Hair Color: Naturally blonde. Hair colour fluctuates according to mood, but she favours red and blonde
Eye Color: Blue (naturally). Also varies
Typical Hair Style: Most days, shoulder-length red hair with bangs
Fashion Style: Typical muggle fashion of the period - mostly bohemian, thrifted clothes
Distinguishing Features: Varies, day to day. As a Metamorphmagus, Connie is constantly changing her appearance. However, her most distinctive features that you’ll likely see her with on the daily are the bright red hair, the up-turned nose, and icy blue eyes.
Personality: Connie comes across as a generally easy-going person. She doesn’t like conflict, nor does she like taking sides. She prefers to come across as laid-back and confident - she wants people to like her. She has a good sense of humour and has a genuine laugh that’s infectious (she snorts when she laughs). She’s always the one with creative ideas - however, she’s not a particularly hard worker, so she’s not often going out of her way to do things.
Positive Traits: + Creative + Humorous
Negative Traits: - Indifferent - Fickle
Quick Facts:
Connie is a Metamorphmagus.
She has an older brother who’s a Squib.
She is not currently on speaking terms with her mom.
She is a halfblood - mom is a witch, dad is a Muggle. She’s never met her father.
She’s not particularly skilled at magic - though she’s never cared to put effort into learning it and using it (she failed out of Ilvermorny before she could finish her seventh year). She only uses it when it’s absolutely necessary.
Connie wants to be famous amongst Muggles as a horror movie producer/director.
Her stance on the war is neutral. She could be swayed to join either side by the right person.
Theme song: “The Bidding” by Tally Hall
Headcanons:
Connie really loves disco music.
She has picked up photography and filming as a hobby, and only uses Muggle cameras.
She plays the monsters in her own amateur films using her Metamorphmagus abilities.
Connie once had a whirlwind love affair with a woman who was part-Veela. They met when she moved to London, through the gay club scene. Things ended rather horribly, but Connie still thinks about her to this day.
Connie’s hair is usually blonde and unstyled on days that she’s feeling sad, or just not feeling herself.
She keeps her wand in her boot, or stuck in her hair when she does an updo.
He sighed, pulling out a new glass and starting the drink anew. Keeping his hands busy at least prevented him from trying to throttle his sister. Keeping his eyes busy also stopped him from looking at the puppy dog eyes. It was the oldest trick in Connie’s book and, unfortunately, the most effective one too. This time though, he wasn’t going to budge. He didn’t owe her anything.
“Do I really look like the dancing type?” He asked. “Doesn’t really sound like my kind of thing.” The mention of Hogwarts made him pause for a second, but he pushed it aside. Going to Hogwarts for a pity dance wasn’t going to change the fact that he couldn’t do magic. Besides, there was a small part of him - one that certainly wouldn’t admit it - that was worried that seeing the school for real might reopen his old wounds. He’d spent years cauterizing them closed, building up scar tissue around his vulnerability to hide it away.
But Connie was a knife.
She knew where to cut, and which heartstrings to tug on, and if he wasn’t careful, she was going to undo him all over again. He sighed again, finally lifting his gaze to look up at her from under his lashes. “Don’t you have other friends?”
☢
Connie wasn’t going to convince him at this rate - he was doing that thing where he shut down and avoided her eyes. She sighed and bit down on her lip, gaze roaming the quiet bar as if searching for the answer. When she saw it, her eyes lit up.
“I do have friends, but I’d rather spend time with you,” she said, running her hand along the counter as she walked towards her target. “Hey, does this thing even work?”
She ran her hands along the jukebox’s buttons. Many of the song titles were faded - unsurprising, since most of the selection was from a decade or two prior.
“Remember that diner we used to frequent back home?” she asked, “We’d save up for a month just to have the biggest milkshakes and - god, those burgers were kind of disgusting, thinking back on it now.”
Connie laughed softly, suddenly overwhelmed with an intense wave of nostalgia. Her finger lingered over one of the songs, and after a moment she pressed down.
With a whir and a click, the song started up. It wasn’t anything special, but it had been a very popular song when she and Lonnie were kids. Some sort of rock number that always got people dancing. Connie turned back around to face her brother and held out her hand, already shimmying her shoulders along to the beat.
“If you don’t want to go to the ball, we could at least dance here,” she offered with a wry smile.
When Glenda moved into her tiny apartment, she hadn’t foreseen picking up a roommate. In fact, she was almost certainly breaching the terms of her lease. It was fine. Her landlord barely ever checked up on her, and if he did, she’d just obliviate him. She’d never been one to use magic like that, but this was a special circumstance.
Because Connie… Connie was definitely a leading lady. Glenda had practically grown up reading scripts, and so many started the same way: an ambitious but naive girl moves to a new city to find her fortune. That description fit Connie to a T. And, well, Glenda wasn’t going to be the jaded, uncaring local.
It was clearly better to threaten immoral actions against a totally innocent man. Yep. Made perfect sense.
“Pancakes!” she announced happily, lifting the frying pan for Connie to see. She’d gone a little ham with the food colouring, resulting in the sad kind of green that made it look like she was frying a dead spinach leaf. “I swear to God they taste better than they look.”
🎙
Weirdly, Connie did not even bat an eyelid over the colour of the pancakes. She gave her roommate a tired thumbs-up and reached for the coffee pot on the table. After pouring herself a particularly strong cup of morning brown (just the way she liked it), and downing it in one, she finally found it in herself to reply.
“I’ve eaten worse-looking things, believe me.”
Memories swam to the surface of when Lonnie was still learning how to cook, taking on the responsibility of an older brother trying to feed his kid sister. Connie had eaten many burnt chicken nuggets and suspicious-looking pasta dishes as a child.
She fought a quiet, fond smile and took another sip of coffee.
“What’s the special occasion?” Connie asked, gesturing to Glenda’s cooking, “Or were you just in the mood for pancakes?”
Connie truly loathed these types of events. She felt awkward and out of place, and had no idea how to approach any of the eligible single women and...god forbid, flirt.
She’d been out of the game for so long, she wasn’t even sure what counted as flirting anymore.
She felt a little underdressed, as well. Most of the women here were from a slightly higher class than Connie, and it showed. They all looked stunning under the lights of the nightclub, in their sparkling dresses with their fancy hair, dancing and laughing and smiling and -
And so that’s how she found herself seated at the bar, keeping to herself. She’d just downed the last dregs of her beer when she finally noticed the woman who’d taken a seat next to her.
“Mm!” she let out a muffled noise of surprise, her eyes widening slightly. She covered her mouth and murmured a “Hi,”
She got a good look at the woman for the first time. She was beautiful, far more beautiful than she had any right to be. Long dark hair, eyes Connie could get lost in, and overall what Connie was sure was the face of an angel.
She swallowed her mouthful of beer and said nervously, “Is it, um, is it hot in here, suddenly?”
With most people that found their way into his shop Ambrose preferred to be politely distant. A safety measure of sort, considering how he had to pretend not to know at least half his most loyal customers whenever the aurors came a-knocking.
But with such a marvellous display of a very special power, he couldn’t help but light up. He made his way across the floor in a few quick paces, already nodding in agreement with what she was saying. “If you’re asking me, curiosity leads us to all the best places.”
With any other person, Ambrose might not even have answered the question. Far too incriminating. But now that he was hovering close to her and wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch her now colourless strands, he couldn’t help but be honest. “Darling, I think right now that might just be you. Genetic, I suppose?”
❀☠✰
When the man lit up and strode towards her decisively, Connie fought the urge to back away. She kept her feet firmly locked in place, even as he came close enough to touch her hair.
“Ah, well,” she smiled a little nervously, “I...think I’m the only Metamorphmagus in the family. Though I can’t be sure, because I don’t really talk to my extended family members and, well- “ she shook her head, cutting herself off. He hadn’t asked for her whole life story.
“I can’t control it, sometimes,” she admitted. “Ever since I was a kid, my hair decided to start acting like...like a mood ring, essentially.
“I can do more impressive things, though,” she briefly let her face meld into an approximation of the man’s own, mirroring him for only a second - before relaxing into her usual state. “See?”
She’d been on her way home from the theatre, having finished the make-up and touch ups for that evenings dress rehearsal, and found herself in desperate need of something to eat and perhaps a large glass of wine. She loved her job, she told herself repeatedly, but dealing with stuck up actors who continuously bitched and moaned about every insignificant thing really grated on her at times.
Rounding the corner with her head anywhere but focused on the path in front of her, she almost squeaked as a flyer flew into her face, but quickly pulled it away and read the luminescent green words curiously. Glancing up towards a woman with scattered flyers around her feet and a cigarette dangling from her lips, she quickly ran over, though her chunky boots made the running part a little difficult.
“I’ve got them, I’ve got them. Let me help you!” she said quickly, reaching down and collecting as many as she could in both of her hands. The wind took some away with it, but they gathered up most of them pretty quickly. “Perhaps they will also land in the faces of unsuspecting, but interested people” she offered, holding out the handful she had grabbed. “Do you make these films, or are you just posting the flyers for them?”
❀☠✰
Connie heard a small squeak of surprise, and glanced towards the source of the noise, lowering her sunglasses. She watched as one of her flyers almost wiped out a passerby.
Connie swore and dropped her cigarette to the ground. After making sure she’d killed the cigarette stub, she moved forward and crouched down to pick up the flyers.
“Thanks,” she said, upon realising that the stranger was helping her. She glanced up and met her gaze with a sheepish grin, “Usually I don’t throw all my posters at strangers, I swear.”
Connie stood up and thanked the woman again as she took the flyers from her.
“Oh, uh, I actually make the films myself,” she held out one of the posters in offering, “You can come to the screening, if you want? It’s this Saturday.”
She’d sort of been having a down day. So she wasn’t saying that this random stranger agreeing to watch her films was what the state of her mood was riding on currently, but she wasn’t not saying that, either.
The cigarette dangled between her lips precariously as she taped the poster to the electrical box. She took a moment to admire her handiwork.
‘Amateur filmmaker horror night’, the flyer read in luminous green letters. Beneath were the details in finer print. She was hoping to find others of a like mind, people who’d be interested in a viewing of some of her films.
The poster was askew, and surrounded by dozens of others of its kind, each doing its level best to hide the obscene graffiti that lay beneath. She hoped it’d garner the attention she was looking for.
Some of the flyers she had pinned under her elbow slipped, and scattered to the ground at her feet. She swore under her breath and moved to grab them before they flew away with the wind.
“Yeah, my–” his baby cousin, Grace, loved photography. But that wasn’t what he talked about with strangers. Sometimes he almost forgot. Now that Rene and Laure had both shown up it got harder to remember. “My favorite photographs are Muggle.”
At least she didn’t seem remotely thrown by their place and their general broke bachelor ways. He sat down and gave her a brilliant smile. This was going beautifully far, and Benjy wouldn’t have to know until the finals arrived. It would be totally fine.
“You’re the professional, darling. I will follow your lead gladly.”
–
“Mine too! There’s something about the moment being frozen in time that makes it feel a hell of a lot more special,” she gushed. “I have a bunch of old Hollywood Muggle photos framed back home...”
She trailed off. ‘Back home’ was still America, for her. Despite the many years she’d been in London, she still didn’t really have her own place to call home.
“Anyway, I’m getting off track,” she self-consciously ran a hand through her hair - which was much shorter than it had been a second prior. It had been steadily growing paler and shrinking in on itself, as if reflecting her inner state.
“Right,” she lifted the camera to her eye, “Just act natural, like I’m not even here. Gaze out the window pensively.”
When he’d first encountered his sister out of the blue in a whole new country, he’d considered it a coincidence. Now, he wasn’t quite so sure. Connie was determined - and crazy enough to have hired someone to track him. Maybe she did it herself using magic. He couldn’t know for sure.
All he did know was that ignoring her didn’t work. He had tried that. Sending her away didn’t work. She ignored him. All he could do was give her the bare minimum of interaction and hope that it was enough for her.
“Don’t know what the Yule Ball is. Don’t care,” he said simply, adding an orange peel to his drink to complete it. No sooner had he done so, than his sister had whisked it from him and downed it. He furrowed his eyebrows at her, exasperation painting his features in a way that only his little sister knew how to achieve. “Really, Connie? That was for a paying customer. Did that really feel as cool as you thought it would look?”
☢
“Mm,” she drained the rest of the drink, “It did, actually.”
Connie met her brother’s exasperated look with an equally practiced expression - one of pleading. Lonnie was familiar with her spectacular pout and wide eyes by now. It’d gotten him to agree to many things in the past.
“It’s the special...Winter Ball, or - well, it’s something like that, I don’t know - but it’s at Hogwarts, and they’ve extended an invitation to everybody,” she reached across the counter and grabbed one of his hands, “We have to go! Please?” She batted her eyelashes at him for good measure.
Mostly, she didn’t want to have to go alone. But she also really wanted to spend more time with her brother - they hadn’t seen each other in years, and she knew that he preferred to avoid her. It made her sad, and she wanted to fix things.
She almost said as much out loud.
“I miss you. It’s not gonna kill you to spend an evening with your little sister, is it?”
alecto heard the voice speaking to her, but doesn’t turn her attention away from the drink in her hand. she’d ordered one shot of everything - mainly so she could smile when the servers turned pale and tried to explain that they couldn’t serve that. but she’d been proven wrong. and she was glad that she had been. she’d been using her wand to seperate all of the liquids, levitating them up to the moonlight to try and gauge what each of them was from the colour.
“would you like a shot? i think this one’s just normal whiskey. never been a favourite of mine.”
she turned her head to look the other woman up and down. her outfit was nice. leagues better than the outfits back in the hall. most of the other attendees had managed to somehow tick both fashion boxes of being over the top and completely uninventive.
her head cocked to the side as she watched the other woman stumble over herself. she was lucky it was only alecto out here, other people mightn’t have been so dismissive.
“your brothers a death-eater. you’ve seen me at meetings. well, me or my brother. i’m alecto carrow. are you one too, then? one of us?”
. ✧ . * . ˚
“A...shot? Sure.” She was already buzzed, she couldn’t see the harm. Besides, the liquid looked so inviting the way Alecto had it levitating, shimmering under the moonlight.
“One of... oh, no,” she shrugged, “I’m not, actually. Can’t say I’ve picked a side, you know. I just...” she trailed off, unsure what to say. She just - what? Wanted to be safe, to stay away from trouble? To be on the right side?
Did she worry about Lonnie constantly? Of course she did. She worried that he’d ended up throwing in his lot with the wrong people. But he was also an adult who could make his own choices, an adult whom she trusted. So what did she know?
“It’s good to officially meet you, in any case. I’m Connie. Connie Gilmore.”
“Cheese I can provide.” He said happily, wandering his way over the fridge and rummaging through the drawers. It occurred to him belatedly that of course he could’ve just Summoned it, but household chores weren’t really his forte. “We’ve got cheddar, and, errr.. well, looks like it’s mostly cheddar. Irish cheddar though so it’ll be good.
”It definitely wasn’t a ‘nice place’ but it was their place at least. There wasn’t anywhere else he’d rather live. He loved it here with Benjy. They got along so nicely. “Oh, over near the couch is fine. The light’s best there anyhow.” Plus they had nowhere else to sit, so the options were slim.
He brought over the meager plate of crackers and cheese he’d managed to scrounge together, catching sight of her camera. “Oh, a Canon! Haven’t seen one of those around in proper ages, since my last real holidays. Do you process them all magically, then, or do you prefer to leave them still?”
. ✧ . * . ˚
“You’re familiar with Muggle cameras?” Connie’s face brightened with clear excitement. It wasn’t often that she met another wizard who appreciated Muggle culture as much as she did. “I usually leave them still. Prefer the pictures that way.”
She helped herself to a cracker and a small slice of cheese, humming appreciatively, “Good cheddar.”
Deciding to get to the matter at hand, she got comfortable on the armchair across from the couch and turned on her camera. She glanced between Gilderoy and the couch, then gestured for him to sit down.
“You can get comfortable,” she told Gilderoy, “I’m not sure what poses you had in mind, but I can guide you.”
As the store door hit the small golden bell above it, it transformed bit by bit into a equally golden canary. After beholding the woman who entered for a quick moment it took flight to find his master somewhere in the back rooms of the store.
Just before her finger could touch the glass, Ambrose appeared behind her with the bell-turned-canary perched on his shoulders. “I’d advise you not to do that,” he said, finding no need to announce his presence in any less menacing way beforehand. “If you wake him you might find his stare too captivating to look away.”
Shrugging his shoulder gave the bird the signal to return to its place above the door where it turned back into the golden bell. “Are you looking for something specific?”
. ✧ . * . ˚
Connie let out a squeak of alarm and whirled around to face whoever had addressed her. As if responding to her surprise, all the colour drained from her hair in an instant, transforming the shocking red into a lifeless blonde.
Realising that within seconds of meeting this stranger Connie had revealed more of herself than she needed to, she cleared her throat awkwardly and tucked her traitorous hair behind her ears.
“I, uh,” she stammered uselessly, “I don’t really know. I kind of just came in here because I was curious.”
She glanced around the shop as she spoke, taking a moment to admire the masses of unique magical items adorning the shelves. It was nothing like she’d ever seen before. Many objects looked as if they’d be great set pieces for one of her horror films - though she was sure those items were thoroughly cursed, too.
It was wicked.
“What’s the most interesting thing you have, here?” There was a glint in her eyes as she asked this of the stranger - a sort of excitement that hadn’t been present a moment before.
@cfthewoods Merry Christmas Cherry! May your Christmas be merry and bright!
I know we haven’t gotten to know each other much yet, but I was so excited to draw your boy the minute I got you as my secret Santa. I’m excited to see more of him, and to possibly write with you as well!
I’ve locked Charlie and Archie in a broom closet together <3 I hope you like it!
Connie had heard great things about Hogwarts - and even greater things about their Yule balls. The grandeur that she’d arrived to certainly lived up to the tales, of course; the Great Hall was decked out in the most festive, magical décor she could ever dream of, down to the enchanted ceiling. The atmosphere wasn’t the problem, not at all. The problem was the company.
Hundreds of witches and wizards she didn’t know, pretending to like each other and tiptoeing around one another with a bunch of airs and graces. Two-faced, every last one of them. And nobody wanted to give Connie - the American Halfblood without money, status, or even a real career - the time of day.
She’d ended up grabbing the nearest bottle on a floating silver platter and heading outdoors. She popped the cork off of the bottle and, without caring if it was alcoholic or not, brought it to her lips and tilted her head back with a huge swig.
That’s when she noticed she wasn’t alone.
When her eye caught the gaze of the other woman standing on the lawn, she choked. The mystery liquid fizzed up through her nose and burned her sinuses. She ended up having to turn away and cough discreetly into her sleeve - it was all very unladylike.
“Sorry,” she hiccoughed, turning back to the other person, “Wasn’t expecting to see anyone out here.”
She finally took a moment to actually look at who she was talking to. The woman was beautiful - almost supernaturally so. Everything about her, from the sharpness in her gaze to her inky black hair, made Connie’s heart race a little faster. She also seemed...familiar.
“I know you from somewhere,” Connie said. And then she shook her head.
“Um, sorry, don’t know why I said that. I could have sworn we... but, that sounds cheesy. Like, have we met before?” She laughed awkwardly. “So cliché.”
She coughed again and took another swig from her bottle for good measure. It was definitely alcoholic.
She stumbled into the bar in a whirl of icy wind and snowflakes. Shivering, Connie made sure the door was properly shut before heading further inside. She didn’t bother to take off her coat; every step she took left behind a trail of melted snow.
The bar was quiet, presumably because everyone had somewhere better to be tonight. All except-
“Lonnie!” Her brother was stood behind the bar. Why he had to work a shift when the bar was completely dead was beyond her. Sure, there was one scruffy looking man passed out drunk in the corner booth - but besides him, the business seemed quiet tonight. She was certain Lonnie would be allowed to take one night off. It was the festive season, after all.
She approached the bar and placed her gloved hands on the countertop in a firm motion. She met his gaze, her own eyes sparkling and cheeks flushed pink from the cold.
“You’re coming to the Yule ball with me,” she said. Her attention was grabbed by a drink in Lonnie’s hand - one that he’d clearly just made. She plucked it from his grip.
“What is this?” she took a sip before he could answer and pulled a face, “Ugh, that burns. Wait,” she held up a finger, “it’s starting to taste good now.”
“The one and only!” He said, with a grin and a bit of a flourished bow. Gil hadn’t expected someone to answer quite so quickly! And not to have someone actually his age answer. How delightful. Honestly he’d been expecting someone halfway ancient. He’d been saving for this for months. Every serious author needed their own headshot and he’d started something like a draft.
“Welcome to our humble abode. I know it’s not much at the moment, but we’re a work in progress. Benjy isn’t in at the moment but he may come home. A lovely man, truly. The living room has the best light, and we can move the couch wherever Do you need something to drink? We have water, tea, a few things of juice. Snacks? We’ve got… well honestly I’m not sure what we’ve got at the moment. Crisps? Crackers, possibly. Cheese. We definitely have cheese.”
*: ･ﾟ∙ * ⁕
“Cheese is good,” was all Connie said as she stepped inside. She’d only known this man for a minute, but she was quickly realizing he had a mouth that could run a mile a minute. It didn’t overwhelm her, however - it was a trait she admired in most. One would have to do a lot more than babble to overwhelm Connie Gilmore.
Her lips quirked up in a smile as she surveyed the flat. It was clearly the humble living space of a bachelor. Not that she could judge - she was currently living off of a couch.
“Nice place,” she said, “So, where do you want me to set up?”
She slung her messenger bag off of her shoulder and set it down with a heavy thump. She bent down to open it and retrieve her camera. It was her pride and joy - a Canon AV-1. It wasn’t exactly common-practice for a wizard to carry around a Muggle camera, but she’d taken a liking to their technology over the years.
