#june1904

Since his night of drinking with Arc and Sirius, Phineas had been concerned for Arc. He knew well that the pressures of marriage were taxing, and he had yet to really know how his younger brother felt. Those same pressures nearly caused him to marry.

Little did that woman know how lucky she was to escape with just a few tears.

Arc's situation was certainly different to his, but regardless of the reasons, he was still quite obviously anxious. Phineas could talk him through pure nerves, but if there were instead some deeper reason... Well, surely he could offer some bit of advice to ease the situation.

Brother,

Wonderful seeing you the other night! It has been far too long since we three have been able to laugh as much as we did. I do hope we soon have the time for another night together.

I plan next week to be in Diagon Alley. I have no particular agenda, but I should very much enjoy your company.

I do hope to see you!

Finding clothing suitable for the vernissage was, in short, frustrating. The event was, more than the art, about the people. Who was there, who was suspiciously absent, and what was everyone wearing. It was exactly the type of event Phineas could have avoided, were he not part of a plan to embarrass the journalists who would most certainly be swarming.

Josiah had, yet again, saved him by gifting him a new suit clearly out of his price range. Phineas declined such a gift, especially one with no purpose other than to cover the fact that he was quite unequal to his peers. But Josiah had insisted, and Phineas resolved then to repay his friend (though he did have to wonder how exactly Josiah had managed it with an even more meager income than his own).

Choosing to Apparate to Gladys' (it was, after all, far cleaner and quicker than any other mode), he arrived slightly before he was expected, hoping that would not be too much of an inconvenience.

The bell rang as he entered the shop, and he began examining a broom that was on display while waiting for her to appear.

Gladys--

I apologize for having neglected our friendship over the past few days. I was called out of town briefly, and now that I have returned, I would enjoy the pleasure of your company when you have time to accommodate me.

The dread Phineas felt every time he saw his family had been lessening, and that almost worried him more that disappointing them. Perhaps it was because they had seemed almost normal. Or perhaps it was because their influence made him transform automatically back into a Black.

The thoughts were troublesome, so drinks sounded perfect.

He had received an owl from Sirius suggesting drinks in Hogsmeade. This time there would be proper Wizarding alcohol, and they would also be accompanied by Arcturus, who Phineas had only seen once immediately following his return home.

While there was also a slight hesitation at not knowing what time with his family would bring, he imagined they would discuss Arcturus' upcoming wedding. (Though there were, as yet, no plans, it seemed to Phineas that a wedding was inevitable for Arc and that his younger brother wouldn't follow his less conventional path.)

Phineas arrived first and ordered a drink before curling up in a remote corner. It was quiet and private, which he preferred. He imagined his brothers would have preferred a more central location, but he didn't feel like moving. The comfort of obscurity appealed to him.

The owl that had delivered the letter stared impatiently at Phineas, awaiting the response that was taking the man far too long to write.

He had been dreading another meeting with his family, but he knew it was inevitable. He was back in London for that very reason, after all. That, and marriage, which he hoped wouldn’t be a topic of discussion.

He very much liked his older brother—Sirius had been rather protective of him when he was younger—but Sirius had changed, and those changes were alarming. Still, if discussions of future plans and familial expectations were avoided, the evening could be pleasant indeed.

Borgin and Burkes had since lost its luster, but Phineas found himself back in search of ingredients for another potion and for a new potions master.

Herbert had offered his services last time, and Phineas hoped the offer still stood. After killing his only other contact, he needed someone, and someone more trustworthy at that.

14 June 1904

There has been much death as of late. Marguerite Abbott, another Muggle-born. The vile potions wench. Guillermo...

I attended Marguerite’s funeral today. I attempted to attend unnoticed, but I was recognized, and was then thought of as merely a representative of my family. I was thanked for our sympathies, as if mine were entirely owned by my family and I possessed none of my own. It was, they thought, our attempt to show that we cared about them even though they know the Blacks think themselves above it all. The whole show made me sad. I came to join in their mourning—for I’ve lost someone dear to me too—yet it seemed disingenuous. It became about politics and society, and for that I wish I had not gone.