the sky was the limit.

Max raised a brow, dragging his attention over to her as she explained the Quibbler fiasco. The corner of his mouth lifted in amusement. "Seems like you should be down one less dumb intern," he said, taking the bottle back from her. "I'll be out of here soon and find my own place," he said in place of an apology. "I'll do the shopping next. Probably out of coffee and tea, too."

So when Max sighed like he was carrying the weight of three different timelines on his back, Madhuri stopped spinning her wand and looked at him with quiet eyes. Soft eyes. The kind that didn’t need to say “I see you,” because they already were.

She smirked a little at his line about not doing work or dating, but didn’t tease him for it -- yet.

She scooted a little closer, bumping her knee against his in that cousinly way -- half grounding, half annoying on purpose. “You’re not a burden here. Not to me. Not to anyone who knows your name.”

She took the bottle from him, took a long drink, and added, “But you are doing the shopping. That’s not up for debate.”

Lydia's smile faltered briefly. Oh she should've known better than to think she could hold up against someone who actually knew her. Maddy had always been able to tell when Lydia was faking something. But what if Antonin could hear them in here? She'd hate to get Maddy hurt. "I'm okay, you don't need to worry about me." She lied. "There are just some stories that you're definitely gonna love hearing at our sleepover, and I'm excited in advance. That's all."

“You’re a terrible liar,” Madhuri said softly, tilting her head just enough so their eyes met properly. “Like, historically bad.”

Her smile was fond, but there was something firmer beneath it — concern, quiet and grounding. The kind Madhuri didn’t throw around lightly.

Still, she didn’t press, not yet. She looked down briefly at Lydia curled in her lap, warm and real despite the shadows in her voice. Then she leaned in just a little, conspiratorial, like they were twelve again and hiding from the head librarian behind the tall stacks.

“Okay,” she said finally, nodding like she was buying the lie even though they both knew she wasn’t. “But just so you know, if your ‘stories’ are actually terrifying magical disasters in disguise, I reserve the right to make you hot cocoa and force you into a blanket burrito.”

“Mads!” She said as she dropped herself into her friends lap, throwing her arms around Maddy’s neck. “Merlin, I’ve missed you so much you have no idea. Is your cousin still staying with you? I could use a sleepover.”

“Lydia!” she laughed, both shocked and amused, her heart doing an adrenaline-fueled tap dance in her chest. “Warn a girl before you launch a full-on cuddle attack!” Still, her arms wrapped around Lydia automatically, grounding her like they always did.

And then she caught the expression on Lydia’s face — the kind of brave smile that didn’t quite reach the eyes.

Madhri’s teasing softened. “Yeah, he’s still at the flat, but he’s obsessed with trying to enchant the toaster so it sings opera.” She rested her chin lightly on Lydia’s shoulder. “Sleepover’s a must. But first —“

She gently poked Lydia’s cheek. “What’s going on? You’re doing that thing where you smile like everything’s fine, but you’re squeezing me like I’m your emotional life raft.”

“So,” she tilted her head, a playful spark in her eyes, “are we easing into the night, or going all in?” It had been ages since she’d let herself get properly drunk, but maybe that was exactly what the evening called for. “Firewhiskey?”

She popped the cork off the firewhiskey with a practiced flick of her thumb, the scent of spice and danger hitting instantly. Pouring generous amounts into both their glasses, she slid one across with a little flourish, then raised hers high.

“To questionable decisions and bad ideas,” Madhuri toasted, eyes gleaming with mischief.

She clinked their glasses together with a satisfying clack, then knocked the drink back like a woman on a mission.

“Now,” she said, voice rough from the burn, “tell me something reckless we can regret but not regret in the morning.”

Alara couldn’t wait to get out for the evening. Her head was swirling with thoughts, and all she wanted was to let go of them for a the night.

The moment she saw her friend walk in, a genuine smile lit up her face. She stood quickly, wrapping her in a warm hug.

“So,” she grinned, “what are we drinking tonight?”

She scanned the room — as she always did, looking for familiar faces to have drinks with. The social butterfly would have it no other way. That’s when she spotted Alara. Perfect.

Running up to her, she reciprocated the hug. “Imagine seeing you here tonight! It’s fate!” A large smile crossed her face. “We are drinking whatever gets us drunk,” she smiled mischievously.

Lydia flopped back against the booth seat and sighed loudly. Caellum wasn't ever going to like her back and Evan didn't even ride horses. Maybe she'd just been kissing the wrong girls or something. Or maybe she should try just... talking to Caellum about it all. Yeah, right. She was never doing that.

"Even worse than bakeries: pureblood family functions. They really are lovely, it's not like I'm not having fun. I can't tell if I'm getting bored and ready for something new, or if I want something that'll actually like, become something? I don't know."

“Okay first of all, thank you,” she said, raising her eyebrows with mock solemnity. “I will be thinking about ‘you’d be great at family dinners’ for the rest of my natural life. Do you know how hard it is to get that kind of validation from anyone? You should bottle that and sell it, you’d make a fortune.”

She reached across the table to steal one of Lydia’s fries — an act of affection and mild chaos.

“And second of all: how is no one dating me? Honestly, I blame a combination of my intimidating intellect and sexual prowess.”

Madhuri shrugged. “But more importantly, you are spiraling and we need to talk about it. You’re doing that thing again where you pretend you’ve ruled out all your options when actually you just haven’t ruled in the real one.”

She tilted her head at Lydia, giving her that particular look — gentle, knowing, and just a little nosy.

“If it’s the kissing thing that’s got you panicking, I promise, the first two times are never the data you want to go off of,” she smirked, taking a sip of her drink.

She leaned back. “Or maybe you just want someone who makes you feel something, and no one’s managed to do that yet. Either way, that is not a crime. Unlike leaving me undated in this cruel magical world.”

"You don’t need to shut up, Max. That’s half your charm," she gave him a look, exaggeratedly sympathetic, "the tragic brooding and the verbal spirals. Honestly, it’s impressive how much you overthink and underreact at the same time." She took a gulp and passed the bottle back.

There was a beat of quiet before she added more gently, “She might’ve been special, but if she walked away that easily -- I don’t know. Maybe you were carrying the weight for both of you. That’s not how it’s supposed to work.”

She scrubbed her face with one hand, sighing. “Anyway. The Quibbler? Absolute chaos. Some idiot intern cast a reversal charm on the entire spellproof archive. Spellproof, Max. It’s literally in the name. Everything stored there for the last twenty years was floating around the building. I had to spend three hours chasing a levitating stack of conspiracy articles about sentient bread. And the bread kept yelling 'We rise at dawn!' every time I tried to corner it.”

Then she nudged his knee with hers, her voice softening again. “But seriously, I'm glad you’re here. Even if you do eat all the good cereal and hog the blanket.”

Her expression shifted with curiosity at the mention of the garden, brows drawing in. “Wait, no, I need to know now,” she said, lips pushing into a dramatic pout.

When Madhuri spoke again, something soft settled in Alara’s chest. “That really means a lot,” she murmured. “It’s not perfect, but… it’s getting easier.” She was clinging to what she could, the good that remained. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She clapped her hands and popped off the bed. “Yes! Let’s go make a mess in the kitchen.” She gave Madhuri’s shoulder a playful swat. “Oh hush, if I’m going to be called a blood traitor, I might as well look good being one.” She laughed, grabbing friend’s hand and tugging her toward the door.

She leaned in, lowering her voice as they started down the hall toward the kitchen. “I may have repotted all of Thalen’s soul-thistle clippings into tea tins. But in my defense, he left them out unlabeled, and I genuinely thought he was hoarding dried catmint again.”

She dodged the playful shove she knew was coming, her laughter bubbling up freely. “You should’ve seen his face! And then the vines started singing and glowing. Honestly, I think I made them stronger.”

They reached the kitchen and she broke into a bright grin, flinging open the cabinet doors like a stage magician. “Now then! Do we bake something classic and comforting, or go full chaos and summon a cake that screams compliments every time you slice it?” Madhuri nodded. "I'm thinking screams."

She held out a wooden spoon. “But you choose your spell, oh fearless leader!”

"My childhood trauma will never know peace." He said with an air of dramatic solemnity. Clyde was mostly fine with his childhood by now. It was what it was. He could joke about it without feeling like clawing out of his skin. That was progress, right?

"I'm free on the weekends, if the shelter thing is open then. And some evenings. I've not got an owl, so you'll have to send me one first, or let me know where to send one through the Owl Post office proper." He said, running through his mental calendar.

She reached into the pocket of her oversized jeans, and pulled out a scrap of parchment, ink already smudged around the edges. “Here, this is my address. You can pop by any time. I love talking creatures. I can't get enough,” she said, not revealing that she was writing a book on said subject -- or that she was Newt Scamander's daughter.

Her expression softened a little as she tucked a curl behind one ear.

“And, you know. I’m glad you can joke about it now. That means you’re healing. Or at least making peace with the past. Ferrets help with that, actually. You’d be amazed how much emotional clarity you get when one’s nesting in your sleeve.”

She grinned. “So how does Saturday sound? I’ll make the gingerbread pellets myself. They love those.”

At the mention of the rock, Lydia perked up. That was right proper magically weird. She loved things like that. Maybe she could get Maddy to lend it to her so that she could show Sybill. Lydia bet Sybill would have so many things to say about a semi-sentient rock. "Pet rocks are all the rage right now! Yours is just way cooler than anyone else's. Does it work on everyone, or does it just like you best?"

She shrugged and grabbed a fry as their food arrived. "I dunno about magically weird, but of the three guys I've seen recent all three of them don't know how to ride a horse. Mum swore it was a Pureblood skill, she swore! And now I stick out like a sore thumb."

She reached across the table, snagged a fry of her own, and pointed it at her friend. “Don’t tempt me with a good time, alright? One day I’m going to call your bluff, and you’ll be stuck taking me to family dinners and explaining to your mum why your girlfriend has a pet rock that growls at people it doesn’t like.”

"It’s got taste, what can I say? It wouldn't have picked me otherwise," she giggled. She tilted her head, considering Lydia. “But yeah, mostly it just vibes with me. I think it likes people who are chaotic with good intentions, which means you’re probably safe. For now.”

She eyed her with a teasing grin. “Also, don’t take this the wrong way, but how in the world are you attracting men who can’t ride? That’s entry-level stuff. What are you doing, haunting bakeries?”

She reached for another fry. “Maybe your type is ‘hopeless with horses but weirdly charming in a way that makes you ignore your better judgment.’” A pause. “Actually, that tracks.” She shoved the fry in her mouth.

Madhuri's eyes twinkled as she took a sip. “Still, if you ever get tired of that mess, you know where I’ll be. Rock and all.”

“Glasses are for people who have shame,” she said lightly, lifting her bottle in a mock toast. “So clearly, you’re doing just fine.” There was a sparkle in her eye that softened the teasing -- though she wasn’t there to make fun. She nudged his foot with hers, gently. “Okay, maybe you're not stewing. You’re marinating. It’s more flavorful. Just don’t forget to come out of the oven eventually.”

There was a pause. Not long, just the kind she let hang when she could tell he needed space to say something without being asked to. She watched him reach for the bottle again.

She leaned forward, bracing her elbows on her knees, looking at him not with pity, but the kind of fierce love only family can get away with. “If it were me? I'd reach out. Say the thing. Even if it’s awkward, even if your words come out sideways and you hate every second of it. Because not knowing will chew you up. And you -- you don’t deserve to be eaten alive by your own mind, Max.”

She laughed as Madhuri poked her cheek. “I am demanding. Can’t help it,” she teased. “You’re wild. Honestly, I think we both are, which is probably why we get along so well.” There was a deeper thread to their friendship, something unspoken, but for now, she was content to leave it right there.

Her expression softened at the mention of her family and what it meant to walk away from them, to be branded a blood traitor. “You know… I think I’ve finally made peace with it. Or as much peace as I can. I’m just ready to move forward. To focus on what’s next.”

The moment baking came up, a smile tugged at her lips. That passion hadn’t faded. “I’m sure we can find something in your kitchen to throw together. Let’s make a mess of it.”

She sat up a little and gave Alara a playful look. “You’re demanding and dramatic, for the record. I think it’s adorable.” Madhuri reached for a pillow and playfully smacked Alara’s arm with it before hugging it close. “Wild? Definitely. You should’ve seen what I did to the herbalist’s garden last week. It’s still glowing. Don’t ask.” She bit back a laugh, curling her legs underneath her. “But you’re right. We’re chaos in motion. A very stylish kind of chaos.”

Her smile dimmed, not in sadness, but in understanding. “I’m proud of you, you know,” she said gently, echoing Alara’s words back in spirit. “For letting go of what hurt and still showing up with love. That’s magic, too.”

Then she popped up suddenly, eyes glinting. “Alright, enough of the deep feelings. You promised me a kitchen mess. I’ve got honey, rosewater, a lot of cinnamon, and absolutely no plan. What could possibly go wrong?” She reached out a hand. “Come on, blood traitor. Let’s bake like rebels.”

At the mention of his ex, Madhuri didn’t react right away. She tucked a knee up under herself and studied him patiently, without pressure. “That explains the weird air in here.” She gave a little huff of breath. “You’ve been stewing.”

She didn’t ask who it was. She could tell by the look on his face that the memory was tangled. Complicated. And maybe still raw.

“I got held up at work. Quibbler emergency for tomorrow’s edition. They needed someone competent and who more so than yours truly,” she smiled. She loved her job and loved it even more so when she was recognized for the amazing work she did.

Madhuri nudged his shoulder lightly. “You okay? You don’t talk much about before. But that look on your face? That’s ‘I saw a ghost and she looked better than me.’”

A pause. “You want to talk about it?”

"I'm not a mind-reader, just an awesome friend." She confirmed as she sat back down. There was still plenty of time before her next shift and spending the whole of it with Maddy sounded way better than practicing her knitting. That particular new hobby was coming along so slowly it made Lydia want to throw the yarn out of her window.

"What have I missed in the land of Maddy, hmm? There has to be something cool happening in your life I don't know about yet, you're always doing something interesting." Lydia said, settling in to the booth.

“You’re lucky I like you,” she teased. “Anyone else calling my life ‘interesting’ would owe me a pastry for the insult.” She paused for dramatic effect, then sighed in mock defeat. “Okay, fine. There is something. Remember that weird glowing stone I found by the riverbank last week? Turns out it’s not just a pretty rock. It hummed when I tried to hide it in the sock drawer, and now it keeps changing colors depending on who holds it.” Her brows arched. “I think it’s attuned to emotions or …intentions or something.”

Madhuri sat back and tilted her head. “And I think the universe is once again laughing in my face for saying I wanted a calm month. So what do I do with a semi-sentient mood rock?” Her face was glowing with amusement. “Your turn. Tell me something weird and so I don’t feel like the only magnet for enchanted nonsense.”