Doctor Who Under The Lake | 9.03

"Mrs. Parkinson, it's great to meet you. The festival looks much better now that you're here." Morcant smiled courteously to Bryony, as if they didn't grow up in the same social circles their whole lives.

There was a playful undertone underneath all the politeness, of course. It was interesting to see his childhood friend as a married woman. But, then, that was probably his fault for not having settled down yet.

"I don't believe I'm the best person to have an opinion on tapestries, since the only tapestry I truly remember is the Nott's family tree tapestry. But I do enjoy the Yuletide spirit, it's my favorite." Morcant said, settling comfortably beside her.

Who: Bryony & Open Where: Samhain Festival, Market Stalls

Bryony had thought long and hard how her re-entrance back into society post-wedding would go, and it hadn't been this damned festival. They were supposed to attend a gala last weekend for one of the many charities she helped out with, but of course, she had been sick and they couldn't attend. And now her husband goes and tells her at the last minute that he would join her later, that something had come up. She was not pleased but she was unwilling to sit at home for another weekend. So here she was, hoping he would come and find her before it was too late.

"The holiday may be over tomorrow, but the season will go on for a while. It wouldn't be particularly tacky to keep this up, would it?" Bryony mused to the person beside her, showing them the tapestry that she had been looking at.

“Polo’s mothers might be lesbians, but they’re old, ok? They don’t get it. I don’t get it either, to be honest. I’m not going to pretend I’m modern, but– girls don’t dream of having a white wedding with two grooms, you know? It’s not what we were taught. I used to think that people were like two halves trying to make a whole, or like nuts and bolts. All you had to do was find that one piece that fit you perfectly. But Polo and I didn’t really fit together before. Then you showed up…and now we do fit together. You’re the piece we were missing. And, hell, when you find love, it sucks to have to let it go”

Polo/Cayetana/Valerio in Élite’s Season 3

Gamon looked at the whole exchange with an amused smile in his eyes, as he followed Ted to the exam room.

"I don't know, Healer Ted. Maybe I'm gonna have a sudden case of uncontrollable giggling if you keep being that funny, and that's gonna be your fault." He grinned cheekily, settling comfortably in his usual place.

Most healers in St. Mungus knew his case. The big shot quidditch player who ended his career way too early after he fell from a broom, and it never healed properly. Some medical gibberish about magical injuries, all he knew was that they couldn't heal his broken bones like every other time he fell from a broom. It was the end of the line for him.

It had been a few months since that whole drama happened. He was on the way to recovery, steadily receiving treatments from capable healers, all so that he could dream of getting on a broom again. Not to play, that he knew would never happen again. But he missed having full control of his limbs, thank you very much.

"I'm here for the treatment. I think there was something about checking the progress, if the bones healed in the right places without magic interference." Gamon explained, trying his best to not show how hurt he still was, inside.

setting: st mungo's, third floor: ward for potion and plant poisoning featuring: ted tonks & open !

"You're late.”

That was the monotonous greeting Ted received as he crossed onto the third floor of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies & Injuries, swapping out his signature brown leather jacket for the bright green robes healers wore as their uniform. Pulling out the lollipop he'd had in his mouth, Ted stuck out his tongue, which was tinted an electric blue from the sucker. "C'mon, Healer Boyle — you know, I'm actually fifty minutes early as far as time in Cabo Verde is concerned," he replied cheekily, earning an eye roll as a chart was shoved at his chest.

"Relative to where you are now, Healer Tonks, you're late, and on the day we’re dealing with an overflow of patients from other wards. Room five," the Chief Healer motioned with a flourish of his hand, setting Ted onto his first patient of the day. “And lose the lolli, will you.”

With a sigh, Ted twisted in the direction of the exam room in question, leaving Healer Boyle with a, "Don't ever let anyone tell you that you're no fun, Boyle," in a tone that was as friendly as it was sarcastic. Tapping a jaunty tune with his knuckles against the door before pushing it open, lollipop still in his mouth, Ted Tonks gave his patient a large smile. Plopping down onto a stool beside them, he caught glimpse of the Daily Prophet on the bedside table and had to bite down on the lollipop stick hard to keep from grimacing at the sight. That was hardly appropriate for sick people, or so he thought. Especially given what it was reporting on. "Wotcher!” Came a quirky greeting from the healer. “Someone’s having an eventful morning, hm?” Brows rose, clearly not referencing the newspaper and the distress it was causing everyone but instead the fact they were here, in an exam room in St. Mungo’s. “Now then, how about you tell Healer Ted what's going on and I'll see about getting you right and on your way," he spoke with an even and low voice, warm and open so as to break any tension his patient may feel. “Doesn’t look like a case of uncontrollable giggling, so we have that going for us.”

WHO: morcant nott & open WHERE: diagon alley, street near gringotts. WHEN: late afternoon

Morcant had a day off, which rarely happened for the unspeakable squad in the Ministry. He considered himself a very productive person, so he decided to put his financial affairs in order. After dropping by to see Alecto, he headed to Gringotts. He had several investments and assets in his name, and although goblins were very reliable to make money, they weren't very trustworthy. There, things went as expected. Some of the most important investments had major drops due to the war, so he had to rearrange a lot of things. When he left the bank, it was the late afternoon and his head felt like exploding. During all of this, his familiar, a black kneazle named Odin, walked dutifully by his side. Right after they left the bank, however, the feline stopped to smell someone. "Odin, no. Come on, stop being rude." He chastened the kneazle, who promptly ignored him and stopped right in front of the newcomer. "I'm so sorry about him. Are you in a hurry? He's being trained to detect magical imbalance, so I think he might be worried about you."

morc: how would you metaphorically describe your life and the journey(s) you've been on?

Barty Crouch Jr. was a small gift life dropped on his lap when things got hard. Not that Morcant was particularly deserving of it, he wasn't. And he knew that. Morcant was selfish, arrogant, greedy, evil, truly individualistic and filled with hubris. He was a liar, and he thought he was better than most people. He was the byproduct of centuries of sludge and madness, and that was fine with him, because at least he didn't appear to be as insane as he felt inside. If his life was a journey, Morcant was getting the shortcut with a smile and a picnic basket. Not because he deserved, but because he was the best kind of cheater there was. And it was okay, because Barty didn't really mind that about him. They were one and the same. Two fucking bastards in a single bastard picnic basket. It happed on a friday night, during one of the underground masked parties Alecto hosted at Delirium. Mouths touched, bodies hotly against each other and suppressed moans so nobody would hear. Things escaled to a level Morcant couldn't believe, and now, three weeks later, they lied together in Barty's flat. In Barty's bed.

"It's like you showed up in the right time, you know. Teeth baring, bright eyed and a fuck everybody attitude." Morcant whispered, fingers threading Barty's hair, short strands tickling his hand and giving him chills. "You deserve the world, Barty. I know you don't believe me, and that's okay, I don't believe I deserve anything good either. But I need you to know." Morcant got lost in Barty's sad eyes, his dark eyebags drawing him closer in a way that two magnets didn't normally attract each other. He could see himself in the way Barty screamed about his father, all the anger and resentment building up inside. When the Crouch boy appeared vulnerable with Morcant, unlike the invulnerable wall of attitude he gave most people... It drove Morcant to start petty fights with Crouch Sr. for no reason, feeding the enmity between the aurors and the unspeakables. "Everything is shit right now, so at least we're together here. Whatever you need, I'll be there, no questions asked." If Morcant ended up dying, he would send Barty a letter telling him to be happy, because that would make his father miserable. @bcrtiesjr

who: morcant and elowen @nobelandloved where: nott library, nott manor

The clock ticked by the second in one of the paintings. It drove Morcant to the edge of insanity, once. One step from the void—the void looked back at him, he felt it. But then... Something pushed him to the abyss, maybe it was his father —familiarity breeds contempt—, maybe it was the inbreeding —none of them escaped the madness—. but he guessed it didn't really matter. Show me one pureblood who isn't a mad bastard, and I'll show you the face of a filthy liar. Or something. He knew it was true enough for the Nott family, but if anyone was safe enough from the dangerous type of madness, that person would be his little sister. He liked to believe that. Morcant would do unspeakable things to protect his sister—pun intended, since he was an Unspeakable for the Ministry. Morcant sat between two massive shelves, hidden by the grandiose and enormity of the library. Piles of books and parchments surrounded him, which wasn't a strange sight for someone like him. Neither was the crazy glint in his eyes, or the bags under his eyes of someone who didn't have a good night's sleep in years. Disrupting his intense study session, he saw Elowen's feet getting closer before he saw her face. — Something is about to happen, and we need to make precautions in case one of us die. — Morcant didn't say hi, or hello, or any blasé form of greeting. He didn't think it was necessary, with the two of them. Making small talk was left for high society sycophants and sucking up to powerful people. Not for your other half.

WHO: morcant nott & winnie yaxley @anapnco WHERE: st. mungo's hospital, blishwick wing WHEN: new wing at st. mungo's

Winnifred Yaxley was intelligent, funny, gentle, beautiful and came from a good family. She was prime pureblood wife material, and although her blonde hair fell nicely over her face, she wasn't the blonde he'd like to marry. Unfortunately, fate had other plans, and Morcant knew Winnie was as into marrying him as he was (which was, not at all). ━ You know, I'm really grateful you're the one doing this with me. At least you don't spare any punches on your opinions, and I gave you a nice protective jewelry. That's gotta be worth some points, right? ━ Morcant whispered, so only Winnie could hear him, looking at the oppulent necklace around her neck, to her bright eyes.

WHO: morcant nott & alecto carrow @ofcarrowisms WHERE: st. mungo's hospital, blishwick wing WHEN: new wing at st. mungo's

━ If I had a galleon for mudblood in this room, I could buy you a new pub. ━ Morcant rolled his eyes, as he took a drag from the cigarette he got from Arden. A smoke break was a welcome relief from the constant smiling, which wasn't something he usually minded, but that was starting to put a strain on his facial muscles. ━ Disgusting. Which is rich, considering this shit bloody stinks, but certainly less than the mudbloods. Want one?

Morcant didn't consider himself someone particularly cruel, especially considering some of the people he knew. However, he did have a little bit of a... Twisted sense of humor. How could one blame him, honestly, when the opportunity presented itself right in front of him?

"Well, that's unfortunate. I do believe kneazles eat toads, and Odin has a very peculiar palate." Morcant replied, raising the corner of his lips into a discrete smile. Odin was his familiar, a loyal and stern black kneazle that was trained to accompany him during missions. The beast in question eyed him with an impatient look, as if he was saying 'Are you serious? I have a better taste than that'.

Of course, the Diggory didn't have to know that...

where: samhain festival, hogsmeade when: evening with: open

"I don't suppose you've seen a loose toad hopping around here, have you?" Atticus asks with a sigh, straightening up from the stall he'd been peering under, "One of the choir girls has lost hers, and she's quite upset. He's about so-big, particularly lumpy, answers to the name Kenneth?"

Morcant about Valerian's first fiancée. @xsecretkeepers