devour me

KATHERINE PYRITES // DEATH EATER // ALCHEMIST

[madebybigshadows]

a clear & present danger || k & m

[madebybigshadows]

talldarkandmoody‌:

Alastor cocked a brow at her comment. “If this is you accosting someone, I’d hate to see you polite.” He joked, the smirk apparent on his features. Aside from her marginally dishevelled appearance, she was an utterly calm and sophisticated spirit. Hardly a bother.

A smirk which turned into a barking laugh. 

“I do sometimes believe that drinking at home is the more socially acceptable option, then no one would see just how fucked up I am.” Shaking his head, he focused on the swirling liquid in his tilting hand. Not a fact he’d often admit out loud, given his position in the Ministry- it was expected that he had every aspect of his life set to peachy keen.

“I do agree with you though, I mostly come here for Abe.” Moody’s eyes flicked towards his old friend. His smirk shifted to what most would take as a genuine smile. Many moons had passed since their first meeting, and he adored every inch of that grumbling buffoon. “So yeah, definitely the service.”

“I’m too mouthy for polite.” Truer words had never been spoken. “But occasionally I can be on my best behaviour.” 

The laugh surprised her and it had a begrudging answering smile tilting her lips. He... wasn’t at all what she’d been expecting. “Fucked up to whose standards? Those dullards drifting through Diagon Alley desperately trying to match their robes to their shoes?” She snorted and rolled her eyes skywards, thinking of the people she’d gone to school with. “So maybe you drink too much,” this was called projecting, right? No no, this was called keep the Head Auror pissed as a fart so she’d drop off any and all radar forever. “Fuck it. People say life is too short, but honestly it’s the longest thing you’ll do, and if a drink helps with that?” She lifted her own glass up again for a mouthful, “Then drink.”

It burned on the way down, but it left her feeling warm. “I don’t really know him, as you clearly do, but he’s never judged me.” Never really spoken to her, outside of when the mood strikes and she plays twenty questions on what drink she ought to try next; some of her favourites she wouldn’t know about if it wasn’t for him. “I also appreciate his bluntness.”

[madebybigshadows]

vanciful‌:

Emmeline would give it to her- The potioneer knew her shit. She also loved what she did, Emmeline realised as her hand rippled across the cheap paper with quick, confident strokes. A low whistle escaped her mouth as Katherine did the math, causing the Gryffindor to still, just for a moment and raised her eyes to the woman sitting across from her. If speculation was indeed the name of the game, and Pyrites knew a lot about the black market… Not that Emmy cared if she was involved in any capacity that wasn’t professional.

“My lips are sealed.” Eyes returning to the paper, Emmeline nodded thoughtlessly at Katherine’s request for anonymity. It went without saying. Em’s sources were only as good as they were secret. The last thing she needed was the woman being ostracised for her connections to the press, especially if she was directly involved in the market for stolen goods. “And your employer? Are they based in Diagon Alley?” She asked airily, under the impression that Katherine was self-employed but quite ignorant to what exactly Katherine did.

Straightening up with a final cursory glance at her words, Emmeline sat back to watch Katherine quietly as the other brought up the positive uses of the venom in question. That was one way to spin the thing, she supposed, having immediately assumed that the motivation for the theft had been as iniquitous as the crime itself. “Do you have deep enough pockets, Ms. Pyrites,” Emmeline smirked, “to resist getting in on the action?”

The question was uncouth, but Emmy knew it was something she needed to ask, fully expecting a denial. “No, let me rephrase that.” the Gryffindor said before taking a slow sip of her whiskey and packing away her pen and notebook. “If I was looking to get in on the action- theoretically, of course- Where would I start looking?”

It was a dangerous game to play, throwing oneself into the criminal underworld, but Emmy was interested and if she could find a paper-trail leading back to anyone in the Ministry… well, as the saying goes, there’s never smoke without fire.

“I appreciate the discretion.” She didn’t. She wanted to be able to point out her name in the paper and tell people that that was her, she was this potions expert, but she just had to wait things out. Instant gratification appealed to her, primarily because she’d never had it, but she knew she had to hold herself back because losing it all wouldn’t be worth a fifteen minutes of fame. She hadn’t worked so hard to let her ego completely screw her over. 

“They’re more of a recluse,” the corner of her mouth twitched - not technically a lie, at least not whilst he got things planned, “and Diagon Alley is a little too busy for them. They live outside of London, away from the hussle and bussle. It’s a little lonely sometimes, but the experience I’m getting is worth it.” 

Her glasses was sweating, and she dragged her finger through a line of condensation, looking up sharply at the question, raising her eyebrow in a manner that she hoped conveyed the ‘how stupid do you think I am’ that was bubbling on the tip of her tongue, before she seemed to catch her own stupidity and rephrase the question.

She couldn’t help the bubble of laughter that burst free. 

“Firstly, you’d have to look for a beard, because there’s not a single soul on any market that would look at you and think anything other than either Auror or reporter, I’m sorry. Maybe get some Polyjuice and then consider crawling into the seedy underbelly of Magical Britain.” Maybe a little mean, but stories were told of people like her, who’d gone sniffing where they shouldn’t. 

Didn’t mean she couldn’t throw her a bone though. 

“I know of someone,” and if asked, she’d claim the whole six degrees of separation and not that this person was a dealer she was going to hit up to see if he’d got his hands on any of this, “who might be willing to talk to you. I have no idea if he knows anything, but even finding that out will cost you.”

[ehhdgarbones]

You Again | E&K

[madebybigshadows]

ehhdgarbones‌:

“Flatter you,” Edgar challenged with an aghast expression and tone, staring wide eyed and incredulous that the witch would suggest that he was even capable of such a thing. “Kat, my beloved friend, apple of my eye, my guiding light. I would never, ever, dream of–” He cut himself off with a snicker he immediately struggled to stifle with little success. Edgar cleared his throat and carried on like the misstep never happened. 

Still smirking that lopsided simper that brought his dimple to the surface, Edgar tucked Katherine’s hair behind her ear, musing, “Is it flattery if it’s the truth?” His wink was followed by a broader grin. The careless lift of his shoulders and slight shake of his head wordlessly contended her statement.

Instead of pushing the subject and his luck, he rounded his arm over his shoulders and started them on their way. Edgar winked at one of the other patrons as they passed, dismissing them the second their were out of his periphery and maintaining focus on the witch under his arm. “You know,” he ducked his head a bit so that he could mutter a low timbre into her ear. “By your reaction, one would think that your own beauty is lost on you.”

Edgar pulled far back enough away to give his dark haired companion a curious look. Eyebrows knit and frowned a little. She was beautiful. Could she really not know that? “Why the fuck do you think I’ve taken all of your abuse over all these years? Because it gets my blood pumping?” Edgar shook his head and went on to joke, “Pretty girls get away with everything. Come on, Kat. Don’t act like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing. You’re so transparent. Fishing for compliments like I can’t guess what you’re up to. Do you want me to say it then? Is that what this is?”

Looking put out and resigned to his fate, Edgar threw his head back with a groan before saying, “Katherine Iforgetyourmiddlename Pyrites, you are as beautiful as you are talented. You’ve never taken shite from anyone, and you are one of the toughest women I know. You take my fucking breath away. And that’s the bloody truth of it.” After licking his lips to fight off his grin, Edgar turned his focus onto the woman under his arm with a raised eyebrow and a flat, “Happy now?”

A chuckle rumbled out from the pit of his lungs and Edgar used his arm around her shoulders to hook her in closer. He kissed her temple in affectionate apology for the scene he’d just caused before allowing her to fall back into step with him and continuing down the aisles. If she hit him right then not only would he not be surprised in the slightest, but there was the smallest chance that it was perhaps the smallest bit warranted. 

“Wiggenweld potion,” he confirmed with a smile, looking straight ahead as they continued their forward march. Tightening the circle of his arm behind her neck, he brought the small witch back in so he could mumble lowly, “When have you ever known me to stay out of trouble, Kat? You know good and well that that’s not in my repertoire.” Another grin, chuckle, and sideways aimed wink before his focus was ahead of them again, lightly browsing the shelves as they passed.

Katherine’s question brought a bark of laughter out of Edgar. He grinned down at the witch beside him, who was staring right back up at him looking genuinely concerned for the state of his mental health. “Multiple times, actually,” revealed the blond in answer to whether or not he’d been tested at St. Mungos. “They’ve started a loyalty program because of me, believe it or not. Visit nine times and on your tenth admittance you get a free consultation with a neuro specialist. It’s a really good deal. You would not believe how difficult it is to book an appointment with a neuro specialist otherwise.”

Lifting a finger on the hand around her shoulders, he addressed her concern about where they’d be brewing the potion in question. “You recall that cuppa I invited you out for. Listen to this, I have a plan and it’s brilliant: you come home with me, we throw some ingredients into a cauldron, set it to simmer, sit at the table with a few cups of tea…” Edgar waggled his eyebrows at the witch, prompting her with an excitable Ah, ahhh?

“Way I see it, Pyrites, my beautiful and accomplished friend, there are two possible answers here: an emphatic yes, or a resigned yes.” His shoulders bounced casually. Either way, he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

She’d (stupidly, foolishly) thought that after his first misstep, where he’d swanned right into taking the piss, that he’d let the whole thing drop - this whole, this whole thing about beauty or whatever, but no. Nope, he’d taken what had been a throwaway comment about not flattering her, and somehow figured it was A Thing (how??) and was running away with. 

She could feel herself turning scarlet, feel herself getting hot all over. 

“I’m not fishing for compliments,” this was awful, this was hell, people were looking, “I’m smart, okay? I am not pretty and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.” She had dirt underneath her fingernails, her hair was more often lank than it was clean, she could do with losing a few pounds, her nose was too big for her face, her eyes wonky and her knees looked like little old men faces, okay, this wasn’t a case of fishing for compliments, this was a case of being realistic. “Ohmygodyouneedtostop,” either he didn’t know how loud his voice was, or it was on purpose - either way, it was going to be a good long while before she could show her face in here again. 

She didn’t care that the staff member had finally come out from the back with the items she’d wanted, they could fucking owl them to her, they were leaving. 

She was red because he was making a scene, not because he was complimenting her and handing out kisses like it was no big deal; as soon as they were out of the shop, the cold air welcomed against her heated cheeks, she punched him in the arm. “You best beg I don’t fucking poison that Wiggenweld potion of yours.” And then, because this was him, she continued with a hurried, “And I swear to fuck, if you get down to beg, I’m kicking you in face, don’t test me.” She would as well. Break his stupid nose. It’d serve him right. 

Her neck still felt warm from where his arm had been. 

“If I’m coming back to yours,” she’d fallen into alternate reality, it was the only way to make sense of this, nothing was going as it should, she needed to take control here, “then you’re offering me more than just a brew. Alcohol,” she clarified, just in case he’d taken too many knocks to the head, “is what I’m referring to here, you absolute fail of a human being.”

[princeofspinnersend-blog]

Alembics || k & s

The Malfoy family has been exceedingly generous to make space available for potioneering in their home, and Severus says as much as he is directed to a room offhandedly called “the laboratory”. The trip downstairs becomes by default a rather terse tour of Malfoy Manor, making it abundantly clear that the Malfoys have the space to spare for just about any cause mentioned in passing.

He keeps a level head as best he can, but a passing glance at the front hall is a challenge to his resolve. How many times over would his parent’s home fit inside?

The path to the laboratory takes Severus toward the back of the manor and down a set of servants’ stairs. It’s a generous space, if secluded, behind a heavy, nondescript door. He steps in, closing the door behind him, and scans the room before clearing his throat.

“Miss Pyrites.”

@madebybigshadows

[madebybigshadows]

Although they’d agreed to meet today, there’d been a large part of her that had expected him not to show. Technically, the workroom belonged to both of them, but given that she spent the majority of her time here, and he at Hogwarts, she’d kind of taken over the space just a little. It was Zanbini’s casual disgust with the place that had her spending half of last night and this morning tidying up; it was still a little haphazard, and hopefully he didn’t need anything out of the second store room because that’s where she’d shoved most of the ‘mess’. 

As soon as he was gone, she’d let it explode back into its usual state of disarray but whilst he was here? She could at least pretend to follow the basic of potion lab protocols. 

So yes, whilst she didn’t think he’d show, she’d still gone to the effort of cleaning up, and as she waited she’d continued tending to what would be the next batch of galleons for the Dark Lord when it matured; it was when she was cleaning the glass rod she’d just been stirring cauldron five with when he arrived, his abrupt arrival casing her to start. 

Ah, back to last names. “You can call me Katherine, or Kat. We do work together after all.” From her time at Hogwarts, first names seemed terribly familiar, but really she wouldn’t mind it coming from him at all. “I’m glad you made it,” she spoke just to break the silence, tying up her hair as she walked around the tables, gesturing with her head the separate workstation she’d set up for them both. “I’m actually looking forward to getting started.” 

[madebybigshadows]

act naturally || k & r

[madebybigshadows]

rabxlestrangex‌:

“Everyone has places they go, or things that they do, more than they should. If yours is reading in drinking establishments of the not particularly reputable sort, well, you could do much worse.” Rabastan’s expression, vaguely amicable, morphed into a sharper sort of amusement, “Ah, I’ve given myself away as an outsider so easily, how terrible. I’ll know better for next time, I suppose. When in Rome… don’t speak to anyone or make eye contact.” He’d known from a patchwork of his very few previous visits to the place that it was quiet- he’d picked here to sulk in a corner in the first place for a reason, after all. That didn’t mean he couldn’t meet Katherine’s offhanded ribbing with sarcasm of his own. 

Rabastan couldn’t remember the last time he got well and truly drunk. He hadn’t even been properly tipsy in far too long. And Rab didn’t flatter himself by thinking he was untouchable- he was well acquainted with his own mortality, thank you very much- but he couldn’t imagine Katherine would be stupid enough to take advantage of his inebriation in any way. Fuck it. It was far more fun than sulking or spending the night lounging about the manor. 

“Rude. This is the best piss water they have on tap in this delightful establishment.” As if to prove his point, the old man at the bar chose that moment to loudly proclaim someone a ‘fucking idiot’ and reach over the bar top and flick said patron hard in the forehead. Rabastan raised his eyebrows across the table at Katherine and downed the rest of his drink, pushing up from his chair in one movement, “Any requests?”

Her lips twitched at his ‘you could do much worse’ comment and it was on the tip of her tongue to suggest maybe their extracurricular activities would fall into that category, but she wasn’t stupid and so she kept her mouth shut, lifting her shoulder up in a half shrug in agreeance. “Everyday is a school day,” she teased, meeting his sarcasm headon. “You learn something new.”

She’s pretty sure, though she’d never be able to prove it, that the same thoughts are running through his head as they are hers; they weren’t exactly the right company to be getting drunk in, but she can almost grab the moment he decides to throw caution to the wind and for whatever reason that pleases her. 

Rabastan was one of those who’d ignored her in school, never actively working to make her life hell, but from what she can recall she primarily hated him because of his association to Val. Now she just hates him because his brother is the Golden Child in their ragamuffin group of sociopaths, and she’s a jealous needy little thing. It’s not something she’s proud of knowing about herself, but know it she does. 

“Liquor is quicker, if any of the post-Quidditch match chanting is to be believed,” she offered, shifting in her seat and crossing her legs underneath the table. “So stay away from beers and ales and you’ll be fine and maybe pick something with a bit of a kick.”

[madebybigshadows]

a clear & present danger || k & m

[madebybigshadows]

talldarkandmoody‌:

Alastor smirked, he couldn’t exactly argue with that kind of logic. A meaty hand closed around the rim of the fresh glass, his previous one having just been emptied. He was good with the double parking, already lining up another for the pair with Abe. It was just one of those nights.

“Please, be my guest.” He gestured towards the chair with a swift jerk of his head. Whether she sat there or not, it would’t bother him in the slightest. He rarely paid mind to others, though the Auror had a feeling that this wouldn’t be an instance of ships passing in the night- she seemed far too chatty for that.

“Solitude is my general state of being. Nice to break it up on the occasion.” He grunted with a nonchalant shrug, tilting his glass back in her direction before raising it to his lips. The hard liquor burned on the way down. A feeling second only to sex or the adrenaline found mid duel. “What brings you here this evening? Just the good alcohol and stunning service?”

Outwardly she smiled as she took her seat, but on the inside she couldn’t help but to feel like she was walking into a lion’s den. Facing off with that moron Potter couldn’t hold a candle to the feeling in her stomach as she settled herself on the stool. “Thank you,” she all but demurred, brushing her hands over her knees, smoothing out her robes. 

For all they stood on different sides of the line, she couldn’t help but to feel like, at least in this, they had something in common. “I know the feeling. Believe it or not, I don’t generally accost people when they’re only trying to enjoy a drink.” She tilted her glass back him in return, bringing it up for a mouthful, feeling it warm her from the inside out. 

“Well, it’s either drink here or drink alone at home, and we both know which option is more socially acceptable.” There was more truth in the statement than she wanted to look at, so she moved swiftly on, glancing over to Aberforth as he lumbered off. “I like it here. There’s something charming about this place. The stunning,” her lips twitched on that word, “service is just another selling point, as far as I’m concerned.” 

She crossed her legs, hand loose against her glass. “And you? What brings you here?”

[ehhdgarbones]

You Again | E&K

[madebybigshadows]

ehhdgarbones‌:

Edgar shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged. The edges of his mouth were quirked, his expression was that of repressed amusement. “Suppose it does,” he replied when Katherine asked if thoughts about eye jabs counted as thinking of him. “Not the picnic under starlight fantasies i was hoping for, but I was on your mind. So I’ll take it.”

Was it flirting if she only reciprocated with insults and threats of bodily harm? Edgar liked to think so. Not in a romantic sense. His romantic interests began and ended with one Xenophilius Lovegood. But flirting in a teasing capacity. In a way that couldn’t be helped because he was a cheeky bastard and Katherine loved it. For all her eyerolls and glaring, he knew she enjoyed the repartee as much as he did. How couldn’t she? It was fun, and he was pretty sure she felt the same way.

She would’ve jinxed him by now if she didn’t. Or punched him in the face again, but that hadn’t gone that well for her the last time she’d tried it. His strong jaw was a blessing and a curse.

Thoughts of their school years had him smiling warmly down at the witch. She’d disagree but they’d been friends for well over a decade now. Just a few years shy of two. They weren’t as close as his other long standing friends, but it didn’t make him care for her any less. Just because she didn’t ask the prying questions, or even the pointless ones, didn’t mean he wouldn’t bend over backwards for her if she ever needed him to. It very well might actually have the opposite effect.

Kat had never needed him. Not even when he stepped between her and her bullies. That she could handle her own was never in question. But after all these years later she still hadn’t learned that she didn’t have to. If she ever needed something, he was there. It was as true now as it had been then, but she was stubborn and pigheaded, and he could say that because he was guilty of the same damn thing.

“Clearly,” he agreed when she observed that Amelia had known early on the headache he’d be to her and everyone else around him. “She calls it intuition, though. Which probably makes it considerably more accurate.” Depended on where Kat landed on the whole divination as a legitimate magic debate. Edgar shrugged again. “Didn’t matter in the end. Neighbors didn’t want me either.”

After disposing of his not as fresh as he thought they were potion ingredients, Edgar drafted Katherine’s help and knew he had her when the witch sighed heavily enough to make her shoulders sag. It was a beautiful performance, but he’d seen too many just like it to be fooled by the forced exasperation. A grin immediately took form both in his expression and in his eyes as he welcomed her help, however reluctant she pretended it to be.

An eyebrow cocked and the grin he wore as lopsided, teasing. No, she wasn’t likely to get rid of him otherwise, or afterward for that matter. He’d invited her to tea and wasn’t going to be talked out of it. “Brains and beauty, Kat. You haven’t changed at all.” Edgar hooked an arm around her shoulders and started walking with her back toward the aisle where he’d perused the last patch of potion ingredients, well aware that the embrace made them look like a couple.

In answer to her question, he finally supplied, “I’m trying to throw together a wiggenweld potion. Easy shite, I know, but I think my supply of flobberworm mucus went bad.” As if a brilliant idea had just occured to him, the cirlce of his arm around her neck tightened as she tucked her more firmly into his side. “Do you want to help? You aced Potions. Well, so did I, but it’s been a few years. Mixing drinks doesn’t have nearly as demanding a need for cauldrons as brewing potions, so I’m a bit out of practice. And, from what I hear you’ve kept at it. What do you say? Save my arse like you always do?”

Edgar angled his head to look down at the witch hooked under his arm and tucked to his side. “Wouldn’t hurt to spend time with an old friend, would it? Come on, it’ll be fun.” His eyebrows waggled as he anticipated her answer.

This man was ridiculous. And she hated that she was letting herself be endeared to him. She hated the fact that he was just as much brain as he was brawn so she couldn’t even hate him properly. Most of all, she hated how open he was, like he was never taught as a child to hold back something for yourself, otherwise there’ll be nothing left of you after the vultures had picked your bones. 

Snorting, she couldn’t help to level him with a flat look. “You don’t have to try and flatter me. I’ve already agreed to help you.” Brains and beauty... yeah, the brains, she had those, and she was ferociously protective over her accomplishments, but beauty? If there was only one thing she wasn’t, that would be at the top of the list. His arm was heavy on her shoulders, warm too, and it was an effort to ignore it and ignore how they made them look. 

If it was anybody else, she’d be wondering if they were making fun of her. 

“Wiggenweld Potion?” she frowned, twisting to look up at him. “Alternatively, you could try to stay out of trouble for once. That might help.” How was she even here right now? A chance encounter that had somehow led to her helping him pick out potion ingredients to being asked to brew a potion? “I--” she closed her mouth, confused and more than a little thrown. She could only think of one other person who’d willingly spend time with her, and she’d had tea with her not a few days ago, so this was just... 

“Have you ever been tested at Mungos?” she asked, still frowning, unconcerned that she was being rude. “You know, to make sure everything up here,” she tapped the side of her temple, “is working okay? Where the hell are we going to brew your potion? There’s not little stations you can just drop by and use.” They’d actually be quite handy and neat though, huh. “And how did you go from ingredients and a brew to brewing?”

[aberforthright-blog]

the usual || k&a

[madebybigshadows]

aberforthright‌:

So, she was after a conversation. There were worse people to trade a few words with- worse within the walls of the Hog’s Head, undoubtably, and Aberforth wasn’t even thinking of the kid who’d toddled in and was now cradling his glass as if it may bite him. He wasn’t fond of Katherine Pyrites, fondness wasn’t something he did- it, like so many other emotions, was far too cumbersome and messy- but he didn’t find her presence depressingly annoying, either. That she was often engrossed in a book while in the pub was definitely a factor in her favour. 

Not shifting from where he leant, propped on one arm, against the pillar jutting up from the floorboards to the exposed rafters of the low-slung ceiling, Aberforth raised his eyebrows at the witch, “There’s nothing wrong with routine.” But he obligingly glanced over his shoulder at the bottles shelves behind him regardless, as if he couldn’t summon up the exact contents of those shelves in his mind at the drop of a hat, so long had they remained essentially unchanged. 

Charade of looking and thinking about recommendations over, Aberforth returned his gaze to Pyrites, who was sitting with her chin propped in her hands, book open in front of her. “I’ve got a fairly passable gin out of Edinburgh. The Blishen Firewhiskey is getting dusty, people tend to go for the milder stuff. If you’re not feeling inclined towards liquor, the cider’s alright.” Aberforth rattled off his recommendations in a tone of faint boredom that was undercut by something toeing the line of the sardonic. 

“Anything caught your eye, then?” 

Keeping her chin on her hands, she was quite comfortable as she waited him out, lips tilting up into flash of a smile and a brief head tilt to show she agreed with there nothing being wrong with routine. Getting him to talk was like pulling teeth, but whenever she did manage it he always spoke like it took an age to force the words up his throat and out of his mouth. There was always an edge of something to his tone, a casual disregard for casual conversation that she could appreciate. 

Sucking on her upper lip, she worried at it for a moment before humming, interest stirred; she wasn’t much of a beer or cider person, far more a liquor woman. “The Blishen Firewiskey, is that the Fire Cinnamon one?” She didn’t bother to wait for an answer. “I’ll have a dram of the Fire Cinnamon anyway.” Finally moving her hands, she fished out enough money for two drinks, and pushed it across the bar towards him. 

“Take one for yourself too.”

[piercedtoremember]

Witchcraft.

[elpoeplufituaebeht]

Alicia Vikander

[em-amelievanity-blog]

give me poison | k & e

[madebybigshadows]

em-amelievanity‌:

“You’re spending time with me right now, aren’t you?” Her brows waggled upwards, an amused smirk clear as day on her features as she reclined further into the booth, long legs stretching before her. It was safe to say that Emma Vanity was always cramped up, one way or another, a restless being stuck in a world that was moving too slowly for her to enjoy. Laughter quickly left her lips at Katherine’s words, a nod of agreement showing her appreciation for what the girl was saying. “I guess we’re just in different worlds, Kat. You live in a world where intelligence is valued and makes you strong. In my world if you’re intelligent then you’re a bitch that thinks they know better. Men’s egos are fragile, my dear. I’d rather not cause trouble for myself.”

Self-preserving as ever, a true Slytherin at heart. Her smile grew at the expression of Katherine’s face. She’d seen it before, when she’d stumbled in for tutoring after getting one too many bludgers. It was a redeeming quality, the scorn clear when the girl handed her some murtlap essence and scolded her on being so reckless.

  “Don’t worry about me, Kat. I’m a big girl now. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

Her eyes softened at Katherine’s words. Of course she had some. She knew such an offer wouldn’t have come without an asking price, and she was ready for it.

  “Whatever it’ll cost me, I’ll take what I can get.”

“For all my sins, yes. I am. I like to call it community service. It’s my way of giving back,” she said, tone teasing and kind in a way hardly many people got to experience. “And if you think I care one whit about anyone’s ego, male or female, and how fragile they are, you’ve had more knocks to the head than I previously thought. And neither should you. Be a bitch. Be the biggest bitch.” Shaking her head, she pointed her mug at her, clearly gearing up to stand on her soapbox and fuck it, why not? When was the last time she actually got the chance to actually talk to someone, god. “I’ve never understood how that’s an insult. Bitch.” She rolled her eyes. “All that’s saying is that they’re pissed off you’re not being a doormat. I got bored of letting people walk all over me at Hogwarts, so that’s actually a compliment. 

Draining the last of her tea, she tapped at the menu. “Another pot?” before half smiling, head shaking. “It’s on the house. You’ll have to give me a week or so to brew this altered version for you. I have the standard on hand,” she could trust Emma with this much, “but not this. How much do you need?”

[madebybigshadows]

vanciful‌:

The journalist assessed the woman from over the top of her small whiskey glass. Katherine Pyrites was harder to read than Emmeline was used to. While the redhead was shrewd, instinct had a lot to do with her following the leads that she did and the potioneer was giving nothing away. It was fine. Emmeline had not asked to meet Katherine because she suspected the woman of foul play. Though it was not out of the question, any potioneer would kill for that much of such an expensive ingredient.

“The Ministry haven’t been very forthcoming on exact anything, today.” Emmeline replied, pleased to see the woman’s shocked expression. At least the Gryffindor wasn’t the only person to find the entire situation strange. Emmeline felt a strong mistrust towards the Ministry as of late, the political process hard for the muggleborn to parse out. The entire institution seemed to work from a point of obscurity. The woman leaned forward onto her elbows, expression thoughtful. “Some importers reckoned that the crates stolen were worth about fifteen thousand galleons. Though speculation gets us nowhere.” She added, almost reminding herself as much.

Emmeline snickered at Katherine’s harsh words, raising her glass of whiskey in toast. Slughorn was part of the problem, Emmy had decided long before she had left school. It had been bad enough that students had so openly viewed themselves as better than her, but with teachers playing clear favourites… Emmeline’s lack of interest in potions had less to do with her magical ability as it had to do with her mind’s tendency to wander.

As Katherine launched into explanation of just what acromantula venom could do, she scrambled to grab her notebook and pen from her bag - both muggle- and gestured to the woman sitting opposite her. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Emmeline allowed the woman to talk, despite Katherine’s words of uncertainty. “This is all good, Ms. Pyrites,” Emmeline nodded, as the brow curled onto her brow. It was definitely not something that the Ministry might want their international counterparts finding out, that much was clear enough. The woman hummed, pressing the top of her pen into her lip. “And there’s a huge black market for the venom, I presume?”

Red brows crept towards a redder hairline at Katherine’s last comment as she looked up to shoot the woman an intrigued look. God, that was interesting. Someone like Skeeter might have stopped there, accused the Ministry of slipping the stuff into their water, and carried on ruining people’s day. “That would make quite a headline,” Emmeline smirked, jotting down some bullet points.

Refilling the woman’s glass, Emmeline let a long breath out, eyes dancing about the bar in thought. “If you were a betting woman, what do you think are the odds that Death Eaters might want to get their hands that much venom?”

Her lips twitched in a bemused smile and she couldn’t help but the inelegant snot. “Colour me surprised that they’re keeping mum on how badly they’ve fucked up.” Fifteen thousand galleons was a pretty penny and she hummed, tilting her glass at her, more into this conversation than she ought to be; reporters, they were sneaky. “But speculation is the name of the game. I know in the more... unscrupulous areas,” the less said on that the better, “a pint of Acromantula Venom can go anywhere from 28 to 30 galleons, so even if you err on the side of caution and say these importers are working with the price point of 28 gals? That’s still over five hundred and thirty pints. Which is an astronomical amount.”

She clicked her glass against hers and waved an uninterested hand when she pulled out a quill. “So long as you’re aware that what I’m saying isn’t in any which way inflammatory, but mere speculation and,” oh god, this was going to hurt, and she could feel herself grimacing even as she forced the words out, “when quoting me, if you could keep me anonymous, it’d be much appreciated. My employer likes to lead a quiet life,” she added, lying through her teeth, “and I can’t imagine they’d like to see my name making waves with something this scandalous.” She drained her glass, needing the burn down her throat to soothe her. 

“Huge market.” Anyone with two brain cells knew what the seedier underbelly of the magical world was like, she didn’t need to pull her punches here. “Anyone with an ounce of interest in potions has this venom on their wish list, they just don’t have deep enough pockets. And not necessarily for nefarious reasons either, but experimentation. Like Belby‘s work on a potion to control the werewolf shift? His proposal is publicly available and it makes mention of using aconite, which incredibly poisonous.”  

She was veering off topic with her excitement and she needed to remind herself that the witch in front of her didn’t actually care. No matter how exciting the prospect of such a potion was. Thankfully, getting a refill was cue enough to shut the fuck up, and she inclined her head at her in thanks. 

Oh god. What a question. “Undoubtably.” She could say that with 100% certainty, given her actual profession. “They’d be stupid to not want to get in on that action.”

[em-amelievanity-blog]

give me poison | k & e

[madebybigshadows]

em-amelievanity‌:

 “I don’t suppose you’d consider that I was already a stupid fool before I started playing the sport.” Her head tilted slightly, too interested in the words to take any real offense. She’d heard it all before, heard the chiding that Kat had given her about the sport which she loved so dearly. Back then it didn’t seem to hold the same resounding sting, didn’t seem to hurt so much, but Katherine was a different woman now, and women of strength always struggled to hold the poison from her words. “Please trust that if that were to happen to me that I’d live in joyous bliss for the rest of my life- better to end it that way than end it doing something that made me hate each waking second of my life.”

It was true, Quidditch had always been Emma’s first love. The freedom of flying through the air, the crowds, the ability to lose oneself and simply focus was glorious. She wouldn’t trade it for anything else in the world- such words wouldn’t have any effect on her, not one bit.

Emma shrugged, head tilted as she’d smirked up towards the woman, eyes distant with the same self-preserving vacancy that she often relied on.

   “Oh, you know. Just widening my horizons, Kat. If I didn’t wonder about such things, then I’d just be another stupid Quidditch player.” Her eyes sparkled with another thought, but her lips dared not to part and let the thoughts run rampage. “I know how talented you are, I assumed I’d need somebody that I could trust to simply ask some questions about it.”

“You’re many things, but a fool isn’t one of them.” She wasn’t one for handing out false compliments and she wasn’t about to start now and nor was she someone who stroked people’s egos; she said how things were and that was that. And it was true. Emma wasn’t a moron. Her actions would often suggest otherwise, but the fact remained. “And I don’t know why you try to act like you are one. It’s boring. Do you think I’d waste my time with an idiot?” 

She fought down a smile, amused despite herself. “Fine. So long as you know it’d be a waste. I know you think I say it to be cruel, but I don’t.” There was some genuine concern hidden underneath her scorn. 

Lifting both brows, she hummed. “There’s more. I know there’s more.” She drummed her fingers on the rim of her cup, leaning back in her seat and getting comfortable. This was, after all, her kind of conversation. “But maybe I’m not being fair; yes, such a potion exists, and I’m going to assume you remember the downfalls of Veritaserum and that you decided to ask anyway. You’re not gunna tell me why you’re asking and okay, that’s fair. We all have our secrets and you’re entitled to yours.”

She tilted her head to one side. She might be showing too much of her hand here but... “Do you want some?”

[primaballerinazabini-blog]

Dungeons & Dragon Ladies | K&V

[madebybigshadows]

primaballerinazabini‌:

The sound of her name drew a smirk so dark and sinister to her lips that the shadows in her eyes danced. There was so much hatred in the clipped tone, in those narrowed eyes, and the set of her shoulders. Once Katherine had realized who’d entered her lair the witch bristled and tensed, a threatened street cat defending its claimed rubbish bin. Complete with the yowling. Just give her a few minutes, the ear splitting screeches were never far off where Val was concerned.

It was amusing, Katherine’s reaction to her. Valerian enjoyed her obvious loathing, the scathing heat of the fury behind her eyes. She hated her. And with good reason. Theirs was a history filled with decades of contemptuous riposte. Katherine was less than. Always had been. Always would be. 

All time had changed was the girl’s discovery of her one useful talent. Sure, she was the master of her craft. But to be so utterly useless at everything else? What a pity that her only value was in the money she brought to the table. 

New money, at that. Simply because wizarding aristocracy suffered the vexatious, weed-like sprouting of upstarts didn’t mean the nouveau riche proletarians were warmly welcomed to their circles. Old blood had long memories, and the Pyrites were destitute, demeritorious vagrants. Lest anyone forget, especially Miss Pyrites herself.

Smiling fiendishly at Katherine’s parry, she shrugged impartially before walking a slow circle around her workshop. Valerian’s gaze was downcast, watching as her fingers glided over the table’s surface and everything in that trailed path, the parchment, the tomes, the tools. 

With a casual, unperturbed tone, Val picked a tool off of the table and inspected it disinterestedly, stating, “That rat’s nest on top of your head is hard to compete with, I’ll admit. Any attempts at verbal abuse would undoubtedly be absorbed by all that frizz.” The tool went back down onto the table and she glanced back up at Katherine with a question. “Is that your secret, Pyrites? Guard your tender, soft skull with a hard layer of dense matting?”

She started back on her circle around the room, still touching everything along the way while musing, “Its an interesting technique. And really does bring the whole,” she made an absent, vague hand gesture in Katherine’s direction, not really bothering to look up at the other witch until it suited her, “hag-chic look together. Tell me, do you purchase your clothing already looking as if they’ve spent months fermenting in a sewage drain, or do you wear them to bed?”

A hearty, mocking laugh bubbled up from the depths of Val’s chest when the other woman commanded her to go. The replying shake of her head was slow. The pitying look she offered Katherine was the same she’d give to a diseased mutt dying in the street. Well, not one she’d give to a dying mutt, but someone more easily touched by that kind of thing. 

“Leave? Oh, sweetheart. I don’t think so.” Her bottom lip jutted out in a mocking pout. “Not until you give me what I’ve come for. Then I’ll be out of the tangled, bushy, knotted, and foul-smelling mess that might’ve been hair at one point. Honestly, do you own a comb? Shears? Anything?”

She stopped not too far from Katherine and grinned contentedly as she held the witch’s glare. In a sickly-sweet and patronizingly warm tone, she purred, “And before you start hissing at me like some mangy, rabid alley cat, I’m here on the Dark Lord’s instructions. Turn me away and its him you’ll answer to.” Her smile broadened. Val’s thick eyelashes batted innocently. 

She could physically feel everything in her tightening and tensing as Zabini strolled around the room; she wanted her gone, out, but instead she was picking things up as though she had the right. “Stop touching my things.” No doubt all she’d get in reply was a sarcastic little quip in return, but whenever the other woman was concerned she couldn’t keep herself in check. It was like she’d just been transported back to Hogwarts and she was still that downtrodden little girl, seething from the sidelines.

Except now she didn’t have to keep her mouth shut. 

Her hand made an aborted gesture up to her hair before she caught herself -- so what if her hair was frizzy, of course it was going to be, it was humid as fuck down here, whilst she worked to better The Dark Lord’s cause and Zabini did what exactly? Fluttered her eyelashes and tottered around? “Do you have an actual point? Excuse me if my job entails me actually doing work that doesn’t require laying back and spreading my legs.” Hag-chic, hag-chic!! Like she was going to wear her best robes for brewing, was she actually brain dead (oh god though, she did, didn’t she? She looked a mess, and more of a mess than just your average slobbing around, but she hadn’t expected anyone to come down, or if she had then only Severus and he didn’t give one whit what she looked like-- no, no, stop. Don’t let her win). 

She took a step back when the other woman came to a stop in front of her, but at least she’d stopped mauling with her things; shame she hadn’t touched something that could’ve actually caused her harm. “You’re like a dog with a bone; my hair’s a mess and you’ve not shut up about it since.” As soon as she was gone, it was getting brushed, taken down from the messy knot she’d piled on top of her head around about the time the fifth cauldron was lit. “Do you have anything actually clever to say? Or were you biding your time before getting to the part where you had to beg for money?”

Her mouth curled into a smirk, her hands bunched into fists to try and stop them from shaking and shoved into her robes pockets so the other witch couldn’t see them. “Guess I’ll have to answer to him then, because I’m all out.” Pulling one hand out of her pockets, she gestured around the room and at the softly simmering cauldrons. “If you had a single original thought in that thick skull of yours, you would’ve come to the conclusion that I’m in the process of making more.” Her tone turned mocking, the type that would be used on a particularly thick child. “Surprisingly enough, the pretty colours aren’t just a light show.”

Giving her a mock apologetic look, the look in her eyes and the hidden disgust in the curl of her lip bellied her words. “Sorry, guess you’ll have to use your own money until I can compensate you. But that won’t be a problem, will it?” She hoped the broke bitch fucking choked. “Unless you want some out of my own purse if you can’t cover whatever expenditure you’re going to rack up? I have no problem in giving you a handout.” 

[princeofspinnersend-blog]

Professional Correspondence || Katherine and Severus

[madebybigshadows]

princeofspinnersend‌:

The final note arrived not in Winston’s care but in the talons of a Little owl with a perpetually blasé stare and ‘Giacomo’ stamped into his jesses. The response was barely half a sheet of parchment, folded over itself in lieu of a proper envelope, with a message dashed off so quickly it seemed to be rushing off the page.

Saturday at noon. Do not bring armadillo bile, I have a workaround planned.

-SS

CLOSED

[daydreamers-alley]

“You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don’t expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death — if you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.”

【ｐｏｔｉｏｎｓ】

[itsthecomet]