beauty & the beast

WHEN: Friday, 1 April, 1981; around 6 o’clock pm  WHERE: Hampstead Heath, London  WHO: Sturgis Podmore & Tabby Widdow ( @tabithawiddow​ )

“You know,” Sturgis added after handing Tabby the tea he brought her. “I half expected you not to answer my texts.” He sipped at his own tea, happy to be outside, walking through greenery, only slightly chilled in the blossoming spring air. “I thought I’d botched it the first time.” 

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The last full moon was a week behind her and the next not for another three nearly; today was one of the happiest, most normal days of the month for her now and it showed in her smile, in the care she’d put into her hair and her clothes, in the healthy glow of her cheeks. Today Tabby felt more like the bubbly girl she’d once been than she had in a very, very long time. 

“You?” Her brows rose high. She recalled all of her own faux paus, but graciously could laugh about them now. The hot cup felt comforting between her palms. “My sister says I’m too eager and it’s strange that I reply so quickly to my messages. It may just be my nature,” she joked. It wasn’t though. Well, it was but it wasn’t why she’d replied to him, specifically. “But she habitually leaves me on read, which you probably could have guessed, and I think that feels much worse.” 

Sturgis chuckled again, smile brightening his face. “I’d like that.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his iFlown, then handed it to Tabby. “Why don’t you give me your number? And I promise to limit my questions about your nana’s digestive health.” 

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“And I… promise not to bring her digestive health up unprompted.” She struggled not to laugh through the words; ridiculous as this whole encounter had been that proved hard. Each time she pulled herself together over one comical turn she remembered another. It would not be a day she’d soon forget was the point. Whether that was because of the official Werewolf Registry paperwork in that folder she clutched, or the interesting boy who had picked them up off the ground, or a combination of the both didn’t matter. What had been one of her worst mornings had turned to a happy afternoon. There was hope left for her to overturn yet. Tabitha thought she’d better get to work. She handed his phone back to him. “EBENEZER” the screen read, with a tabby cat emoji beside it. 

Without waiting for his coffee to cool, Sturgis took a sip, which proved to be a grave mistake. Not only was the beverage incredibly hot (a fact that shouldn’t have taken him by surprise), but at that precise moment he also learned of Tabby’s nana’s bowel movements. Naturally, he chocked on the liquid, face turning a blotchy flush as he attempted to stifle the cough—which only made him grow more scarlet. 

“Sorry,” he managed to slip out between labored breaths. “That just—” He cleared his throat, hoping to gain some semblance of ease. “That took me off guard.” And then, Sturgis smiled and laughed. What else was there to do but poke fun at this all, anyway? 

“And was funny. But, I’m glad to hear your nana is regular. I hear old people struggle with that often.” He laughed again.

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Tabby wished she could bury her face in her hands and hide, but it wasn’t an option with her paperwork under one arm and a drink in her other hand. She had to face this head on, had to watch him splutter and cough and... laugh? He was laughing, and that was such a relief to her that she had to laugh too. And since it could not possibly get any more awkward, she decided she might as well come right out and ask before they could part ways, drinks in hand “Can we do this on purpose sometime?”

Sturgis kept himself occupied, scanning the menu a few times over and then letting a couple step ahead of him to order. He wondered, briefly, if his forwardness drove her away. Sturgis wasn’t attempting to be forward, but he was affronted with how terribly bad he had become at flirting. It’d been years, at this point. Last year hardly counted, given he spent much of his time zonked out on any substances he could get his hands on. This was different. This was just him, nothing to hide behind; painfully sober, and—clearly—terrible at the thing he once colored his entire characterization in his late teens. 

Thankfully, before he could spiral into rumination any further, he noted Tabby walk back into the cafe. It surprised him, how much relief he felt. “No, not at all.” He ordered a flat white, thanking the barista, and leaving money before Tabby could reach for her wallet. 

“Green tea, huh?” It wasn’t his first choice. 

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“My nana says it keeps her regular.” Her face froze in a shape that mimicked some genre of horror. “Annnd I cannot believe I just said that out loud to a stranger.” If she hadn’t been cradling the paper cup between her hands she didn’t know what she’d do with them. “That is so awkward. I don’t know why I say these things. You are probably never going to want to cross paths with me again,” which she wouldn’t fault him for, “and here I was thinking I’d ask for your number. Instead I bring up.... my nana’s digestive health.” And, most unfortunately of all, by extension her own digestive health. Which wasn’t great, by the way. A wolf’s diet did not a happy human stomach make.

A silence fell between the pair, and Sturgis wondered if he had spoken out of turn. It wouldn’t have been the first time he ought to have shoved his foot into his mouth. He cleared his throat, training his eyes ahead, scanning the menu board despite already knowing his order of Earl Grey. He only peered back over to Tabby once her voice captured his attention. “Uh. I guess?” Sturgis’s brows furrowed. He didn’t feel particularly warm, nor cold. A pleasant in-betweenness. “I can get your order if you need to step outside for a bit,” he offered.

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“I’ll be so quick,” she excused herself, backing out of the cafe’s front doors to avoid turning around and exploiting herself. When the fresh air hit her and the door was safely shut behind, Tabitha took in a deep, sharp breath. “Okay,” she told herself, hands to chest. “Pull yourself together. Think... not pink.” Would her affliction ever cease to embarrass her? Could no emotion simply pass by unnoticed? D.W. was so very good at keeping her feelings a secret. Just once Tabby wished she was afforded that same luxury. Her hair returned to its right shade, she returned to the café just in time to place orders. 

“Sorry, I didn’t keep you waiting, did I?” She’d been too absorbed in conversation earlier to bother looking at the menu; this she regretted now. “Uhm, I’d like the...” Every brand, brew, and bean mysteriously evaded her now. She spluttered over the words: “green tea.” They were not the ones she had intended, but they were the ones she gave.

Sturgis didn’t feel it his place to pry, nor judge, why anyone would decide to leave uni. “Well, that’s good to hear. For me, at least. I’d like to think of myself as fairly decent at remembering people, and it’d be a proper shame if we had crossed paths and I didn’t remember.” There was no forgetting Ebenezer now, though. 

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Tabitha was aware, only peripherally at first, of the vaguely warm feeling that his sentiment caused her. She smiled politely, inched forward in the line where orders were being called, and was in fact opening her mouth to change the topic altogether when she looked down and noticed in abject horror that against the fuchsia dye of her woolen sweater another shade of pale pink was appearing at the tips of her hair. 

Tabitha hurried to gather all of her hair up in her hands and tie it somewhat frantically into a knot at the back of her head. Haha she laughed nervously, making a show of fanning her face with her hands once they were free and shuffling from one foot to the other. “It’s really warm in here, right?” It was a fair excuse; the tiny cafe was busy and hot. 

“Ah.” Sturgis nodded. “Probably for the best. Between you and me—” He lowered his voice. “He’s picky with the company he keeps.” He stuck his hands into the pockets of his jacket for warmth. “I didn’t interact with Sir Nicholas much at uni. Probably thought I would launch into a lecture on proper decapitation and steered clear of me.” Which was hardly a topic regular to Sturgis. 

“Did we cross paths at Hogwarts? I graduated last year.” 

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Tabitha laughed. “From what I know of him, he’s an excellent grudge holder. You probably aren’t far from the truth with that guess.”

“Oh. Well, I wasn’t there very long,” she dismissed quickly. If he’d heard her name at all, whatever context was attached to it wasn’t anything she wanted to help him recall now. “It just wasn’t the right fit for me.” That was the nice way of saying it. 

“You’ve met?” Sturgis’s eyes widened in disbelief, followed by an amused laugh. “But yeah, him. In his defense, I doubt he sought to haunt me exactly. But showing up in my room in the middle of night for a chat—holding his head in his hands—wasn’t exactly a delightful experience.” Sturgis’s face fell a little as another memory came to mind, of when he first shared this story with Danny. If grief with a jumper, it hugged him a little tighter in that moment. 

“Did he ever invite you to watch Head Polo?”  

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“Oh, sorry, no.” She was quick to apologize for the misunderstanding. “I only know of him. We’ve never met.” The thought occurred to her suddenly that she wasn’t sure she’d like to, either. “I know Sir Nicholas. They, uhm,” she dropped her voice politely, “sometimes call him Nearly Headless Nick?” Every bit of her appeared regretful at having to say it. “He was very kind to me at Hogwarts.”

Sturgis cleared his throat loudly. “You’re in the presence of one Sturgis Delaney Podmore. Named after an ancestral ghost who ended up haunting me as a child, which, honestly, feels like adding insult to injury.” 

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“Hang on.” Tabitha narrowed her gaze. She was shocked by the name, just not for its strangeness. “Not that Delaney-Podmore. Like Headless Hunt Delaney-Podmore? No,” she breathed out the word of disbelief. Her eyes widened once more. “I would have thought he’d be too busy organizing the yearly festivities to do much haunting.” In the final months she’d spent at Hogwarts Sir Nicholas had always been friendly to her when her peers had not, so the association came to her quickly now.

“Well,” Sturgis chuckled. “It’s good to meet you, Tabitha Ebenezer. I can say wholeheartedly that I won’t forget your name anytime soon.”

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“The one and only perk.” She smiled warmly and without effort, maybe even with a hint of something flirtatious bubbling beneath; it was a drastic change to her attitude when she’d first snatched the registration form from his hands. Tabitha liked it, it felt more her. More like the her she had always been before the cruelty of man and beast had met her. “I’m ready to be wowed by yours.” 

Sturgis paused, stopping dead in his tracks. In his over two decades of life, he never thought he would meet someone who made his name seem average. “Wow.” He blinked, then brows furrowed. “Really? Wow.” 

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“I know,” she whispered back at him. The giggles followed shortly thereafter. She hid them behind her hand as best she could. “And it isn’t a family name. There’s no excuse for it. My parents are just very mean people.” From the smile on her face as she proclaimed it, the obvious fact was that her parents were nothing of the sort.

Sturgis nodded, offering as solemn of a promise he could muster—but not without a corner of his lip curling upward. “I’ll take it to the grave. And I’ll give you my middle name, too. It’s only fair.” 

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The admission came conspiratorially. “Ebenezer.”

He chuckled. “I’m hardly in a place to judge other people’s names. My parents named me Sturgis. It’s dreadful, but it’s a family name, so there was no getting around it.” And in truth, he wouldn’t change his name. It was his, after all. “See, I think I should be the judge of that, because I think my middle name is even worse.” 

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Her panic and anger from earlier were quickly forgotten. “You can never repeat what I’m about to tell you. And I am only telling you because Sturgis is an objectively dreadful name, you’re right.” Tabitha giggled because she didn’t mean it. It was a name she was keen to commit to memory now. 

Sturgis half-smiled, then nodded. “That’s really not necessary.” But he would accept it regardless. Besides, he didn’t exactly have anywhere to be at the moment. He cleared his throat. “I don’t think I caught your name.” 

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“I’m...” She wasn’t sure why she paused. She wasn’t sure why she gave her full name when Tabby usually sufficed and was in fact preferable. Maybe she wanted to feel older; maybe she already did feel older. A lot of things had happened to Tabby Widdow. Maybe she just didn’t want to be reminded of them. “Tabitha. I know, it’s weird. My parents cursed me and my sister. I won’t even tell you what they called her.” Because D.W. didn’t ever share that, and Tabitha wouldn’t be the one to share it for her. “My middle name is even worse.” 

📍 Home 📅 10 February 1981

Sturgis nodded, trying to be as sympathetic as possible. He certainly had his fair share of bad days this past year. He didn’t really see it his place to judge. “Sure.” He attempted a reassuring smile, then stuck out his hand. “Sturgis Podmore, and don’t mention it.” An idea came to mind, and Sturgis cleared his throat before launching into the words. “Would you like to get a coffee with me? Or tea, if you prefer that.” 

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Realistically, Tabby knew this was probably an offer bore of pity. Pity that she decided pretty quickly she was not above taking. “My treat,” she offered. “It’s the least I can do for snapping like that. And... crying at you.” Now, she could laugh a little about it. Only because it was over.