⧼ brittany o'grady, cis female, she/they / human by sevdaliza + there was once a tongue freshly bit, sensitive to the touch but that much more aware of it’s surroundings, cool, smooth, teeth used for ripping, cracked lips peeling apart for more. a release of saccharine sweet honey suckle turned sour too soon. bare feet padding on cool stone floors the weight of the world laying heavy upon their owner’s pockets filled with items meant for a different self . ⧽ ━━ hey, isn’t that LAVINIA ROSE ROWLE? i read a daily prophet article on them, once ; the 26 year old [ pure blood ] SQUIB who is currently a [ HOUSE KEEPER AT HOGWARTS ]. i’ve heard they can be quite INSIGHTFUL & RESOURCEFUL, but i don’t know… they came off very GUILEFUL & JADED in that interview. it really is hard to know what to believe these days though, isn’t it? [ katia, 23, est, she/her ]
[ LAVINIA ] : Woman of Rome. An example. An offering. Not enough.
[ ROSE ] : A thorn bush without flowers she grew waiting for the moment she would bloom.
[ ROWLE ]: A prominent and proud pureblooded family who chose to forget their daughter for the sake of that pride. Nothing came before the name.
[ BIRTH ]: June 26th, 1993, 13:03
[ HOMETOWN ] : Windsor, England
[ HEIGHT ] : 5’3
[ WEIGHT ] : 102 lbs
[ MARKS ] : No visible marks of disfigurement, Lavinia’s marks remained internal, bubbling to the surface at any moment.
[ PIERCINGS ] : No steel nor metal had pierced the skin of Lavinia. Toujour pur after all.
[ TATTOOS ] : There was only one tattoo that was permitted upon her skin which was the Rowle crest. A responsibility, a curse, a reminder of the goal that must be met.
[ NICKNAMES ] : Vinnie, It.
[ STYLE ] : Clean inconspicuous lines, designer with the tags still attached or hand me downs from last season. Sharp stilettos to cut the ice.
[ SCENT ] : Fresh grass after a rainfall, birch bark, moth balls, lilies of the valley in fresh bloom, Chanel de mademoiselle sprayed lightly in her wake.
THE BEFORE:
A cry to disrupt the afternoon tea. Terribly inconvenient with guests to tend to, babies to be left till they’re pretty again. Pretty, pretty, all in pink. Only the finest for the latest addition as long as they were everything they were meant to be. Perfection was a given, let alone a must. Purity comes at that cost among many others. Rigid backbones, stiff smiles, and a platitude of niceties that were all together not that nice. A girl who struggled to meet the ever raising bar set. Two siblings born of the same family it was not hard to see the difference; one could do what the other could not and it grew more apparent daily. Stricter became the rule of parents, and more neglectful became their watch for interest in a lesser that was not needed. So more desperate the younger child became to please. Anything to become the witch she was supposed to be. As days passed into years it became clear there was not simply an issue of wills, but rather something terribly wrong with the girl. Not a single sign of a drop of magic. Anxiously waiting for a letter that would never come much to one little girl’s despair. Dirty squib. It was at this point it was decided it would be better to part ways. Lavinia Rose Rowle was no longer to exist.
THE AFTER:
In the shadows of what should’ve been Lavinia grew to be the woman she is today. Forgotten if lucky, remembered if not. She would do anything to fulfill the role she had been born for, and anything she did do. That’s where the experimentation began. Born without magic she resorted to selling off family heirlooms and odds and ends to black market wizards, shamans, and charlatans to do the impossible. To change the very essence of who she was. Trapped between worlds, one foot resting on cool marble the other in the dirt, she struggled with acceptance of the facts. The early lessons instilled by her parents left her bitter and bigoted about her magical status, an atlas weight that pressed down upon her perfectly straight spine every day. The complex vulnerability of desperation mixed with the guarded guise of elitist perfection caused for an internal war that was ever present within her. There was nothing she could do, but also nothing she would give up for a chance to be something more than the scum she had been born among.
Blood was the distinguishing matter. Blood was the cause and blood was the cost. A paper doll with a steel skeleton. Dirty with a desperation to be clean. To be pure. Hidden away and hated.
Adjectives:
[ prejudiced ] : Because of her own treatment due to her lack of magical abilities, Lavinia has grown up with a very harsh view of other people and the hierarchy there must be. Of one that she feels she was cheated out of but knows she should’ve been on top of.
[ driven ] : There are no limits to what she would or wouldn’t do for her goals to be achieved. Nothing would stand in her way. Accepting defeat was not an option. Focused the serpent often got tunnel vision as a result.
[ guarded ] : Afraid to have her squib status known Lavinia is very guarded when it comes to who she is. As a result reading people is her forte as is turning the tables onto them as a form of deflection.
[ meticulous ] : Details, details, details. All of them were deciding factors in how the bigger picture turned out. For this reason Lavinia fixated as much as she could on the small so not to deal with the big.
[ resentful ] : Jealousy towards a sibling who had done nothing but be born the right way, she brewed in her negative feelings of entitlement. Growing up in the dark she watched them grow in a very different light, and made her deflect her bountiful amounts of hatred in her heart outwards.
“No need to apologize — sounds like you had quite the bit of excitement today. Glittery hair dye…never knew that was an option! I would like to think I could pull it off,” Lavender smiles, unaware of (and perhaps, unable to even detect) Lavinia’s discomfort. She laughs at the joke, though it takes her a moment to realize it is a joke. “I miss getting into shenanigans at school. I wish I was more considerate of those who wound up cleaning up after me. Suppose that ignorance is part of being a child.” Lavender glances away from Lavinia momentarily, hoping to signal to the barkeep that she is in need of a refill. She goes unnoticed and turns her attention back to Lavinia, nodding along despite paying only partial attention to her company. “Oh uh, no. When I was in school, a bit. But it was never my favorite spot. It does seem prime for people watching. Anyone in particular sticking out to you today?
A nod of the head to signify agreement. It was the appropriate response after all. “It’s been something of a craze throughout the school at the moment. I’m sure you’d wear the sparkle well.” Laughter was a good sign. Laughter meant she was keeping up with the conversation, offering a bit of lightness in the dark sea of unknown factors. “I think the luxury of not noticing is a part of innocence everyone has every right to. Not everyone gets it but it’s a nice experience if you do.” In that moment she thought of times that now seemed so very good––the before knowing, even though there were always the hints that were more akin to glaring red flags––they were far and few but treasured memories. If only there had been more time. If only they had stayed that way. Swirling the remnants of her drink she watched the woman before her trying to figure out what it was that Lavender wanted and why she was actually here. It must’ve been a disappointment either way to see that Lavinia had appeared instead of someone, anyone, else. Trying to shake the sinking feeling of inferiority she responded, “Oh do you have a favorite spot then?” Pausing a moment her eyes scanned the room for a shift in attention, nodding her head in the direction behind Lavender she leaned forward as if revealing a big secret, “That man over there just dropped a chocolate frog in his neighbor’s drink... I wonder if they know each other? Your turn.”
maisie wonders briefly if the other even knows what she’s talking about, if not she’s kind of thankful. “ sometimes, why is that weird ? “ she had been taught not to be honest, but now ? she seen no point in not.
It was not often Lavinia had been in the loop, in fact rare if ever at all. She was used to the whispers and lurking among them, piecing bit by bit together. “Only if you talk back I suppose...” She paused a moment before continuing, “Does that normally occur?”
“not when you have that attitude.” no, niko couldn’t possibly know what lavinia got up to. he couldn’t possibly sense the fact that she had already amassed a collection of trinkets that didn’t belong to her off look, alone, and she was doing a rather good job at sounding affronted by the very thought. but this was… very niko - to encourage it, of her. to see something that may or may not exist in the depths of her eyes ( was it longing or something else misread? ) & stoke the fire of it. he wasn’t even trying to offend her. somehow, he managed it. “for all i care, they can pick this house apart,” so yes : everyone. “take it or don’t. it’s not an insult. i don’t want to look at any of it anymore.” she wasn’t special. not in that sense, at least. niko hoped that nothing was left by the end of the night but a smouldering pile of ash, but that was wishful thinking, and a thought drowned by the fact that when he looks back at her, now, he’s wondering - is she a charity case? does she think of herself as one? is that why she’s managed to be so wounded by the offer? “neverending. fathers can be like that.”
Attitude, that was one way to put it and he seemed to have quite a big one. The scrutiny of his look insured that. There was a casual hardness to it that told her there was more where that came from, that there was something smoldering deep within that made it so. In her pocket there was a small gold watch, it’s ticks punctuating each moment spent together. Lavinia felt the magnifying glass that had been placed on her uncomfortably, and couldn’t help but feel for ants that found their way to their fiery deaths in that way. “I wasn’t aware this was a garage sale on top of a party. How ingenious of your party planner.” Facades were well known and well practiced by Lavinia, after all she saw her whole family practice them for years. A smile smile appeared on the woman’s face––what its intention was was undetermined. Fathers were a funny thing for upon hearing the other’s response it made her think of her own list that she had kept. “They certainly can be... Is there a particular thing on the list that stands out among the others?” Tried and true deflection was the better way to go, the safer way to keep unsaid things unsaid for she wasn’t quite sure how much he knew or how little he did.
oliver exited the loo after washing his hands and checking he still had his bags on him. he’d stopped by the leaky cauldron for some lunch once he was done shopping, now on his way out when he bumped into someone. “oops! sorry.” he apologised and was going to carry until he saw why she bumped into him. “you know, you’re supposed to pay for that.” he threw a quick glance at the untouched bill on the table. starting trouble wasn’t something that oliver ever wanted to do, but he’d still speak up if he saw someone doing something he thought was wrong. it seemed they’d met before though as her words insinuated that they had. “sorry, do i know you?” the veela asked with confusion. he’d always been good with faces but appeared to have forgotten hers.
Quick glances and judgement were something Lavinia was well accustomed to. Of course it wasn’t a good look to get caught and looks were of the very important sort to keep up. After all they were all she had. As she stood there she couldn’t help but feel awkward though, a prickling sensation arising on her skin. She remained calm though, bigger scrapes she had gotten into and there was no way she was paying for the three refills of butter beer that had been acquired by her company. “Oh? Must’ve slipped my mind.” The one before her was not someone she really knew but had heard enough half conversations to know that he was different and different in the way that people praised. Now that was something she herself had never gotten the chance to experience. “No, I don’t suppose you would know who I am. After all you were probably too busy to notice.”
“i would have remembered too,” and it’s an easy compliment to give and to mean, though heartfelt tone is accompanied by a flash of concern as the others attempt at hiding her hands only throws them further into focus. she doesn’t know what to say about them, though. it isn’t really her place to make assumptions, and she doesn’t want to presume the worst, but - merlin, they’re red raw, and magic would surely have made this much easier. merry would have been happy with directions. that was all she’d wanted, and she was… fairly confident that she would have been able to follow them, if the corridors would behave - but she’s awfully quick to jump at the offer of a guide. “oh, please do. i’m afraid i’ll end up somewhere awful - i’ve heard all about the hogwarts dungeons - and you…-” she tries to choose her words carefully. she’s aware she doesn’t do a very good job. “you could do with a rest, i’d wager.”
She would’ve remembered... Lavinia couldn’t help but wonder if that were true or not. It’s funny how quickly people would say things when confronted with the polite route. Maybe she already knew and felt pity and wanted to show a semblance of kindness, but was it kindness to avoid the obvious? Or maybe it didn’t matter at all to the stranger but that was almost worse. Pity was almost better than whatever that may be. Pity was something she knew. Something she too felt about the matter. Either way she knew she took too long to respond to the other’s acceptance of the offer she had extended. Shaking her hands free from the mop handle it dropped in the bucket sloshing at the sides, “Well there’s no fear we wont be locking you up yet... Unless there’s something you’d like to confess?” Now it became obvious. She had noticed the work that she had put into the cleaning. The effort that shouldn’t have been. The effort that was supposed to be effortless. Spine straightening slightly Lavinia offered a perfect smile (she knew it was perfect because it had been practiced and tried and true). “I’m perfectly fine. I’m sure this can wait a few minutes that it’ll take though. Now which way were you headed in again?”
“Just a bit, but it’s my fault. I finished my errands in town quicker than I anticipated. But I have a drink, so no worries!” As if to prove there truly were no worries, she took a sip from her goblet while flashing a nervous (or perhaps better described as unnerving) smile. “It’s been a while, Lavinia. Years, actually…” Lavender’s nerves shifted from the expected blind-date butterflies to awkward apprehension. Pureblood families, even those who refuted prejudice like the Browns, never seemed to know how to deal with squibs. For Lavender, they were people her parents spoke about in hushed voices from the other room. She never knew quite what they had to say, but she could hear the pity, the grief in their voices. Lavinia and Lavender should have been classmates, just a few years apart in school. But they weren’t. “So uh,” she smiled sheepishly, “come here often?” It was lame, but it was the best she could do.
Brows knit together for a moment at Lavender’s response. Of course Lavinia should’ve been earlier, for her to make someone like Lavender wait was simply unacceptable. She could hear her mother now, the rolls of her r’s slicing through the awkward air that now lingered. “I do apologize I had meant to get here earlier... There was a bit of trouble with a first year and glittery hair dye in the Third Floor bathrooms. No survivors they say.” A joke to try and ease the tension. A joke to lighten the load of the conversation. “Y-Yes it’s been quite some time. I suppose Barbie’s still with Ken?” There was something about being around purebloods that made Lavinia shrink no matter who they were, for she out of everyone knew how the circles did talk. Unsure of where to place her jacket she held onto it before remembering that questions required answers. “When I find the time I do manage to spend it here. I like the people watching... And you?”
“ no.” maisie answers the question not too quickly but quick enough, it didn’t mean others didn’t. she couldn’t possibly be the only one that felt this way. “ just thinking a loud, i guess.”
Curt was the others response, for what it was still uncertain. Though the tone was not unfamiliar to Lavinia even if the person was. Maybe it would be found out with a little more conversation, “Well then... Do your thoughts often get spoken out loud?”
Michael had become incredibly proficient in reading body language, which he assumed he had acquired by spending most of his life observing others. There was a shift in Lavinia’s (that was her name) shoulders. Michael was used to this kind of reaction, patrons unwilling to share what they are up to, sometimes out of embarrassment, other times because they were dabbling in dark magic and wished to keep their affairs private. He watched her carefully, though if suspected Lavinia fell toward the latter, Michael said nothing of the matter. He smiled at her introduction, nodding bowing a little in greeting. “Ms. Rowle.” Michael straightens with his hands behind his back. “Well, this is pressing matter, then.” He rounds the clerk desk, unlocks a cabinet from the key ring he produced from his trouser pocket and reveled a vial. “We don’t like to lose business here. I can give you this,” he holds up the container of blood. “We usually keep a few back up ingredients in the case of emergencies,” Michael eyes her, unsure what her intentions were. He could be handing her the key ingredient to something dark. In these times, it was highly possible. He was taking a risk he was not sure he should be taking. “Though I admit it won’t be cheap.” Michael sets the vial down, his expression dark.
‘Ms. Rowle’ accompanied by a bow. If only he knew, or maybe he did and he was just jesting, joking about the unusual nature of Lavinia, then it would make everything that much more ironic. Lavinia didn’t even have a right to the name; at least in most’s eyes she didn’t. A footnote in the long and proud history of a name that happened to be stuck to the firstborn. She just wanted to change that one little factor. Was that so bad? Was that too greedy? A nod to bring her back to reality and the reality was that time was clicking away. Time was of the essence and he was making her late. “It really is. Thank you for understanding the urgency of the situation. I wouldn’t want to disappoint after all.” For my friend, was that too obvious? Maybe it was, but she couldn’t come up with a better lie off the top of her head. But it looked as if he bought it because there was movement and action that proved that he did. A small breath of air Lavinia couldn’t help but lean forward a little closer. “I feel lucky that I’ve been deemed worthy of another option. Thank you.” Reaching for the vial now set between them Lavinia’s hand hovered over it gulping loudly, “...How much?”
Acquainted with Lavinia’s through his excursions in the Forbidden Forests outside of the grounds of Howarts, Rolf was not accustomed to seeing her in the light of day. At this point, he’s no longer surprised by their accidental run-ins. “A good replacement? There isn’t one.” in his opinion, they shouldn’t be. The solution was a simple one: don’t make potions that require fairy wings. “The wings are used for the Beautification Potion and the Girding Potion, both with superficial uses. If someone is desperate to be attractive, they should look inward.” True beauty came from WITHIN and would exude outward accordingly, in Rolf’s opinion. “Or, hell, if their vanity is that important, they should turn to plastic surgery. Muggle medical advancements honestly should be more embraced by wixen anyway.” Their reliance on potions was a problem when more natural remedies for most ailments that plagued them existed. He could understand the usefulness and innovation of some of them, certainly, but others? “The Girding Potion’s only effect is to provide prolonged endurance. More lasting endurance could be gained simply through an exercise regiment. Far more SUSTAINABLE.”
Lavinia couldn’t help but think of all the potions she had sanctioned––with or without magical creature body parts––and feel badly, if only for a moment. Of course it couldn’t be helped and what needed to be done needed to be done, but Rolf did make her pause a moment which was not easy for the usual bulldozing of thoughts she normally had. Stepping closer, “But what if perchance there is another use that wasn’t for superficial reasons, but for one...just one... very good reason? Would it be so very bad?” She had always had a very one track mind when it came to potions; her deep incessant longing overtaking any other thought that might’ve prevailed against it. Nibble fingers picked up small objects for her pockets (and obsession) far too often than not. For beauty was within but so was magic, and if only she held out a little longer maybe she could unlock it waiting after all these years to be at her disposal. Of course she didn’t want the one person who truly (sort of) associated with her to think lowly of her, for that would seem a step backwards. The early morning hours did seem a lot less lonelier without the accompaniment of another’s soft footfall on mossy banks in the forest. Not that she would ever say so though. “Muggle? Embraced? I hardly think they ought to be brought into this... After all the wixen have been pioneering in so many subjects for hundreds of years. Plastic seems quite unnatural.” The ‘M’ word. Even just hearing it brought an uncomfortable feeling arise, suffocating her to the point of almost passing out. Her insides reeled against it almost shouting at her. Memories flashed forward of not so kind words from not so kind people at every turn. The laughs of pity directed at her. Not because she was a muggle herself but because she hadn’t even been given the mercy to be born into a family of them. Mouth dry she tried to shake it off. No time for reminiscing. “Now that we can agree on. It seems most would much rather take the easy way out and throw away all any actual steps of achieving it... Then again most don’t like the added effort.” And effort she knew about.
Lavender was…early. But only by forty minutes. She had arrived to Hogsmeade hours ago, but busied herself by visiting all her old favorite shops. She was nervous. But also excited. Her stomach was all aflutter with butterflies and the faint sensation of nausea. She loved love. She loathed her own luck in it. But perhaps today would be the start of something extraordinary. She waited, periodically glancing at the folded pink slip of paper in her hand. Each time someone walked through the door she glanced up and offered a greeting, wondering if they were the one she was destined to meet. After a dozen confused stares, finally someone entered who appeared to be looking for someone - looking for her. “Hi! Is this table alright? I can ask for another one if you prefer a different spot.”
She didn’t know why she had even bothered. After all it seemed like an all together frivolous thing--an uneeded thing--and who was she to even be worthy if (and that was a big one) it even did manage to do what was advertised. It all seemed like a gimmick... But she couldn’t stop herself from filling out the application on a drunken whim in the darkness of her room flashlight in one hand pen in the other. The Hogs Head was apparently where she’d find love. Funny that after all these years it would be in a slightly sticky, dimly lit, crowded space. Lavinia’s eyes searched fruitlessly for the other for what felt like a forever, till faces blurred and a blush started to arise. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Breath shortening her fingers curled around each other, sweating slightly. Suddenly something, rather someone caught her eye. Wasn’t that Lavender Brown? She tried to smile but wasn’t sure if it was quite as warm as it should be before managing to speak. “O-oh no. This is quite alright don’t worry about it. Have you been here long? I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”
“ oh no, we don’t talk about that day.” maisie holds a finger up to her lips, it’d likely be another valentine’s day alone. and it’s something she doesn’t want to even think about, let alone breathe the words a loud. “ it’s a holiday that shouldn’t exist, that just makes people feel bad for themselves and about themselves.”
Expression as blank as a dead fish Lavinia looked about in confusion. That day? Had she been missing some connection that the other was tapped into? It wasn’t the first time she had been left out of the loop and judging from her existence it most definitely wouldn’t be the last... “Well... Do you feel bad for yourself and about yourself?”
He’s meant to be interviewing the beautician for an article he’s writing for The Daily Prophet. That’s what he’d been asked to do — but he had never planned on going through with it. With his last article, when he had exposed those that were using Hippogriffs for chariot rides, the reviewers had claimed that Rolf’s argument and appeal was too one-sided, so the editor had recommended that he provide balance in his next article. As if he wants to hand the microphone to those that mistreat creatures and amplify their platforms. Leaning against the back alley, Rolf opens up the jar of captured fairies he’s snatched from the cosmetics store, unbothered by the spectator that catches him in the act. “Fairies don’t like having their wings removed. They’re more than just decoration, y’know?” Sure, fairies are vain, and they like the attention of being stringed along as Fairy Lights, but they don’t consent to their wings being removed. So they shouldn’t be used for Beautification Potions, Girding Potions or any other slew of potions. That is the story that Rolf intends to write.
Supplies, they were ever needing to be refilled and that was purpose of Lavinia’s trip away from Hogwarts. She had connected with a particularly particular wizard who wanted a specific “essence” whatever that meant. He had detailed that it could be found in a specific place and way but she didn’t really know how it all made a difference. Then again, she wasn’t the wizard, a glaring fact that faced her every day. A fact that she would never stop trying to change. Passing by an alley she saw him. The one who lurked just as much as she did, but did it so differently than she did. In a way Lavinia was jealous he seemed so certain. Upon hearing his voice he stopped in her tracks, was he...talking to her? “Well I don’t suppose I’d like my wings taken either... Seems rather uncomfortable.” Sometimes that’s how Lavinia felt. Supposably magical, wingless, and used. Pausing a moment she stepped forward hesitantly very aware of the potions ingredients she clutched dearly in her hands. Softly she spoke, “What do you suggest is a good replacement?”
It’s easy - maybe now, more than ever - for Cho to get lost in her thoughts. Even more so as she wanders the endless corridors of a place she once called home. There had been a lot of pain in these classrooms, in the fields that stretch around Hogwarts - but there had also been some joy ( giggling girls huddled together, kisses stolen in the alcoves. ) They all flood back to her now, thankfully a little gentler than they had in the past. Perhaps the tea with Madam Pomprey - the whole reason for the former Ravenclaw’s visit - had done something to ease her mind a bit. It is always nice catching up with the healer, cheeks pink as she asks her to reconsider the Hospital Wing. She isn’t sure how the woman has done it for all these years - and she feels quite embarrassed to admit she’s thought about quitting the profession as a whole now and again. She can’t dive into that thought process for long, not when there’s a voice echoing in the corridor, bringing her attention to the slippery floors. “Oh!” It takes a moment for her to slow down, one of her shoes gliding forward a bit on the floor. “Thank you.” Cho glances at Lavinia and the pristine condition of the corridor. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen it this clean,” she offers with a small smile, fingers tapping at the wand hidden in the sleeve of her robes. She has always preferred cleaning the muggle way but it was a large expanse that was wet. “Would you like me to dry them?”
Lavinia watched as the floor became further marked because of her inadequacy. If only she could whip out her wand to show she belonged, to prove she had been meant to be there. Instead her legacy was washed with a sudsy floor with the scent of lemon burning just harsh enough to prove it was chemical. Blushing from embarrassment or something else entirely she replied quietly, “Thank you. I have to redo that part of the floor anyways.” Grasping the handle of the mop tightly a small formation of splinters surely found their way into her palm, causing her to hiss at the sudden pain. Of course it was nothing in comparison to how that potion from the Albanian wizard had given her, but it caught her by surprise distracting her from Cho in front of her for a moment. Hurriedly she managed to get out, “It’s fine I’m sure it’ll dry quickly now.”
Thalia could smell the cleaner in the air as she rounded the corner. It made her nose crinkle just slightly, sensitive senses shying away from the acidity in the air, but she carried on nonetheless. The warning was met with a stopping of her boots on the floor and blue eyes cast around before a slight grimace rose to her face. There was freedom in her betrayal of the da - now everyone simply thought the worst of her and she could act however she wished, however she truly thought but old habits die hard. So, she didn’t immediately whip out her wand to out show up the other girls non-use of magic. Instead, she thought up something normal to say and replied in a soft voice. “Thanks,” and normally she wouldn’t ask but she recognized the woman and knew that she came from a prominent pureblood house and that, at least, Thalia could respect. “Would you like some help?”
It had taken all but 30 seconds to show Lavinia up in the most embarrassing way. Unable to do magic in a magical school even she could admit to the irony. The other could make it look so easy a flip of a wrist and a wand, but didn’t. Oh how she craved to be able to do the same so casually, so carelessly. Lavinia couldn’t count the times as a little girl how she had secretly picked up a stick on a walk and in the closet pretended to do that very action. Instead they offered her help verbally which somehow made it worse. She offered a chaste smile, “I’m quite alright, thank you though.” At the risk of being rude she knew she had to add something else and she surely had not lost her manners. “Is there something I could help you with? This hall has been cleared because of a first year’s mishap in potions making class. Apparently stink bombs and actual bombs have a lot in common.”
He watched the smile on her lips appear and disappear in an instant, the disappointment obviously written on her face. Michael couldn’t very well please everyone in his line of work (never mind everyone in his life). “Nothing ever is,” Michael muttered, eyes narrowing. Instinctively, his body tensed, getting ready for her to retaliate, maybe tell him off or something for not having what she needed (retail is a pain), but her response was…not what he expected. Michael blinked at her appreciation, stunned a little, clutching her list in his sweaty hands. “Oh–uh, I see…” he paused, taking another glance down at the list, his brows together. “Well, some spells and potions allow substitutions and work just fine…do you mind me asking what this is for?” He raises both a brow and the list in question. And although she didn’t quite ask for his name, he added, “I’m Michael. But you probably knew that since you’ve been here before. I’m sorry, what was your name again?” Real professional for a regular.
She caught his statement, but pretended she didn’t. It wouldn’t help to account for it. Eyes watching she saw the shift in the other’s body language. As soon as he was at ease it was Lavinia’s turn to tense up. Questions. They had a funny way of appearing right when you didn’t want to answer them. Jaw clenched she went through the list of ways she could respond to not arise any suspicion or even worse concern. Finally she settled, doing what she could practiced a million times before., “This one’s particularly finicky unfortunately... It’s not for me as well it’s for a friend.” She smiled in what she hoped was a convincing manner. “Hello, it’s nice to officially make your acquaintance. My name is Lavinia, Lavinia Rowle.”
The day had been a long one, there was no doubt of that. Lavinia had been to see a psychic who had told her that her efforts would be fruitless. What did they know any ways? Who were they to say anything at all? Needless to say she was not in the mood for anything more on her plate today. The Leaky Cauldron had simply been a meeting place not one for pleasure. Loud, crowded, easy to be unassuming here. As she less than gracefully left her booth she looked back to see the bill she was leaving unpaid for only to abruptly be interrupted in her path, “Excuse m––oh. It’s you.”
