𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫 .

it seems only appropriate for carlotta pinkstone to be stuck in a tesco when the world was ending. a comforting piece of home rather that the stuffy, arrogance of the wixen world. if she’d had a choice, she preferred to be here amongst those with and without magic where she was not the strangest or the most dangerous, according to the ministry, being. it seemed a good enough balance. currently, she’s was on a self proclaimed guard detail though from the causal observer, it looks more like snack time. she’s sat on the customer service counter, legs crossed under her with a bag of granola  and an open box of plastic spoons at her side as well as a cup of yogurt in her hand. she was starving — she’d been trying and failing to keep overlapping protective wards up around the building — and had decided that this was currently a better use of her time. 

her eyes follow the sound of her surname, head tipping back to meet the gaze of … oh, merlin, who was that again? big quidditch star, scandal recently just like the rest of the world it seemed … thaxter wood, that was it! at his question though, she quirks an eyebrow and glances between him, the door, the shimmer of magic just beyond, and then back to him.   “ oh, just thought i’d pop by the shops; run a few errands before the end of the world, y’know? be prepared an’ all that. ”   she quips, scooping another spoonful of yogurt into her mouth. 

                  ‘   same  actually,   ’   he  replies,  raising  up  the  package  of  oreos  with  fingers  that  held  lingering  remains  of  chocolate  cookies.  he  grins  happily,  but  he’s  fixated  on  her.  thaxter  had  started  reading  a  bit  less  about  quidditch  and  a  bit  more  about  politics   (   only  a  slight  shift,  and  he  still  wouldn’t  consider  himself  an  expert  )   after  carlotta’s  display,  and  it  was  strange  to  see  someone  he  admired  in  the  flesh,  let  alone  sitting  on  the  floor  of  a  grocery  store  while  the  world  fell  apart.   ‘   s’cool  you’re  here.   ’   he  says  the  words  without  really  thinking  them  through,  but  that’s  never  really  mattered  to  him  before.  his  manager  might  recall  the  time  he  had  to  bribe  a  journalist  not  to  print  a  comment  about  the  same  woman.

                  there’s  a  lull  in  the  conversation  and  he  adds :  ‘   i  mean,  i  think  what  y’doing  is  pretty  fuckin’  swell.  y’can’t  say  i  said  that  though,  ’m  in  enough  hot  water  currently  and  not  just  ‘cause  of  these  jerks,   ’  he  gestures  to  the  few  lingering  spirits  outside  the  wards  that  had  been  set  up.   ‘   my  manager’s  already  lost  a  few  galleons  over  the  whole  thing   ——   sorry,  thaxter  wood.  big  fan.  ‘s  great  to  meet’cha.   ’

there  was  no  small  part  of  lena  absolutely  kicking  herself  in  the  ass  for  not  being  able  to  remember  certain  spells  in  a  panic.  counter  curses  and  undoing  hexes  had  always  been  a  talent  of  hers  but  causing  them  in  the  first  place  ?  well  that  wasn’t  so  easily  achieved.  she’d  successfully  sealed  the  muggles  in  the  back  room  for  now,  she  was  sure,  and  at  the  very  least  they  were  in  the  back  room  and  the  doors  that  allowed  their  trucks  to  offload  product  had  similarly  been  locked  and  sealed.  she’d  cast  notice  me  not  charms  as  well  as  she  could  and  now  she  was  trying  to  find  something  stronger  than  a  simple  disillusionment  to  remove  the  door  from  view.  panic  bubbled  up  in  her  throat  and  as  she  nearly  cried  out  in  frustration,  there’s  a  hand  on  her  shoulder  and  it’s  the  most  grounding  thing  she  could  have  asked  for.  

turning  a  bit  at  the  familiar  voice,  lena  forced  a  smile  onto  her  face  —  not  because  she  had  to  see  him  but  because  maybe  thaxter  would  have  better  ideas  or  remember  the  proper  pronunciation  for  the  spell.  relief  trickled  in  and  suddenly  the  smile  was  easier  and  she  pulled  him  into  a  momentary  hug,  needing  to  remind  herself  that  there  were  people  who  were  solid  and  very  much  corporeal  floating  about.  

she  shook  her  head  before  he’d  even  finished  his  question.  ❛  not  an  official  capacity,  no,  i  was  just  hoping  to  get  some  last  minute  things  before  warding  my  apartment.  ❜  not  like  it  was  particularly  slouching  in  wards  since  she’d  opened  it  as  a  refuge  for  members  of  the  burial  society,  but  that  wasn’t  something  that  she  needed  to  share  with  thaxter.  ❛  yeah,  it  actually  is  nice  to  see  some  friendly  faces.  after  all  the  panic  back  there,  ❜  her  head  inclined  towards  the  stock  room  that  she’d  herded  the  muggles  into  so  that  she  could  keep  them  away  from  viewing  magic  and  hopefully  away  from  the  brunt  of  the  worst  of  the  incoming  wave  of  dead.  ❛  it’s  nice  to  see  someone  at  least  willing  to  pretend  to  be  calm.  how’s  your  —  how’re  you  ?  ❜

                 thaxter  accepts  the  hug  without  much  thought,  it  was  a  usual  greeting  for  him  and  he  squeezes  her  back  tightly   ——   he’s  happy  to  be  a  grounding  force  in  someone’s  day,  even  with  his  own  worries,  even  at  the  end  of  the  world.  it  made  him  feel  a  little  better  at  the  very  least.  after  stepping  back,  he  nods  along  with  her.   ‘   gotcha.  tha’  still  the  plan  or  are  y’staying  here  for  a  while  ?   ’   sasha  was  somewhere,  but  however  many  hands  they  could  get  would  be  beneficial.  charms,  and  thus  wards,  weren’t  his  specialty,  so  having  a  few  extra  wands  would  help.  he  glances  back  to  the  door  to  the  stock  room,   ‘   well  ‘s  understandable,  y’know   ?   no  reference  for  all  this,   ’   he  gestures  both  at  the  world  outside  and  to  both  of  them.  wix  could  be  as  frightening  as  inferi  if  you  didn’t  know  what  either  was.

                 he  laughs  slightly  at  her  assessment  of  his  status.   ‘   oh,  y’know  me,  lena :  calm,  cool,  or  at  the  very  least  a  great  actor.   ’    however,  at  the  next  question,  or  the  start  of  one  never  spoken,  there’s  a  flash  of  something  across  his  features.  it’s  only  there  for  a  moment,  to  be  replaced  with  the  familiar  smile  he  sports  at  almost  all  times.   ‘   ‘m  grand,  all  things  considered.  now  put  me  to  work,  y’know  more  about  this  shit  than  i  do.   wha’s  the  play  ?   ’   he  was  a  quick  learner,  and  he’d  try  to  remember  what  he  could  from  school.  with  a  little  guidance,  he  thought  the  two  of  them  would  do  just  fine.  you  always  had  to  start  the  game  being  sure  you’d  win  by  the  end  of  the  night.

IF  SASHA  had  any  choice  over  the  matter,  he  wouldn’t  be  in  london  at  all.  actually,  he  wouldn’t  be  in  england,  or  the  united  kingdom.  he’d  be  in  russia,  given  the  choice    ––    an  opinion  he’d  shared  broadly  and  generously  during  his  extended  stay  in  london  these  past  few  months.  the  unbridled  rampage  of  the  undead  was,  in  his  book,  another  checkmark  in  the  ‘cons’  column,  and  were  it  not  for  the  stern  reprimand  he  knew  he’d  face,  he  would  have  written  a  letter  of  complaint  to  his  superiors  back  home,  once  again  criticizing  their  decision  of  sticking  him  in  this,  of  all  places. as  it  were,  his  current  situation  wasn’t  all  that  bad    ––    he’d  even  managed  to  give  his  charge,  henry  piquery,  the  slip,  and  thusly  found  himself  wandering  aimlessly  up  and  down  the  aisles  of  a  muggle  grocery  store,  munching  on  a  pack  of  m&m’s  he  had  no  intention  of  purchasing.  when  his  friend  and  fellow  piquery  victim,  thaxter,  scrambled  into  view,  he  simply  smiled      ––      it  was  a  small  enough  city  that  he  could  not  longer  afford  to  be  surprised  when  he  repeatedly  ran  into  people  he  knew.  leaning  back  momentarily  in  an  attempt  to  catch  an  m&m  he’d  thrown  into  the  air,  in  his  mouth,  sasha  made  a  great  show  of  pretending  to  seriously  think  about  thaxter’s  question.  then,  he  leaned  in  conspiratorially    ––    “we  stay  here,  and  hope  piquery  doesn’t  think  to  look  for  us  here.  with  any  luck  he’ll  get  stuck  behind  some  sealing  wards  and  then  we’re  free  to  go  where  ever  we  want.”  

                   thaxter  cannot  help  but  laugh,  even  given  the  situation,  at  sasha’s  assessment  of  the  problem  and  relaxed  attitude.  it’s  a  genuine  laugh  too,  one  that  shakes  his  shoulders  a  little  bit  and  brings  his  smile  up  to  his  eyes.   ‘   y’great,  sasha,   ’   he  compliments  the  other,  shaking  his  head  slightly  as  he  does  so.   ‘   no  offense  to  picquery,  but  i  don’  get  the  impression  he  does  his  own  shoppin’.   ’   maybe  that  was  just  something  he  suspected  given  the  status  that  the  other  wizard  held  in  the  world,   ‘   so  i  dinnae  think  he  even  knows  wha’  a  tesco  is.   ’   thaxter,  however,  was  under  the  impression  that  this  was  a  joke,  and  that  henry  was  either  around  the  corner  in  another  aisle,  or  on  his  way  to  meet  them  soon.  you  know,  just  like  how  sasha  threatening  to  kill  him  for  thaxter  before  had  been  a  joke.

                  so  he  jokes  back.   ‘   y’should  take  me  back  to  russia  with  ya.  bet  the  ghosts  haven’  made  it  there  yet.  don’  think  they  get  to  be  the  exception  of  no  successful  land  wars  jus’  cause  they  don’  have  any  bodies.   ’

for the first time possibly since she was a child, and afraid of her own tail, was artemis awake for the entirety of the time the moon was risen. on any other month, during any other year, she would find brush and pine needles to sleep in. she would come home with them entangled in her hair and pick them out in the morning like her mother had taught her. last night, she’d spent the entirety of it running, howling, snarling; her throat was shot, vocal cords shredded beyond recognition. blood, both hers and not, marked her skin in various places. her clothes were shredded where the inferi had gotten a good hit in. artemis fawley was bruised, exhausted, but alive at the very least.

currently, she’s propped up against a tree. at some point, after she’d shifted back, she’d found a soft place to sit and had fallen asleep. the exhaustion had been overpowering, not having slept in over twenty-four hours. she hadn’t even cared where she ended up, but she was fairly certain that it was hyde park before she’d fallen asleep. the sound of leaves crunching underfoot is what wakes her, what sends a pulse of adrenaline through her system. it’s when she hears a voice, familiar and comforting,   “ thaxter? ”    she whispers, the word barely passing her lips. she scrambles to her feet on wobbly legs, whirling around until sensitive eyes settle on him. it’s without a second thought that she strides forward, that she closes the space between them and wraps him in a hug, forehead pressing to his shoulder, with no care that she’s utterly disgusting.   “ y’came t’find me? ”   she whispers, unable to speak much louder and even so, her voice quivers.

                he  hears  a  voice  and  even  though  it’s  quiet  enough  that  he  cannot  quite  identify  it,  it’s  enough  to  get  his  hopes  up.  thaxter  picks  up  to  a  light  jog  towards  the  sound,  hoping  that  it  would  be  his  friend.  when  artemis  becomes  visible,  it  doesn’t  matter  that  she  looks  like  hell,  a  wave  of  relief  spreads  through  him  to  find  her  alive.  he  wouldn’t  let  himself  entertain  the  idea  finding  her  otherwise  was  a  possibility,  but  once  she’s  there  he’s  glad  he  does  not  have  to  face  that  reality.  he  can  tell  that  she’s  exhausted,  has  been  through  more  than  he  can  imagine,  as  she  scrambles  towards  him,  but  he’s  grinning  and  holding  his  arms  out  to  take  the  hug  she’s  offering.  screw  the  dirt,  blood,  and  grime.  however,  the  embrace  is  gentler  than  his  usual  vice - comparable  hugs.   ‘  yeah,  s’me.  ‘m  ‘ere.   ’

                he  looks  at  her  confused  when  she  asks  if  he  had  come  to  find  her,  like  it  was  an  actual  question.   ‘   well  if  i  ‘ad  found  y’last  night  i  wouldn’t’ve  had  ta,   ’   he  replies,  scolding  lightly.  he  doesn’t  know  how  else  to  navigate  heavy  emotions  except  for  humor,  and  so  he  falls  back  on  it  even  now.  he  grips  her  shoulders  gently  and  holds  her  out  at  arms  length,  taking  a  moment  to  survey  the  damage  she  had  sustained.  when  he’s  done,  a  smile  finds  his  face  again   ——   it’s  not  all  bad,   he tries  to  remind  her  without  his  words.   ‘   right,  we’re  gonna  duck  into  whatever  shelter  we  find  first,  and  i’ve  got  a  first  aid  kit  tha’  i  nicked  from  a  chemist  and  we’re  gonna  fix  y’up.  i’ll  even  give  y’  a  piggyback  if  y’want  cause  ‘m  just  in  a  good  mood  today.  must  be  the  weather,  or  the  encroachin’  end  of  the  world,  cannae  be  sure.   ’

                   fresh  grass  stains.         while  quidditch  is  a  sport  of  the  air,  the  doesn’t  mean  thaxter  does  not  get  down  and  dirty.  he  learned  to  throw  and  catch  the  quaffle  on  the  ground,  continues  to  enjoy  outside  activities  generally,  and  recently  has  been  teaching  his  little  brother  to  throw  as  well.  it’s  not  unfrequently  that  thaxer’s  clothes  are  stained  slightly  green,  and  for  a  little  while  after,  they  carry  the  scent  of  grass  with  it.

                   brylcreem  hair  gel.        it’s  not  that  thaxter  has  any  particular  attachment  to  the  brand,  it’s  just  the  first  thing  he  got  his  hands  on  and  has  always  been  easy  to  find  again.  it  leaves  his  hair  smelling  slightly  of  citrus,  though  not  overpoweringly  so.

                   tobacco.       thaxter  started  smoking  cigarettes  with  his  maternal  grandfather  when  he  was  sixteen.  it’s  not  something  he  does  everyday,  but  often  enough  to  celebrate  or  to  deal  with  stress....    the  smoke  builds  up,  imbedding  its  scent  into  his  clothing,  especially  his  jackets.

                   quidditch  leather.         during  the  season,  he  practically  lives  in  his  equipment,  and  if  he  isn’t  wearing  it,  it  is  hanging  up  by  a  window  to  air  out.  while  there  a  certain  odor  of  sweat  to  the  items,  the  leather  is  the  more  noticeable  one,  having  been  worn  and  retreated  just  so.

                   wood  polish.        fleetwood’s  high  finish  handle  polish,  specifically.  thaxter  is  somewhat  obsessive  about  keeping  his  broom  in  the  best  condition  he  can,  and  burns  through  jars  of  it  perhaps  a  bit  quicker  than  he  should.

                   damp  earth.        thaxter  loves  practicing  in  the  morning,  when  the  ground  is  still  damp  and  the  sun  isn’t  overly  hot.  the  cool  air  both  wakes  him  up  and  makes  him  feel  as  if  he  can  do  more,  and  trudging  through  the  dew  damp  grass  of  the  pitch  has  become  somewhat  of  a  ritual.  it’s  left  behind  on  his  boots  and  the  edge  of  his  quidditch  robes.

                   night  air.         unless  it  is  truly  teaming,  thaxter  prefers  to  leave  the  windows  to  his  apartment  open.  it’s  never  in  risk  of  developing  a  musty  smell  that  needs  to  be  aired  out,  though  there  are  a  few  books  that  have  become  bloated  for  being  left  on  a  window  sill  the  night  before  it  rained.

                  while  there  had  been  some  initial  hurt  that  she  had  not  confided  in  him  sooner,  thaxter  understood  why  artemis  felt  the  need  to  be  cautious  about  her  secret.  even  he  could  admit  he  was  not  the  most  subtle  of  individuals,  and  given  a  few  days  and  a  positive  conversation  later  he  had  mostly  been  over  it.  things  had  gone,  to  a  certain  extent,  back  to  normal.  they  had  an  entire  friendship  before,  and  knowing  her  heritage  did  not  change  that  or  make  lycanthropy  the  main  subject  of  discussion  from  the  point  of  discovery  onward.  however,  that  didn’t  mean  that  thaxter  hadn’t  made  note  of  the  moon’s  passing  since  then,  and  kicked  himself  on  several  occasions  for  not  noticing  how  tied  to  its  cycles  his  friend  was.  astronomy  had  been  his  best  subject  in  school  and  yet  …

                  when  things  went  wrong,  so  much  of  his  heart  was  wishing  he  could  be  gone  from  london,  that  he  had  known  this  would  happen  and  made  it  back  to  his  family.  yet,  there  was  always  room  for  her  in  his  concern  as  well,  and  thaxter  had  known  exactly  what  last  night  was.  he  had  failed  to  find  her  before  the  moon  came,  and  he  wondered  if  that  was  her  doing  ——  if  she  had  not  wanted  to  be  found,  but  he  set  out  in  the  morning  with  twice  the  determination.  wand  at  the  ready,  he’s  moved  through  london’s  streets  and  thus  far  managed  to  avoid  any  direct  confrontations  with  the  invading  spirits,  looking  for  her.  he  doesn’t  know  much  about  the  wolf  she  becomes,  and  how  much  of  her  remains,  but  his  methodology  is  relying  on  her  still  being  her  beneath  the  fur.  which  is  to  say,  he’s  checking  all  the  places  that  they  usually  go  together.  he  doesn’t  know  what  else  to  do,  but  he  doesn’t  want  to  leave  her  out  there  alone.

                  there’s  a  morning  fog  that  serves  to  make  the  whole  world  gloomy  as  he  walks  into  the  park  they  often  use  as  a  picnic  location.    ‘    artemis    ?    ’    he  calls  out  cautiously,  hoping  he  won’t  be  met  by  inferi,  rather  than  his  friend.

                  thaxter  had  not  seen  much  of  helena  recently,  but  he  had  blamed  that  on  his  own  difficulties,  rather  than  any  possible  struggle  between  them.  his  relative  disappearance  over  the  summer,  followed  by  the  start  of  the  quidditch  season,  meant  that  the  man  who  usually  attempted  to  be  main  stage  entertainment  had  faded  slightly  into  the  background  in  the  lives  of  many,  including  his  friend  from  school.  at  least,  that’s  how  he  saw  it.  whatever  the  reason,  it  was  less  important  than  what  was  currently  happening  all  over  london,  and  perhaps  elsewhere.  the  ministry  said  they  had  placed  a  magical  lockdown  on  the  city,  but  then  had  not  been  heard  from  again.  it  likely  did  little  to  inspire  confidence  in  anymore,  least  of  all  thaxter  wood,  who  had  been  dealing  with  the  incompetence  of  the  ministry   (  differing  priorities  )   for  months  now.  

                  yet,  thaxter  wanted  to  believe  it  was  just  london.  he  wanted  to  believe  that  his  family  would  be  fine,  and  he’d  be  able  to  tell  them  a  story  about  everything  that  happened  over  dinner  in  a  few  weeks,  if  not  less.  he’s  pacing  up  the  aisles  of  the  tesco,  when  he  spots  a  familiar  figure  in  the  mirror  at  the  back.  he  began  to  move,  skidding  slightly  around  the  corner  ——  thaxter  found  it  easy  to  move  at  breakneck  speeds,  whether  on  foot  or  on  a  broom  ——  and  practically,  but  not  quite,  colliding  with  helena  hyslop.    ‘    good  !    ’    he  cries,  smiling  and  clapping  a  hand  on  her  shoulder,    ‘  thought  i  was  gonna  die  o’  boredom  before  the  ghosts  even  got  in  ‘ere.    ’    he  falls  into  humor  as  a  crutch,  even  at  the  darkest  of  times.

                  ‘    y’here  on  duty  o’  some  kind  or  …  just  'ere  ?    ’    it  seemed  a  bit  early  to  be  sending  out  individuals  in  helena’s  line  of  work,  seeing  as  it  would  just  have  to  be  done  again  after  everything  had  been  fixed  up,  but  there’s  a  hope  that  if  she’s  here  in  an  official  capacity  that  the  ministry  might  be  closer  to  doing  something  worthwhile.    ‘    good  t’see  you’re  kickin’  though.    ’    whatever  the  reason,  it  was  good  to  see  a  friend.

                it  had  been  a  day  since  thaxter  had  taken  shelter  in  the  tesco’s,  and  they  were  still  waiting  from  word  for  the  ministry.  with  his  broom  back  at  his  apartment,  thaxter  had  decided  it  was  safer  to  simply  stay  put  until  the  situation  changed.  he’d  spent  the  night  in  the  tesco’s,  and  was  currently  situated  atop  one  of  the  shelving  units  closer  to   (  though  not  directly  next  to  )   the  entrance.  legs  crossed  under  him,  head  just  inches  from  the  ceiling,  wand  within  reach,  and  on  his  lap  a  pack  of  oreos  he  had  been  using  a  charm  to  increase  the  quantity  of  whenever  the  packet  dwindled.  it’s  in  this  position  that  he  notices  her,  and  he  isn’t  sure  if  she  had  arrived  recently  or  if  he  had  somehow  missed  her.   ‘   oh  m’  god,   ’   he  says  aloud,  mouth  falling  open  slightly.   carlotta  pinkstone  was  in  the  tesco  with  him.   he  realized  the  situation  beyond  that  was  somewhat  severe,  but  he  was  trying  not  to  focus  too  heavily  on  that  and  that  didn’t  change  how   cool   it  was  that  she  was  here.  frankly,  he  thought  she  was  a  badass.   ‘   pinkstone,  right  ?   what’re  you  doing  here  ?   ’

                 if  thaxter  had  any  choice  over  the  matter,  he  wouldn’t  be  in  london  at  all.  he  hated  the  idea  of  his  family,  alone,  during  all  this.  he  knew   (  he  hoped  )   that  the  ministry  detail  assigned  to  his  family  had  kept  them  in  the  know  and  protected,  but  he  had  an  itching  feeling  he  would  get  some  message  about   shifting  priorities   soon  enough.  perhaps  it  made  sense,  but  that  did  not  mean  he  had  to  like  it.  someone  should  be  there  with  them.  instead,  he  was  sitting  behind  the  butcher’s  counter  at  a  grocery  store  he  had  ducked  into,  staying  quiet  as  the  muggles  around  him  speculated  about  what  was  happening.  his  thumb  runs  along  his  wand,  tucked  into  his  jacket  pocket,  debating  the  pros  and  cons  of  doing   anything   really,  when  he  hears  a  familiar  accent.  he  looks  up  and,  despite  the  current  events,  manages  a  smile  at  sasha.  he  doesn’t  think  he’s  ever  been  happier  to  see  the  man  who  had  offered  to  kill  the  son  of  the  american  president  if  he  was   bothering   thaxter.  well,  the  ghosts  outside  were  certainly  bothering  him  and  maybe  together  they  could  do  something  about  it.   ‘   sasha  !   ’   he  scrambles  up  from  where  he  had  been  sitting  and  moves  towards  the  other.   ‘   wha’s  the  plan  ?   ’

“oh, is this what this is? you’ve gathered this crowd because you’re a quidditch player?” when she looks around she sees a sight of all ages, all peoples. if someone could have divined the hour for her, she would have alchemized it into something worth her wait and sold tickets (after all, talents, abilities, and knowledge are all currency to be estimated and exchanged). the crowd would have gathered in a line while she stood at the front of it, arms crossed, exactly the way she regard him now: impatiently, and with one hand out. “i do like the sport. all the black’s do. i mean, have you heard of the bogan broomfleet? we have our places reserved at the team’s VIP boxes at every match. you’ll see me, lucretia black, on VIP box number 3.”

when she shakes his hand, and kneads his name through her head, it is only conducive to the glass-eyed acknowledgement of a stranger. no semblance of interest betrays her, no flicker of recognition. it is these very rare instances when life doesn’t feel like it drags, where one is allowed to act and fester without inspection or interruption at the scandalized tales of their last names. “so, maybe when you get big enough from whatever wiffle ball league you play in, you might see me at the box, cheering on - ” lucretia pauses to look past his shoulder, bright and wry for the mistake she is keen on making. “joao stix.”

in spite the sense of urgency, she is, after all, willing to bare him the promise of another day. “and maybe, just then, i’ll let you tell me a joke at my expense.” 

                ‘   maybe,   ’   he  answers,  mischievous  smirk  slipping  onto  his  countenance  with  practiced  ease.  that’s  where  he  thrives  after  all,  getting  in  just  enough  trouble  to  leave  behind  a  smile  and  a  story.   ‘   could  be,  y’know  ?   or  could  be  they  jus’  like  me.  ‘m  funny,  handsome.  there’s  plenty  o’  reasons  i  could  draw  a  crowd.   ’   he  swallows  down  the  unhelpful  thought  that  the   mudblood   label  he’d  been  gifted   (   if  anyone  could  call  his  baby  brother’s  name  in  black  and  white  print  a  gift ;   a   thing   to  cause  blood  to  boil,  watch  the  saccharine  smile  of  the  trickster  spirit  turn  acrid,  an  urge  to  play  at  a  game  far  more  permanent   )  by  certain  circles  might  also  draw  a  crowd,  but  not  the  kind  he  wanted  to  attract.

                features  turn  into  a  frown  of  confusion  at  her  words.   ‘   tha’s  not  a  team,   ’   he  says  with  confidence,  but  in  a  gentle  voice  incase  she’s  made  a  mistake   …   even  though  he  doesn’t  understand  how.  thaxter  has  been  reading  about  quidditch  since  he  was  six  years  old,  and  has  what  most  would  qualify  as  an  absurd  and  useless  amount  of  knowledge  stored  in  his  head  about  it,  both  regarding  the  current  state  of  the  game  and  its  history.  he  is  decently  confident  that  the  bogan  broomfleet  has   never   been  a  team,  and  certainly  isn’t  one  currently  active  within  the  uk  and  ireland  league.  his  confusion  turns  to  curiosity  as  she  continues  her  blatant  lie,  and  something  lights  in  the  back  of  his  mind ;  the  small  spark  of  potentially  being  impressed  with  the  absurdity  unfolding  before  him.   ‘   the  montrose  magpies,   ’   he  says  with  a  nod  when  she  references  the   “ wiffleball  league ”   he  plays  for.   ‘   i’m  impressed  you  know  about  our  recreational  work,  most  people  just  watch  the  quidditch  game.  personally  i  think  the  wiffleball  is  even  more  difficult  to  master  than  the  quaffle,  so  i  appreciate  the  recognition.   ’   a  pause.   ‘   you  know,  i  don’t  think  i’ve  had  a  chance  to  play  stix.  what  position  ?   ’

lucretia seems to wobble like a flickering light; at times she seems to be similar to orion in height, jarring pedestrians like ants who have just noticed the spider in their midst, and at other times she can vanish so well that someone would be able to mistake her for an open seat on the 10:15 a.m. train that passed by surbiton station. but now, both sick of standing and waiting, lucretia doesn’t take to the notion of drawing attention to herself kindly. she is whatever the emotional opposite of a cherry-on-top or a pertinger is.

“not at all.” she likes the tea from here like everyone else in london; she likes the gargoyles in the private parlor even more. so she offers a simple and bland smile, a well-worn groove as far as social reflexes have taught her. a smile that empty can mean absolutely anything. in this situation, it is also a cover for the very rare sense of surprise that doesn’t take root at her stomach. rather, the sort of the curiosity of roots who spread beyond their borders. but in contrast, she slips aside from his hand, and thax altogether, like the easy shadow of a serpent through brush where the air won’t be as stuffy and never makes gambits or claims. “i’m not part of your audience. or whatever you’d call this.”

‘and, i am—’ money, plant, and equipment – in four syllables, ‘valuable,’ and not meant to be galavanting. “not someone with spare time for a joke.”

                 normally,   normally  thaxter  is  not  particularly  bothered  when  one  individual  hasn’t  bought  into  his  act,  so  long  as  the  crowd  was  still  on  his  side.  that  was  the  important  thing.  and  perhaps  bothered  is  not  the  right  word,  not  quite,  but  rather  that  he  sees  it  as  a  challenge  of  some  kind.  she,  standing  in  front  of  him,  has  become  an  audience  of  one   (   despite  assertion  otherwise  )   and  he  is  under  personal  obligation  to  try  to  entertain.   ‘   so  not  a  quidditch  person,  aye  ?   ’   he  asks,   ‘   or  just  more  of  an  arrows  person  ?   ’   he  selects  one  of  the  english  teams  at  random,  even  though  any  of  them  are  equally  likely.

                ‘   sounds  like  th’start  of  a  riddle,  but  i  don’  think  you’ve  given  me  enough  to  go  on,   ’   he  says,  eyebrows  raising  slightly  in  question.  skull  tips  as  he  looks  at  her,  as  if  he’s  trying  to  pull  another  hint  from  her  countenance,  but  the  empty  smile  gives  him  nothing.  there’s  a  flash  of  a  memory,  but  he  was  at  hogwarts  at  the  same  time  as  practically  every  wix  from  the  country  between  the  ages  of  twenty  one  and  twenty  eight,  so  that  hardly  helped.   ‘   thaxter  wood,   ’   he  says,  identifying  himself  as  if  it  is  a  token  to  be  traded,  for  which  he  hopes  he’ll  be  granted  something  in  return.   ‘   an’  you  are  ?   ’

there were rare nights when artemis’ mind stilled just enough that she could find comfort in focusing on a book or listening to a record. currently, she was curled in up in bed, her back leaning against her headboard with a book in her lap and a hot cup of tea on the nightstand beside her. her focus is only pulled from the novel when she hears a muffled shout from outside of her flat and then a distinct knocking. she knew that knock. only one person in the entire planet could shake her doorframe with such expertise, having been practiced a hundred times over. she’s barely out of bed, the covers pushed back, when the second set of shouts comes through the door. she tsks quietly to herself before going to pull open the door,   “ yer aware tha’ i have neighbors, correct? ”   she snaps, though the harsh comment is offset but her wide grin. she’d missed him. 

the wind is momentarily knocked from her as he crushes her to his side, though she’s happy to return the awkward hug. she’d needed it more than she realized. her mouth fishes at the question, well aware that there was no refusal when it came to plans with thaxter.   “ i’ll be sure t’tell my book tha’ i’ll have t’reschedule. ”   it was just like thax to bring a whirlwind wherever he went, but it was the breath of air that she’d been needing.   “ do i even dare ask where we’re goin’? ”   she calls back as she’s headed back to her bedroom. it takes her no time at all to grab a dark green dress with a synched, one that, as requested, could fit in the bag and wouldn’t wrinkle. she takes just slightly longer to change from her mock pajamas into black jeans, beat-up black converse that are older than she’d like to admit, a long sleeve blue top; if they were flying, it was going to be chilly. she steps back into the hall, dress is placed in the bag and a mock turn of approval is spun,   “ do i pass inspection, mister wood? ”   there is a sarcastic lilt to her voice as she turns back to him. 

                ‘   aye,   ’   he  answers  quickly,   ‘  an’  i  don’  care.   ’   the  words  come  with  a  tone  that  suggests  she  should  know  that  would  be  the  obvious.  maybe  she  should,  this  isn’t  the  first  time  they’ve  done  this  dance  and  thaxter  is   (   to  a  certain  extent   )   somewhat  predictable.  while  he  comes  in  a  cloak  of  chaos,  underneath  he’s  a  logical  mind  that  finds  comfort  in  patterns.  such  as,  but  not  limited  to,  the  specific  way  and  place  he  knocks  on  his  best  friend’s  door  and  generally  making  the  loudest  entrance  possible.   ‘   i  care  about  you,  an’  so  i  make  a  ruckus  till  i  get  you.  worked,  didn’  it   ?   ’   he  had  still  been  on  the  fence  on  whether  or  not  he  was  going   to  tell  her,  but  her  asking  the  question  had  much  the  same  effect  of  flipping  a  galleon  to  find  out  what  face  you  wanted  it  to  land  on.   ‘   y'absolutely  do  not  dare,   ’   he  says,  with  the  wide  grin  of  a  proud  child.   ‘   ye’  can  make  some  guesses  though.   ’

                ‘   ye’  always  do,  miss  fawley.   ’   the  smile  he  gives  her  when  she  returns  is  something  softer,  something  for  just  between  close  friends.  she’s  one  of  a  few  who  gets  to  see  glimpses  of  the  man  beyond  the  entertainer,  something  he  lets  her  do  as  a  thank  you  for  truly  knowing  him,  for  taking  the  time  with  him  that  others  did  not.  he  takes  her  hand  and  spins  her  around  again,   ‘   tha’s  your  clue.  for  part  of  it,  least.   ’   the  mischievous  grin  returns  as  he  says  it,  and  he  steps  back  to  scoop  up  the  bag  now  containing  her  dress.   ‘   right,  let’s  get  movin’.   ’   and  with  that  he’s  headed  back  out  the  door,  broom  and  bag  in  hand,  and  hopefully  with  his  friend  close  behind.  once  they’re  outside,  and  in  a  space  he  deems  clear  enough   (   what  exactly  his  specifications  for  such  a  thing  is  not  completely  understandable  to  anyone  else   ),   he  swings  his  leg  over  the  handle  and  slips  the  bag  over  as  well.   ‘   hop  on,   ’   he  says,  ready  to  kick  off  once  artemis  is  situated  and  secure.

the  corner  of  his  mouth  quirks  up,  as  do  his  brows  when  he  leans  in  to  respond  in  a  lowered  playful  tone  that  almost  made  him  sound  like  himself.  his  old  self.  “bet  you  fifteen  galleons  that  was  wilkes.  no  one  likes  him,  the  absolute  arse.”  he  folded  his  arms  across  his  chest,  head  cocking  to  the  side.  “ANYWAY,  if  i’d  known  you  were  coming  through  the  DMLE  so  often,  i  would  have  tried  to  nudge  your  case  along  to  someone  less..  dickish––  are  you  headed  this  way?  let’s  walk  and  talk.”  he  added,  gesturing  down  the  corridor.  “i’d  be  a  terrible  friend  and  employee  if  i  didn’t  escort  such  an  at  risk  person  from  this  end  of  the  hallway  to  the  other..”

                  ‘   ding,  ding,  ding,  we  have  a  winner,   ’   thaxter  stage  whispers  back,  conspiratorially.  he’s  glad  to  see  the  summer  hasn’t  changed  fleamont  too  much,  at  least  as  far  as  he  could  tell.  it  was  nice  to  feel  like  things  were  still  much  the  same  as  they  were  before  he  went  quiet  on  most.   ‘   ah,  don’t  worry  about  it.  i’ve  enjoyed  giving  him  a  hard  time  this  summer.   ’   even  if  wilkes  was  an  right  arse,  as  monty  had  said,  he  had  made  sure  someone  was  with  his  family,  which  was  all  thaxter  really  cared  about,  and  messing  with  him  made  the  meetings  interesting.  thaxter  nods,   ‘  yeah,  going  tha’  way.  ’m   ——   ’   he  stops  when  he  hears  the  way  monty  refers  to  him,  rolls  his  eyes,  and  continues.  ‘  oh,  truly.  ‘m  utterly  defenseless,  might  trip  directly  into  a  dark  wizard  if  you’re  not  careful  with  me.   ’

the  moment  his  gaze  focuses  on  thaxter,  filtered  rose  through  his  glasses,  his  expression  freezes  for  a  moment  before  melting  into  a  tentative  smile.  fleamont’s  mind  shifts  to  his  own  summer    ––    murder,  mystery,  goats,  necromancy    ––    before  vaguely  centering  on  the  headlines  that  had  featured  the  wood  family  name.  he  nods.  “it  happens,  don’t  worry  about  it.  we  both  had…  a  lot  to  process.”  he  clears  his  throat,  then,  eager  to  change  the  subject,  eager  to  leave  that  summer  behind.  “what  are  you  here  for?  can  i  escort  you  somewhere?  security’s  been  awful  tetchy,  lately.”

                   thaxter  is  happy  to  shift  to  any  other  topic  as  well.  he  said  what  he  thought  he  should,  but  neither  of  them  had  to  subject  themselves  to  anything  further  than  that.   ‘   just  finished  here  actually.  the  ministry  has  given  me  the  abso-fucking  flattering  title  of   at  risk  person,    so  i  check  in  with  some  dick  from  the  DMLE  once  a  month  now,  no  offense.  it’s  not  all  of  you,  just  him  in  particular.   ’  he  gives  fleamont  a  smile,  hoping  that  he’d  find  that  kind  of  thing   funny   rather  than  being  offended  for  whatever  coworker  thaxter  was  bad  mouthing.   ‘   i  noticed  that  though,  more  on  edge  then  they  were  last  month.   ’