wild honey.

Charity E. Burbage. Twenty. Hufflepuff, year three. Muggle Studies student. Spatula enthusiast. Inordinately fond of apple pie and E.L.O.

[charityburbage]

AU

[charityburbage]

REMUS LUPIN.

As he walked down the busy street, Remus wondered if it was possible to die from nerves, and if so, how painful and quick of a death it might be. It seemed stupid, to be so worried about speaking to someone that he had been talking to and known for years. She was his oldest friend (if you could call it that, and he hoped he could). Of course he wanted to see her. And yet, the reality of her seeing him back left a tight knot in his stomach that was threatening to extinguish any meager remaining measure of confidence that had brought him to the Three Broomsticks today. Without the comfort and security of separation that a screen provided, she would be forced to look at him and really see him— all of him. He wanted to be sick.

Pushing open the heavy wooden door, the werewolf lifted his head in surprise as a voice called out his name. Eyes falling on the blonde witch, Remus couldn’t contain the shy, nervous smile that spread across his lips.

“Hey Charity.” He answered, dropping his arm from the door and letting it fall down by his side. He wasn’t sure what to do with it— shaking her hand would be too formal and awkward and a hug too forward. “You look—” He started, before someone entering behind him opened the door into his back, and the werewolf was forced to step forward, a nervous laugh escaping his lips. “Yeah.”

He cringed inwardly before starting again, the words earnest. “It’s good to see you.”

Springing from the seat, Charity rushed over to her companion and threw her arms around him for a hug. Only mid-embrace did she realize the intimacy could bother Remus, and so the witch parted from him somewhat awkwardly. 

“I’m so, so happy to see you,” Charity chirped as she sat back down. She practically beamed and couldn’t take her eyes off the wizard, hardly believing that after all this time he finally stood right in front of her. 

“I can’t believe it. You’re here, and oh so tall.” 

[x-remus]

[charityburbage]

AU

Charity sipped on the heaping glass of butterbeer, hoping the foamy drink would appease her stomach filled with butterflies. Instead, it managed to instill more of a floating feeling within the witch, who felt excitement and nervousness intertwined into one heaping emotion. It wasn’t everyday that someone met their roleplay partner in the flesh, especially after years of writing together on Tumblr.com and shipping countless (very gay) characters together. Finally, and at long last, Charity anxiously waited at the Three Broomsticks for Remus Lupin to walk through the doors. When the door opened and revealed a lanky wizard, breath left her body momentarily. 

“Hi, Remus.” 

@x-remus​

[charityburbage]

CLEMENTINE ROBARDS.

Clem thought for a moment about the sort of place she would choose if it was her disappearing off into the muggle world; suddenly she was less afraid of the thought and more enamoured by it. She imagined going somewhere no one knew her, of being in a place she could be entirely herself, no weight of expectations, no pressure. She wondered if, given the opportunity, she would do it. As usual she found herself caught somewhere between yes and no, standing on the line of both unable to fall either which way. “I’d pick somewhere small and quiet, by the beach. It would be a nice change from growing up in the hustle and bustle and noise of London.”

“That sounds lovely. And you know what? I can see you somewhere like that too, some cottage by the water.” 

[charityburbage]

CLEMENTINE ROBARDS.

Clem tried to imagine what it would be like to live without magic, to not have the ease of doing tasks that she did now, but it was a difficult thing to envision. She wasn’t sure she could do it. “I think that’s incredibly brave. Exciting for you too, but very brave. Where are you going to be living?”

Charity smiled brightly, finding herself warm and excited at the thought of being called something so kind as brave---especially coming from a witch who she considered to be the definition of the word. “Thank you, Clem. You know, I haven’t gotten that far yet, but mum will help me find the perfect little spot.” 

[charityburbage]

CLEMENTINE ROBARDS.

Clem’s eyes narrowed momentarily, and then she was laughing. “I hope I’m not supposed to know what that means.”

“Oh, an egg is a Bilius but today, I suppose, it’s me,” Charity giggled. “You see, the egg, Professor Egg, approved my independent study for next semester. I’m going to live as a Muggle. No magic, not even a little. I’ll live among them and finish up my courses remotely, too. Can you, in your wildest most lovely of dreams, imagine it?” 

[charityburbage]

CLEMENTINE ROBARDS.

“Next semester?” Clem asked, eyebrow raised.

“Oh, goose. I haven’t told you yet, have I? I’m the egg.”  

[charityburbage]

CLEMENTINE ROBARDS.

“Make sure you’ve got plenty of pancakes to hand if you decide to smoke it all in one go.”

Charity giggled as she stared at the stash with wonder, gently slipped it into her bra for safe keeping. “I think I’ll save it for a rainy day when I’m gone next semester. A little pick-me-up is quite important, I think, even though I want to take it all in with a clear mind.” 

[charityburbage]

CLEMENTINE ROBARDS.

“Here, I got you something,” Clem said, suddenly remembering the near identical joint to the one she’d given to Danny at the party she had with her. She pulled it out, just as long and fat, but minus the bow. “I got the extra good stuff from my dealer, so he claims anyway. I think he just means it’s stronger. It’s for you and Davey, to say thanks.”

Charity’s eyes widened with childlike wonder as she took the joint with delicate hands. “Oh my goodness.” 

[charityburbage]

D.W. WIDDOW.

D.W. remained uncharacteristically quiet for the remainder of the task, mostly because she was rather drunk and it took a lot of effort to keep herself from swaying into the needle or off the barstool. She wondered briefly if she might have a concussion, but decided she didn’t care. And then, like Frankenstein’s Monster rising from the table with makeshift stitches in her face and very little control of her limbs, D.W. hopped off the barstool. “Cheers, Burbage,” she said, “If I get hepatitis, I’ll know who to blame for the job.” She took Charity’s head in her hands, palms on either temple. She was seeing two of her, but took her best guess at which one’s forehead to kiss like a politician to a baby. 

Then she fucked off, leaving Charity with the bill. 

Charity finished sewing the gaping would in D.W.’s head together, humming a tune of her own creation to soothe her nerves. Despite the shakiness of her hands, she managed to complete the job satisfactorily and gave the other witch a toothy grin. In a fit of hazy distraction, due to the daze of D.W. pressing her lips to Charity’s forehead, she hardly noticed the witch’s prompt exit. Instead, she continued beaming like a child who stood in front of Honeyduke’s. 

[ fin ]

[charityburbage]

D.W. WIDDOW.

D.W. winced a little, but then sucked in a deep breath and steadied herself. She would not pass out on a Hog’s Head barstool because she’d been kicked in the face by a goat of all things. Not today, anyway. “I’m more worried you’re going to chunder in my lap, to be honest.” She said this with some admiration, actually, at the fact Burbage hadn’t done as much already. 

Charity’s mouth fell open for a moment and she paused the sewing. “You know, I’m a bit surprised myself. Stomach’s not feeling even a bit funny, I don’t think.” With that, she resumed the stitching. 

[charityburbage]

CLEMENTINE ROBARDS.

“It’s hard at time, I won’t lie to you, but I just remind myself that I would never want to take the excitement out of pancakes by overdoing it.”

“That would be quite a travesty,” Charity replied honestly, not wanting to imagine a world where she grew tired of pancakes. 

[charityburbage]

D.W. WIDDOW.

D.W. poked the wound and winced. “You’re not going to make it worse, Burbage. In some cases, worse is better. It can only improve from here.”

Charity nodded slowly as her eyes fixed on D.W.’s face, then tentatively brought the needle and thread to the wound and began. After stringing it through skin once, her eyes darted to D.W.’s.

“Is that okay?” 

[charityburbage]

CLEMENTINE ROBARDS.

Clem took the plate eagerly, more than ready to scare away some of her hangover with a mountain of food. The Marlene side of her hangover wasn’t going to be so easy to vanquish, she didn’t think. “I do, at least three times a week,” she replied to Charity, as she filled up her plate. “It’s only self control that makes it three instead of five. 

“That is terribly strong of you to muster, Clem. I dunno if I could manage reducing my breakfast-for-dinner consumption by that much, now that I think about it.”

[charityburbage]

GRETA CATCHLOVE.

She’d heard something similar before, about gems for birth months, but had never thought anything else on it until it was mentioned once more, “What does your mom say about March?”

“I’m not sure, really. My birthday’s in June.”

[charityburbage]

D.W. WIDDOW.

“Well then,” she sighed, and cast a cursory glance at the wrapped silverware behind the bar. D.W. fumbled with her wand (she had only one eye open, as blood threatened to drip into the other even with the cloth in place), and in a moment had transformed it into a modest but intimidating needle from the silverware, and a thin shimmery thread out of the napkin. “Get to it.”

Charity’s eyes widened and she shook her head a few times, mouth falling open. “But--- right here? Me?” Noises erupted from the witch, none actually forming into words. “But what if I make it worse?”

[charityburbage]

CLEMENTINE ROBARDS.

“I love waffles,” Clem declared. “I love all and any breakfast foods admittedly, though.”

“What’s not to love about breakfast foods?” Charity mused as she led the pair into the kitchen and yanked a clean plate from one of the cabinet. She passed it to Clem and gestured toward the plethora of food options---waffles, fruit, coffee, eggs, potatoes, and more. 

“I could eat breakfast for all meals, even dinner.”