#henry's cellar bar
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This 1939 Pagoda style home in Grosse Ile, Michigan once belonged to Henry Ford & his wife. Probably b/c he was a very rich man, it has security features and secrets. 4bds, 3ba, $989,900.
It has the heavy original front door with a Lotus window. The house does need a lot of work and updating.
This is the main hall. We have the cutest guide for this tour, a little black Scotty dog.
The living room is very large and has a fireplace feature wall. (Are you spotting the Scotty?)
The fireplace holds the first secret: Push in the panel on the mantel and there's a secret compartment- probably for all his money.
The wood paneled library has a large window seat and wall of shelving. The ceilings have interesting shapes, which is a lovely feature.
The library also has secret compartments.
This is the center hall outside the dining room.
The center hall has the stairs that lead to the attic.
The dining room is huge. Guess they had banquets in here for other Detroit automobile moguls.
The kitchen had some updates but it also has mostly original features like the floor, the repainted cabinets, and the green & black tiles.
This is the servant's hall- it's awfully narrow, isn't it?
This large bedroom looks like the primary.
It has a cool large orchid art deco bath.
This is a secondary bedroom.
Another cool retro bath.
Large deck around the house. The home is on the Detroit River.
In the roof of the Pagoda is an "SOS Lamp" to signal the police if there is an intruder. (Nowadays, by the time they see it, assuming that they know what it is, forget it.)
This is the upstairs switch for the SOS light.
And, this is the downstairs switch. (It's such a mess, I'm surprised that it still works.)
These are the basement stairs.
And, that's the door to the boat slip, assuming that you want to swim to it.
Another door in the boat slip opens to the wine cellar/ballroom. That glass block bar looks like it was once beautiful, with the striped awnings and maybe colored lights.
The wine cellar still has some full bottles.
The servant's door is closed off.
And, this is an escape tunnel under the road.
There are 2 acres of property.
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27 - He's Not Dead
Part 28
His Golden Princess
@fanficismydrug @misskitty1912-blog @alanaangie24
The sound of beeping wakes me up. Blinking my eyes opened a couple times I get met with a bright light coming from the window in my hospital room. Turning over my left hand there's an Iv and some things attached to my chest. The door to my room opened and I recognized Dr. Whale but I don't understand how I am here. The last thing I remember was watching my sister and Henry cross the town line. After that all I remember is a fuss. Whale picked up a chart confusion written on his face just like me. "Astrid, why exactly are you here. The last time I remember you being in the hospital was-"
"When I ate the apple turnover. Yeah I don't understand it either." Tossing the covers aside I climbed out of the bed against his judgment. Seeing some clothes at the foot of the bed I raised my hand creating a cloud gold wearing the now light green jacket, white tea shirt. Dark blue jeans with my hair completely loose. Exiting the hospital I wrap my arms around myself heading for the woods. The leaves crunched underneath my boots. Pausing in my step I spun around hearing an arrow being fired. Wrapping my hand around it I gasped seeing a figure appears from behind a tree carrying a crossbow in his hands.
The stranger walks up lowering his weapon while I held the arrow in my hands. He has bright blue eyes and brown hair. At first glance I could see he was Robin Hood. "Apologies princess. I thought you were an intruder." He explained stopping a few steps in front of me.
"It's alright. No harm done. May I ask how do you know I was - uh am a princess?" I questioned handing him the arrow back. He clipped it back onto his crossbow extending his freehand that I shake with a small smile. "Astrid, Astrid Swan."
He squeezes my hand staring down at something on my left hand in confusion. "Robin of Locksley. And I called you a princess my lady because I've heard rumors that your parents are well..Snow White and Prince Charming." He lifted my left hand where I noticed what reflected in the sunlight that was coming through the trees. "Those are my initials on this piece of jewelry. Except I don't recall giving it to you."
Removing the ring from my left ring finger I was more confused then when I woke up in the hospital. It doesn't make sense how we ended back in Storybrooke. The ring is silver with an RH engraved on the back of it. Twisting it in between my fingers I started to hand it back to him. "I'm not sure why I have this. But it must belong to you. So here take it back. My guess is it's in this time of memory I'm missing."
"Ah yes. Everyone seems to be having a missing year. As for the ring you keep it." Robin closed my hand around the ring still in the palm of my hand. "If I gave it to you I assume there's a good reason."
I give him a smile feeling my phone going off in my pocket. Answering the call I gasped in joy recognizing my sister's voice on the other side. "Astrid, there's something you need to know. Somehow Gold - uh Rumple is alive. It's a long story but Hook found me and helped me remember. Dad and I found an old cellar with sraw spun into gold on the floor." She hangs up texting me the address.
Turning towards the theif he raised a brow picking up his crossbow from the ground. "I'm guessing there's news." Nodding my head I waved bye quickly transporting to my sister and father waiting outside a cellar.
"I wish we could hug right now but I have to see it for myself Emma. Somehow in my heart I knew he wasn't dead." I explained eyeing my sister before creating a sword with my magic walking down the stairs. There's a big cage big enough to hold a person. Someone lifted their head causing my heart to warm at the sight of his brown eyes. "Rumple...is it really you?" Tears welling in my eye I rushed forward gripping the bars of his cell in my small hands.
Rumple gasped turning around in his chair with a spinning wheel sitting inside his large cell. "Astrid...it's you. You...you have to leave. You have no idea what this witch will make me do to you. She can’t see you with me." I could hear the concern in his tone but it didn't matter.
"The wicked witch. Like the one from Oz..." Shaking my head I waved my hands over the lock undoing it and opening the door extending my right hand for him to take. "I don't care what some women wearing a pointy hat says. I know you, Rumple. I’m not afraid. You would never hurt me."
Rumple shakes his head no until I give him puppy dog eyes being able to feel his desire to come with me is stronger than his fear. He gets to his feet slowly intertwining his hand with mine. He rests his forehead against mine making me smile. "I love you remember that princess....now run. Run go." He raised his tone to a warning before someone laughed sitting in the corner.
"Don’t mind me. Carry on. I was just enjoying the show." The woman smiled having green eyes and curly orange hair. She holds the dagger in her left hand.
Drawing my sword I attempted to push Rumple behind me with my other arm. Aiming the tip towards her I gripped the handle of my weapon. I don't recognize her but she's holding the one thing that can control my boyfriend. "Let him go witch. Nobody in this town knows who you are. Why on earth do you need him. Fight me instead. Just let him go. I know that he's strong enough to fight against you. That we are strong enough!" I intertwined my freehand with Rumple's not backing down.
"You're soulmates bond is no match for this dagger. I suggest you run on back to mommy Charming." The woman smirked moving the dagger forward where Rumple suddenly shoves me against the stairs causing me to drop my sword. I grunted seeing his hands bawled into fists at his sides where for once since I met him I run away in fear.
Getting up the stairs my sister keeps her gun raised when i collapse into my father's sobbing. "He's alive...but she's here. She knows about our bomd dad." He wrapped his arms around my waist. Running one hand through my hair hearing someone coming up the stairs quickly.
"Zelena sends a message. She will face Regina and no one interferes. Next time you try to stop her I will kill you!" Rumple points his index finger towards the three of us. I bury my face into my father's chest wishing this wasn't how I found out the man I loved was truly still alive.
Yay! I managed to get another chapter out in my first week of being back in college.
Comments really appreciated ❤️
#his golden princess#robert carlyle#margot robbie#ouat rumplestilskin#ouat rumplestilskin x reader#rumplestilskin x reader#rumple x reader#emma swam x sister reader#emma swan#snow white#mary margaret blanchard#david nolan#prince charming/david#henry mills#regina mills#zelena mills#the dark one#ouat robin hood#once upon a time#ouat#ouat fanfiction#ouat fic#ouat fandom#oc : astrid swan#ouat mr. gold#the enchanted forest#storybrooke#wattpad fanfiction#comments really appreciated#elle fanning
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The Green Fairy: A History of Absinthe
When we talk about Spirits, perhaps the most controversial is the one that is slightly green in colour and believed to drive a person from being a silly drunk to a heinous murderer. But those are just stories or myths that often encircle the green fairy, Absinthe.
Throughout history, this drink is blamed for driving a man crazy, causing hallucinations and convulsions. Still, in spite of being so potent, this drink can be the centrepiece of your cellar.
So let's time travel to 18th Century Europe and dive deeper into this dangerously addictive yet delicious drink, Absinthe.
What is Absinthe? Find out from the experts!
Originating in the 18th in Switzerland, the etymology of Absinthe can be traced back to the Latin word “absinthium” which in turn originated from the Greek word “apsínthion” meaning “wormwood”. Now, the precise origin of Absinthe is unclear to date. Some say that this drink was produced commercially back in 1797 by a man named Henry- Louis Pernod.
Art is inspired by philosophy and philosophy originates from events that represent a culture.
Having an alcohol content of around 68%, the history of Absinthe is intertwined with the literature, art, and culture of Europe. Famous writers, artists, and bohemians of the long-established European and American society were well known for consuming Absinthe.
Earnest Hemingway, James Joyce, Pablo Picasso, Vincent van Gogh, Oscar Wilde, Edgar Allen Poe, and even the famous occultist Aleister Crowley was among the notable Absinthe drinkers of that time.
So is Absinthe truly the devil’s poison as most say or it is just a catalyst that enhances the chemical activities in the brain? The mystery remains unclear today!
What is Absinthe made from?
La fée verte or Absinthe is a flavoured spirit, green in colour, and primarily made from the flowers and leaves of grand wormwood or Artemisia absinthium. Culinary herbs like hyssop, Florence fennel, green anise, angelica root, peppermint, aniseed, coriander, and liquorice give this drink its highly aromatic and enticing smell.
The production of Absinthe became popular in the 1840s and was initially given to the French troop as a preventive measure against malaria. Slowly it made its way to the bars, and cafés and was appreciated by men of all classes.
Absinthe’s History:
The green elixir, although known to inspire most, soon became the reason for violent crimes and a number of social disorders.
Most people believed that Absinthe made a man lose his marbles. It had the power to evoke the untamed beast of a man, immolate a woman, disintegrate a family, and wipe out the future of an entire country!
Although most of these accusations were a mere fabrication of claims and defamation that were orchestrated by the wine industry, nevertheless the future of Absinthe was at stake, and it was banned in Switzerland in 1908.
Ironically, Switzerland is the very place Absinthe originated before enchanting the rest of the world.
The modern revival of Absinthe was in the year 2000, in France where they came up with La Fée Absinthe, which was the first distilled and bottled Absinthe since the ban in 1914. Slowly and steadily, it spread among people and now it's available in most places throughout the globe.
Production of Absinthe:
It is baffling to know that although the production of spirits like Whisky, Brandy, Gin, or Vodka has a set of regulations, most countries still don’t have the legal definition for the production of Absinthe. Hence it gives the producers the liberty to name it Absinthe or Absinth, which does not coincide with the generalised definition or the quality of this spirit.
Some produce distilled absinthe which is similar to premium quality gin with a much more complex texture. Distilled Absinthe is kept in Alembic stills with an alcohol volume of 72%. This is later reduced and bottled clear as Blanche or la Bleue. At times it is mixed with artificial color to create Verte (Green).
How to drink Absinthe?
Absinthe is perhaps considered to be the only spirit that nudges the curiosity of people in every corner of the world, starting from veterans to the uninitiated. The most common question that arises in the mind is, “Can I have Absinthe straight?”
You certainly can! Just be aware, for those who aren’t experienced in highly alcoholic drinks (such as Navy strength Gin or Rum), you may burn your taste buds!
Absinthe has no added sugar and a high percentage of alcohol, which makes it a high-proof spirit.
Hence it is always suggested to dilute it to make it more palatable. Take a glass and pour one ounce or half an ounce of Absinthe in it. Keep a slotted spoon over the glass and keep a sugar cube. Now slowly drop four to five ounces of water into the sugar cube to dissolve it. Now when the colour becomes cloudy white take a sip and enjoy!
You can also have classic Absinthe cocktails as it is a more approachable way to have this drink. There is “The Monkey Gland”, “The Morning Glory Fizz”, and “The Chrysanthemum” which are famous Absinthe cocktails. Make sure you ask your bartender for the recipe the next time you decide to have one of these!
Absinthe is the perfect nightcap. Having a high alcohol content, it is a bit too strong to be consumed as a pre-dinner beverage or even while having a meal. Hence enjoy it as an after-dinner beverage.
Characteristic of Absinthe
For those who haven’t had even a sip of Absinthe, they might wonder, “ what does Absinthe taste like? How does it smell? What does it look like?
Well, we can only get an idea of the same by reading or scrolling through the uncountable pages of Google. But the best way to know is by having a glass of absinthe.
However, the colour of real Absinthe is slightly greenish. This green colour comes from the chlorophyll of the herbs - wormwood, hyssop, and melissa from which it is extracted during the second maceration process. On adding water, it becomes cloudy also known as louche, due to the presence of nonsoluble components like fennel and star anise.
The taste of Absinthe is similar to black liquorice and has a sweet and woody fragrance.
Shop Absinthe from Spirits of France
If you also want to indulge yourself in the layers of this enticing drink, do visit Spirits of France. Our range constitutes an array of Absinthe that is sure to make you a creative soul!
Check out our premium collection at https://spiritsoffrance.com.au/ for detailed information!
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Best Places in Calgary for a Date
Let’s face it.
Finding a new spot to take your date to places can be difficult and time consuming. Maybe you’re new here or you’re just simply overwhelmed by all the options. We really do live in an up and coming city that has so much to offer (but seriously, thank goodness). Our team is big on supporting local, which is why we have created a list of our favourite places for dinner, activities and speakeasy bars in and around YYC. Visit us here: "Monolith Marketing".
Check out our recommendations and wow your date with places on your next outing!
Dinner
A foodie or not, impress your date with places and an unforgettable dining experience. These restaurants not only offer a tasty menu, but also include their own unique vibes.
Ten Foot Henry
What to expect: a fresh vegetable focused menu, shareable plates, rustic vibes
Location: 1209 1 St SW, Calgary, AB
Major Tom
What to expect: elevated menu, 40th floor views of downtown
Location: 700 2 St SW #4000, Calgary, AB
Fortuna’s Row
What to expect: contemporary Latin American dishes, shareable plates, dark & relaxing vibes
Location: 421 Riverfront Ave, Calgary, AB
River Cafe
What to expect: locally sourced protein & seafood entres, beautiful location
Location: 25 Prince’s Island Park, Calgary, AB
Orchard
What to expect: Asian & Mediterranean dishes, beautiful space with chandeliers & greenery
Location: 620 10 Ave SW #134, Calgary, AB
Teatro
What to expect: Mediterranean dishes, award winning wine cellar, elegant space
Location: 200 8 Ave SE, Calgary, AB
Porch
What to expect: stylish shareable cuisine, laid back summer porch vibes, intimate atomsphere
Location: 730 17 Ave SW, Calgary, AB
Lulu Bar
What to expect: asain-fusion cuisine, refreshing atmosphere, reminiscent vacation vibes
Location: 510 17 Ave SW, Calgary, AB
Model Milk
What to expect: refined comfort food, old exposed brick walls, highly energetic setting
Location: 308 17 Ave SW, Calgary, AB
Eight
What to expect: innovative regional dishes, full engagement with chef during dining experience
Location: 631 Confluence Way SE, Calgary, AB
D.O.P
What to expect: Italian cuisine, intimate atmosphere
Location: 1005A 1 St SW, Calgary, AB
OLEA
What to expect: mediterranean and western European focused menu, bright-modern vibe
Location: 1520 14 St SW, Calgary, AB
Fire & Flora
What to expect: Canadian cuisine, vegetable forward menu, local & seasonal ingredients
Location: 227 11 Ave SW, Calgary, AB
Luca Restaurant
What to expect: Italian fare dishes, stylish dining environment
Location: 524 10 Ave SW, Calgary, AB
Activities
These are for the ones who seek entertainment. With plenty to choose from, you can’t go wrong with one of these fun activities.
Watch the Calgary Flames at the Saddledome
Location: 555 Saddledome Rise SE, Calgary, AB
Check out a live blues performance at Blue’s Can
Location: 1429 9 Ave SE, Calgary, AB
Take a ceramic class at Workshop Studio
Location: 2501 Alyth Rd SE, Calgary, AB
Enjoy live jazz music at Alvin’s Jazz House
Location: 176 Mahogany Centre SE, Calgary, AB
Get competitive with a game of bowling at National on 10th
Location: 341 10 Ave SW, Calgary, AB
Take a cooking class at The Cookbook Co. Cooks
Location: 722 11 Ave SW, Calgary, AB
Practice your swing at Launchpad Golf
Location: 31 Heritage Pointe Dr, Heritage Pointe, AB
Pack a picnic and head to Prince Island’s Park
Location: 698 Eau Claire Ave SW, Calgary, AB
Kick back and watch a film at Plaza Theatre
Location: 1133 Kensington Rd NW, Calgary, AB
Get your game on at the Rec Room
Location: 1180-901 64 Ave NE, Calgary, AB
Share some laughs at The Laugh Shop
Location: 5940 Blackfoot Trail SE, Calgary, AB
Cocktail Bars
Maybe your date is more interested in sipping delicious cocktails somewhere. Don’t worry, we’ve got you covered for that as well. With most of these being on the DL, we can guarantee that your date will be very impressed with one of these spots.
Prickett Richard
Vibe: dark & intimate speakeasy
Location: 638 17 Ave SW #1, Calgary, AB
Paper Lantern
Vibe: underground tropical & Vietnamese spot
Location: 115 2 Ave SE Basement, Calgary, AB
Betty Lou’s Library
Vibe: American 1920’s Prohibition era with Paris’ Lost Generation speakeasy in old library
Location: The Devenish Building, 908 17 Avenue Southwest, Calgary, AB
Shelter
Vibe: private speakeasy for a weary urban traveler looking to escape the outside world
Location: 1210 1 St SW, Calgary, AB
Bar Annabelle
Vibe: vintage & warm speakeasy
Location: 109a, 8 Ave SW, Calgary, AB
Frenchie Wine Bar
Vibe: French-focused menu, intimate hideaway
Location: 616 17 Ave SW, Calgary, AB (through Una Takeaway)
Ajito
Vibe: luxurious speakeasy with Japanese food & drinks
Location: 7212 Macleod Trail SE #110, Calgary, AB
#Calgary Scenic Views#Best Calgary Cafes#Date Night Ideas#Romantic Calgary#Calgary Date Spots#Date Places
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So since fandom ate my brain and I am always thinking of random stuff at work, today I arrived at this thought. Lois, Clark, and Lana playing D&D.
It started off as something Lana and Clark did in high school, like maybe a couple of campaigns with some of their classmates or something, and when he and Lois finally actually enter into a relationship, they’re all talking about their high school shenanigan's and Lois admits that she’s never played D&D but from their stories of one of their campaigns it sounds like it could be fun. So they start a campaign, they try for once a week, but sometimes it winds up being two or three days in a row or every month. In any case they try to keep on track even if it is highly dependent on the threat level and travel ability, and it works well enough for them.
Clark and Lana switch off DM duties, though its usually Lana unless Clark specifically asks or Lana has had a very long very rough day and doesn’t want to DM. Lana tends to play characters that are tanks, largely because Clark’s characters tend to be something that require protection like that, because inevitably their characters will wind up being close friends regardless of alignment or race. And they go all over the place with race and alignments, though Clark sometimes gets very chaotic. But Lois is ALWAYS playing a chaotic aligned character, always. No matter what, warrior, monk, bard, whatever... chaotic. It gets worse once Diana hears about the game and asks if she can join, because it sounds interesting and well, they don’t exactly have anything quite like it back home. By the time she asks, the three of them are playing a campaign where BOTH Lois and Clark are playing chaotic characters, and Lana is SUFFERING because Lois and Clark feed off each other being chaotic, so she’s had to do all sorts of crazy shit in character.... so Diana is highly welcomed and they help her set up a character (she does a character who can heal because... they don’t have one, and thus Lois’s bard has been acting as the healer. Its gone about as well as can be expected when your main healer is a bard with barely any stats in healing things), and when they’re not playing they’re just roasting the bad guys Superman and Wonder Woman face (I mean... Lana knows Clark’s secret identity, she grew up with him. Lois is dating him. And Diana’s is pretty much public... she points out that its about the context, nobody expects Wonder Woman in a t-shirt and jeans in Kansas. This then turns into a minor squabble about Clark’s glasses, but they all agree eventually that people see what they expect to see and that’s why the folks with secret identities aren’t usually connected with their alter ego) and it just becomes a Thing to the point that when Lana starts dating John Henry, he’s invited and at first is kinda hella intimidated because Wonder Woman, Lois Lane, and her childhood best friend Clark Kent (even when he learns Clark is Superman he’s just like “Look, I get you’re the Man of Steel, but you’ve known Lana a hell of a lot longer than I have, that’s intimidating as hell man. You’re basically family...”), but he settles in with his niece and it just eventually turns into Superhero Family Game Night, with other heroes in and out, but the regulars pretty much always there barring global catastrophe. Or tornados. (One game night ends with them having to finish the session in the storm cellar, and Lois will not stop making cracks about Wizard of Oz and Twister, their boyfriends have to physically separate them as much as is humanly possible in a storm cellar. Clark modifies it to be bigger than your average storm cellar for the sake of everyone’s sanity afterwards.)
But no matter the campaign, Diana will always have a very interesting character, nobody knows how the hell she manages it, but she really sets up some interesting characters and everyone loves the storytelling possibilities, Lois will have a highly chaotic character, Lana will have nearly ended Lois a bare minimum of three times because of her trolling , Clark manages to troll the entire room at least once, Bruce will have a paladin, John Henry will again have insane luck with his dice, several sets of d20s have gone to dice prison, and the world will have been saved because there were like half a dozen superheroes playing D&D.
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You know how I love before & after pics. Well, look at this, remember when I posted the Henry Ford pagoda house in Grosse Ile, Michigan? It was so depressing, outdated and creepy? Shellydanger just submitted it and I noticed that it had a redo. Basically, they repainted, lightened and cleared out the rooms. It was also $989,900 and now it's been lowered to $799,999. Check it out, now.
The dingy hallway before.
The hallway now- much brighter light and they removed the curtains. (Worn carpet still remains, thought.)
The living room before.
And, the new, brighter living room. (But, that carpet.)
The very dark library before.
And, the lighter brighter library now.
The dining room before.
The dining room now. New paint and a new floor.
The kitchen had great retro cabinetry and tiles.
Glad they didn't change the retro look, but it still looks like a very commercial kitchen.
The primary bedroom was dark.
They emptied it out and lightened it up.
How did the current owners keep it so dark?
Look at how different the color of the purple bath looks now.
A secondary bedroom.
Pared down and brightened.
The other lovely retro bath.
Basically it just looks like they just turned on all the lights.
The basement stairs and floor got some new paint.
They fixed up this room, but it doesn't look like they did anything with the bar.
The boat slip looks better straightened up and letting the light in.
This isn't shown on the real estate ads, but it was on the house's Facebook page- the lower level wine cellar got spectacular uplighting.
Redoing the exterior.
The exterior is really looking good.
Check out the groovy new lighting. Too see the Before realty ad on the blog, use the tag Henry Ford house before.
#Henry Ford Pagoda house#Henry Ford house#Henry Ford house before & after#houses#historic houses#house tours#home tour
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Dora Doll & Ali Robertson at ‘Midwinter Misery Minifest’, Henry’s Cellar Bar, Edinburgh: 18/1/19.
You can find out more about this Sonically Depicting cavalcade of weirdo sound here.
#midwinter misery minifest#Sonically Depicting#Henry's Cellar Bar#morrison street#edinburgh#dj scratch & sniff#robert ridley shackleton#Sweætshops#ali robertson#dora doll#human heads#invisible man#red kevendra#usurper#giant tank#prick decay#Decaer Pinga#hockyfrilla#chocolate monk#cardboard club#cardboard prince#Psykick Dancehall#helhesten#katz mulk#white death#weirdo#noise#noises#avant#experimental music
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A Fool's Errand
A Henry & Matthew ficlet for @zullyluly who requested the prompt "Come home"
I know it was under "general prompts", and is technically dialogue, but it became a bit more on the angsty side ... I hope you like it! 🙈
Tag list : @legendofconsullightwood @themostawesomehuman @littleturtle95 @tobeornottobetequila @morgnstern @zfoxdraws @bookworm-jedi @magnus-the-maqnificent @banesbitch @fair-but-wilde-child @beclynn-herondale @khaleesiofalicante @my-archerboy @youngreckless @thomaslightwood @runecarstairs @high-warlock-of-brooklyn @itsdaughterofthemoon
When Matthew opens the cellar door, he’s hit with a billow of smoke and the sound of coughing. He stumbles back, covering his mouth, and does his best to waft away the putrid clouds.
“LOTTIE!!!” a voice bellows from below. “WOULD YOU GRAB THE WITCHLIGHT?”
Matthew rolls his eyes and makes his way down the stairs. The smoke is still thick and permeates throughout the lab. Matthew squints his eyes to see through the smog and covers his mouth with a handkerchief. He can still hear his father coughing as he fumbles his way around the lab, searching for the window. Instead, his thigh meets the corner of a table.
“Damn!” he curses.
“Lottie?” his father calls out from somewhere “is that you?” There’s a small thud followed by shuffling noises. “Blast,” Henry grumbles, “It’s on the table somewhere.”
Matthew’s hand finds the wall of the cellar, the stone cool to the touch. Standing on his tiptoes, he reaches up and finds the latch to the window, opening it.
As the smoke clears, Matthew can see the glow of the witchlight from across the room. He watches his Father waft the remaining rings of smoke from around his head. He blinks rapidly, getting his bearings.
“Oh.” Henry gasps “Matthew. When did you get here?”
“Not long ago.” Matthew shrugs, smoothing out the wrinkles in his vest.
Silence hangs between them. Tension left unresolved from the last time they’d spoken.
“So,” Henry clears his throat. “You, are you settling in, then?”
“Yes.”
“Is it very far from here? The flat?”
Far enough, Matthew thinks. “I just came to grab a few books I’d forgotten, then I’ll be on my way.”
Hurt flickers past Henry’s eyes, and Matthew has to turn away. “What were you working on?” He asks, moving around to the other side of the table.
“Ah!” Henry exclaims, a new light in his voice. “well I have been trying to test a new theory of mine using this formula…”
As Henry dives into his dissertation, Matthew falls into old habits. His father’s words drowning out as he watches the light reflect off the surface of his rings. The tiny rainbow prisms providing more comfort and entertainment than the scientific jargon. He could use a drink.
“That’s what’s got me cross. What do you think?”
Matthew blinks, startled, coming back to himself. He looks up at his Father, “Uh” he looks down at the paper in front of him. The letters and symbols merge on the page. “Whatever you think is best,” he says. “You know I’ve never taken much to tinkering. Don’t have the mind for it. Never was as smart as you.”
“Matthew…” Henry starts.
“I can ask Christopher to stop by.” Matthew interrupts, turning towards the stairs “He’s helped you before. I’m sure the two of you can make sense of it.”
“Where are you off to?”
“I’m meeting Jamie.”
“Where?”
“By the hat shop.”
“Which hat shop?
“The one on the corner.”
“The corner of—
“I’m not going to a bar!” Matthew snaps.
The side of Henry’s face twitches, and there’s a look in his eye. But Matthew can’t tell what it is. Pity? Guilt? It makes Matthew’s skin crawl. He just wants to leave.
“I should go,” he mutters, heading for the stairs. “Jamie will be waiting.”
“Matthew, wait.”
Matthew stops just shy of the bottom step and waits.
Seconds pass. Bile churns in Matthew’s stomach. He doesn’t dare turn around, afraid of the wave of emotion behind him. It’s too much. He should have just asked Christopher to pick up the books the next time he was here.
Finally, Henry speaks, his voice soft and sad. “Take care of yourself.”
Matthew feels sick. “Your goggles are in the desk draw. They’ll help… with the smoke.” He barely hears his Father’s thank you before he’s up the stairs, abandoning the books he’d come for, and heading straight for the carriage.
Why had he’d come? What was he hoping for, using a lousy excuse of forgotten books? He grips the flask in his jacket pocket, leaning his head against the window frame. “You’re a fool, Matthew,” he chuckles to himself as the carriage rides past the gate. As if his Father would ever ask his waste-of-a-son to come home.
#emmys1k#my writing#matthew fairchild#henry fairchild#henry branwell#tsc#the shadowhunter chronicles#chain of iron#chain of gold#the last hours
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Fall-ing
So, I accidentally wrote a drabble when I wasn't paying attention. I apologise to all you autumn lovers out there, it's not my thing and it's inescapable! Anyway I wrote this at lunchtime to get it out of my system! I thought it might distract from...well...you know.
She was running late for her nine thirty lecture. There wasn’t time to wait in line behind the flurry of girls ordering their pumpkin spice lattes so she’d have to forgo her iced tea today. She scoffed quietly at all those fall aesthetic girls, wearing knitted scarves and gloves even though the weather was still perfectly temperate. Every year they took the first tumbling leaf as their cue to light their cinnamon apple scented candles, pull on chunky knits and start squealing about things being ‘cosy.’ It was decidedly not her vibe.
“Oh screw you,” Betty muttered under her breath as a girl with amber curls escaping her rust coloured beret threw an armful of leaves in the air, staring at them as they fell, with a degree of enchanted wonderment that suggested that gravity was an unfamiliar concept to her. As Betty strode by, the girl yelled, “God, way to ruin the shot. Thanks a lot,” and Betty realised that her boyfriend had been capturing the moment on a phone as she had walked between them. The pink case suggested it was her phone so Betty sang a few bars of “White Woman’s Instagram” and kept right on walking. She heard the girl’s yelp of protest behind her followed by the boyfriend’s rumbling laughter.
She threw herself into a seat at the back of the lecture hall and took out her laptop. The image that appeared when she fired it up was a beach scene, turquoise water, palm trees, in the foreground a fuchsia coloured cocktail with a paper umbrella. She gazed at it and wished she could transport herself through the screen to that eternal summer. She hated the sense of time slipping through her fingers that came every fall, change and decay, wet leaves rotting in stinking piles, rain, every day a little shorter than the one before, every night a little longer, endings and fog and the steamed windows of overheated rooms.
Someone dropped into the seat next to her. She removed her arm from the rest and checked that she wasn’t taking up too much space. Soon there was another laptop next to hers, on the screen she glimpsed a snow scene, pine forests and white capped mountains. She was aware of his leather jacket creaking as he fidgeted, his long legs sticking out into the aisle. She risked a glance at him and blushed when she realised it was the boyfriend. She’d been pretty rude. She steeled herself and made her apology.
“Hey, sorry about before. I think I got out of bed the wrong side. Not a big fan of the season. Could you apologise to your girlfriend for me?” she said, shooting for contrite but not feeling that she quite nailed it.
“Oh, not my girlfriend, just a friend.” He smiled at her and glanced at her screen. “What was it Henry James said? Summer afternoon - the two most beautiful words in the English language.”
“I thought that was cellar door, “ she smiled.
“Hey, if anyone’s going to be quoting Donnie Darko here it ought to be me not you, my sweet summer child,” he laughed. Hot and funny, he was exactly her aesthetic.
“Well I guess you’re happy since winter is clearly coming,” she replied smartly with a wave at his snowy screen, glancing over at him to see if her matching GOT reference had landed. She found herself tumbling into fathomless eyes from which she was powerless to look away, blue green like a summer ocean. The world seemed to retreat as he moved towards her, his eyes flicking down to her lips, but then the lecture hall door slammed and the professor dumped his bag and papers on the front desk with a crash. She dragged her attention to her keyboard even though she could barely process anything that was being said, ignoring the long sigh from the next seat.
The prof was clearly keen to outdo all the pumpkin patch girls. In his russet coloured sweater and his burnt umber corduroy pants he looked like a gingerbread man. “So everyone, welcome to the romantic poets. On this gorgeous late September morning I thought we should begin with Keats, specifically with the Ode to Autumn.”
“Oh for Chrissakes,” she muttered. There was a snort of barely stifled laughter from the next seat.
Somehow she got through the lecture with its oozing cyder presses and rosy hued stubble-plains. Finally at the end of the hour, she prepared herself to leave, with some relief.
“Good note. You don’t want to forget that,” a deep voice murmured beside her and she looked at her screen in confusion.
“Keats, poet, pumpkin spiced bullshit,” was all she had written.
He grinned. “Look I know it’s not really our thing but do you wanna go crunch through some leaves and collect pinecones? See if we’re missing out on anything?”
Somehow, when he put it like that, it actually sounded like a lot of fun. She nodded and found that she had a smile on her face as wide as a jack o’ lantern.
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24 and 10, just because I'm curious how these two could possibly be combined
confusing a handshake for a fist bump and lifting someone up out of excitement
She hasn’t seen Jamie in two years. Hard to believe that. Hard to imagine. Jamie was such a fixture of her life at Bly, such a steady lantern in the dark for all those months--late-night conversations, endless hands of cards dealt, what felt like half the Wingrave wine cellar drained dry between them--that Dani genuinely forgot what it was to not have Jamie in her world. Jamie, who had been there for a single summer, feeling like the sanest measure of her entire life.
And then Dani had moved on. Hadn’t had a choice. The job was for the summer, and Wingrave had decided to try his hand at fatherhood, of a kind. There was no place for an au pair any longer. And there were other roads, Dani sensed, calling her name.
She’d said goodbye, and it had hurt. Hannah, holding her close. Owen, sniffling back tears without apology. The kids, clutching her around the legs.
Jamie, extending a hand.
Jamie, who had so quickly become her best friend in all the world, extending a hand.
She’d bumped it stupidly, her fingers curled into a fist to keep from properly touching Jamie’s skin. It hadn’t been intentional, exactly, though some part of her--red-faced and replaying the moment on a loop in the cab--thinks it might have been safer to lean into the mistake. If she’d taken Jamie’s hand, given it a firm shake, she’s not sure what would have followed. Not sure she would have been able to keep her balance, with her thumb braced along the backs of Jamie’s knuckles, with Jamie’s palm smooth against her own.
Better to look stupid, she decided, in the long run. Anyway, their time together had lasted all of three months. Seasons come, seasons go, and Jamie would forget her soon enough. Surely.
It’s been two years. Two years, and Henry Wingrave--cleverer than he’d looked, sneaking booze into his teacup at an awkward interview--had somehow found her address. The letter was neatly printed, an invitation: Miles’ thirteenth birthday, back at the manor. He hadn’t asked for much. They all missed her.
They all.
She tells herself not to think about it on the flight over. Tells herself not to pick it apart, calling a cab. Tells herself, remembering with a stutter of mortification how her loose fist had jabbed Jamie’s outstretched fingers, they means very little. A kindness, she suspects. A polite phrasing. We all miss you, Miss Clayton, very much.
Do you? she wonders, wringing her hands, gazing out at the once-familiar landscape. Do you all miss me? All of you?
As if one doesn’t matter just a little more than the rest.
As if she hasn’t been dreaming of one member of that little family more than she’s comfortable with.
She hasn’t seen Jamie in two years, and she’s almost terrified to find out what might have happened to their too-easy, too-warm friendship in her absence. Jamie had not been an easy wall to crack open in the first place. She’d been tough and wiry at the start, with wary eyes and a short temper. Kind, yes, and easier to talk to than she’d had any right--but difficult, all the same. It had taken weeks for Dani to coax her into genuine conversation. A month before she’d believed Jamie truly did brighten, to see her coming through the door.
Two years. How tall could those walls have grown by now? How heavy might the door barring her from Jamie’s life be, with all those months of silence stretched between them?
Why didn’t you write? she imagines Jamie saying, her mouth curled in a grim smile. Didn’t even try, did you?
Not true, though Dani can’t fathom telling her so. Dani did try. Over and over, not just for those first few months, but for two years. Two years trying to put it all down on paper. Two years trying to explain how Jamie--her eyes gleaming in the firelight, her smile sweet, her hand brushing Dani’s without thought--had been the only person on her mind, no matter what she tried to do about it.
Two years trying to find the words for a letter to explain what she knows, and what she can’t believe, and what she can’t get away from: that it had taken only a single season, to fall in love. That it had taken only a single season to find someone she honestly can’t imagine life without.
Jamie wouldn’t understand.
Two years. And now she’s here, pulling up the winding drive to that big old house she’d called home for almost no time at all. She’s here, stepping out of the cab, feeling no older than the au pair who had run from grief and wound up finding a short-lived, powerful purpose.
They’re waiting for her, she realizes--lined up outside the house like Flora’s dolls. Hannah, as beautiful as she remembers, with a brand new ring on her third finger. Owen, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, his apron dusted with flour. Flora, almost willowy with newfound height, launching at her, and Miles, broader in the shoulders, brighter in the eyes, reaching to kiss her hand.
Henry, too, looks pleased to see her. He looks healthy, his skin no longer the sallow of a man hidden away from the world. He smiles, and he presses her into a loose embrace, and she thinks it was worth going away, if this little family was able to bloom in her absence.
They’re all here. They’re all wonderful.
Except.
She doesn’t ask where Jamie is. Tries her damnedest not to let them see the crestfallen expression she turns inward, the plummet of her heart. Jamie isn’t here. Jamie has, perhaps, moved on, too--found a new job, a new life, elsewhere.
Jamie is gone, and no matter how wonderful the rest of them are--no matter how glad to see them she is--this will never feel quite right.
“You’re just in time,” Hannah is saying. “Supper’s about ready, we’re just going to set the table. If you wouldn’t mind doing one thing?”
Pasting a smile onto her face, Dani nods. “Anything. Point the way.”
“You remember the greenhouse, I assume?”
A flutter, kicking up in her chest, hard enough to rattle her voice when she says, guardedly, “Of course.”
“Our last party is working late,” Hannah says, sounding slightly grumpy. “Again. Honestly, you’d think she’s growing the key to immortality out there, with the hours she’s been keeping.”
“She--” Dani swallows. Keep it simple. Keep it normal. It’s been two years. “She’s still...?”
“Grouchy?” Owen suggests. “Stealing my best biscuits?”
“Here,” Dani breathes. He looks perplexed, his head inclined in affirmation.
“Of course. Couldn’t pry her from those roses, the stubborn woman.”
They say it like it’s obvious, like the story was only ever going to play out this way--but even as she’s striding across the grounds at a brisk pace, Dani isn’t sure she believes it. Could it be a prank? An elaborate way to get back at her for leaving? Maybe she’ll reach the greenhouse, place her hand on the door, and find the place gaping open with nothing but ghosts for company--
Jamie’s back is to her, the gray of her coveralls stamped with dirt. Her hair is loose, her head bobbing, and Dani--her steps cautious as she confirms, yes, this is the same woman who has been turning up in her dreams for months--realizes she’s wearing a pair of headphones. Her hands are steady, though her boot taps out a rhythm, and when Dani gets close enough, she picks up the hum of Jamie singing under her breath.
Jamie, no different than she recalls. Jamie, exactly the same, bopping along to the Walkman poking out of her pocket.
Jamie, who turns and leaps with surprise, jerking the headphones down around her neck.
“Christ,” she breathes. “Scared the living shite out of me.”
“Sorry.” She isn’t, though. Somehow. Maybe because Jamie’s bewildered expression is already giving way to a huge smile. Maybe because Dani suddenly can’t breathe, overwhelmed by the memories of this very room--cards and conversation, wine and laughter. Jamie’s hand, brushing her own. Jamie’s eyes, searching her face.
Jamie, never quite closing the gap. Never quite daring.
“You weren’t meant to be here until six,” Jamie is saying now, brushing the hair from her eyes. Dani glances at her watch.
“It’s six-thirty-nine.”
“Fuck,” Jamie mutters. “Lost track of--was supposed to help in the--never mind.”
She’s staring at Dani like she can’t quite believe her own eyes, her smile so enormous, Dani can’t imagine how she’d ever thought Jamie could be gone. Jamie, who is such a fixture. Jamie, who is so reliable, so wonderfully here.
“Can I hug you?” she asks, and Jamie all but charges toward her. It’s a clumsy embrace, arms tangling around shoulders, Jamie’s hips bumping her own. Jamie, who hugs her so hard, leaning back, Dani’s feet actually leave the ground.
“Missed you,” she breathes into Dani’s ear. “Wanted to write. Wanted to--didn’t know what I’d fuckin’ say.”
Dani buries her face in Jamie’s neck, inhaling the long-missed combination of soil and sweat, that undercurrent of mint that follows every cigarette. It’s not a polished, pretty scent; it reminds her of summer afternoons, of hard work, of Jamie’s smile flashing over a glass of water.
It reminds her of the heat in her fingertips, the urge to catch Jamie by the sleeve and pull her close, the reflexive lean of her body into Jamie’s on the couch as they both teetered toward dozing off.
“We’re supposed to be at dinner,” she says, relishing the slide of Jamie’s skin against her own. “We’re late.”
“M’always late, these days,” Jamie replies. “Think it’s worth it this time.”
“Can we--” Dani swallows. “Not now, I know we’re supposed to--for Miles. But after? Tonight? Can we talk?”
I can’t walk away again, she thinks. I can’t go another two years without this. I can’t put it in a letter, but I can’t let it go, either. Not without knowing.
Jamie can’t read her mind, she’s sure--and yet, Jamie’s hand cupping her cheek, Jamie’s thumb pulling gently across her skin, seems to find everything in the silence. Jamie nods once, letting her hand fall away.
“Think I’d like that very much, yeah.”
It takes every ounce of self-control, not to hold her hand all the way back to the house.
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The Phoenix Resistance - Chapter 2
London, England - August 8th, 1997
Over the past week, Devon and Henry had managed to buy a little tavern in Whitechapel. Devon also managed to get in contact with the Silversmith brothers. Edgar and Alaric Silversmith were happy to join her and they chipped into the tavern as well. Edgar was a skilled Archivist and his brother was an equally skilled Auror.
The Lone Star was a small rustic medieval style tavern. Wrought iron barred windows looked out into the street and glowed faintly from the light within. The interior consisted of large rough wooden tables, a high polished bar, and a huge roaring fireplace. In addition, there also were dozens of cardboard boxes scattered on the floor and tables. They were currently in the process of moving in.
Henry was sweeping the floor when Devon suddenly apparated, Eiffel Tower miniature in hand.
“Hey I’m back.” She greeted him with a wave of her hands. “Where’s Edgar and Alaric?”
“They are in the cellar working on the enchantments on the barrel door.” He replied, putting his broom down and wandering over to give her a kiss. “So how are Charlie and Asri getting on?”
“It’s like Charlie never left. They already have it up and running. Asri is excited to live in Paris because he was a baby when we moved away.” She smiled as she signed but then it faded and she signed more hesitantly, “I just hope the war doesn’t reach them.”
Henry quickly wrapped his arms around her, smiling gently as the residual smell of yeast and sugar reached his nose. “I can’t promise you they will be ok. However I can promise you I will try my best to protect them, including you. I love you.”
Sniffing and wiping away tears that have gathered in her eyes she smiled back, “Not if I protect you first. I love you too.”
Devon perked up suddenly, “I have something to show you. You’ll need your coat.”
Paris, France - 11:30 AM
After getting his coat and changing the time on the portkey, they apparated into the store room of the bakery, the smell of bread hitting them immediately.
“Meet me out in the car. We are taking Charlie’s, here’s the keys. There’s something I have to grab first.” She signed and handed him the keys before disappearing in the back.
Five minutes later Devon reappeared, exiting the bakery and shoving something in the trunk of the car and then jumping into the passenger seat.
“So where are we off to? Or is that a surprise?”
“You bet. Turn left up there” She replied with a wink, pointing down the street.
Following Devon’s occasional directions, Henry drove down Paris streets until finally coming to the edge of the city, the high urban buildings being replaced by more and more trees. Eventually Devon told him to pull over in front of a small cottage overgrown with vines and foliage.
“This was our house. When my mom was still alive.” She signed as she got out of the car, answering Henry’s question before he could make it.
“Come on, we aren’t there yet!” She added as she grabbed his hand after retrieving a large basket from the trunk.
The two of them walked around the house towards the back and then entered the dense forest. Bright green leaves gently rustled in the wind. Only Henry heard the cracking of sticks beneath their feet and the chirp of birds above.
Within minutes they emerged into a clearing. In the center laid a huge flat rock next to a small stream that slowly flowed over mossy stones. Upon the rock was a knit blanket made of deep red, orange, and brown.
Henry laughed brightly as they walked over and sat down on the blanket, Devon producing containers of food from the basket and laying them out. The last thing she pulled out was a large cardboard box which she instead handed to Henry. Opening it up, his eyes met an elegantly frosted cake topped with a mixture of fruits, obviously a product of the Marlowe Bakery.
“Happy Birthday, my love”
The hours passed by as they drank champagne and enjoyed a picnic under the noon day sun of Paris.
I hope you like it! @thatravenpuffwitch
#hphm#hogwarts mystery#devon marlowe#henry mcclarnon#happy birthday henry!#the silversmith brothers#edgar silversmith#alaric silversmith#TPR#the phoenix resistance#chapter 2#TPR: C2
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Driving Me Mad [G.W] - Part 4
Series Description: You and George come up with a plan to pretend to date each other. But what happens when you actually start to catch feelings...
Pairing: George Weasley x Gryffindor fem!reader
Word Count: 2k
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Taglist: @obsssedwithjustaboutanything
Description: George takes you on a secret trip to the Three Broomsticks.
X
“Hey, what are you doing?” You were sitting in the library taking notes and completing your assigned reading.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” you responded, peeling your eyes from the text to shoot George a look.
“I could use your help.”
“My help? What could you possibly need my help for?”
“Come with me and you’ll find out.” Your curiosity peaked as you raised an eyebrow at him. He gave you a pleading look and moments later you agreed. You packed up your things and followed him out of the library. You assumed you were heading to the common room but George grabbed your hand and pulled you around a different corner.
“Where are we going?”
“We may or may not be sneaking out.”
“And how exactly do you plan on doing that?”
“Just wait. It will soon become clear.”
You reached an isolated hallway in the castle where the One-Eyed Witch statue was perched.
“Here we are.”
“Here?”
“Yes. Now I will be lookout so you can go first.”
“Go where?” Instead of answering your question he cast a spell and the hump on the witch opened up, creating a passageway.
“Climb in there when I say go. I’ll follow you down a few seconds after.” You decided not to question his instruction. You trusted him and knew your window of opportunity was limited. He gave you the signal and you hoisted yourself up and slid down into the statue. You fell down the corridor and let out a little squeal, unsure of what was ahead. After a short slide, you were airborne and barely landed on your feet. The ground was rough and uneven. You stood up, wiping the dust off yourself and you cast the Lumos charm to illuminate the hallway. You heard movement a few seconds later and George landed swiftly right behind you. This clearly was not his first time.
“You okay?” he asked. You nodded and curiously looked around.
“Okay, I tried to keep my questions to a minimum, but where the hell are we going?”
“Hogsmeade of course.”
“Hogsmeade? Why?”
“Now I know you’re aware of the party happening tonight.”
“Of course.”
“Someone’s gotta supply the butterbeer.”
“Ah, I see now. And pray tell why am I accompanying you on this journey instead of Fred?”
“Fred’s been avoiding me lately. I offered to get everything tonight so I imagine he’s spending time with Lee and some of the other Gryffindors.”
“Anything happen?”
“We just got into an argument. It’s fine.”
“That’s not like you two. You never fight. Seriously what happened,” George was quiet, putting his words together carefully. It didn’t take long for you to jump to conclusions. “No…no. This isn’t because of me is it? I don’t want to drive a wedge between you.”
“No, it's not because of you.”
“If it was, you would tell me right? There’s an easy out clause for a reason, we don’t have to go through with this if it’s causing tension.”
“It’s not because of you. I promise,” he lied.
“Okay. That’s all I needed to hear,” you said.
“So, will you be my date to the party this evening?”
“I sure will.”
You made your way through the dark and dusty corridor until you reached a stopping point. You were expecting a doorway or something but the hallway just stopped. You looked at George, about to ask him where to next and you followed his eyes up the ceiling.
“You’re joking,” you spoke. He shook his head back and forth. There was no way you could get up there. George stood up on his tiptoes and reached his long arms up to displace a trap door. “Come here,” he instructed you. You moved closer to him as he crouched to the ground. “Sit on my shoulders. I’ll hoist you up through the door.”
“Are you sure about this George? I don’t want to hurt you.”
“What, you don’t think my broad man shoulders can handle it?” he joked.
“No, it’s not that-“
“Just hop on. You’re light as a feather.” You slowly put one leg over his shoulder and braced yourself before swinging over the other. You gently rested your hands on his head, to keep balanced.
“You ready?” he asked.
“Go for it.”
He slowly stood up and took a few steps forward until he was directly under the trap door. He fully extended his legs and you were looking into a dusty shop room. You held onto the sides of the trap door and hoisted yourself up ever so slightly, extending your legs. You climbed out and dusted yourself off when you saw George’s fingertips claw the side of the opening and soon he was pushing his torso through the hole in the ground. You offered him a hand but knew he didn’t need it. He had done this so many times before, he had the process down.
“And where are we right now?”
“Honeydukes cellar. Fred and I know the owner. He lets us come and go as we like in exchange for free marketing. That’s why we always have free samples of the latest sweets.”
“How do you have all these connections?”
“Dunno. Fred and I have a knack for getting into trouble and then talking our way out. Make a lot friends doing that.” George placed the cover diagonally over the trap door and led you upstairs. The shop was closed but he continued walking through the aisles towards the front door. He magically unlocked the door and you made your way to the Three Broomsticks.
It was a cool night, but the air wasn’t as crisp as you expected as you walked through the quiet village. You made small talk as you walked down the empty streets. Most of the shops and stores were closed at this time of night. As you neared the pub, you heard the buzz of the regulars and drunks carrying on and having a laugh. Part of you wanted to stay and enjoy a butterbeer here with George, but you knew there wasn’t exactly time for that.
“Madame Rosmerta! And how are we doing this fine evening?” George said as you approached the bar.
“No! No, you’re not getting any more butterbeers! I told you last time.”
“Now that is not fair. You know this is a special occasion. We’re hosting the Triwizard Tournament this year. We have to make sure our guests enjoy themselves and have a good time.”
“I don’t care. You’re not getting anything this time.”
“Oh, come on. You’re making me look bad in front of my new girl.” She stopped pouring beers, turned to look at us, and cocked her eyebrow. You shot her a smile, trying to help George’s case.
“Now, I recognize her. She’s always in here with a group of giggling girls. What’s your name love?”
“Y/N,” you answered.
“Well Y/N, you’ve got yourself a good one. Underneath all the pranks and scheming, Georgie’s a catch.”
You nodded at her statement and looked at George, trying out your acting skills, “He’s so good to me. I’m a lucky girl,” you said rubbing his shoulder.
Madame Rosmerta looked charmed and you could see her starting to soften up. “All right, all right. You’ll get your butterbeers. But this is the last time, you hear me?”
“Rosmerta you are truly a saint. Thank you.”
“Save your flattery. Meet me around back. Y/N, look after the bar.” You shrugged and agreed as she led you behind the bar and gave you nowhere near as much instruction as you needed. You made conversation with the patrons as you poured refills and collected empty mugs. You had to admit, it was a little bit fun. Once everyone seemed to be taken care of, you snuck out from behind the bar to look for George. Surely you would be on your way out soon. You headed to the back office and saw George carrying a crate filled with bottles of butterbeer.
“She’s beautiful that one. You make sure you treat her well, ya hear? She deserves a good guy to take care of her,” you heard from around the corner. You waited a moment to hear his response, your curiosity getting the best of you.
“Trust me, I won’t hurt her. She’s special.” You grinned at his response for a moment before returning to reality.
“So everything’s all taken care of back there. Glasses are full, bar’s wiped down, and everyone’s happy. Well…almost everyone. Keep an eye on Henry out there. He’s about to start weeping over his ex-wife.”
“Ah, I suppose it is about that time,” George chuckled.
“You handled everything?” she asked you, stunned.
“Yeah, I think. Everyone seems to be in good spirits.”
“No one’s ever done that before, aside from me of course. Listen here, if you ever need a job in the future, you come straight here and I’ll hire you on the spot.”
“Wow, I will keep that in mind. Thanks!”
Rosemerta gave George a pat on the back and came over to give you a kiss on the cheek, “You best be off. Have fun tonight you two.”
“Thanks again Rosemerta,” George said as you made your way out the back door.
“And if you get caught with that, it didn’t come from here!” she added. You both laughed as you stumbled outside into the cool breeze.
“She loves me,” he stated as you walked through the empty road.
“Oh is that so.”
“Oh absolutely. I mean every time, without fail, she starts with a stern no. Then I talk to her a little bit and she remembers how much she likes me, minutes later she’s shoving a crate of contraband into my hands. Look, she even put a bottle of Firewhiskey in this batch.”
“Wow, well done George.”
“I should say the same to you. You really know how to tend a bar. Anytime Fred steps behind there to hold the place over, about five different things go wrong and there’s always broken glass and some sort of spill. Rosemerta returns and goes ballistic; until Fred reminds her that he is indeed a wizard and magically cleans everything up. But she was thoroughly impressed with you. I wouldn’t be surprised if she asks for you next time around.”
“I would be more than happy to accompany you. Who knows, maybe I’ll end up taking her up on that job offer.”
“I’m sure you can do a lot better than running a bar. What’s your long term plan?”
“To be honest, I have no idea.”
“That’s a joke. You’re a Gryffindor prefect. You’re brilliant in all your classes. You have so much ahead of you and you don’t know?”
“It’s not like that’s uncommon. Are you telling me you already have a plan post-Hogwarts?”
“Course I do. Fred and I are opening a shop where we can sell our brilliant products.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I can’t imagine doing anything else.”
“That’s actually great. I wish I had that kind of clarity.”
“Well, what are you good at?”
“I’m fairly decent at every subject, but I don’t feel a strong connection to one subject over the others. Maybe charms or transfiguration if anything.”
“What do you like? And don’t just limit yourself to school. Just in general.”
You had never really thought about it before. Whenever the subject of the future had come up you changed the subject or completely stopped thinking about it.
“I suppose…I like people. Being around people and talking to people. That’s not much to go off is it?”
“It’s a start. You’ll find your calling soon enough. You’re smart and personable, people love that combination.”
“Thanks George. That is oddly reassuring.”
By this point you had reached Honeydukes. You led the way inside and you ended up scanning the aisles, salivating over all the sweets.
“Here,” George said, handing you a giant, heart-shaped lollipop. “Thanks for coming with me.”
“Wow, stealing candy for me. You’re too generous,” you joked. He rolled his eyes and you gave him a genuine thank you as you made your way back down to the tunnel.
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