#admcrtem

her fifth glass was empty. the walls of the Three Broomsticks looked like they were moving. — earlier today she had sent an owl to Aegor, with a pathetic attempt to try and get a moment to talk to him.      it's been bad again, and it's the fault of no-one. but after meeting a first-year student with the same name as her own son who had left her far too soon, she crumbled under the weight she couldn't release.

     her forehead rested on the wooden table, empty glass still in her weakened grip. she just wished to forget, but obliviating herself somehow seemed worse than drinking it all way. — just as well that the inn-keep refuses to give her any more to drink.

[ quiet ] — my muse forces your muse to be quiet

the party below them had long since been abandoned, really the woman had only been there long enough for her presence to have been noticed before finding herself putting a charm on the door and slipping her rather tight dress from her body.

❝ if it makes you feel any better, i didn't tell anyone ❞ she didn't even want to have this conversation anymore. thinking that she was ready, but being horribly wrong. the wound was still open, and each mention of her son and divorce was like pouring vinegar right into it.

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎     ❝ telling anyone wouldn't have saved Caden, nor my marriage. — and you know me, i never liked asking for help. ❞ she hated admitting it, but even in her days as a student Lorelei preferred to handle everything on her own. even if it ended up hurting her more. but in her logic, it was better than dragging anyone else in.

     she hasn't spoken to Aegor in far too long, but this is not how she imagined their reunion to go. they used to be good friends. . . so when did that fall apart?

Odette shook her head as she looked over at him. "I don't drink alcohol. It clouds my judgment." It also clouds her use of occlumency, something she had been using a lot lately. "You can drink though, I'll be fine with water." She replied.

Odette looked at him and shook her head. "I am not staying here. Besides, I don't know you very well." She said confidently to him. She was stood close to the door, her hand on the handle showing she was ready to leave. It would be safer in her mind if she just left. Staying with a stranger is the worst idea that she could do at the moment.

Lucius only winces as his hands are bound behind his back. He has no wand to take - the Dark Lord took care of that months ago. His entire body thrums with the end of it all - the Dark Lord, these past few years, the war. It's over. He feels, despite their situation, a sense of relief. At least this chapter is done, no matter the outcome.

"Arkhennon," he says, looking straight at him. "I want to see my lawyer."

The restaurant is one of the nicest in Wiltshire. Lucius wears one of his most elaborate coats: black with gold thread, and a gold clasp to tie it around his shoulders. Is he showing off his wealth? Of course. It's always advantageous to remind one's contacts of your vast resources. The war may be over, but information from the Auror Office never goes amiss. Particularly if they happen to start crusading again.

It was the stuff of dreams, right there in the palms of her hands. His dark grey eyes and gentle touch when she needed it. The right person, the wrong time. But perhaps this year, this month, this moment, it's the right time. Finally.