infinite jest

“I mean it’s more or less my fault. I didn’t want to sit at the kitchen alone, so I invited Opal to sit with me and obviously she couldn’t refuse.” Pandora had to think for a moment, their garden so huge, where did she plant the strawberries and cabbages. She went quiet for a moment, “Nope! I’ve just remember, cabbages are by the pumpkins and strawberries are by the outer fence, in the far corner. Seemed like a good place to put them. Should see the cabbages by Halloween time. Fun.” Once inside all bright eyed and smiles Xeno pulled her onto his lap and she stared at him waiting for tales of his adventure. 

“Alright, good,” he nodded, hearing her layout plans of where the cabbages and strawberries went and visualizing them in his head. “Those were the only more or less questionable plants I left, they haven’t been causing any trouble have they?” Xeno wondered, having a brief moment of something potentially resembling regret about the preacher’s porridge (and this was a man who didn’t regret very much). He only hoped they hadn’t oozed toxic slime over the other plants or given her any grief. “Cabbages by Halloween time? We could set them out right next to the pumpkins. I don’t know how well a cabbage would take to a carved face, but there’s an idea...” and he was off again, on ruminations and combinations of thoughts and ideas entirely bizarre to anyone but him. But to Xeno, everything was a possibility waiting to happen.

Emmeline listened to Xenophilius talk- he’d always had a unique way of seeing the world -and smiled. She’d forgotten just how much she’d missed talking to him and just how normal he made her feel. Not matter how much she felt like a leaf in the wind or a pebble in tumultuous waters something about Xeno always made her feel moored- anchored to wherever she was in that moment. She’d have to go round the Lovegood home and finally meet the love of Xenophilius’ life. “Well obviously the Prophet’s location isn’t important. I only know where it is because we’re standing right in front of it.” She laughed before running a hand through her hair. “How’s the Quibbler going? Have you started publications yet or is it still just about in your head?” Emmeline asked pointing towards Xenophilius’ forehead.

The more Emmeline spoke, the more Xenophilius realised how good it was to have a familiar face, a familiar person, speaking to him first thing since his return. He’d missed England, he’d missed London, but more than anything, he’d missed this. After weeks in the wilderness surrounded by the same three people, one of whom was a muggle so wizarding talk was out of the question, this felt like a warm cup of tea and a fire drawn at a familiar hearth. “Oh no, it’s very much going!” Xeno nodded his head vigorously. “We’ve got subscribers even, would you believe that? A whole six of them! Of course, they’re still crash-testing everything about it, per se, it’s not perfect science. Not that it’s supposed to be. Pandora and I are printing the lot at home, and we’ve got quite a few owls at our disposal although in need of a few more. Hence—” he gestured to his trolley, on the back of which hung a birdcage. Two, actually, although one was so small  it was liable to be missed. 

Pandora waited. The cat was in her lap, purring as she petted her. Every little noise made her even more impatient, her head kept turning towards the window in hopes of a glimpse of her husband. She probably wasn’t even waiting that long when she heard his voice. She squeaked in excitement and jumped up, beaming as she twirled in his arms. Tightly she curled her small arms around him burying her face in his neck. People would call them strange, why on earth would any married couple be away from each this long if they could help it. But Pandora knew Xeno had dream and that was for the Quibbler to get off the ground, if that meant staying home and working in an icky little shop, taking care of things at home they by all the stars in the sky she’d do it. She’d love Xeno too much to see that dream crushed. Sure times were a bit rougher but she could handle it. Pandora’s lithe fingers gripped his shirt for moment as she held on to him, agreeing with him before he set her down. The young witch laughed brightly as his attention moved to the cat. She picked up Opal, who thankfully was still orange at this point and nodded sheepishly. “Yes, well. In your absence, she has taken to your spot at the table, eating bits of human food here and now. She’s a great listener as you can imagine. Also I’ve been feeding her cake occasionally.” The cat squirmed out of her hands, meowing, as if she annoyed that she was disturbed. Pandora took his hands and looked him over. “But you, have you been forgetting to eat, thin as a beanpole you are. We can’t have that. Opal. Xeno must have his seat back–Oh, I’ve grown strawberries!  And cabbage. I wanted to tell you before I forgot.” How did they ever finish a conversation, Pandora’s head swirling with so many thoughts at once she wanted to get them out all at once or else she’d forget every single one. Perhaps another reason people thought them strange, the way they spoke to each other.

“Taken my spot?” Xeno quizzed, pretending to be somewhat surprised and maybe even offended at this turn of events, although in truth it just amused him, like everything else amused him. She’d written as much about the cat in their owls, but only upon seeing Opal in the flesh now did he realize that indeed, the cat had somehow doubled in size. “Yes, I suppose she’s been eating everything I’ve been omitting,” he said, a sheepish admittance to her observation that he’d become even more lean. He did have a habit of forgetting to eat when wrapped up in something fascinating and worthy of devoting his hours to,  be it writing or chasing small and barely visible creatures across field and forest. “Strawberries and cabbage! How lovely — wait, you didn’t plant the cabbage next to the preacher’s porridge, did you? I forgot to tell you about those, I planted them before I left — completely forgot!” he shook his head, even though in their day to day lives, he probably forgot to tell her at least six important things every day. But somehow, even with their mixups, misinformation, and general muck-headedness, they still managed. It was a wonder.

Emmeline had figured if anyone knew about the whereabouts of Dorcas Meadowes it would be the patrons of Knockturn Alley. As a familiar face to the Alley, it wasn’t unusual for Emmeline to just casually be strolling up and down the Alley- occasionally going into a shop to look farther at a pendant or robes. She pretended to be interested in the petty things, staying silent like a good girl would. It was almost as if she’d had an invisibility cloak or she was a ghost. Hardly anyone paid the girl any mind and those who did only did so for a moment before she faded into the background once more. Sometimes she enjoyed being a pureblood daughter in a society where they were invisible unless spoken to or made to be the center of attention.

Xenophilius recognized her, maybe it took a moment or two to recall her name from the vast compendium of knowledge settled in his brain, but it eventually came to him. “Emmeline,” he returned her address with a smile, no reaction to the nickname as it was one he’d been accustomed to in his years in Hogwarts. In fact, it was rather catchy and he liked it. “It’s been a few months, yes,” he agreed with a nod and a laugh, whirling around once she pointed at the building directly behind him and making a noise. “Ah! There it is. I knew it couldn’t have been far off. Thank you.” Though he felt slightly sheepish for getting lost in such a small area trying to find such a large building, but it had been a long day. “S’not my fault,” he said with an innocent shrug,”must’ve pushed out the Daily Prophet’s precise location out my head to make room for other things. It happens.”  He demonstrated with a tap of his finger to his head.