not a damsel in distress

[amxsdxggory-deactivated20180725]

between the shadow and the soul || ivy & amos

[ivy-rosmerta]

& amos;

    Cobbled streets beneath his feet took him back to a time before Cedric and the war, when the little village of Hogsmeade had been a retreat every weekend, not an out of the way stop made for old time’s sake. But it felt nice to return, and he wondered if it might be one of the few places that felt relatively separated from everything going on in London. Or maybe it was just the stillness of the avenues on a weekday, not brimming with wizards as Diagon Alley always was, and not filled with the students that’d file in to getsome candies from Honeydukes, or go on those unfortunate teenage dates that always seemed to end with awkward staring at Madame Puddifoots, or get a pint of butterbeer from The Three Broomsticks. Just as he was doing now.

    The woman had known him back when he was a sixth year, trying to hedge his bets and order a firewhiskey before he was seventeen and of age. And while he’d never succeeded in winning her over with a smile, Amos had never held it against Ivy, especially when they’d always fallen into a rhythm of comfortable banter – her opinion something that’d won his respect early on, and he’d always enjoyed coming back to see his friends after he’d graduated for the chance to catch up with the renowned innkeeper as well. But as everyone he’d known back when they were a first year had graduated and as responsibilities from the Order and work and Cedric had piled upon each other, he’d begun to frequent the place less often, and before he knew it – months had gone by – ones that had little to do with his disappearance and more so the fact that he simply hadn’t the time.

   But he was attempting to stabilize himself, go back to his roots and dispel the nightmares that still managed to haunt him – because maybe some glimpse of the carefree adventurer that’d once been able to laugh lightheartedly about the events going on in the wizarding world could be found within the warm walls of the tavern. A knuckle rapped against the worn wood of the bar, slight grin lifting up the edges of his lips as he glanced towards Ivy – hoping to catch her attention. “One butterbeer please,” Cedric was thankfully asleep in his arms – worn out from a day spent exploring Hogsmeade and the surrounding countryside. The soft hum of voices that filled the tavern a lullaby that was no doubt odd (how many parents would bring their baby to a place such as this?) but comforting all the same.

   Perhaps this was how life would always be for him, an in-between from having everything figured out and from feeling completely lost. “And yes – before you say it, I see the irony.” Drink of choice would always be the burn of alcohol slipping past his lips, particularly after a long day – but he was a father now, and just as his age had restricted him when he was younger, there were certain responsibilities he took too seriously now. “But this little fella needs me and I wanted to stop by and say hello all the same.”

It was a slow morning in the Three Broomsticks, for which Ivy was grateful. She was trying to distract herself from the hopelessness that had settled into her heart after her fight with Molly by spending most of her time in the tavern, but she was finding more and more that large crowds made her anxious. It was a shame, really. The busy times should be the times when she was able to find the most distraction, to not think about the state of her personal life, but it seemed to have the opposite effect. Watching witches and wizards go about their lives only seemed to remind her of what a mess she had made of her own.

She sighed as she wiped down the surface of the bar, flicking her wand to make the empty bottles left behind by patrons fly into the back room to be washed. She was scrubbing away at a particularly sticky spot when a voice broke into her thoughts. Looking up, Ivy started at the sight of Amos Diggory. It had been a while since she had seen him (though of course she had heard from Minerva about the child he had fathered and then subsequently taken responsibility for), but she could recognize that face anywhere.

Despite the sorrow that still permeated Ivy’s heart, a smile spread across her face in reaction to seeing Amos and the sweet little boy tucked into his arms. Setting down the rag, she leaned against the bar, her face still alight with delight at seeing Amos. “Amos Diggory! As I live and breathe!” She shook her head, but there was a teasing glint in her eyes. “And here I thought you forgot all about me once you turned of age because you no longer needed to charm your way into getting a drink.

Ivy leaned forward, her gaze turning to Cedric. He was the sweetest little guy, looking up at her with a curious gaze. “Hello there, little fella. I hear your name is Cedric. I’m Ivy.” Her voice took on an unfamiliar tone, but it seemed to work for the young child, who gurgled and gave her an easy smile. She was so used to seeing babies with flaming red locks of hair that Cedric’s more tame appearance seemed strange to her, but she couldn’t help but find him adorable. She looked back up to Amos. “Oh, Amos, he’s perfect.”

[ivy-rosmerta]

on the same side | gideon & ivy

[ivy-rosmerta]

& gideon;

Nighttimes had long been Gideon’s favourite time of day. Even as a child with his head buried under his blankets, trying to read a dog-eared comic that Fabian had bought from the muggle store around the corner by wandlight, Gideon had been enamoured with the night. There was something mesmerizing about the light broke through the darkness, encapsulating the immediate surroundings in an ethereal glow, a halo of recognition in the inky black. He’d found, through a plethora of late nights in questionable establishments, that the night brought with it stories. Events. Things of note happened at night, the type of happenings that people gushed about for days to come. People seemed to lose some of their natural inhibitions at night, something he had very little of at any time of day. It combined to make for a magical time of day, one where people’s true colours seemed to emerge and memories were made.

But the silence - oh, the silence.

The way the darkness seemed to devour all sound when one was alone had always been enough to put Gideon on edge. It was usually remedied quite simply, by having someone nearby. It could be a close friend, a late night spent in their flat going over the latest news, or a raucous party spent flitting between a variety of merry-makers. Even a solitary night at the pub, a glass of whiskey on the bar in front of him with the din of barroom arguments and jovial backslaps was enough to help. Lately though, even this had begun to wear thin. Anxiety and fear were not emotions that Gideon had ever dealt with in great depth, always preferring to keep them at arms length with continuous if effective distractions. But as the war waged and the confidence in his actions crumbled, he continued to feel as though his tolerance of solitude was wearing thin.

Perhaps it was the stress of keeping a monumental secret from his family members - from Fabian. He’d never even been able to lie about who passed gas, let alone about something of this magnitude. The inability to decompress with his siblings was wearing on him, and more quickly than he’d realized. As a result, he’d found himself becoming more reliant on other Aversio members to fill the void that he’d forced his family to leave behind. Katrina was always a reliable source of comfort, though her schedule as a Healer often kept her out of reach. The same was true of Florence. Xeno certainly had his charms, though the conversations invariably turned a tad peculiar. Even Septima - she who taxed his reserves more than most - had been helpful.

Tonight, of course, the usual suspects were absent and Gideon found himself at a loss for how to manage the racing thoughts the threatened to overwhelm his faculties. He’d been volunteering to spend his nights Obliviating, but Marcus had saw fit to spread this load out to avoid burning any of the staff out. The blonde man knew it was a kindness, but it had at least allowed him to pass the loneliest parts of the darkness occupied and productive. This night, without people or work to keep him busy, Gideon had turned to another reliable source of comfort - a bewtiched bottle of 16 year scotch that always sat about a quarter full. He’d poured himself three fingers of the amber liquid into a short glass and opened a book at the small dining table that occupied a dimly lit corner of the brick-walled flat. He’d brought the book not so much with the intention of reading but instead with the hope of distracting his thoughts away from the worries. The constant questions about whether Fabian would make it home safe tonight. If something would befall Molly and Arthur - and what of the kids? Would Alice wake up tomorrow and face another hopeless dawn? He gripped his glass tightly in his hand, knuckles white from the pressure being exerted, his pulse pounding in his ears as his palms began to sweat. The ticking of a clock near his bedside table the metronome by which his heartbeat kept pace.

The sudden rap on the door, an urgent and unexpected staccato, shattered his thoughts and sent his hand splaying out instinctively for his wand. The glass he’d held skittered across the table, sending most of his scotch seeping slowly across the table. Gideon ignored the liquid as he rose with trepidation, making his way to the door with his wand held at his side. As he neared the door, Gideon unlocked the bolt but kept the chain attached - the flimsy looking piece of metal charmed and imbued with enough strength to keep a rhinoceros at bay. The person on the other side however was not as threatening as Gideon’s mind had made them out to be.

“Ivy?” He offered, his tone filled with a sense of relief but also tinged with confusion. He’d spent enough nights at the Three Broomsticks after hours with the woman helping them both cope with the realities of their allegiances, but she’d never come calling to his flat. Immediately, the man unlocked the chain and pulled the door wide, revealing the woman’s entire figure silhouetted against the blackness behind. “Come in - still bloody freezing out there, for March.”

His own tone had lightened, but the woman’s face still seemed grave. Gideon couldn’t make out all the details but in the dim porch light, it almost appeared as though her cheeks were stained with fresh tears. His breath caught in his throat for a moment while he whisked the still motionless woman inside and shut the door firmly behind them, locks closing themselves silently. “Is everyone alright - are you alright? Merlin, what happened?”

Ivy had never been inside Gideon’s flat. She had once been convinced by Fabian to help him prank the outside, which was the only reason she was aware of the location, but she had never had much reason to go inside. Though she would say that she and Gideon were close, they usually saw one another at meetings or when he stopped by the tavern for a drink. She heard the confusion in his voice as he registered who it was that had shown up on his doorstep in the dead of night, but she was too distracted by the hopelessness filling her to explain how she knew where he lived. 

She accepted his invitation and stepped inside, trying to wipe the tears from her cheeks, but new ones fell to replace them so quickly that she wasn’t sure why she even bothered. She heard the worry in Gideon’s voice, but she wasn’t sure how to make her own voice work. Speaking it, telling him what had happened, would make it too true. 

“No one’s hurt,” she croaked, her voice hoarse from the sobs that still threatened to wrack her body. No one was physically hurt, at least. As for if she was alright? No, no she wasn’t. In fact, Ivy was pretty sure that she might never be alright again. She tried to find the words to speak, to explain what had happened, but each time she tried, the sorrow she felt seemed to choke her, rendering her speechless.

Finally she looked up, meeting Gideon’s eyes. She couldn’t help but wonder what he would see in hers. Would it scare him? She was sure that if she could see her reflection, it would scare her. “Molly knows. She knows that I’m a part of Aversio.”

[marcus-mck-innon-blog]

Drink With Me? || Ivy and Marcus

[ivy-rosmerta]

& marcus;

His twin sister had been returned to him safe and sound, his department’s budget had been kept in tact with all employees keeping their jobs and his feelings for Sybill were for all intensive purposes, reciprocated. If it hadn’t been a time of war, where they had held Deatheaters captive and allowed them to be taken from them, he would have been content with the world around him at that moment. As it was, with the war looming over everyone’s heads like a dark thunder cloud on a sunny day, threatening to disturb the bright sky and turn it grey. He held in a sigh at his own thoughts as her entered the pub, inhaling the familiar smell of smoke, ale and perfume, his ears delighting in the sounds of laughter and merriment. It was all too rare that he heard such sounds, but the Three Broomsticks could always be counted on to put a smile on your face.

He chuckled as she gently shoved his shoulder, a gesture he was sure was meant as a playful way of telling him that he shouldn’t have stayed away for so long, and she would be right. He was glad of the atmosphere, the feeling of being transported back in years to a time when the war seemed unable to touch him and the only things he had to worry about were exams, quidditch practice and keeping both his sister and his best friend out of trouble, as they had seemed to take it in turns over the years. “Too long, for which I apologise, Ivy” he said, holding up his hands in a position of surrender as she grabbed a bottle of firewhiskey and two glasses, before swinging over the bar. He put his hands out to steady her as she dropped to the floor, but she appeared to be a pro in high heels and bar to floor landings.

He chuckled, “do you do that often, you seem well practised?” he asked, teasingly as he reached for the bottle and unstopped it. He poured himself a glass, before turning to hers. “How have you been?” he asked, as he began to pour. “Tell me when to stop”.

Ivy felt herself relaxing in Marcus’ presence, the tension that had been resting on her shoulders easing away. With Marcus in the Three Broomsticks, she could almost pretend that things were the way they had been a few years ago: yes, the world had been darkening, but her life hadn’t been so complicated. Aversio had been in its’ beginning stages and Ivy had felt good having a purpose, a place to direct her anger and heartbreak. Lately, it just seemed that her work with Aversio was adding to her anger and heartbreak, not taking it away as she had wanted it to. “Yes, it has been too long,” Ivy said with a smile. “You finally get old enough to actually order a drink instead of flirt one out of me and you disappear for a couple years?” Her tone was light and teasing, betraying none of the inner turmoil that had plagued her for days. “Was all that attention just for the alcohol? And here I thought I was special to you.”

She noticed his hands move up to steady her and laughed at the impressed look on his face. “Well, I practiced for weeks to do that without making a fool out of myself.” She was joking, of course. Ivy Rosmerta was rarely clumsy. Elegance and grace punctured her every movement--except for when she was nervous or lying, for then she had a terrible habit of running into things and stumbling over her own feet. Really, it was a wonder Molly hadn’t expected something far sooner than this, she thought wryly. She had been running into things at Molly’s house for months. Ivy shook her head, pushing away thoughts of Molly. Now was not the time for that.

“Don’t stop,” she said dryly, watching him pour their drinks. Looking up, she met his gaze and shrugged. “I’ve been...good.” She didn’t know Marcus that well and certainly wasn’t about to pour her problems out onto him, but she also didn’t want to lie. She was tired of lying. “How about you? I heard about your sister. How’s she doing?”

[orionblvck-blog]

silvertongue || ivy and orion

[ivy-rosmerta]

& orion;

Hearing his name fall from her lips was heavenly. It was almost too much and for a moment, he wondered if she had spiked his butterbeer with something. But with that thought made Orion wish she had. At least that way he could blame his feelings and tongue on the alcohol that he wasn’t use to. It would wash away the guilt that was settling in his stomach. Even though she wasn’t in the forefront of his mind, Walburga was still there, pressing, reminding Orion of his duty.

“Not many families have the tradition of naming their kin after the stars,” he chuckled with a careless shrug as if his name held little meaning. That couldn’t be farther from the truth, but Ivy didn’t need to know that now, maybe never. Orion nodded as he continued, his tone too playful to be considered innocent. “Very good, Ivy. Orion is a constellation. Someone paid attention in…”

Whatever Orion was thinking of (Ivy in that black Hogwarts skirt, in case you were wondering), whatever he was going to say, came to a sudden halt at her words as they registered in his brain. He was genuinely taken off-guard and it showed that much on his face as he reeled back, an eyebrow quirking in Ivy’s direction. I’ve never much cared for younger men. Did he hear her right? Did he understand her or was he just making up conclusions in his head? Instinctively, his thumb ran over the wedding band on his finger, but he never once looked away from her. “Ivy…” he started, his tone playful once more. He paused in hopes of finding the right words to say, but nothing came to mind. “Ivy…you are not what I was expecting,” he said, almost softly, almost too gentle for a man like him. Orion rested his arm across the bar, just barely brushing up against her own arm. It wasn’t enough, but it would do for now.

Something within Ivy’s mind tugged for her to pay attention to it when Orion spoke of a family tradition of naming their children after stars. In the time to come, Ivy would look back on this moment and wonder what would have changed if she had paid attention to the tugging in her mind. Maybe she would have walked away from Orion before it was too late, before he had crept too far into her heart for her to turn away when she needed to. She would wonder how different her life may have turned out without the chain reaction that his role in her life set off.

But she would never know how different her life may have been, because she chose to ignore that tugging, instead giving the man across from her a wide smile. “Oh yes, I paid attention in school. When it suited me,” she gave him a teasing smile, but her words were truthful. She had been a good student, but only to make her father proud. She hadn’t had ambitions other than running the tavern with her father someday. 

Ivy held his gaze even as Orion faltered, surprise at her words evident in his features. She wondered if she was being too forward, but she wouldn’t regret the words she had let slip. She could tell that he was intrigued, if a little conflicted. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him finger his wedding band, but once again, she ignored the warning bells going off in her mind. It was fun to play with fire, and at this moment, Ivy didn’t care if she got burned. As he moved his arm to brush against hers, Ivy felt a chill run up her spine, and she visibly started, but didn’t pull her arm away. In fact, she moved it a fraction of an inch closer by leaning in a little further, pressing it a little more against his. “Tell me, Orion,” the name rolled off her tongue with a little thrill down her spine, “what were you expecting?”

[katrinaxparkinson-blog]

i'll tell you when it kicks in 🔹 katrina & ivy

[ivy-rosmerta]

& katrina;

She had always found solace in the company of Ivy Rosmerta. The woman may have been older, their paths may not have crossed before recent years. But that didn’t change the way in which Katrina viewed her. She was a wonderful friend, yet another example of something Katrina could not find herself deserving.

But that was the way of things – always wanting more than she deserved. Wishing for a better life free of the bigotry, wanting to keep those she held dearest by leaving. Wanting to make a difference and belong but hating herself too much to truly let herself be accepted. It was an excruciating contradiction.

With a glance around the pub, Katrina did her best to refrain from digging her fingernails into the palms of her hands once again. It seemed that she was nothing but a continuous strand of unhealthy habits. When the anxiety and dread seemed to strengthen, she continued to seek out ways of distracting herself. Alcohol was one of the least tempting ways of such (the burn which accompanied such was wildly unpleasant), which perhaps stemmed from a childhood with her father. There was a time and place for such, social gatherings when as such - even so, alcohol didn’t bring a sense of pain. And wasn’t the phrase that pain could make you human?

Gripping the mug in her hand, Katrina fell silent for a moment, taking a careful sip. Listening to the cheerful chattering that filled the Broomsticks, broken only by the comforting voice of Ivy. Finally bringing herself to utter an admittance, she set the mug securely onto the counter, turning her frame towards the older woman. “I think –” Merlin’s saggy left nut, what was she supposed to say? ‘I think my father knows where I am?’ ‘I think he’ll try bringing me back?’

“Things have just felt…wrong lately. I can’t really put my finger on it.”

Ivy couldn’t help the worry that settled on her as she observed Katrina. There was something clearly wrong, something off about the way Katrina was acting. Not that Katrina was carefree and chipper all the time, but she didn’t usually seem so...anxious. She watched as Katrina set down the mug of butterbeer, wondering if maybe alcohol would have been a good idea. Maybe it would help loosen the tension that was set in Katrina’s shoulders.

“Do you want a drink?” She asked, glancing across the counter at the rack of alcohol behind the bar. Ivy didn’t usually encourage drinking to solve problems (she had encountered far too many problems with people who turned to drinking as a solace in her time running the tavern), but maybe it would help Katrina feel relaxed enough to actually talk about what was bothering her.

Ivy continued to study Katrina as she spoke, brow furrowing once more. There was something that Katrina wasn’t saying, she was sure of it. “Wrong in what way?” She asked, crossing her arms and setting them on the bar. She leaned a little closer to Katrina, her voice lower so that they wouldn’t be overheard. 

[mvlciber-blog]

do it like me.

[ivy-rosmerta]

& cassius;

“I’ve always preferred things the hard way and I do love a woman who’s not afraid of what she wants,” he winked at her as he chuckled under his breath. That mask was currently the bane of his existence. Half of how he manipulated people was by being able to gauge an emotional reaction to various things he said, but right now he was at a complete loss.

His thoughts drifted to his Fenrir and Orion trapped in the other room. These torture sessions weren’t just hell for the person in the chair. They were psychologically damaging to the other’s who had to sit by and hear it. Cassius was the last one to be dragged away, his usually perfect resolve was cracked at the foundation before he even was tied to the chair. No matter how confident he felt or acted, underneath he knew that a few carefully chosen things could break him. He just hoped the Aversio woman wouldn’t see that. Luckily for him, this woman didn’t know him, so how would she possibly know what to say or do.

“How would I know where McGonagall is? And how the actual fuck would I know who’s in the inner circle? Most wear masks at meetings, I can’t even name most the other death eaters.“ He spoke nonchalantly, as if it were any other conversation. Truly he didn’t know where to find McGonagall, he’d been preoccupied during her capture. However, he did know many of his fellow death eaters, considering he was a member of the inner circle himself.

“Don’t think you can charm your way out of this one, Mucliber,” Ivy spat, fury boiling up within her as she thought of another Death Eater that had wormed his way into her life based on his charm alone. Had it all been a lie? She felt a wave of panic as she wondered if Orion had known somehow that she was part of Aversio. Were they all coming after her?

She laughed at his assurance that he didn’t know anyone in the inner circle, a humorless, callous laugh. “Oh, I highly doubt you’re telling the truth. You expect me to believe that you fight side by side with people and you don’t have a clue who they are?” She grabbed a knife from the belt in her robes and pressed it to his neck, pressing hard enough that a few drops of blood began to trickle down it. 

There was a time when this would have made Ivy uncomfortable, but she had long gotten past her squeamishness for the work that had to be done. This was what she had signed on for, so there was no use backing out now. In fact, a sick part of Ivy had come to like these sessions. To finally feel that she was doing something, to channel all of her anger at the fact that her father had been taken from her too soon, to make the death eaters pay for the way they were destroying her world--it made all of this purposeful. “What about the ones we captured you with. You didn’t know them before now? So it wouldn’t bother you at all if we tortured them for information in front of you?”

[ivy-rosmerta]

the different faces of ivy rosmerta

{{i’ve finally found a place where i belong}} - ages 14-18 - hogwarts days - maia mitchell

{{i fight for the one i lost}} - current - odette annable

{{she learned that vengeance can’t bring him back}} - ages 40-60 - post first war on - lana parrilla

[ivy-rosmerta]

⚡️ your most treasured possession?

“A picture that Ginny drew of the two of us when she was four. I have it framed. I also charmed it so that it’s fireproof. Just in case.”

[ivy-rosmerta]

🔍 what was your first word?

“I think it was boom. It was right after I made my yogurt explode three feet in the air. I only know because I read my mum’s journal years later. It was the first time she was ever scared of me.”

[ivy-rosmerta]

⚡️ what's your favorite season?

“Winter. I love it when it snows. Everything quiets down when it snows.”

[ivy-rosmerta]

⚡️ what is your favorite way of spending a saturday?

“Spending it at Molly and Arthur’s, especially if there are grandkids around. Of course, George and Angelina’s are my favorite, but I’m never not entertained by Bill and Fleur’s kids.”

[ivy-rosmerta]

⚡️what advice would you give your younger self?

“Stay away from tall, dark, and handsome strangers. Stick to the safer ones. At least if they break your heart, it won’t be because they made you go against what you believed in.”

[ivy-rosmerta]

🔍 who is your biggest hero?

“My dad. He’s the one who’s always there when anyone needs him. He’s the best person I know.”

[ivy-rosmerta]

⚡️ how do you react if someone disturbs your routine?

“Fine, I guess. I don’t get annoyed, if that’s what your asking. I run a tavern. There is no getting through the day without at least a hundred interruptions.”

[ivy-rosmerta]

🔍 what is your dream job?

“Well, I would love to run the tavern with my father, but he thinks I should be a healer. Wouldn’t it be so cool to own a pub?”

[allxycat-thomas-blog]

♔ Hair Down

[ivy-rosmerta]

& florence;

YOU PROMISED, IVY! // IVY ROSMERTA

She entered her house for what felt like the first time that week, kicking off her black, leather boots and pulling her hair out of the bun she had secured on top of her head earlier that day, letting the strands fall in a messy tangled around her shoulders. Checking the watch on her wrist, she made her way up the stairs towards her bathroom, mentally creating a list of everything she needed to do before she met Ivy in just over an hour. She definitely needed to shower the smell of the hospital out of her skin and fix her ‘unfixable’ hair with copious amounts of Sleekeazy’s hair potion and scalp treatment, before deciding that she was going to wear out that night.

When she had first joined Aversio, stepped into a large basement dining room and stared wide eyed at the many people around her who were eyeing her curiously, Ivy had been the first person to walk over, all high heels and sun kissed skin, and greet her. She had embraced the woman gratefully and as they had started to talk, found that conversation flowed easily between them and Florence felt comfortable around the older woman. As the oldest in her family and with several younger friends who saw her as a big sister, she had been glad to find a friend whom was a little older than her and assured her that she had her back for a change.

After showering, taming her messy hair and slipping into a knee length black dress, classic, elegant and a little revealing, he pulled on a pair of high heels which she had fixed with a cushioning charm so as not to kill her feet and glanced again at the time. She had all of five minutes left and so she grabbed her bag and headed out of the door, locking it firmly behind her and replacing the wards as she did so, before apparating on the spot. She landed, a little clumsily, outside Ivy’s door and knocked eagerly, more than ready for the night ahead of them. However, when Ivy answered the door, Florence’s face fell and she pouted, her eyes narrowing slightly at the sight of Ivy, less than ready for the night ahead of them.

“Ivy… you promised me dancing! We need to go and have fun, why are yo not dressed?”

Ivy groaned in frustration as another emergency popped up in the tavern, demanding her attention. She was supposed to get off work two hours ago so that she would have time to eat dinner and get ready before her night out on the town with Florence, but it seemed as if her employees couldn’t even function one night without her. She knew that was an exaggeration, as the tavern had survived many nights without her since she joined Aversio, but sometimes it felt that way. Even when she was able to make it upstairs to her flat, the messages just followed her up there. “I need to move!” She grumbled as she threw open the door and made her way downstairs back into the pub.

Half an hour later, the problem was sorted and she was making her way back up the stairs, still huffing in annoyance. She loved running the Three Broomsticks, she really did, but bloody hell she needed a life outside of the tavern and Aversio. Ivy glanced at the clock hanging on the wall in the living room and made a strangled sort of cry as she realized how little time she had to get ready before Florence was supposed to arrive. Sprinting into the loo, she jumped in the shower and washed her hair in record speed, foregoing shaving her legs even though she would certainly be wearing a short skirt. There was no time for that.

Stepping out of the shower, she wrapped herself in a towel and grabbed her wand, quickly using it to dry and style her hair. She was just finishing her makeup when a knock came at the door of her flat. Opening the door, she gave Florence a sheepish smile, sighing at the younger woman’s reaction. “I’m sorry! There was emergency after emergency downstairs and I couldn’t seem to get away! I’m almost ready!” She ushered Florence inside and hurried to her bedroom, pulling on the dress she had set aside earlier for tonight (thank Merlin she had had the foresight to do that). Grabbing a clutch from her closet, she headed back into the main room, slipping on a tall pair of heels. “Okay, okay, I’m ready!” 

[druella-black-blog1]

ask my muse questions through the different stages of her life. send with 🔍 for younger, 🔗 for current and ⚡️ for future.