#potterstarter

                    “  but  hey  ,  ”  the  wizard  scooped  up  a  hefty  amount  of  chestnuts  into  a  paper  bag  .  orpheus  was  great  at  small  talk  ,  no  matter  who  he  came  across  .  though  ,  most  of  the  time  ,  it  was  him  doing  the  talking  .  “  that’s  just  how  life  is  sometimes  . . .  things  don’t  always  go  as  planned  . . .  ”

Fleur had just left St. Mungo’s for the day. A rewarding career, yes, and one she didn’t regret in the slightest. But there were days when it tired her mind and soul a bit more than it used to. And that was exactly how she found herself walking down Diagon Alley and into the ice cream parlour. She was on her way to the counter when she nearly bumped into someone. “Pardonne moi,” she spoke, taking a step back, holding a hand out to steady the other person should they need it. “Are you alright?” She mentally cursed herself for not paying more attention to her path.

Diomedes was rather disappointed by this turn of events. Kingsley Shacklebolt’s death should have led to someone better being appointed as minister for magic, not someone somehow worse. It felt rather temporary, though, to him: just another issue to fix. Let the people have their hope with Hermione Granger in office. He was sure the Death Eaters would squash it soon enough, like a bug under the heel of a shoe. At least the champagne and music were good, he thought, as he sipped from his glass, taking a small break from all the conversations he’d gotten wrapped up in. He didn’t take a too long one, though, turning to someone near to him after a moment of enjoying the music. “It’s such a wonderful tradition, don’t you think? All the raised money being donated to St. Mungo’s, that is.” Diomedes smiled a polite smile. “I’m sure they can use it, in these trying times. I make monthly donations, of course, but it’s nice that everyone has a chance tonight.” 

Dove had postponed running errands until the back-to-school shopping was over, her mind already so filled with buzzing thoughts with everything going on. An immense amount of students excited to return to Hogwarts was not something she wanted to add to her heavy head. It was still too busy, she thought, face thunderous as she worked off her list. Potion ingredients. New gloves. A fucking pint of ice cream, maybe. She had hoped that this would help soothe something; that being productive, going outside, doing something so simple would make her feel less restless. In stead, she was just frustrated. 

What didn’t help her mood, was the fact that she took a wrong step and twisted her ankle. Glaring at her foot, and then the ground beneath her, she muttered rather loudly, “I bloody hate cobbled streets. They may look cute, but who the hell thought it’d be a good idea, all these stones of varying sizes? Impractical.”

There was something comforting about the sparsity in the pub that evening. It wasn’t very often that Alain found himself at the Leaky Cauldron without many patrons. As of late, it seemed there were plenty of people floating in and out of the pub. That was enough for him to keep a general distance from it — for one, his germaphobia kept him from enjoying engagement with many different people, but there was another part of him, the vampiric part of him, that much preferred less company. People just didn’t realize how downright delicious they smelled underneath all the perfumes and colognes. And his dietary supplements were hardly enough for him lately. Back at Lestoat manor they had stores that could quench the thirst of his half-vampire father for weeks. In London, Alain had to make due with the tablets he could procure from an apothecary, and the blood pops he covertly purchased whenever stopping at a confectionary shoppe. At the given time, he was popping the last supplement he had. He would need to make a trip the next morning before work, he wasn’t very good at going without for long. 

Washing the pill down with a cheap glass of wine, he tried not to grimace at its quality or lack thereof. He was not as ‘liquid’ as he was back in France. This would simply have to do. Taking another sip, as if in some poor attempt to grow a tolerance to the drink, he stiffened when he noticed a presence wavering in and out of his blind spot. He appraised the other patron without turning his head more than a fraction, staring at them from the corner of his eyes. Leaning slightly away in his chair, the part-vampire cleared his throat and moistened his lips, careful to not let his lips curl away and reveal those exaggerated canines. The wine was staining his lips red, and paired with the fangs that wasn’t the best look to most. Jaw tight and lips laid in a hard line, he nodded his head. 

“Erm, good evening,” Alain attempted to speak casually. “Can I help you?” he added after a beat, one brow arching curiously as he glanced sideways at the intruder. There were plenty of empty seats around, and yet this person seemed to linger in that secluded corner by him. Perhaps it was his fault for occupying a larger table, too many seats for just himself and his glass of wine to have all to themselves. Could he really blame them for thinking they could also take a seat there? His nostrils flared as he took in their scent, noting how quickly the supplements kept any hint of hunger at bay. At least he didn’t have to worry about any sort of major discomfort sitting near anyone, should they opt to stay in that corner with him.