#crabbeapple

Fawley Estate June 22nd, 1980, 2.35pm @crabbeapple

Sunday afternoon was a picture-perfect June day, with the sun shining cheerfully and a pleasant breeze weaving its way through the countryside, keeping the weather from growing too hot. It had rained a little earlier in the day, but that only made the grass seem greener, and anyway, it had all cleared up now. It was lovely outside, but she was stuck inside; it was, in Daisy’s opinion, a perfect waste of a lovely afternoon.

She was leaning against the wall near the French doors, wondering if anyone would notice if she wandered off to stroll through the gardens. Or, for that matter, if anyone would notice if she just left. She hadn’t wanted to come to this stupid fancy party in the first place, but her family had insisted; the head of the Fawley family, her stepmother’s grandfather, was turning one hundred, and skipping had not been an option. Believe her, she’d tried. It was most unfair.

And yet, for all their insistence that she attend, no one in her family had paid her any attention since they’d arrived half an hour earlier. Her half-siblings were off playing with their cousins, somewhere in the depths of the massive country house. And her father and stepmother were deep in conversation with one of Anna’s sisters.

Daisy was trying not to feel too hard-done-by, but not really succeeding. She didn’t want to be here, and she knew no one wanted her here. It wasn’t as though any of the Fawleys were rude or unkind; like her stepmother, they were all extremely well-bred and were exceedingly polite. But she knew what they thought of her. She was Annalise Hookum née Fawley’s husband’s illegitimate half-blood daughter. She most definitely didn’t belong here, and it was just sort of awkward.

Heard through the grape vine it was your birthday. How ancient are you now?

Hope you have a good one!

-Sep

______

Septimus,                                                                                         @crabbeapple

Don’t you know it’s rude to ask a lady her age? Honestly, how could you? I may never recover. I’ve half a mind to owl Auriga to smack you for me. We both know she would.

Only joking! It’s so sweet of you to think of me, I don’t get many owls on my birthday these days. 

I’m still not saying how old I am, though.

I’ll make a designated effort to have a lovely day, thank you!

Date: April 2nd, 1980 Time: 6:00pm Location: Death Eater Safe House

The meeting had ended, the Dark Lord had made his leave surrounded by his usual cloud of awed silence and respect, and now Walden took the opportunity to lean his chair back and throw his boots up onto the elegantly carved table they had all been seated at.

Most of the other Death Eaters had made their leave at this point, but he was allowing himself a moment to rest. The night before was a bit of a blur, but most of it he had spent sprawled on the floor and woke up in bed with no memory of moving from his spot on the rug at the foot of his armchair. His head was aching, as was the rest of him. It was a familiar ache, however, and one that he had long since learned to live with, but that didn’t mean he immediately wanted to jump back into apparating so soon. A quick nap, and then perhaps he would return to his bed.

Or, that was his plan until he heard the familiar crooning of his favourite pair. Lifting his head from where it was resting on the back of his chair, he peeked from under a lazy eyelid to spy the hilarious couple.

It felt like his birthday all over again.

With a grin, feeling this was exactly what he needed to give him some pep, he pushed himself up from his seat and sauntered over to where Crabbe and Goyle were sitting, perching himself on the table beside them. “Hello, darlings,” he greeted with a smirk. “How are my two favourite lads doing?”

@crabbeapple​

“You be good, Gallie, especially when they cut your nails. They’re turning into real dragon claws” Marlene kissed her terrier’s wet snout with fondness, playing with his ears for a second before Kleo, her dog’s veterinarian Healer took him up the stairs to the clinic on the second floor of the Magical Menagerie in Diagon Alley.

After spending the weekend in Scotland with her grandparents, and having taken Galahad with her, of course, the Jack Russell was in desperate need for a full beauty salon treatment. It actually managed to surprise the blonde witch how a puppy so small could get so fucking messy and dirty. Fur all tousled and dirty, with dry mud and herbs all over his coat, dirt under his claws and even some dried blood around his snout from a bird he had caught. Galahad had been so filthy that she had not even taken him home to her apartment last night, but left him at the McKinnon Manor until she could take him to the vet the next day.

Galahad was young, barely a year old or so. And the problem with puppies like him was that they were just like little children: they hated baths. Gallie was no exception. Marlene wondered if bath predicting was included as one of the assets of the animal “sixth sense” because, swear on Merlin’s grave, her dog had been resisting her the whole way. Marlene was sure she had red marks on her arms even with her clothes between her skin and Galahad’s nails. Even so, it looked like the terrier was nowhere near done with his open rebellion against soap and water.

The vet had only covered a couple of steps when Galahad skilfully nipped at the woman’s forearm, hard enough to startle her but otherwise completely harmless, and managed to wiggle himself to freedom, taking advantage of the woman’s momentary distraction. Marlene gasped as her terrier darted down the stairs, a dirty flash of mud and hair. She launched forward to intercept him, but Galahad, quicker than she could even hope to be, slipped right under her legs and made a dash for the door with a joyous bark. Freedom was only a door away, and more wet earth to roll in awaited at the other side…

“Watch out!”

Of course, the poor dog did not count with the unexpected pair of legs that blocked his race. Galahad bumped snout-first against a wizard who had entered the shop, naturally smudging the hem of the man’s robes with his muddy coat.

“Galahad, no! Look what you’ve done, you rude little mutt!” Marlene groaned with embarrassment and rushed forward to catch her pet, handing it over to an apologetic Kleo who hurried up the stairs. This time, she held Galahad firmly so he would not find other means of escape.

Marlene rubbed her face, feeling her cheeks pinking.

Ha, yeah, people tell me that ‘addictive’ line every time I get a new tattoo. Like I’m gonna snort the bloody ink or something.

It is a silly way to phrase it, isn’t it? People can be funny about things like that.

VI Quote of the Week:

“I work in Knockturn Alley. Even if it is for a legal and prestigious apothecary, people..get the wrong idea. Especially after they found that Goldstein man dead there. And I know I can rub people the wrong way, especially with the stress of the Mastery I was perhaps combative.” He’d been over this before with Tilden, shortly after the printing press incident, when he’d been buying new shoes. Ones he was currently wearing, ones that hadn’t been tracked through blood and viscera. He glanced down at them for a moment. He needed to stop thinking about that duel if he wanted to naturally suggest to Tilden (or better still, have Tilden suggest to him) that the herbologist put in a good word for him.                                                                 -- notlibatiusborage, Bad Reputation

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‘Whatever,’ she’d said at Easter, watching him toss the charred remains of their father’s Howler into the bin. ‘Just focus on what you’re good at and what you enjoy. Fuck the rest.’                                                          -- crabbeapple, Sun-Filled Days of Youth

I s’pose that’s part of being an adult, eh? The comment made Alastor pause. He’d forgotten that many Order members, Tilden included, had only graduated from Hogwarts a few years ago and even more recently. It made him feel old, and something else. Inside, he could feel a twinge. There was no sense in letting those feelings pull him under, at least not now. He couldn’t send Tilden home just because he thought the man was too young to be out patrolling when something terrible could happen that affected him for the rest of his life, or worse, end it. Remember, it’s their decision. It wasn’t much comfort.                                                                 -- head-auror-moody, Watchful Eyes

VI Quote of the Week:

His pale face almost shone in the wandlight as he looked around, checking back the way they had come and the grassy hills that were just fading out of view, like salvation slipping away.                                        -- notlibatiusborage, Brains, Brawn, and Spider Silk

Admin Picks of the Week:

What had some poor salamander or frog done to deserve getting chopped up into someone’s cauldron? Especially if it was to make something silly like Hair-Smoothing potion or an Acne-Banishing draught?                                                     -- crabbeapple, Brains, Brawn, and Spider Silk

“Thank you,” she responded, smiling.  “Your opinion is quite valued.”  Over the course of their tea, she had let him see more and more past the mask she normally wore.  Such a thing would typically cause worry to bloom in her chest, but she had known Igor for some time now; there was a kinship in their mutual caution, but even she knew the desperation for true contact, true understanding.                                                                            -- forever-toujourspur, Draco

VI Quote of the Week:

Severus shared the name for her elaborate glass of water, and it made her smile, though confusion gathered in the wrinkles between her eyes. It was a sweet name, playful— and entirely unlike the Sev she had known. Which perhaps spoke to how long it had been, how inadequate saying ‘they had grown apart’ was. Or maybe there was something more to it, a game, a puzzle, another layer that she hadn’t grasped yet. Now that, that would be entirely Severus Snape, and even thought she hadn’t solved it yet, it made her smile more, pleased to know he wasn’t such a stranger now after all.                                                                             -- asphodelroot, Odd Places

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Narcissa was surprised by how easy Tilden was to read.  In truth, she shouldn’t have been - most people were.  More to the point, it was that she had for so long surrounded herself with those who intentionally hid their emotions, their thoughts.  In her world, those were as close kept secrets as any.  It might not have rankled her before, but for some reason, seeing the brightness that shone on Tilden’s face when she complimented his garden, she wondered if it was all worth it.                                                               -- forever-toujourspur, In the Garden

"You lead the way. You must know the route." And you're more disposable. And you're bigger. It would take any attacker, as they went deeper into what his mind still called the forbidden forest, a smidge longer to bring down Crabbe physically, which meant he could run away or curse it.                                        -- notlibatiusborage, Brains, Brawn, and Spider Silk