by the pricking in my thumbs

        ah,  so he had the right room,  after all.  no small relief since he had always struggled with his sense of direction.  a far less cautious smile stretches across his lips and the man steps into the office fully,  closing the door behind him with a careful click.  ❛  i’m sorry to intrude but i was told that you specialise in magical creatures.  particularly those who have been smuggled into the country,  ❜  a HOPEFUL expression paints his features as he looks over at her,  blue hues unwavering yet careful so as not to make her uncomfortable.

        ❛  i’m sorry,  i should have introduced myself,  ❜  he offers her a sheepish smile along with an extended hand,  ❛  merlin emrys.  i work at a dragon sanctuary in wales and i have reason to believe that a HEBRIDEAN BLACK has recently been smuggled into america.  although i’m afraid i have no idea where to start looking, ❜  the warlock offers her another smile,  knowing that his request was far from ordinary,  ❛  miss zamorano,  if you could at least point me in the right direction,  i would be extremely grateful.  ❜

          Oh, his accent was quite nice to listen to once it was in full swing. It was a pleasant change from the more aggressive tones New Yorkers–– and most Americans–– were known for ( and that she was guilty of from time to time ).  A lopsided smile of her own appears as her brow furrows in both confirmation that she is very much the one specializing in smuggled creatures, and that of uncertainty at the point he might be getting to.

          Without hesitation does she slip her hand into the man’s own in greeting with a gentle, yet firm grip. “ It’s a pleasure, Mr. Emrys–– ” The warm sentiment is forgotten somewhere far, far away as her mind works to catch up and process the rest of the words coming out of his mouth that she had so rudely all but trampled over in an effort to introduce herself. In no way did an introduction matter when she was in the presence of someone who worked with dragons.        DRAGONS!

        A deep sense of foreboding had clung to this meeting, no matter how trivial Jack had made it seem in his letter to her. There had been no good, after all, in suggesting that it was anything other than another one of their catch-ups ( with the hint of a business proposition thrown in ) – at least, not through the written word, anyway. The very last thing he needed was to be rumbled before he’d even been recruited; that would make finding Credence and exposing the poison in Grindelwald’s promises completely impossible.

       As much as he didn’t want to involve her in something that could risk her own position, Jack knew that Mary Sibley was his best route in.

        But he hadn’t brought it up straight away, the two conversing and teasing and laughing without so much as a fleeting mention of what had transpired several weeks ago in Paris. It was only later that he finally found the right moment – and even then, was prevented from being completely forthright by his seemingly unrelenting self-preservation instinct. Perhaps it was their years spent apart ( and the change in her in that time ) that warned him against inviting her into his confidence so quickly. ‟ If I told you I finally wanted to claim my pureblood heritage and join the rest of you, what would you say? ”

@troubleinspades / mary

          Great care had been taken in locking her happiness away behind the cool mask of impassiveness she had perfected not long after her first year at Hogwarts. It had been hard for the so-called ‘ upright ’ Sibley to contain the utter elation she had felt upon receiving her friend’s letter; the emotion a surprising one as within the current climate of the world around her–– both muggle-wise and wizarding alike–– it was known that one could never be too sure how long the sentiment would last. ( If it was ever experienced at all. )

          The days had been counted down faithfully and upon seeing his face she was reminded of what it felt like to have a real friend. The warmth she had felt expand in her chest was something she attributed to the hazy atmosphere and not that of the fondness she felt for Jack; someone whom she genuinely adored and supported wholeheartedly despite the words that fell from her tongue that stated differently.

        Something in Jack’s gaze softened at her question, and he gave an almost imperceptible shake of the head. He felt much the same way, though didn’t show it quite so openly as Celeste; it surprised him just how protective he’d become over the boy in recent months. ‟ We came all the way to Paris, did we not? ” He threw a glance out of the bay window in his ( magically expanded ) cabin, looking out on the River Seine and the stunning backdrop of the French capital. ‟ We’re but a stone’s throw away from him should he need us. ” He finished off his slice of toast. ‟ I think what we need, ” he deliberately flicked to the next page in the newspaper, trading Grindelwald’s unnerving stare for the winning smile of an apparently notorious debutante witch making political waves at the French Ministry. ‟ Is to head into town and see some sights while we’re here. ”

        ‟ I’m as uneasy as you are, but we can’t suffocate him, love. ” His eyes skimmed the open page of the French wizarding newspaper laid out on the table as he passed by, the headline alone enough to make him pause in the eating of his toast. There wasn’t a witch or wizard alive by now who hadn’t heard of Grindelwald’s escape from MACUSA several months ago, but this was certainly the first he’d heard of him making it all the way across the Atlantic to Paris, of all places. It could just have been the typical fear mongering press, but something still niggled at the back of Jack’s mind, urging him not to dismiss this as a coincidence. His gaze lingered on Celeste for a moment or two. ‟ He still needs the freedom to do this on his own. Us getting involved will only make him think we don’t have faith in him. ”

@troubleinspades / celeste