#i. interactions

“welcome to nook inc.” isabelle looked up with a warm smile as the buzzer above the door went off. she’d been tending to some of the flowers she kept on the desk, bringing a little bit of light and warmth into the office. anything to help envoke the feelings of home for her. of course, it was nice being here with tom, the transition was easier that way, but she missed the island life, the warm ocean air that would come in through the doors of resident services. at least the weather was getting warmer, to help remind her of that even further. but her focus shifted to the person in front of the counter. “if you’re here to see mr. nook, you’ll have to come back later, but i can take a message and rebook an appointment for you!”

FINDING A FREE corner in the observatory is like looking for a bathroom in a packed club — somehow, without fail, it is always conveniently occupied by somebody else. After about fifteen minutes, Phoebe finally manages to find an open janitor’s closet, and stepping over the abandoned mops and broken brooms, she shuts the door behind her. Eyes shut, Phoebe inhales and leans against the wall, sticking the salvaged cigarette between her lips and lighting it, old-school style with a free match. And she inhales, deeply, even though the cigarette smells and tastes of nothing but paper and acid, but one is better than nothing. Here, she could let her mask of perfection slip away, put on that sour look that her mother had always called ugly to her face, and let the world melt away. Fill her empty form with smoke and tar, as if she hadn’t already been filled with something dark.

𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆, 𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏, Rion wakes with a start. A quick check of his phone reveals it’s much too early for his liking, and huffing, he pulls himself out from underneath his covers. Ever since the impromptu move to the cabins, every single night had been restless staring up at the half-rotting wooden beams, nose filled with the stench of mold. 

Groaning, he tosses aside his uniform in his trunk, grabbing something more comfortable before he sets out for campus, a book tucked underneath his arm. Long, lanky, he takes up the entire bench, cracking open his well-worn copy of Carrie — but it isn’t long before his silence is broken by another person approaching the second bench on the quad. 

Rion peers over his book, eyeing his companion. “Mildew’s fuckin’ bad, isn’t it?” He flattens the book on his chest, crashing the spine. “Haven’t gotten a proper night’s sleep since we moved in,” he grumbles.

𝙃𝙀 supposes in the grand scheme of things, there are worse places he could be. The Ministry isn’t awful as much as it is monotonous and dull. Hardly a challenge in throwing an Obliviate to the odd Muggle who’d caught sight of some magic, and with their skills dreadfully below his own, he derived no pleasure from it. 

Stepping into the lift, he hits the button for the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes before pulling out a wrinkled copy of The Daily Prophet, scanning the stories with a tired eye. Nothing caught his interest anymore, not since the war had ended. His gaze falls upon a story about an escaped dragon when the lift hums to a slow stop, and the usual warmth from the charm dissipates away, leaving them stuck between floors. 

“Again?” He walks over to the buttons, pressing them at random before exhaling, admitting defeat. “Merlin, they need to update these bloody charms. Fifth time this week I’ve heard this happening.” 

𝙴𝚅𝙴𝙽 𝚂𝙾𝙼𝙴𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝙻𝙸𝙺𝙴 𝙽𝙰𝚁𝙲𝙸𝚂𝚂𝙰 𝙽𝙴𝙴𝙳𝙴𝙳 𝙰 𝙱𝚁𝙴𝙰𝚃𝙷 𝙾𝙵 𝙰𝙸𝚁 𝚂𝙾𝙼𝙴𝚃𝙸𝙼𝙴𝚂 from the endless suffocation of social interaction, as pleasing as the night has been. Frankly, it’d been enjoyable for the first hour before the small talk had managed to bore the blonde to sleep. Talking about the prices of a vial of dragon’s blood or a scoop of powdered asphodel is just as effective as a sleeping draught.

Strolling out the back door, she hears the music and chatter die down, and she inhales, watching her breath fog up in the cold, January air. It’s only as she walks further out that she hears a rustle further down the path. Realizing that she is not totally alone, Narcissa stops in her tracks, pulling out her wand, gripped tight in her hand. “Who’s there?”

“i’m sorry--” isabelle said, looking up at the other that she had collided arms with. she didn’t want to wince, despite the way her arm already felt bruised from the other’s shoulder. she tucked her phone back into her pocket, apologizing again as she met eyes with the woman. “i’m so sorry, really. i was trying to send out an email-- that’s my fault. are you alright?”

“hi!” isabelle said, meeting up with hunter outside of her apartment building, zipping her jacket up as the wind whipped through the street, offering him a smile. “i didn’t expect winter to pick up so quickly, i thought we would have a little more time for fall.” she had always liked fall the best, the colors, the slight chill in the air. but she realized she was rambling a little, smiling back at him again. “sorry-- so, we still up for coffee? i know a really nice cafe.”