strong in the broken places

“Sana hats are amazing, I decorated mine with the cutest little elves, but reindeer ears are also amazing?? Reindeer are AMAZING, if I could be an animagus and have any animal as my alter ego, I reckon a reindeer would be the coolest.”

“A reindeer would be the coolest? See, I’d pick something small, like a fly or a lady bug. Then you could hang around in places where you wouldn’t be allowed usually and hear all of the dirty details. Although, that’s what Rita Skeeter did, and my Mum took care of that nasty business.”

“What kind of Hufflepuff would I be if I wasn’t all manners and charms and the epitome of politeness and pushovers? My dads raised me better than that.” Ara only just managed to make it until the end of her sentence before she burst out laughing, doubling over as she tried to regain her breath. One didn’t have to know Ara Wood well to know what a load of bullshit she’d just spewed. She’d been raised by MARCUS FLINT, after all. Not that she was a terrible person, but she used her elbows far more than she ever said excuse me. Ara was about as far from the pushover Hufflepuff stereotype as you could get. “I’m your favourite bloody pushover.”

“Ah yes, you’re right. I must’ve missed all of those etiquette lessons we all took. Good thing you went so you could teach me everything, yeah?” Teddy held his face together in a painful sort of grimace as he tried not to laugh along. He had missed her jubilant laughter, the way she somehow managed to convey her entire personality through a few splutters. “I dunno, I can count on both hands a few pushovers I prefer. Although, I think they might outrank you on the pushover scale, so you’ve just got some competition I’d say. Best get on that.”

If Molly thought she was flustered before, it was nothing compared to the redness in her cheeks now. She took a great deal of pride in her art work, it was her strongest passion in a sea of ever changing whims. To have Albus, her favourite cousin and one of her closest friends, think so highly of her talents meant the world to Molly. “I just love colours and pretty things and blending them all together and just seeing what magic you can make with a paint brush. I think it’s amazing you can capture that same magic with a camera too, like you can take a picture and it looks just as magical as the real thing not just an imitation? Truly amazing.” 

She paused, chewing on her lip as she considered his question. “He seems like a bit of an everything collector, rather than a specific style, so we’ll see. Even if he doesn’t just seeing his work would be really cool, you know?” 

The mention of Rose brought Molly’s grin back. “That sounds like Rose, all right, and you for that matter. Good thing you have me to forcibly make you take breaks every now and then, eh?”

“I suppose that’s part of the magic of art,” Albus replied, hands buried deep in his pockets, a faint blush over his cheeks. For someone who was used to receiving attention, he was rubbish with compliments. “It comes in multiple forms, and none of them can ever be wrong. I mean, some people make art by piecing together actual garbage. That’s the most impressive thing, if you ask me. Expression from things that were tossed away with no further use.”

Albus looked up, noticing the hesitation as he had felt in many times in his life. Worry. Fear. They always intermingled when something big was happening, or could happen. “Well, you’re a part of everything, so I’m positive you’ll be doing more than just seeing his work.”

“Good thing, otherwise I’d have low blood sugar. Although, now that you mention it, we better take some ice cream to go. What sort of family would we be if we went for sweets and didn’t bother to bring any back?” Albus briefly imagined an angry Rose, her quick eyes somehow knowing where they had been, and her sweet-senses tingling.

Reed threw out a mischevious grin. “That’s for me to know and you never to find out. I’m not completely unresourceful, you know.” Truth be told, Reed did some odds and ends one-off jobs when he could. He would mow people’s lawns, help the old lady across the street with household chores, menial tasks to make enough cash to feed himself and keep the liquor supply going. “Unlike you, apparently. You didn’t really think that was gonna fly, did you? I can’t even get a woman I’ve known pretty much all my life to be all too happy about sharing food with me. You’rea pretty bloke, but that can only get you so far in life, man.”

“I never said you weren’t resourceful, just surprises me. You always seemed a bit clean for any shady sort of money wielding. What’d you do, Reed, get money for walking a few old women across the street?” Declan replied, mouth still full of food, and an entirely unapologetic smile. He took another bite, entirely absorbed in his own needs and necessities. “Maybe the reason you can’t get the woman to share food with you is you’ve gone and started calling me a pretty bloke.” Declan winked while trying to remember the many times before that Reed had mentioned one woman in particular. He had never been curious, or perhaps empathetic enough to ask more. “Haven’t you been trying to get with her for a while? Or did you finally move on from that original one.”

“The only person here who can make a high collar work—” Gisèle said, unbuttoning the neck of a jacket that, truthfully, did have her a little overheated. “—is me. However, considering I know people who can make bloody plaid work, maybe. You might look more like your dad than a pastor.”

Caelum didn’t bother disguising his eye roll. “Truly the most humble person I know.” The idea, however, of looking like his father, was a somewhat terrifying and horrifying prospect. He had a good enough relationship with Draco. They weren’t unalike. Sometimes they were even too similar. But often, especially during Hogwarts, Caelum found himself trying desperately to distance himself from his father, from his last name. “I’m not sure if that means you find my dad fit, or you just claimed that I have wrinkles.”

Zarah nodded slowly, thoughtfully. “That does make sense. Without dedication and a bit of planning, being so much of a failure has got to be challenging — even near impossible.”

“It makes them even more infuriating. They have the capability to be successful, but they are so invested in their own ineptitude that they create a vicious, and in their view, entirely fulfilling self-prophecy.” Emma’s voice rose, and she noticed a few curious glances moving her way, but she never let that bother her. Outbursts were a common occurrence in her life.

Reed glanced down at his greasy burger that was perched in between his hands, globs of ketchup and mustard falling out of the bun and into basket. Typically, burgers were the perfect hangover food as if the grease absorbed the alcohol. Today, Reed just felt queasy, his stomach churning and rejecting the idea of food. Despite his discomfort, he threw on  grin with ease, pushing his meal over to Declan. “Nah, you go on ahead. I already ate and I thought I was getting a second wind but I guess my eyes were just too big for my stomach. May as well not let it go to waste.”

“Aye, cheers mate. Knew I could count on you to nick something off of. Where do you even get the money for this shite?” Declan bit into the burger without a second thought, never being one to make sure that what he was doing was actually fine, instead of a pressured decision that would soon be regretted. His life was one of taking, not asking. “I tried to take a bite out of that woman’s food over there and I think she nearly slapped me. Would’ve proven to be entertaining at least.”

“Yes.” Leila’s rebuttal was a terse thing, curt more out of distraction than any real malice. It was only when she realized her rudeness and lowered the book she held before her face – a thick tome on certain wandmakers’ trade tricks – that she noted the familiar face and forced a more pleasant expression. It was just as well that it was nobody she might have offended or needed to impress—she had known Declan long enough to dispense with such formality. Instead, she snapped her book shut with a resounding thud and put it aside, gesturing to the seat before her. “But please, sit down. Have a drink with me if you’ve nothing better to do.”

“Inviting me for a drink? Careful there Leila, someone might think you’re friends with someone like me.” Declan sat down anyway, making as much noise as possible, never worrying about embarrassment. As a child he would have cringed away from making such a scene, but as an adult, if you could call him one, he became unconcerned with such things. Survival and entertainment. The very two things that drove him, and one of the leading backers was sitting right across from him looking as she usually did--unimpressed. “Surprised I haven’t seen you come around. Figured you would’ve needed to go shopping sooner rather than later. Did I finally scare you away?”

          Xander let his mouth fell open with an overdramatic, affronted huh. “Me? Rude? Unbelievable. This is how you treat me after I offer you all those years of invaluable friendship and moral support.” He shook his head ruefully. “Absolute treachery. No more free side dish refills for you.” (Now with the internship, Xander was relieved from server duty at his parents’ restaurant—but he helped out every now and then on weekends, voluntarily or not.)

          “I haven’t thought of it like that,“ Xander admitted after a pause. True, it could get rather tedious and repetitive: hunched over stacks of paper and his laptop, reading and re-reading the sources, matching the quotes with interview transcripts, poring over every minute detail. He himself wouldn’t go so far as to describe it as last line of defense —- but, indeed, as Rose pointed out, it was necessary groundwork that all further investigations and their validity depended on, and he was the one doing the job. “Like is such a meager term to describe my utter dependence on it, but sure.” He grinned.

Rose pouted, very much affronted at even the joking proposition that she would no longer receive free food. She found that to be one of the best benefits to being friends with Xander. “Now that is absolutely too far, Xander. What are you going to faux takeaway next? Air? Water? Quidditch?” She sometimes wondered how someone like Xander put up with her antics, but if her cousin Albus could handle her with all of his introverted tendencies, she was sure that Xander was more than up for the task of being her friend.

“That’s why you’ve got me ‘round, to remind you how brilliant you are. I mean honestly, being an Intern is just a way to pay you less, even when you’ve got talent. Mum told me all about her interning. She’s Hermione bloody Granger and she still had to intern her way up. Although she always told me that to make sure I stayed humble. As if I’m not humble.” Rose rolled her eyes, aware of her own inability to be cocky about anything. “Then consider yourself caffeinated. You stay here, I’ll go grab a pot. Think they’ll notice?”