Harper Baddock 23. BDK Hotels Owner/Heiress. Ravenclaw Alumna. Featured in Transfiguration Today
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Latest Posts by the-harperbaddock - Page 3
gretchen-whoisleft:
always a bridesmaid // gretchen and harper
Gretchen stood perched on a platform in the center of London’s Gladrags Wizardwear storefront, but neither the many mirrors propped up around the room—best to see every angle with, trifolds of glass catching the fading afternoon light outside and bouncing it around the room—nor the glass of complimentary champagne in her hand could distract her from pouting.
In almost twenty-three years of life, she’d had her fair share of setbacks and well-justified tantrums. There was a lot to be said, too, for this ‘not being the end of the world’ and ‘not holding a candle to the war, which was far more important and was more deserving of her time.’
But even as a young adult and—in her estimation—a war hero in the making, Gretchen could not make peace with the fact that her mother was remarrying.
The sting was not helped by the bridesmaid dress she was currently trying on for size, stuck with pins and clips and an uncomfortable, borrowed pair of shoes—to get a sense of how the material would drape, if it had been made out of a material nice enough to do any draping at all—and feeling ugly in a way that Gretchen Ollivander never did, and only a supremely cursed, outdated dress could inspire.
The beleaguered tailor had realized that the only way to get Gretchen to stand still through the already-overlong fitting was to ply her with more free champagne than the shop’s policy typically allowed. Assuming they were the only two in the store, Gretchen called out to her, frowning and trying to nudge her cleavage into something that even bordered on visible.
“I know it needs to be tasteful because it’s a wedding and all, but are you sure we can’t take some more material out of the chest?” she asked – voice carrying, encouraged by the champagne. “And I do still think it would look better in white. The bride shouldn’t get to claim it for this one; she already has three children, nobody has any misconceptions about her history.”
-
Harper had only been in Gladrags for a few minutes, keeping her head down as she browsed, looking to see if anything new had arrived in the past few days since she’d last been in, while she waited for the tailor to be ready for her. She’d planned on entering the shop with a witty remark to the woman about her favorite— or at least, her most frequent— customer arriving. But as Harper moved to open the door, she caught a glimpse of a pout, mostly shrouded in blonde hair and a ton of dress material, and promptly decided to enter as unnoticed as possible. Whatever was going on, she knew it was best to keep her intrigue from being too obvious. Luckily, the blonde woman was far too caught up in her own misery (and champagne) to notice.
When she heard the woman’s voice call out to the tailor, however, Harper’s head snapped up and she abandoned her previous strategy, instead walking towards the room’s central platform. “Gretchen Ollivander, as I live and breathe” she started, breaking into a smile, “It’s been far too long since I’ve heard from you.”
For a moment, Harper wanted to reach out and hug Gretchen, internally very taken aback by the thought crossing her mind. She thought, with a pang, that maybe it was a sign of just how isolated she was, but quickly banished that train of thought from her mind.
Piecing together the situation she continued on, responding to Grechen’s remark to the tailor, “But no, you cannot wear white to your mother’s wedding, even though it would be, um… a small step in the right direction for this dress”
Both of the young women laughed and Gretchen lifted her hand holding the champagne flute, toasting to the sentiment. “So, when’s this wedding?” Harper asked, settling herself into a chair off to the side of the tri-folded mirrors.
safiyeece:
closed starter for harper baddock
There were not many people in the world that Safiye trusted, even conditionally. It was a rare occasion to see her let her guard down, if not completely, but when it did happen, it was almost always in the company of Harper Baddock. Harper and safiye had orbited the same sun of High Society all their lives. When they both made it to Hogwarts, and Safiye was a little more removed from her parents’ influence, they’d given into the gravity of their worlds and become friends. It was an odd sort of friendship, where neither woman trusted the other implicitly yet both trusted the other more than anyone else, but it suited Safiye just fine.
So tonight found her in one of the many lavish suites in one of Harper’s many lavish hotels, one or two glasses of wine further in than she might have been in different company. It had been a near unbearable day where Safiye had entertained not one but two potential suitors, truly ambitious on her mother’s part, followed by a very long charity board meeting Rohesia had insisted Safiye attend in her stead. Following such a day Safiye found herself even more fascinated by the idea of Harper’s job than usual. “Tell me about work, what did you do today?”
@the-harperbaddock
-
Harper, like Safiye, wasn’t one to trust others. Maybe that’s one of the reasons they got along so well-- this was just one of the ways they understood each other. Despite the fact that they both kept their secrets and played their cards close to their chests, they were each other’s biggest confidant. Maybe, Harper had once mused to herself, it’s not despite the fact, but because of it. Because we both know we have secrets, and we care about and respect each other enough not to pry.
The two girls had danced around each other in their circles of higher society until their worlds finally collided at Hogwarts. They met early on, after getting a rare poor grade on a herbology assignment. Both girls ended up in the bathroom attempting to regain their composure. They commiserated over a shared dislike for getting their hands dirty with plants, over the absurdity of receiving a low mark in herbology— of all classes— and made plans to study together going forward. Soon after, they discovered a host of other commonalities they had to bond over.
Over seven years of friendship led them to their current position; lounging around one of the luxury suites at one of Harper’s hotels, almost through their second bottle of wine. Safiye told Harper of the two potential suitors she met today, and the young women all but staged a dramatic reenactment; roasting the men with mocking voices and over-exaggerated hand gestures while dissolving into fits of laughter.
When Safiye asked Harper about her day, Harper quirked her mouth in thought, before curling her lips into a smirk and describing the encounter she had at the front desk of this very hotel a few hours earlier.
She was in the back, when an attendant came and informed her that there was a woman insisting that she “must talk to whoever is in charge right this minute, about a very pressing matter,” The pressing matter, it turned out, was said woman’s commentary on the lobby’s current floral arrangements. “I am not a fan of these spring-toned hues,” Harper recounted, imitating the woman’s grating, high-pitched, and nasally voice, “Winter colors are far better suited to my complexion” To Safiye’s amusement, Harper continued on with her voices, giving the (abbreviated) version of the half an hour long back and forth that went on between herself and the woman, where the former attempted to reason with and explain to the latter that it was June— not traditionally a time for winter hues. “But here’s the kicker” she said to Safiye, pausing for effect, “I asked for her room number to send a complementary high tea tray, AND SHE TELLS ME SHE ISN’T EVEN STAYING HERE, JUST WALKING THROUGH.” With this conclusion, Harper dramatically collapsed onto the bed, throwing her head into her hands.
“So,” Harper continued, as she poured both girls more wine, “was the charity meeting you were-” she cleared her throat knowingly, “so kind to grace with your presence any type of productive, or was it the usual shit?”
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.
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.
Liquid Dinner // Harper and Sebastian
It hadn’t been a particularly difficult or even eventful day for Harper. No hotel crises on her radar. If any were brewing, the management had elected not to tell her yet. Shrugging to herself, she tried to dismiss the thought and convince herself that she was making the best of what her evening had become. She tried not to roll her eyes too obviously at that thought as she subtly scanned the seedy yet passingly comfortable bar.
She had been about to leave her office suite at one of the London hotels, grab herself some dinner, and head home when an owl swooped in through one of the windows in the small entryway sitting room, delivering a message. The way the bird’s marigold-colored eyes blazed into hers before it flew out as swiftly as it arrived told Harper that this was not a note that could wait until after she picked up dinner. After taking a moment to skim through it, she set her jaw, letting out a frustrated exhale as she turned around and headed back up the miniature set of stairs that led to the actual room of her office. The note, unsurprisingly, contained instructions about hotel paperwork that she needed to prepare and information about when and where to meet: In two hours’ time at one of the bars that served as a Death Eater hangout. It wasn’t that Harper minded putting in the effort to do the work. In fact, she enjoyed putting together the documents and creating their details. They were always impeccable, of course, and Harper took great pleasure in being told as much. What she wished, however, was that she would be given more notice on these tasks. She understood the importance of secrecy and discretion, and that some of these needs popped up unexpectedly, but informing her at least a couple more hours in advance should theoretically be doable.
So here she was… two hours later…. dinner-less. She sat at the bar, swirling a mostly full glass of gin and tonic. Harper wasn’t usually an impatient person, but as five minutes ticked by she contemplated downing the rest of her drink as she waited.
@sebastian-whoisleft
lilyeliora·:
Lily Evans had always been an animal person. When she was a child, both young and not so young, she was forever rescuing wounded birds and scrawny tomcats from the streets of Cokeworth, much to her mother’s chagrin and even at times irritation. She’d loved living at Hogwarts surrounded by everyone’s pets, and one of the happiest days of her life was when she adopted Cheshire. She looked forward to the day that she was no longer living in a cramped apartment and was making enough money to adopt a second cat. Until such a time came, she contented herself to window shopping at Magical Menagerie.
It was, in fact, one of her favorite pastimes, and what she’d planned to do after work today. She was just planning to stand outside the front window for a little while, and maybe go inside to pet a few cats, when she saw another young woman standing in front of the shop. She seemed quite confused, perhaps as to what she was doing there or maybe what she should be doing. Lily watched with blatant curiosity as the woman seemed to have a silent argument with herself, wondering what it was about and what the outcome was.
In the end, Lily’s curiosity and her sympathy ganged up on her, and she abandoned her previous plan of window shopping in favor of helping this woman with…whatever it was she was trying to do. She stepped closer until the other woman noticed her and smiled her best, most friendly, patented Lily Evans smile. “Oh no, you’re fine,” Lily shook her head, rejecting the offered apology. “It’s just, you seem a little at a loss. Is there anything I can do to help?” From anyone else, the question might have come off a little snobbish, or impatient, but Lily had a great talent for seeming just as genuine as she was.
-
Caught off-guard by the young woman’s offer to help, Harper did her best to contort the surprise on her face into a smile (internally kicking herself for how awkward she probably looked in the process). “Oh, I just… I, um, I… think I want to adopt a pet?” she eventually managed to blurt out, “But I don’t have much experience with animals. I mean, I saw them around at Hogwarts of course, played with some cats in the common room, and I recall my cousins had a dog growing up, but I’ve never had one, myself,” she quickly added.
Harper was usually a private person, so she didn’t know why she was explaining all this to an unknown person on the street. Although on second thought, Harper seemed to vaguely recognize the girl from school, despite being unable to put a name to her face. Regardless, there was something about the genuine smile and overall vibe that the woman gave off that told Harper she was an animal person; she was someone who should be adopting and caring for an animal (not you, a voice remarkably like her mother’s echoed in her head). It was probably due, in part, to the few subtle strands of cat hair that Harper observed on the other woman’s clothing, but also just how comfortable she seemed around the pet shop; a stark contrast from Harper’s own anxious energy.
“Is this where you adopted your cat from?” Harper asked, trying to prevent too long of a lull in the conversation and move beyond her clumsy introduction.
Chasing Tails //
Harper was never really an animal person. That was one of the reasons she was never inclined to become an animagus, despite knowing that she technically could, and perhaps should. Not to mention her job owning the hotels was eventually inevitable, and there wasn’t much benefit that being or having an animal could provide in that context.
But loneliness sunk in, especially with her parents passing and her leaving Hogwarts, where there was nearly always built in company of some sort. She resigned herself to that loneliness for a while, but the idea of adopting a pet, having a built in companion, popped up now and again. Sometimes she’d walk through Diagon Alley until she reached the Magical Menagerie, where she would casually window shop. A bit overwhelmed by all the smells and noises, she rarely ventured deeper inside.
How… how did people go about adopting pets? Harper wondered to herself. Did they just pick their favorite looking one? Was there supposed to be some special connection? Was it supposed to be like a getting your wand experience, where your pet picks you?
Maybe she wasn’t ready for this after all. She imperceptibly shook her head. No, Harper. You’re almost 23 years old, and you have the means to take care of an animal. Plenty of other people do it, so you can too. Stop getting in your own damn head and just do it. She was about to mentally debate back to herself when she felt a presence at the window next to her. Looking up with wide eyes, she stammered “Um, sorry, I’ll get out of your way.”
