him on his toes, never knowing what to expect from Parvati. He liked the way they got on each others nerves, pushing buttons until the tension was too much to bear. “Can’t you tell?” He sets down his empty glass, drunk and, admittingly, horny. “I’m thinking,” Zach starts lowly, stepping closer, the gap between them nearly closed. The back of his hand brushes their shoulder, fingertips brushing the smooth leather of their attire, “You, me, and a bottle of whiskey at my place. Seamus shouldn’t be back for most of the night so we shouldn’t be disturbed. If you’re interested.” 

     marietta just sort of - - - LOOKS AT HIM for a moment, a slight furrow in her brow, a mild tilt of the head. it’s like she’s looking for something in his face, something SPECIFIC that she’s having trouble finding. just as abruptly as that look started it ends with her turning her face from him to look up at the sky above the courtyard, the same view as it was years ago when she was one of the students here. “because i don’t want to deal with people if i don’t.” it’s the bare truth from her lips, no embellishment, no NOTHING but honesty. it doesn’t feel like she really needs it with him ; like there are people to save the prettier sounding lies for. “most people have gotten over it,” a hand gestures half-heartedly at her face, “but the ones who haven’t are REALLY FUCKING ANNOYING, and look for what they think are, uh, slips in my façade or something.”

a     night     off     .     that’s     what     she’d     been     told     ,     one     wave     of     a     dismissive     hand          /          strange     how     𝙖𝙘𝙘𝙪𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙙     they’ve     become     to     midnight     shifts          !          semi     -     rumpled     blazer     is     swapped     out     for     LEATHER     slung     loose     around     their     shoulders     ,     whiskey          (          blessedly     neat     ,     an     utter     tonic     when     it     slides     down     the     back     of     their     parched     throat          )          clutched     close     when     she     slides     into     a     𝙵𝙰𝙼𝙸𝙻𝙸𝙰𝚁     periphery     .          ❛          lucky          ?          here          ?          ❜          her     snort     isn’t     quite     derisive     ,     but     it’s     not     entirely     good     -     humoured     either          ;          call     it     genetic     ,     the     way     they’ve     never     had     time     for     games     they     knew     they     couldn’t     win     .          ❛          ‘pparently     half     of     them     are     rigged     as     𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥     .     ‘least     that’s     what     word     on     the     grapevine     says     .          ❜

Zach groans in disgust, gaze still on the wheel when he watches several people make their bets. The dealer spins the wheel and all eyes follow the ball round and round until it lands on a colour, number, section--and a collection of hoots, hollers, and disappointed aww’s become just another element added to the otherwise busy floor. “Why am I even surprised to hear that? Should’ve known.” He deadpans, shaking his head before his gaze slides over Parvati, taking in a good look at them, a smirk quirking at their lips. “You look as bored as I feel. How about we get outta here and make a little luck of our own?”  

jj didn’t know if he would partake in the festivities or not, and whilst he was nursing a drink there was a knot in his throat he could not get rid off. standing next to the statuesque blonde was an absentminded move for him, and for a moment he could tell the man was slightly tipsy, he was cute, was jj’s first thought before actually realizing who it was. “please, me being lucky tonight is not something we could find in any sort of tea leaves,” he giggled, rolling his eyes playfully before looking at the table. “wouldn’t even know how to begin in the first place, i’m just the creature nerd.”

Zach snorts in agreement--it wasn’t something he would think to find either. The only reason he showed up in the first place was because his manager thought it would benefit him. If he couldn’t pull himself together on the Pitch, it might be easier to show he’s a generous man by donating to a good cause and be among other high profile wix. Mingle, make friends, he was told. The only way to make this even remotely bearable was to have a drink or four. “That seems to be the general consensus of the night,” Not enough luck, money, or knowledge of the games to be thrown around. “I’m not so much of a gambling man myself, but maybe after a couple more of these, I’ll start to feel otherwise.” He raises his glass at the man before him before taking another swing.

‘     Uh.      —    No.  No,  I  figured  out  a  long  time  ago  that  me  and  luck?   Not  besties.   It  was  a  difficult  realisation  to  process,   but  I’ve  learnt  to  come  to  terms  with  it.   We’re  more  like  distant  cousins,  three  times  removed.   Only  see  each  other  twice  a  year.   I  figure  I’ll  stick  to  making  an  anonymous  donation.   Save  me  from  both  the  disappointment  of  losing,   and  the  inevitable  judgement  when  people  realise  how  little  I  have  to  offer.     ’            What  started  as  a  simple  answer  has  become  rambling,   nerves  taking  over.   It’s  dutch  courage  that  pulled  Justin  towards  Zacharias.   Three  sips  of  champagne  and  he’s  suddenly  ready  to  take  on  the  world,   if  taking  on  the  world  was  something  as  simple    (   yet  equally  terrifying   )    as  approaching  an  old  friend.   It  certainly  felt  like  it  in  this  exact  moment.   Such  a  stark  difference  to  how  it  used  to  be.            ‘      But,   y’know,   I’m  happy  to  stick  around  and  watch  you  show  me  how  it’s  done.   Maybe  I  can  learn  something.     ’            Rambling  becomes  somewhat  of  an  olive  branch.   There’s  a  lot  of  history  between  the  Hufflepuff  gang.   Some  good,  some  less,  but  Justin  has  never  had  it  in  him  to  hold  grudges.   He’s  much  more  forgive  and  forget,  preferring  to  cling  to  the  happier  memories. 

Zach smiles weakly, Justin’s inevitable rambling familiar and comforting despite the ache of guilt that eats away at him. Justin was the only one in their former group that didn’t seem to hold any grudges toward the past mistakes Zach made, if one could call them mistakes at all. Disagreements were more like it, Zach convinces himself. Still, there was still some work to be done if Zach was going to penetrate the walls both Hande and Ernie built up over the years. Maybe they expected some sort of apology, one Zach wasn’t inclined to give. They just didn’t see eye to eye and Zach was too stubborn to give in so easily. “That’s fair,” He tries to push the lingering thoughts of Hande and Ernie to the back of his mind and lets the corners of his mouth twitch into a grin, “Luck and I aren’t exactly friendly either. Quite the hot and cold relationship. Unpredictable. I never know when I’ll see them.” A pause, the banter between them refreshing. It was nice to feel something other than tension, “I could show you a thing or two, though I heard the games here are rigged, so I’m sure just how fair it’ll be. You know how to play poker?”

Gambling felt like a gateway to even more unhealthy coping mechanisms, he wasn’t even sure why he had bothered to come. Maybe it was due to the incessant demands of one or two people that he stop being ‘a miserable anti-social bastard’ or maybe it was because he couldn’t stand another quiet, lonely night staring at a blank wall and wondering just if he would be able to sleep that night. He’s been silent for most of it, a small brandy in hand he had been nursing from the beginning as he watched people enjoy their time and his fingers itched to start drawing some candid moments- knowing it had been too long since he had drawn joy and happiness. His eyes had been focused on one couple. unaware he had been moving to keep them in his gaze, trying to memorise form and attention of details he could use later to look back on when a voice broke him out of his reverie and in his distraction had stopped beside Zacharias. “Luck is a fools game.” he commented, trying not to be annoyed at losing his focus. “I’m more of a bystander than joiner- how about you?” 

Zach chuckles, averting his gaze away from the wheel to the man beside him. He liked Thomas’s response, Zach himself not much of a gambler, but something about the thought of bystanders versus joiners made him think. Which one was he? “A man makes his own luck,” Zach replies, not really considering himself much of a risk taker. He has been known to take the road less traveled by, but that meant leaving others behind and often times it was a lonely road. But he wasn’t about to admit that. Shrugging, he takes another drink before continuing, "I don’t like to follow crowds or trends and the like. I’ll probably make a few bets and then call it a night, just to get a taste. That’s all I ever really need.” 

“you’re lucky, then.” marietta isn’t the sort to pay attention to who comes and who doesn’t, who wants to either display their grief in public or who likely wants to deal with the day privately and doesn’t care too terribly about the optics of not coming. or maybe who can’t make themselves get out of bed to come. either way. marietta doesn’t blame zach in the slightest. “i’ve come every year and it never feels - worthwhile.” it feels wrong to admit, but less wrong to zach than it might to someone else. “a lot of crying. speeches. people unloading their heart to you when you don’t really want them to. or, uh. well, people usually just leave me alone, honestly. i don’t have a very TRUSTWORTHY face.” it’s a joke, or an attempt at one, and marietta lets herself revel in the fact she can joke about it now for a moment.

...

Zach frowns at her response. Lucky? Eight years and Zach had felt guilty for not coming to the past memorials and Marietta was telling him that he was lucky. He gets it though--understands what she means when he’s only spent a few short hours at the castle and he’s experienced everything she had just mentioned. It’s uncomfortable and if he’s honest, this will be the first and last memorial he’ll ever attend. His gaze scans her face once more and the scar just underneath her eye--SNEAK--and he remembers the day it happened, Dumbledore’s Army exposed. He left the D.A. shortly after that, he didn’t find it worth all the trouble it caused and in the eyes of others, that also made him untrustworthy. “Why do you still come then?” It’s an honest question and he’s genuinely curious, “Aside from the obvious, paying respects or whatever. Why do you come back every year if it’s not worth it?”