#dated. august 1980

“I hope you like eggs cause it’s about all I can make.”

“Okay, what’s first?” Marlene leaned her head against John’s shoulder and narrowed her eyes at the list. “Or last. I guess it depends on which way you want to do it.”

It was probably a rude thing to say, especially in front of all the people who had gathered for the Gobstones Tournament, but Fabian, on the advice of his third pint, said anyway--- “Surely there’s a Quidditch game they could have on instead?”

"It’s come together nicely.” Hestia beamed as she spun for at least the third time, taking in every nook and cranny of Doris’ bedroom. “I'm realizing just now the only reason I was worried is because most of the Low Street houses I’ve seen the inside of have belonged to men. It smells quite nice.”

“Percival Robards, just my luck before I skip town for the summer.”

“Y’know, it’s a bit lazy on Ted’s part,” Fabian teased as he nodded at little Nymphadora, her scalp covered in a color Fabian wasn’t sure he had ever seen before, “milking this instead of coming up with his own party tricks anymore.”

“It’s in here somewhere.” Fabian’s grin was not only sheepish, but fleeting, as he rummaged about his bag for the letter the Academy had sent him. Repeating half a year of his training was embarrassing enough, but to have to prove it to the Healer doing his health screening--- “Don’t suppose they leave copies of the paperwork with you lot, do they?” he asked, all too aware of the red that now painted his ears from helix to lobe.

“I have to show you something.” Fabian whispered, even once he was safely locked inside Frank’s. It was poor luck, he realized with a pang of anxiety, that he had thrown the thing into a particularly nice book bag. It would wound him to set fire to it later.