ofbroomsncloves - Tumblr blog

ofbroomsncloves · 4 years

Text

themiddlemckinnon:

Mark hadn’t been overly involved in the festivities outside. He’d arrived with his sister but the two had parted, Mark had spent time scanning over faces and counting down the hours until he could make an excuse to leave. Diagon Alley meant that there was other things to do than just cram into the confined space of the local pub, he could window show for a while.

Stepping into a familiar shop, one he was something of a regular at, he was relieved by the quiet. The noise was outside the door and the walls of the shop turned it into a dull ache in his head. He could live with that rather than being in the middle of two drunkards yelling across the street.

Eyes scanned the woodwork on display. There was nothing Mark loved more than brooms.

Quidditch had owned this young boy’s life. He’d spent every waking moment teeming with excitement for the game. Every birthday and holiday was easy with Mark. He either wanted a new broom, a new glove, new set of goggles. His broom was his most prized possession.

A small smile crossed his lips before he heard the thud of feet and a flurry of words.

Turning around, he held his breath while desperately trying to think of a response. He felt as though he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. “Hey- uh, actually yeah, that’s why I’m here,” he responded before offering a small smile. Once that didn’t travel past lips being pushed together in a fine line and the corners of his mouth perking up. It felt like a way to show he wasn’t hostile and not some disorderly idiot marching their way in to cause a ruckas.

“I’m also looking for twine, the tail twigs are starting to fall limp so I thought to tighten them up?” he suggested his line of thought to someone who he considered an expert.

Chagrin. It wasn’t a word, Elizabeta used often but at this moment it seemed like the only work that could aptly describe how she felt appearing out of the back like some sort of bog witch, with an intimation factor of -2. If this person was here to cause trouble she doubted she’d be able to actually tell him to leave. She was still trying to come up with a more polite way to say sorry we are closed when he turned around, missing the swagger drunk belligerent men often had, and what Elizabeta had been expecting.

There was something almost familiar about the sharpness of his jaw and the tight smile that seemed to grace his features. “You came to drink my wax?” She was struck dumb as the wheels in her head turned, nagging at her to remember how she knew this face but she had never been to good with faces. Or names. Hand her a broom and she could tell you who made it and when but could never pick out the person who handed her said broom. It was a struggle, which was why she hired the girls to work the floor and she never had to pretend to know another person again. “Never mind, I get what you mean.” She muttered, glancing down at the ground as if avoiding eye contact would fix the stupid shit that had come out of her mouth.

telling him they were closed seemed like the worse thing she could do after that comment. Elizabeta tiptoed around the shop as if that would make the fact that she was walking around barefoot that much better, and lead him towards their supplies. “I would actually suggest wire for that, especially if you are as hard on your brooms as I am.” she paused for the briefest of moments, a grin spreading across her face as she continued a mostly one-sided conversation, as she pulled out the varies spools of twine and wire she had behind the counter. “Now, I know what you are going to say. ‘but twine is so authentic and natural and people have been using it for hundreds of years’” She made a face, sticking her tongue out as the mocking tone vanished from her tone. “and I mean you’d be right, but you really have to think about what is more important to you. A pretty broom or a fast broom.”

#c:mark #mark X elizabeta #gifs not working #poop

6 notes · View notes

ofbroomsncloves · 4 years

Text

Who: Elizabeta && OPEN Where: Triple Crown Brooms in Diagon Alley

Elizabeta had closed the shop hours ago, but yet she stayed working on a customer order for someone who had too much money and no sense of how brooms actually worked. She was frayed, frustrated to the point of hair pulling, only it wasn’t going to be her hair she was pulling if this thing didn’t come together soon.

She was missing the celebration, 4 years relatively terror free. It was an accomplishment. One Elizabeta had been looking forward to. As a new Business owner in Diagon Alley she had had a plan to introduce herself and her shop to people. She was going to change out of these wood stained overalls, Shower to try and get the smell of cloves off her skin and out of her hair.

As the music grew louder, she grew more and more frustrated. Of course luck would have it that the one night she was actually child free she was stuck inside listening to other people have fun.

The twinkling of the bell of the front door could be heard inside the quiet empty shop, short circuiting Elizabeta’s brain for a full 30 seconds. a strangled panicked groan escaped her before she padded out of her office and onto the floor, barefoot and looking a mess. This was not the image she wanted to project in her shop but her hand was forced.

“If you are looking for the celebration I’m afraid you are in the wrong place. The Closest thing to butterbeer I have is our homemade broom wax and trust me, you don’t want to drink that.” She said, running a hand through her hair, trying to tame it with a brush of her fingers.

#diagon event001 #diagon starter #she's kind of a mess

6 notes · View notes