Lilyeliora·:

sebastian-whoisleft​:

Sebastian did his best to be on time to the meeting, which was to say he was just over twenty minutes late. It was strange for him, too – not to be late to meetings, but certainly to be late to the information-drops held at bars. He had a sneaking suspicion that this was why he’d been chosen for today’s handoff…but it almost might have had something to do with the fact that it was Harper Baddock he was meeting and, unless they were sleeping with or enjoyed intimidating them, many of Sebastian’s fellow Death Eaters considered themselves above meeting with the lower-level informations. 

Knowing who he was meeting – and knowing the venue well – took a lot of the pressure off things. (A little more pressure might have encouraged him to show up on time, even early, but Sebastian wasn’t interested in connecting any Point A to Point B that would make him be a more devoted servant of his Dark Lord.) 

The Gilded Serpent was an infamous Death Eater haunt, frequented by seedy people doing seedy dealings often enough that people didn’t blink any eye when spooky, grizzled folks crossed the threshold. 

And so nobody, either, cast a second look in the direction of Sebastian Nott: his youthful glow, his recently-arrested father, his tousled hair. 

“Right on time,” he said, laying the fake congratulations on himself while he sidled up to the bar. 

Get in, get the information, get out, Antonin’s voice said in his head. Quickly. 

Sebastian flagged down the bartender instead. 

“Is that your first one,” he asked Harper, lifting a brow. “Or do I have some catching up to do?” 

-

Finally he arrives Harper thought, resisting the urge to look down at her watch as Sebastian slid into the seat next to her at the bar. She didn’t know him well. She didn’t know many of the Death Eaters well, to be honest. But the fact that he didn’t seem too keen on immediately turning his nose up at her gave Harper some semblance of hope. Combined with his tousled hair and the easy smile on his face, she felt like she couldn't be mad at the young man.

She was impressed that he was even making an effort to have a conversation; his words implying that he was going to stay for at least a drink or two. Harper had enough encounters that lasted barely long enough for the documents she had prepared to leave her hands, and she could count the number of times she received a thank you.

“And to think I was worried you’d stood me up,” she remarked, shooting him a sly smirk. “Don’t worry, you’re only-” she paused to effortlessly polish off what was left in her glass, “two drinks behind,”

For what it was worth, the Gilded Serpent made surprisingly good drinks, and most drinks were even better when you weren't drinking alone, as far as Harper was concerned. As a general rule, she was a private person: In her day-to-day life she didn’t usually let people in, and she certainly wasn’t the one who usually initiated conversations. But her rules changed when she was out at night; at a bar, a club, a party, really anywhere with drinking and nightlife. Definitely when she was drinking— but even when she wasn’t— something made her want to socialize; and she was damn good at it when she wanted to be.

“So, what are you drinking?” she asked Sebastian, tilting her head towards the waiting bartender.

You’re so calm and quiet, you never say. But there are things inside you. I see them sometimes, hiding in your eyes.

Tracy Chevalier, Girl with a Pearl Earring  (via roseir)

Tennis Court- Lorde

safiyeece​:

It was always a relief to Safiye to feel known by Harper, even if not fully. She spent so much of her time reflecting back what people expected of her, fighting to live up to high expectations, none higher than her own. So much of her life was a high wire act, it was nice to sit with Harper and just be, and know that Harper saw her, even if she didn’t understand it all.

“I’ll make room whenever you want me, just let me know.” It was not a promise Safiye made lightly. On any given day she had to contend with her mother’s plans for her, any commitments she might have to the Order, and carving out some quiet time for herself, and this rarely left room for impromptu plans.But you made sacrifices for your closest friends, and Safiye was well used to sacrificing for far less.

Safiye hummed in agreement with what Harper was saying, She herself was never able to escape the nagging feeling of lack. Like there was something more out there, something that was waiting for her. It was part of what had driven her to join the Order, and what kept her there, despite being generally unwelcome. Still, even her nighttime vigilante work wasn’t enough. She still felt, as Harper put it, stalled.

She chuckled at Harper’s question. Knowing it was all in good fun she still considered it seriously. “Well, five years after a horrible tragedy is probably around when you would meet him. He’d be utterly inappropriate at first. Either too poor, or too rich, and probably rude, but there would be an unspoken attraction neither of you could deny.” Safiye broke off her faux serious monologue to giggle, then picked back up. “You are the perfect romantic heroine, though. Serious and dedicated, but secretly longing for more.”

-

“I appreciate that Saf” Harper said, knowing that her friend having an open day was a rarity (and not just because she preferred to have most things scheduled).

But when Safiye starting putting thought into answering the question Harper asked— mostly jokingly— she was intrigued. Her chin rested in her hands and her drink sat unsipped as she listened intently. But she gave a scowl with no malice behind it at ‘probably rude, but there would be an unspoken attraction neither of you could deny’

“I cannot for the life of me decide whether I love that or hate that idea. Undeniable chemistry? Sign me up. But having to deal with someone rude first…. Well,” she considered, tilting her head, “I suppose it would depend on what type of rude they are.” Harper’s giggles joined Saf’s. She couldn’t imagine talking to anyone else like this, being able to know without explaining exactly what she meant by different types of rudeness (and there were plenty).

But when Safiye continued her monologue, she yet again had Harper’s rapt attention. Harper couldn’t help but feel touched and seen, but the logical part of her brain scolded her and kept her skeptical. “Me? The perfect romantic heroine? With my bizarre hours, contradictory personality and… affection for alcohol.” She took a big sip as if to punctuate the sentiment. “But you? Growing up full of glamor and beauty; invitations to balls and charity events; getting a taste of freedom and losing it; and the most important requirement— being a hopeless romantic,” Harper over-emphasized those last words before dissolving back into giggles.

“Seriously though, I know I tease you about it, but I think it’s amazing that you’re in touch with that side of yourself and what you want. It’s a good thing… Even if it does give me some of my favorite fodder against you” Harper said, sticking out her tongue.

lilyeliora​:

Lily nodded solemnly as Harper rambled. It was obvious, at least to Lily, that this woman was simply desperate for companionship, and hadn’t really thought beyond having some kind of pet to fill the void. It was, in Lily’s opinion, far more sensible than using romantic partners to do so. Still, she felt that she had to give a disclaimer. “Cats are more self-sufficient, but they still need attention and brushing and play time. I wouldn’t recommend a dog if you have a really demanding job or a particularly active social life because they can get really depressed, or even destructive if you’re not around enough. Either way, it is a big commitment. You could easily have this pet for the next ten years.”

Even as she spoke, she ushered Harper a few steps to the side so they were standing directly in front of the cats’ enclosure. Unlike in muggle shelters, there weren’t many black cats on offer, but there was a good variety of tabbies and calicos, and even a few torties. Lily was both pleased and sad to see that her favorite cat, a particularly round pale orange tabby, was missing. She’d been hoping to see him today, but if he wasn’t here, that meant he’d been adopted, which was better for him in the long run. 

She noticed Harper hanging back a bit and smiled encouragingly. “The next thing to do is just to hold your hand up to the cage and see how they react and how you react. It’s okay if a really energetic and playful cat makes you uncomfortable, or if a laid back one seems boring. Your personality and the cat’s need to mesh. I’d just recommend not getting too invested in a particular coloring, how a cat makes you feel is more important than how it looks.”

-

Harper swore she could feel her blood pressure rise at Lily’s mention of a ten year commitment. It wasn’t the prospect of caring for a living creature for ten years that gave her pause; Harper was no stranger to responsibility. It was the concept of 10 years down the road that she struggled with. Who would she be? Where would she be? Though it would be nice to have a companion to face the uncertainty with. Besides, Lily had a cat, as did Safiye, and Geraldine had her dogs.

She scanned the cages of cats, trying to determine where to start. Some of them, she noticed, had small descriptions of the creature within.

Pale green eyes caught hers first and drew her over to a brownish gray tabby with white paws, as if he stepped in paint. “Calm and independent” his description read. He gave Harper a sniff and she swore he rolled his eyes before turning his head away from her.

In the cage diagonally below sat a lankier, mostly black, tuxedo cat with amber eyes. She’d been batting at a toy in her cage and when Harper’s attention shifted to her, the cat’s energy increased, though with a slightly territorial edge. Trying to calm the cat she took a step back. It wasn’t until then when Harper noticed the note describing her as “highly energetic though a little possessive”

Somewhat randomly, Harper picked a different section of cages to focus on. Inside one, a medium sized cat with multicolored patches of fur— she thought Lily had called it a tortie— slept soundly, and she couldn’t bring herself to disturb it. The chunky, cinnamon toned tabby in the neighboring cage stretched and let out a gravelly meow before retreating further back.

A few rows down, a small, solid grey cat with emerald eyes let out a meow crossed with a chirp that made Harper crouch to its level. Offering her hand, the creature bumped it with its forehead and rubbed against it. Heart melting, she looked for a label with any descriptions or requirements, and smiled when she saw none. But, as if to dash her hopes, a shopkeeper walked by moments later. “A lovely little girl she is. Just arrived yesterday evening so I haven’t had a chance to add a label yet, but we’d like to keep her and her brother together” she commented, gesturing towards the cage next to it, where a similar looking cat was curled up lazily. Harper knew she couldn’t handle two— she was still concerned about messing up one.

“I’ll be back in a minute” Harper said quickly, trying not to show the dejection she felt. She took a partial lap around the store, stopping among the aisles of cat essentials and accessories.

“Powder room” Architectural digest 1977.

lilyeliora·:

Lily smiled a soft, patient smile as she watched the other woman struggle and not entirely succeed in covering up her surprise. It was something Lily was used to, especially in people who didn’t know her well. She never felt like the way she acted was anything extraordinary, but others seemed to think so. It might have been easy to think she was too kind, too genuine, that she cared too much, but she always had Howell’s voice in her mind telling her her heart was her strength and she should never let her mind drown out her gut. Lily Evans did not grow up in a vacuum, and she was shaped by her father’s  life, taking  on  his philosophies for herself. 

So when the brunette finally spoke, Lily didn’t laugh or tease her for babbling, or for never owning a pet which seemed unthinkable to Lily. Instead, she just did what  she  did best and leaned into the good. “That’s so exciting, I’d love to help! I’m  Lily  Evans.” Lily held her hand out to  shake. 

At first Lily was taken aback by the question about her cat. How did this woman know she owned a cat? Was she being watched? Was this woman a death eater? Lily forced herself to push away the thought, dismissing it as paranoia. Surely, after May, the aurors and especially the Order would tell her if she was in danger. She looked down and recognized the black hairs clinging to her t-shirt. She almost laughed at her momentary, absurd suspicions. “I actually got my cat from a shelter in my hometown, but I like to window shop here sometimes.” Sometimes, as if it wasn’t something she did at least once a week.

-

Hearing that Lily adopted her cat from a hometown shelter, Harper couldn’t help but wonder what that her life growing up must have been like. She pictured rolling green hills and a warm environment; one where parents encouraged their kids to pet, play with, and get attached to animals. Perhaps that was too idealistic; after all she really didn’t know anything about this girl and her background, not beyond the little she had just learned. Despite this, Harper couldn’t help but feel a pang of wistfulness, especially when she compared it to her own upbringing; though she immediately felt guilty for doing so. She knew it wasn’t meant to leave her so isolated, that her parents did want the best for her. But at the end of the day, azoy gait es (that’s the way it goes), as her grandmother used to say.

“Harper Baddock” she introduced herself, shaking the woman’s outstretched hand with a practiced ease and instinctively flashing her go-to smile, “I’m so sorry, I just noticed the cat hair on your shirt, and extrapolated” she explained soothingly, recognizing the spooked look that had quickly crossed Lily’s face. With her own strong tendency towards privacy, Harper understood the concern that arose when someone knew something about her that she didn’t expect.

“So,” she continued, slightly quirking an eyebrow, “I can’t promise this will be exciting or even successful, but if you do really want to help, please, be my guest,” Harper gestured toward the door between them, allowing Lily to go in ahead of her.

23 and Me //

Waking up and turning 23, Harper really didn’t feel much different than she had the night before. Which wasn’t a complaint, per se. But some silly little bit of hope inside her still gleamed… Maybe she would wake up and the mere act of turning another year older would just make something click into place; maybe she would finally have the answers instead of searching for them whilst pretending she already had them.

Part of her wanted to go out and celebrate; she craved the rare moment of letting herself be the center of attention. Harper was all too familiar with this conundrum. She tried to celebrate as normal, or at least as close to normal as could be, for the year or two after her parents passed. Not her best idea, though she was loath to admit it. The whole thing left Harper a whirlwind of emotions, and she spent the following couple of days holed up by herself in her apartment.

So after a few years of downplaying and minimizing the day, Harper decided that this year she would take a different approach. She’d let it be known that she’d be out and about for brunch and some shopping, and see where the day took her. No expectations of anything or for anyone besides herself.

Strolling through Diagon Alley, wearing one of her favorite summer outfits and reveling in the sound of her shoes clicking on cobblestone, Harper slowed as she approached Flourish and Blotts. She raised a brow and pursed her lips in thought. She was about to estimate how much time she could spend in the store before she’d have to drag herself away in order to get to brunch, before again realizing her only restriction today was, well, herself. She didn’t feel hungry yet, so deciding that food could wait, Harper entered the store and took a deep breath in, appreciating the smell of books and stationery.

“Bergdorf Goodman” 1971