Amelia H. Bones

[ministry-bones]

gillockhart·:

Rearing his head back with a drunken sense of calculation, as if could determine some internal barometer on the state of her self-worth from the bottom of a bottle of prosecco and the liberated contents of the Zabini wine cellar, he determined that perhaps Amelia Bones was telling the truth. Names were powerful things, or so he’d determined at the age of seventeen when he’d killed his old one and crafted his life anew, and Amelia was a strong one. A name for mythic pioneers. 

“And why shouldn’t it be now?” he challenged with a tilt of his chin, as if self-worth was some kind of currency you could just amass until you needed it the most. “Some nosy sibling sticks her oar in and suddenly you aren’t worthy of what you want? That’s absurd.”

He punctuated this statement with a long swig of prosecco, gaze preternaturally focused for a man quite so drunk. That all devolved quite quickly at her dogged persistence of his own experiences in love.

Be honest. 

As if he had an honest bone in his body.

“Needed? No,” he replied with a dismissive wave of his hand, straightening his spine and rolling upward with a regal tilt of his chin. “Wanted?” 

And that was the prosecco talking of course. “We all want things, darling. Love or family or sex or marriage or just—” His tongue caught between his teeth, recalculating before he persisted, “—Sometimes the wanting gets in the way, that’s all.”

And he wasn’t going to let little crushes on nosy, overbearing landlords get in his way any longer. 

Pushing the prosecco bottle back into her hand he sniffed, rolling to surprisingly steady feet and standing. “Speaking of — I have packing to do. Africa won’t wait forever. Don’t go letting what you want get in the way of the things that matter, Amelia Bones.”

With that he turned, padding towards the doorway, seemingly without another thought save a vague wave as he headed back through the doorway, snagging another bottle of wine off the drinks cart on his way out.

{ f i n }

[ministry-bones]

[ministry-bones]

ᴡᴇʟʟ, ʜᴏʟʏ ᴍᴏʟᴇʏ, ᴍᴇ ᴏʜ ᴍʏ   ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀᴘᴘʟᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴇʏᴇ ɢɪʀʟ, ɪ’ᴠᴇ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ ᴏɴᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ

@benjyfvnwick & @emmeadvancing

[ministry-bones]

"𝔖𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔰 𝔞𝔰 𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔟𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔦𝔯𝔢. 𝔄 𝔰𝔱𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔡𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔪𝔞𝔡𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔥𝔢𝔩𝔩𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢."

@sweetpoiscn

[amxcuscarrow]

And now it hurts what we’ve become ‘Cause you taught me how to love It’s me who taught you how to stop

@ministry-bones

[ministry-bones]

gillockhart‌:

Gilderoy, something of a connoisseur of the art of nosiness, nodded intently, rearranging his limbs across the chaise lounge to pay better attention to the scandal unfolding before him. Sure, a dramatic confrontation in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic was nothing to sniff at, but it was hardly getting kicked out of a royal wedding party. Bless her strange little horse girl heart.

He paid little mind to the apology sent his way as he liberated the prosecco from her hands, waving it away without a care for paying it any more attention than the bubbly mouthful he took in payment. “Darling,” he started carefully, he hadn’t exactly intended to go getting philosophical today and he was hardly in a fit state for it, but still, like a champion he wore his drunkenness with a debonair air. “Self-deprecation is for lesser people.”

Patting absently at her hand he considered the bottle of prosecco before offering it back to her with a sigh. “The thing is,” he continued aloud, “There’s only one Sofia Zabini — much like there’s only one Gilderoy Lockhart,” he patted absently at his own chest. “And there’s only one — one—”

He squinted for a moment, scrambling uselessly before remembering, Earhart, “Amelia Bones. Why ever wouldn’t that be enough for anyone?”

And that was quite a beautifully constructed piece of advice, if he did say so himself, which was perhaps why he found himself floundering uneasily at the question that turned back on him with laser precision. “Me?”

There were any manner of glib answers to be had, of Monacan princes or mirrors or his work or any of the many swiftly abandoned flirtations with romance he’d shed over the years. There was also a glaring, ugly wound to his pride that he was viciously ignoring lest it make itself known with a dire need for more wine. “The greatest love of my life has always been myself,” he replied finally, decisively, toying with the silk tie of his robe and eyeing her through dark, inscrutable eyes like he had meant to say something entirely different.

(And even that was a lie, wasn’t it? Because he’d had to kill and bury all the integral bits of his first self to make Gilderoy come to life.)

“I’ve never needed anyone else — other than my Sofia, of course.”

Of course. He could survive anything so long as he had Sofia and that was all he needed to remember whenever that ugly little dent in his pride began to smart again.

Amelia’s gaze fell back on Gilderoy, her attention finally drawn away from the artwork gracing Sofia’s walls. Self-deprecation is for lesser people. It was kind and encouraging, sympathetic but not pitying. Amelia appreciated it more than she would be able to properly express. It felt like some kind of inclusion, validation, like the door to Sofia and Gilderoy’s peculiar, little lavish world was suddenly open.

It only took a few seconds for that feeling to slip through her fingers. Gilderoy couldn’t seem to remember her name for a moment and it didn’t slip past unnoticed. Amelia made a slight face, her lips twitching downwards before ultimately deciding to let the social faux pas slide. Gilderoy was drunk and they had just met. It was foolish for her to start getting attached. A part of her was certain that the only moniker he might remember her by would be palomino anyway.

Amelia smiled weakly as Gilderoy patted her hand, much like he had patted her head earlier like she was actually a horse or some kind of house pet. She nodded in appreciation as he passed the bottle towards her. Silent, Amelia took a few large gulps of prosecco before clearing her throat to speak once more.

“I’m usually not so unsure of myself.” Amelia proclaimed confidently. It was unsettling actually, how one person could shake her confidence and happiness in such a way. She had always been the type of woman to be completely confident in almost all of her abilities. For some reason it all seemed to falter when Amycus was involved. That shaky, unsteady feeling wasn’t helped by Alecto sticking her nose in their business as well. “Being Amelia Bones usually is enough.”

“Not one person?” Amelia asked skeptically. Surely there had to be someone. Even if it had only been a schoolyard infatuation that faded away over time. Amelia could still remember the boys she had fancied and while she wouldn’t deign to call those feelings love, they had stuck with her all these years. Amelia moved to pass the prosecco back to Gilderoy, shifting on the coach to get a better look at the man. Leaning one arm on the headrest, resting her head in her hand. “Come on...” she prodded, “Be honest.”

[ministry-bones]

amxcuscarrow‌:

It had been a tumultuous fortnight of swooping highs and devastating lows that Amycus, so accustomed to a sullen flatline of emotion, couldn’t seem to get a grip on; it felt like catapulting through a rollercoaster track where all he could do was hold on with a white-knuckled grip. This, however; scrunched up in the odd vinyl-booth at Fortescue’s, all odd angles and bent limbs, with Amelia pressed against his side seemed to, for a moment at least, have suspended that disastrous descent. The cavernous angry spaces of his brain that were forever echoing with debate fell silent, drowned out by the soft buzzing that had filled his ears and the jingle of glass as it was swept away by hand somewhere in the background.

A dull, passing thought occurred to him that an evanesco would be quicker.

Her head collided with his shoulder, a soft thump that rattled through his collarbone and punctuated the weird fizz and bubble inside his chest and honestly — he wasn’t a child, he should be better equipped to understand how to process things like this in the way he could process any other information but all he could focus on was the tingle in his lips. He sunk his teeth into them like it might help. “I think Florean is watching.”

A small furrow formed in his brow, counteracting the weird wiggling laughter that seemed to be taunting his lips and his fingers twitched erratically before smoothing the hair he’d tangled in his fingers back behind her ear and clearing his throat. Even the painful stretch of slowly healing skin upon his arms couldn’t seem to chase the feeling away. 

“I’d like to—” Do that again? Do that all the time? Feel easily, unreservedly, like this without the inevitable crash into all the wreckage that awaited them and seemed to be staring him down the further he fell down this rabbit hole. Her and her family of blood traitors, his steadfast avoidance of the subject like if he didn’t know for sure he could pretend it didn’t matter. Alecto’s disapproval that settled heavily overhead like a storm cloud, just waiting to burst again. “I’d like to go to the zoo again. Or—”

Or live anywhere that was not within the crushing inevitability of his own life and the path they were headed down. Because these strange, fractured pieces he was constructing were not going to withstand the eventual impact, but he’d never been a selfless creature. “—You said you wanted to go to that — that museum.”

And he couldn’t stand the pinprick of eyes on the back of his head, he wanted to guard this moment from their divisive little world like it had the right to exist.

The delicate touch of Amycus’s fingers pushing an errant strand of hair behind her ear only tempted Amelia to bury her face deeper into the fabric of Amycus’s sweater. Inhaling deeply, she momentarily thought about burying it in the crook of his neck instead. The thought of pulling away, even for a moment, seemed dreadful and disconcerting but she shouldn’t remain this way. At least not in the middle of an ice cream shop. Amelia could suddenly feel the lingering gaze of spectators once more. Curiously watching the two of them like they were characters in the most compelling story ever written. 

Gently, Amelia pulled away from Amycus’s shoulder. A small, shy smile on her face as Amelia took one of his hands in her’s, turning it over so she could trace the lines of his palms with her fingertips. Slightly concerned that looking Amycus directly in the eye would cause more high-pitched, nervous laughter to tumble out of her. There was comfort in being so close with him. A frightening exhilaration, like one foot was on the very edge of a cliff while the other rested in complete safety. 

“You’d think he’d never seen two people— ” Amelia started, only to stop short before she realized she what about to say. Two people snogging. Amelia cleared her throat, “I just...You’d think he’d never seen two people together before.” It was baffling as to why the man would be so interested in what what happening between them anyway. Amelia could recall that Florean’s was a rather popular spot for teenagers during her Hogwarts years. It was almost a given that he would’ve seen worse over the years.

If Florean had spoken up, if Alecto had said something, Amelia might not have let herself sink deeper and deeper into this attachment with no worries about how this might crash and burn in the future. Completely and utterly besotted with a man who was hiding something terrifying. Amelia knew that Amycus had suffered in his life and it hurt her deeply to think of anyone hurting him. She wouldn’t dare consider, or even comprehend, the thought of him hurting someone else.

“Yeah, of course.” Amelia answered. It was easy to imagine that she would go anywhere Amycus was now. To the end of the earth even. Finally catching his eye, Amelia lifted his hand and pressed a kiss to his palm. “The zoo or a museum...Either one would be nice as long as it’s ah..As long as I’m with you.”

[ministry-bones]

kirkstanbulstrode‌:

“Ah. One of those things.” He’d been on both ends of that sort of thing, once during Hogwarts and once with Mercy’s mother. It was a bummer, but sometimes it just couldn’t be avoided. Stan felt for the girl, though he figured giving her another drink was probably a bad idea. He instead got her a cup of water and placed it in front of her, then sat at her side and shrugged. “Look, if it went up in flames already then maybe it just wasn’t meant to be. Either that, or whoever it is will realize they fucked up and try to get in touch with you eventually. You can’t let that get you down, though. Life goes on, trust me.”

How do you know if you love someone? Stan let out a low whistle at yet another loaded question, staring at a stain on the bar as he tried to figure out how to answer that. He thought he’d felt it with Amanda, but once Mercy came around she was gone in a flash. For years he thought Marie was the love of his life, but with how much they broke up and got back together it wasn’t a good long-term relationship. Having kids together didn’t equate to love, after all, at least not a romantic kind of love. His mind flashed to Gilderoy, how his heartbeat quickened whenever he was in the room and how, despite his teasing, he hung onto almost every word the man said. He was captivating, energetic, and it was far too easy for Stan to become ensnared.

“I’m not sure I’d use the word love,” he said slowly, glancing back at her. “It’s still way too new to call it that, but… whenever I see him a smile is automatically on my face. Hell, we could talk for hours, or he could really, and I would hardly notice the time flying by. Just spending time with him is an honor in itself, and I’m just glad he chooses to spend his time with me.” Stan laughed awkwardly and ran a hand through his hair. “And then he gave me a second chance for messing up, which he never does, so I know he cares too. I guess the point of that is…” Stan went quiet again, not sure if he wanted to admit something so cheesy out loud after only knowing Gilderoy for two months (but he swore it was longer). 

“If you can’t imagine your life without seeing them in it, then I think that’s love. Wouldn’t it be?”

One of those things. Amelia choked out another sob, resting her head in her elbows. Stan’s words, while truthful, weren’t the sort of comfort Amelia had been looking for. What she had wanted was a pretty lie, someone to tell her there was still some sort of hope for her. “I’m sorry.” she mumbled, her head still buried between her arms. Unsure of whether the stranger had really heard her or not. Amelia could sense him sitting something in front of her. What she assumed would probably be water. It was when she felt some movement next to her that she finally lifted her head once again. Messily wiping her face on the sleeves of her costume.

Amelia listened, as closely as she could, as the man explained how he felt about his someone special. The look in his eyes, something sparkling, like from a movie. It was sweet, touching even, and made Amelia’s heart ache in the same way it did when she saw how happy her parents were with one another. It must be true love, only that could make someone look so goofy and smitten all at once. She had always tried to be independent of relationships despite having fallen once or twice for someone during her school years. There had always been some sort of healthy distance between. A line. With Amycus it felt like there wasn’t any barrier and, deep down, Amelia knew that she didn’t want there to be one.

“I think it might be love.” she said miserably. Or at least, it could’ve been. If Amelia had been sober, she knew she wouldn’t be so open or honest about the feelings she’d been having for weeks now. Assuming she would probably never see this stranger again, throwing caution to the wind seemed like a good idea. “That’s how I feel about him.” Amelia sighed, gazing sadly into the glass of water in front of her like it might hold some sort of answers, “Like your boyfriend...Maybe it’s crazy, to feel this intensely about something that never was but he’s different.”

[ministry-bones]

sweetpoiscn‌:

Amelia was hardly the first person to wish they weren’t hated by Alecto, but she was probably one of the first people who was actively trying to change her view on them despite all of her negative reactions and attempts to shoo them away from being anywhere near her. Why did she insist on getting to know Alecto so much? Why did it matter? She had already proven that she had the attention of her brother with or without Alecto’s interference, had put a bridge between the twins that she was sure Amycus hadn’t been aware of until their fight in the atrium, and yet she continued to pursue Alecto as well. She didn’t get it.

“Why do you care?” she asked in lieu of the explanation she seemed to want. “You already have my brother’s attention, and it seems you’ll continue to have it even while I’m vocal about my disapproval. Why are you so intrigued by me, Amelia Bones?” Because she didn’t owe anyone an explanation, and never had–humanity had never showed her that they deserved anything other than her bitter discontentment that she threw its way. Amelia was no different… except Amycus had decided to bring her into their lives, so perhaps she was different by default. She remained quiet for a moment before sighing. “All you need to know about me is that I’m only interested in my work and that you’re the opposite of everything I am.” 

Sure, she was making assumptions, but Alecto could infer that it was true.

She snorted at the fact that they were talking about Amycus’ rabbit at all, though there was a swell of superiority when Amelia admitted to not knowing about it. Alecto still knew things that Amelia never could. Though she knew that last statement was a weak attempt to try and smooth things over with Alecto, she decided to give in and take the bait for argument’s sake, if nothing else. “He does, named Lucy, after Lucius Malfoy if memory serves. He was always… intrigued, I suppose, by the man when we were younger. Before our expulsion.” She raised an eyebrow. “Well then we agree on one thing: you’re not family.”

A nervous chuckle escaped Amelia as she searched for the right words. “You’re not making this easy on me.” It felt like she was constantly searching for the right words in this conversation. Neurons not firing at full capacity, the metaphorical sea of this conversation seemed to be getting murkier and murkier as minutes ticked by. In reality, Amelia shouldn’t have cared. Amycus was older than her and a grown man, he could make his own decisions about who he wanted to spend time with him. Alecto had made her sound like some sort of brother stealing jezebel in front of hoard of gossiping Ministry workers. Amelia really shouldn’t give two sickles about Alecto Carrow.

“It’s apparent that you care a lot about him. I care about him.” In her mind it was simple. Despite Alecto’s vehement claims that they were nothing alike ( and maybe they weren’t ), they both cared about the same person. It was some kind of common ground and as shaky as it might be, Amelia figured it was better than nothing. “I just figured...It would be easier to get along?” Amelia offered, “Amycus cares about you. I don’t want to make an enemy of someone he loves.” She furrowed her own brow, suddenly feeling a little protective of herself. What was so bad about her anyway? “I mean...What do you think is so terrible about me anyway?” Amelia wasn’t some sort of psychopath lurking in the bushes, she had given Alecto no reason to feel negatively about her.

“Lucius Malfoy..” Amelia repeated, trying to desperately align a face with a name. The Malfoy name, she certainly knew, Amelia just couldn’t seem to conjure the image of the man. She indulged in a another few sips of punch, eyeing Alecto carefully. Once again on a tightrope it seemed, as Alecto insisted on punctuating her sharing of information with a nice you’re not family. Amelia decided to ignore it. “Why is he intrigued by one of the Malfoys?” Amelia snorted, she knew they were one of the precious sacred, chosen ones, or whatever nonsense those type of people liked to spin about blood purity.

[ministry-bones]

𝚒 𝚜𝚊𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖   /   𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎   /   𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚊 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗   /   𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚗𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚘𝚗, 𝚗𝚘 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗   /   𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚞𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

@amxcuscarrow

[ministry-bones]

amxcuscarrow‌:

There was a great crash of glass from behind the counter, deafening in the otherwise quiet shop, but Amycus did not notice. He stayed perfectly still, save for the faint twitch of his fingers against the skin of Amelia’s cheek, his breath caught fast in his throat and his eyes fluttering once, twice and then shut at the warm brush of Amelia’s lips against his. It was strange and consuming, the smell of her shampoo mixed with the smell of chocolate and a prevailing scent of burn salve, and the corners of his lips twitched upward, insistently, of their own accord against hers.

His breath shuddered out of him in one abrupt huff, startled but .. happy, as he drew backwards, far enough for his eyes to flicker open and his fingers to linger on her face, distractedly tracing the curve of her cheek. Alecto would say he was being impulsive again. That he was being reckless. “I—” his tongue stuck and he cleared his throat awkwardly, aware suddenly of the lack of personal space and the way his fingers had drifted to curl through her hair of their own accord.

Hesitating on the brink of pulling back or leaning forward he listened to the blood rushing in his ears, to the internal wave of panic or excitement or fear that crashed through his chest. “I, uh,” and the realisation that he didn’t know what he’d intended to say stuttered through him before he forged onward, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

He did mean to, actually, and that thought alone was enough to tug at the odd dazed smile pulling at his lips. 

The blood currently rushing to Amelia’s head somehow dampened the ear-piercing sound of shattering glass. She didn’t move to investigate what had happened to Florean now, completely oblivious to the noise and chatter of concerned patrons who were now moving to help the poor man. The option to revel in Amycus’s lips pressed against hers for those few, tender moments, seemed like the better option as white noise seemed to fill her ears. Desperately wishing that each second would just drag on just a tiny bit longer.

When Amycus did finally pull away to look at her, one of his hands was still tracing the curve of her cheek gently. Warm and inviting. She could only stare at him in wonder, breathless, and surprised that she hadn’t frightened him away. A dazed expression, stupidly love-struck, had made its home, as a nervous laugh bubbled in her chest before she was able to push it away. Fearing that she might ruin the moment.

Amelia listened as Amycus seemed to stumble over his words, trying to find the right thing to say. Reaching up again to stroke his cheek, she wanted to reassure him that she had wanted this. “Don’t be sorry.” The words quickly tumbled out of her mouth in his defense. She had made the first move, if anyone should be sorry it was her. “Never be sorry for that.”

Amycus’s fingers were still tangled in her hair and they still so close. It was all she could do to not kiss him again. If she were cleverer she imagined she would have said something else by now. All she could seem to do was press her forehead against his shoulder with a small hum of satisfaction. “We can do that again, if you like?” she managed to say, finally letting some nervous laughter slip out. Amelia hoped for a moment that he hadn’t heard her, her voice being slightly muffled by the fabric of his sweater.

[ministry-bones]

gillockhart‌:

“Oh,” he sighed sadly, with great understanding, as if the tragic proclamation that there hadn’t really been any romance was one he felt quite deeply. One couldn’t have romance when the taint of Pinot Gris lingered over everything, could they? He reached out to pat consolingly at the nearest limb to him (an ankle) and coiled forward to watch somewhat jealously as she swigged from the bottle of prosecco and crinkled her nose against the resulting fizz. 

Adorable. She was an adorable (blonde) addition who had no business being here but honestly, Gilderoy was beginning to forget what exactly he had to be offended about. 

“There’s always a scandal when it comes to disapproving families,” Gilderoy replied sagely, toying with the ends of the tie of his robe and staring through glazed dark eyes across at her as he tried to determine whether or not explaining his reference would completely crumple her sad little face. Perhaps it was best to keep that little spark of brilliance to himself.

“This is all very dramatic,” he declared, as if he weren’t draped over a chaise lounge in red silk at eleven in the morning, drunker than a socialite at a society brunch, “The sister caused a scene in the middle of your workplace over your — not romance?”

He bit back another Flowers in the Attic reference if only because it would be utterly wasted on his current company. “Over a date at the zoo?”

His eyebrows inched further upward and if he were in less of a state he might have been savouring the absurdity of it all. As it was he was merely bemused by the unconnected dots. “Are we certain his sister doesn’t have him locked in the attic somewhere?”

Batting his eyes he leaned heavily towards her to snag the prosecco back, hugging it to his chest with a protective hum and staring firmly across at her. “When you want something, darling, sometimes you just have to reach out and take it. Fuck his sister.”

There was a pause, nose wrinkling before he snorted and added, “I mean figuratively, of course, not literally. You go out there and you be—” he paused, incongruously, to take a long swig from the Prosecco like it might wash some conviction into his voice, “—you be the best palomino in the stable.” He sighed, taking another gulp from the bottle and lazed back into the sunlight, a warm and happy smile spilling across his lips. “Save your man from his attic prison.”

“Yes!” Amelia replied dramatically, clutching the bottle tighter to her chest. Oblivious to her social faux pas. It hadn’t occurred to Amelia that she should probably hand the bottle back. It felt comforting and if she were being honest, the prosecco was already making her feel a tad bit more relaxed. “Embarrassed me in front of all my coworkers, so I’ve been the talk of the department. Even before that, people kept asking me questions about why we were eating lunch together. It’s insane how nosy people can be.”

While Amelia couldn’t be certain that Alecto didn’t lock Amycus in some part of their home, whether that be attic or basement, she knew that they were close. She had somehow done something, squeezing her way between the two. While she should be angry ( she was, really ), Amelia also felt guilty. She loved her brothers deeply and the thought of some unknown figure swooping in and ruining things would surely make her sour.

“Oh, sorry.” There was a slight frown on her face as Gilderoy extracted the bottle from her grip. Maybe there was another? Amelia wasn’t brave enough to ask, she didn’t have free reign of Sofia’s homes, her things. Gilderoy seemed like a close companion and she didn’t want to press her luck. His encouragement felt nice but self-doubt was beginning to creep into her mind. The man did seem to have to have a lot more life experience than Amelia but, with her luck, he could be totally off base.

"You know, it's just...Maybe I’m not good enough?." Amelia sighed, momentarily thinking of how graceful women like Sofia were and how easy it was for them to attract partners. She could remember quite vividly, boys falling all over themselves for a chance with Narcissa Black. She was nothing like those women. Amelia was always too bold, too brazen, too boyish to attract much attention until she had gotten older. While not obnoxious about it, Amelia was outspoken and intelligent and didn’t take kindly to many ( especially men ) telling her what kind of woman she should be or what she should be doing. That seemed to be terrifying to most of them.

“I’m no Sofia Zabini, after all.” Amelia said, her voice somber, as she stared at one of the abstract painting adorning the wall across from them. Her brow furrowed as if she were contemplating expanding on that thought, her lips ticking downward, before glancing back over at Gilderoy. “Have you ever been in love?”

[ministry-bones]

sofiazabini‌:

Amelia was a sweet girl, that much was evident. Perhaps that was why Sofia had taken pity on her, but truly, she did like the woman. She appeared to have a kind heart, though kindness was often swallowed up quickly by this world. “Oh it’s alright, life goes on with or without my husband. I’m coping much better now I have my best boy to keep me company at night,” Sofia said with an easy smile. “I shall keep you in mind. I have been talking to Fabian somewhat, he was a distant relative of Nathaniel and with a recent loss of his own, well he understands. Gilderoy introduced me to Nathaniel, so he too has been a source of strength in this difficult time. But life goes on,” Sofia sighed. 

Amelia’s firm shake of her head caused a laugh to bubble up within her. “If you asked my mother, she would say that the mere idea of having a child later than the age of twenty-five is the most heinous of crimes. She wanted me to have a large family by that age, and yet….here I am, a childless widow. If only she could see me now,” Sofia’s tone held a slight tinge of bitterness. Catarina would surely be turning in her grave to see what her eldest daughter had made of herself. “I think life is far easier without a child…my lifestyle wouldn’t fit with a child in tow, I don’t think,” beneath the table though, Sofia’s hand moved to lay on her stomach where life had once grown. Life could have been so different, if only her mother hadn’t been consumed by greed and status…

“I’m rather fond of France, I attended Beauxbatons so France holds a place in my heart,” Sofia mused. She was planning a trip back there soon, a brief escape from the dullness of London to the bustle of Paris. “Magical creatures have always seemed quite bold to me, but muggle creatures are far different. Giraffes only need thirty minutes of sleep? How curious…sometimes I feel as though I only have thirty minutes of sleep in that amount of time,” Sofia said with a laugh. “I’m rather excited. Speaking of excitement, if you’re done eating, shall we go and take a look at some of my dresses? We can find those which fit you best and tailor them, and of course we need to find which colour best suits your complexion.”

Sofia’s words were encouraging but Amelia couldn’t help but worry there was a thin veil of sadness behind it. She was a new friend and Amelia had yet to pick up on all the woman’s quirks and habits though Amelia couldn’t be sure she ever would. Sofia always seemed to graceful - calm, cool, collected. Amelia decided to take the easy smile at face value, “I’m glad you’re doing okay.”

“Well, sometimes our parents ask too much of us, at least I think so.” Amelia smiled, attempting to understand what Sofia’s situation growing up must have been like. Amelia, with her middle class upbringing and kind family couldn’t begin to possibly understand what it might of been like to be raised in a pureblood family with such exhausting expectations. There were girls at school like Sofia, the Black sisters for instance, who sounded like they’d lived a similar life. Married off as soon as they finished their compulsory education. While they might have never had to worry about paying bills or when they’d eat again, being forced to marry someone you never loved and bare their children sounded nightmarish. “Our world is especially bad about putting undue stress on women to be mothers and caregivers under the guise of tradition. It isn’t fair we have to chose while men are able to have it all. What I tell all my female friends is usually just do whatever makes you happy.”

The discussion about France made Amelia long for a return trip, making a mental note to ask Sofia what Beauxbatons was actually like. She had always had a burning curiosity about other wizarding schools. Everything was always so secretive. “I’m sure you’ll have an amazing time.” Amelia answered, “As much as I love England, seeing some sunshine would be worth the trip alone.”

Amelia tried not to look so thrilled at the mention of dresses. As much as she would like to eat a million more of Sofia’s delicious scones, it probably wouldn’t be a good idea when trying to squeeze into haute couture. “Yes, of course.” Amelia smiled, a little sad at the thought of having to move little cupid from her lap. “Lead the way.”

[ministry-bones]

sweetpoiscn:

“Couldn’t you?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at Amelia. She knew her brother well, but Alecto could never fully say if they were close like Amelia seemed to believe. In a way, she supposed the co-dependency that came from years of abuse and hatred lent to a certain kind of closeness, but the last thing she knew was her brother’s thoughts, let alone feelings. For all Alecto knew, Amycus was being stolen away by someone who was normal where Alecto could not be, an attempt at as normal a life as either of them could live. Amelia didn’t have that insight, but Alecto wasn’t sure if she wanted to indulge. “You don’t know us very well at all, Bones. Don’t say anything until otherwise.”

She snorted at the thought of talking with Amycus about Amelia and downed the remainder of her drink, thankful when another arrived. How many had it been now? She wasn’t sure she’d had this much alcohol even with Bellatrix back in France. “He’s been avoiding me since our little showdown in the atrium, so no, I won’t be speaking with him in the near future. Not unless something drastic happens or he gets over himself.” Alecto wouldn’t admit that she was in the wrong, even if she subconsciously knew that she was.

Do you think he hates me? Alecto laughed a bit loudly, causing the couple beside them to shift a few seats over to put space between her and them. An answer was at the tip of her tongue: if he hated you, you’d be dead. She had seen personally what happened to those who Amycus hated, mostly because she often shared a mutual hatred for the person at the wrong end of her brother’s ire That wasn’t something she could admit out loud, though, not without drawing in questions that she couldn’t (nor cared to) answer. “Believe me, Bones. If he hated you, you would know. It’s perhaps the one emotion he expresses quite clearly.”

And there was a sappy grin. Alecto wrinkled her nose at Amelia and cradled her cup in her hand, not sure where to begin with that statement. There was so much to unpack in the relationship that she hadn’t known existed until a few weeks ago. “He’s certainly fascinated by animals,” she said slowly. “I’m assuming you’ve met the rabbit that lives in his satchel?”

Amelia watched Alecto raise an incredulous eyebrow at her and frowned. It seemed they would be on sturdier footing one moment and then the next, they would be backsliding.  “I know I don’t know you very well, Alecto...” Amelia sighed, still desperately trying to smooth things over somehow, “I’m trying to? I’m trying to understand where I might have gone wrong here. I don’t want to be hated by you.” 

She desperately wanted to fix whatever she had done wrong. She hadn’t meant to interject herself into family drama. Their friendship had developed so quickly but Amelia wasn’t an expert on matters of the heart either. Maybe a little more well-versed than the siblings she was interacting with but she had never been in love. Had never been interest in someone for more than a short period of time during school. She had harbored crushes on her brother’s friends from time to time but those were all futile and far away things, much more like hero worship than actual feelings.

Alecto’s laughter was jarring and foreign ( if not a little bitter ). The sound had seemed to be enough to disturb the neighbors on the other side of them, causing them to move a few seats over. Amelia tried to shrug that off, wondering for a moment what this whole interaction might look like from the outside. Alecto’s words, her assurance, that Amelia would definitely know if Amycus hated her, might have been a little comforting if she hadn’t already been on the verge of hysterics thanks to the booze filled punch she had been downing all night. Swallowing hard, all Amelia could do was nod in acknowledgment.

The mention of a rabbit caught her attention. She was unaware that he owned one, let alone that it lived in his satchel. Had he brought it to the zoo with them? “I wasn’t aware of any rabbit?” Amelia said, her voice curious like she might have heard Alecto wrong in some way. Hoping that Amycus had somehow enchanted his bag he seemed to drag around with him everywhere, otherwise the poor thing was sure to be uncomfortable being jostled around along with books and other assorted odds and ends. “See...” Amelia offered rather weakly, “You are closer to him than I am...How could I manage to steal him from you? I’m not family.”

[ministry-bones]

amxcuscarrow:

I just want you.

Like it was a logical sequence of words that somehow fit together in relation to him. Like Amycus wasn’t strange or offputting or incapable of understanding what other people felt. There was conviction and concern bundled up together, like she didn’t know how he was going to react and Amycus didn’t know either; poison had been his lifelong companion but he still didn’t know how to stomach kindness.

And he was different, everyone had always known that; from his mother’s society friends who’d cooed over her odd little boy’s prospects to the girls at school. He had been a burden; a weight around mother’s neck that she’d desperately tried to be rid of or a tag-a-long for Alecto who never seemed to fit in anywhere. Amelia didn’t see that.  

There was no logic to follow except that he liked talking to Amelia. That he liked spending time with her. That the feelings that sloshed uncomfortably around inside him had emerged at her bidding. She’d broken him, somehow, despite only ever treating him with the utmost caution and she was still offering him a way out of this, a way to pretend that none of it had ever happened and that he could go back to the way he always had been.

“I don’t want to forget.” And it was childish and stubborn, spoken in spite of himself, as he stared down at their fingers coiled together and the scent of chocolate thick in his nostrils, syrupy and sweet and it felt like an early-Autumn day at the Zoo with dappled sunlight and milling crowds. “I don’t want to stop spending time with you.”

And the curtain of his hair was pushed back, his hand tentatively moving onward to trace fingers like cautious ghosts across her cheek, like he wasn’t sure that it wouldn’t burn. Everything eventually did after it had come into contact with him. “Do we have to talk about it?” She was so pretty, in the way that he always averted his eyes from and he was something monstrous, bandages poking out of the sleeves of his shirt and burn salve mingling with the sweet smell of chocolate and words had always, always failed him. “I don’t know how to—”

Be honest. Be a normal person. Be the kind of person who said yes to Amelia Bones with conviction. He wavered and rolled forward, nose bumping against her cheek and lips pressing, dry and sticky against her skin near the corner of her mouth instead.

Amelia had thought it might be kinder to give Amycus a way out. A way to gracefully extract himself from this conversation and not ruin whatever trust they might have built up over time. To Amelia’s immense relief, he didn’t seem to want to take it. Amelia turned to look at Amycus with wide, concerned eyes, watching him push the curtain of hair away from his face as he stumbled over his words. 

In what felt like only a second, Amycus’s fingertips were suddenly on her cheek. Amelia immediately froze in surprise. Millions of thoughts flittered around her head, though none of them comprehensible. Amelia desperately tried to focus on what Amycus was saying instead of the warm feeling of his hand on her cheek. He had a look in his eyes, pleading her to see him, believe him. That he wasn’t trying to brush the conversation off, that he just didn’t know how to have it.

“We don’t— ” Amelia had began to say, wanting to tell Amycus that it was fine, that she knew it was hard for him. It had been difficult for Amelia to tell him how she felt. She had stuttered, tripping over her words and mumbling about fancying him like some silly teenage girl. Amelia could only imagine what it was like for someone who had such a torturous childhood. Amycus had already said enough to satisfy her. That he wanted her to stay, that he didn’t want to forget all of the feelings Amelia had just thrust upon him.

Again the words on the tip of her tongue seemed to get lost somewhere as soon as she felt Amycus’s nose clumsily press against her cheek. His lips softly pressing against the corner of her mouth. A fog settled over her as if nothing else seemed to matter in that moment. All the self-doubt and nosy inquests from coworkers. Even Florean, who was no doubt still trying to stealthily observe this interaction while casually acting like he wasn’t. She had been stupid to think this was entirely one-sided. 

Amycus had lingered near her mouth for a moment. The smell of chocolate, something medicinal, lingering so very close that it made it hard to think and process what she was about to do. On impulse, Amelia reached up to gently touch Amycus’s cheek, turning her head slightly to press her lips against his. 

[ministry-bones]

gillockhart:

“It’s what they call the blonde ponies, darling,” Gilderoy replied absentmindedly as he studiously began the nimble work of releasing the cork from the bottle, certain he was working on a time limit before Helena or Cara appeared to spirit it away from him out of some misguided attempt to protect him from himself. His nose wrinkled as he eased away the wires before with a satisfying pop the cork went flying and the bottle happily frothed over onto his fingers. “It means—” his nose wrinkled further as he went scratching around the recesses of his brain, licking the overflow of prosecco off his fingers, “Young dove? My spanish is quite rusty, I haven’t been back since that unspeakable incident at the Bienal de Flamenco in Seville.”

His lips pursed in recollection, as memories of Flamenco dancers and sangria danced just at the edge of his perception, before shuddering and taking a long swig of Prosecco straight from the bottle. Seemingly as an afterthought he offered the bottle to Amelia, blinking rapidly as he continued, “Better not to dwell.”

And it took him a moment, chasing a drop of Prosecco from his wrist with his tongue in a manner that would have had Sofia swatting the back of his head (but he was drunk and in mourning so honestly, she could give him some leeway), to recall precisely why he was being given the women are wonderful, but speech before he caught up again, cresting the wave of understanding as he adjusted his lazy sprawl across the chaise lounge to better catch the sunlight and eyed Amelia wryly. “Mores the pity,” he informed her, digging his head into the cushions with a sigh, “Men are the source of every one of my problems.”

Well, not every one, but one could take creative licence to make a point. “If she weren’t so sensible as to refuse me, I would marry my Sofia and be done with them all. As it is, I am resigned to becoming her badly behaved pool boy and thoroughly confusing Witch Weekly for the rest of our glorious lives.”

Finding the optimal position to watch Amelia sigh over her troubles, Gilderoy hummed absently beneath his breath, blinking slowly as he offered a helpful, “Workplace romance,” into the midst of her explanation and sat up just a little. He did love a good story. “And a disapproving family,” he levered himself up onto his elbows, eyes wide and drunk but eased into intrigue, “Is it some scandalous Flowers in the Attic situation do you think? What have you done to make the sister hate you so?”

Apparently, Amelia was a blonde pony now. Much like Amelia Earnhart, she supposed there were worse things to be associated with in this world. Her brow furrowed as she searched the corridors of her mind for any reference to Flowers in the Attic. She was coming up with nothing. Her best educated guess was that it was some book or movie she had never seen. There seemed to be a lot of things Gilderoy knew that Amelia was ignorant of, she hoped he wouldn’t judge her too harshly for being so woefully unprepared to participate in this conversation.

She didn’t hesitate when Gilderoy moved to hand her the bottle of prosecco. Throwing any remaining caution to the wind and taking a long, unladylike drink that would surely make Sofia cringe. Thinking about the best way to explain her situation while simultaneously imaging this human tornado of a man in tiny swimming shorts, cleaning Sofia Zabini’s pool while she laid on a beach chair absentmindedly observing him. It was rather colorful and Amelia assumed Witch Weekly would have a field day, at least if Gilderoy were as well-known as he made himself out to be.

“There wasn’t any romance really.” she sighed listlessly as she took another long, unladylike swig of prosecco. The bubbles burned her nose, a miserable feeling that she could never quite get used to when drinking this particular kind of wine. The kind of wine Amelia was certain a classy woman like Sofia would love. 

Amelia pondered her situation for a few moments, the bottle of prosecco was now clutched tightly to her chest as if at any moment it could be snatched away. Much like her hopes of a relationship had been snatched away by Alecto Carrow and other assorted interlopers within the ministry. Why couldn’t everyone just shut up and move on with their lives? Why couldn’t she had her little bit of happiness without everyone seeing fit to ruin it?

“I don’t think it’s anything scandalous...Though I’m uncertain what Flowers in the Attic is about or if you’re literally talking about flowers in an attic.” Amelia answered, shrugging at her own ignorance of anything seemingly muggle related. Maybe she wasn’t as worldly as she had assumed? “I think all I’ve done is simply exist? We had been spending time together and she saw it fit to corner him in the atrium of the ministry, that’s where I work, and yell at him in front of all of our colleagues. Now, he’s disappeared on me. No owl, no office visits.” Amelia paused for a moment to catch her breath, “We visited a zoo together and he held my hand? He’s a bit peculiar but I thought that it meant something...Apparently not.”

[ministry-bones]

kirkstanbulstrode:

Stan was over the moon.

When he’d seen Gilderoy and Sofia at the beginning of the night, Stan had been dreading it. He hadn’t spoken to Gilderoy since the disastrous date a fortnight prior, and it had left built up tension between the two of them that he’d been ready (and had, in fact) to dish out in the middle of his place of business. Sofia had been… well, Sofia, not that he had expected otherwise, but as always Gilderoy had been a surprise. He’d seemed unwilling to fight, uncomfortable even, both which Stan hadn’t expected, but above that he hadn’t actually thought Gilderoy would say yes to a second chance of a date. He acted grumpy, like a cat almost, but Stan swore he’d seen fondness as he fixed the bow of Stan’s cape and left the ghost of a kiss to the corner of his mouth before walking off. Stan had felt ready to burst, hope renewed.

He still felt ready to soar. He had another chance.

The only thing that brought his mood down was the unfortunate reality that he’d have to see Sofia again and ask for her help. They didn’t see eye-to-eye by any means, but she’d said she would put that aside for Gilderoy’s sake, and Stan genuinely wanted to give Gilderoy the best because he deserved it. He was mulling over how to handle his impending conversation with Sofia when he came across a crying young woman at the bar, cups that Mags had kept bringing to her littering the surface in front of her. Stan hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should try to console her or not, when she looked up, cat makeup streaking down her cheeks with fresh tears. Do you think I’m unlovable?

Well, wasn’t that a loaded question to ask a stranger?

Stan went to the other side of the bar to pour himself a drink, taking a slow sip before finding his words. “I don’t know you, but I doubt it. No one is unlovable, really.” He paused. “Bad break-up?”

A loaded question to ask a a stranger but the words had slipped out before Amelia could stop herself. She had lifted her head, sitting up as she used both sleeves to wipe away the remnants of tears on her cheeks. She had been drinking entirely too much. That much would be apparent to anyone with half a brain. Words and phrases from her conversation with Alecto bouncing back and forth in her head, anxiety blooming in her chest as she teetered on the edge of hysterics and sanity. It had been that way for the past hour or so, ever since the bartender, Mags, had handed Amelia her last mixed drink with a look of apprehension on her face. Amelia had tried to corner the woman into awkward conversation about relationships, the older woman had just been smart enough to seem busy.

She wasn’t exactly sure why she was crying anyway. Alecto had all but assured her that Amycus liked her. Making it clear that Amelia would know if the circumstances had been otherwise. Amelia just couldn’t shake the strange bereft feeling in her chest, as if she had lost something important to her. Fear of trusting someone else, someone who was admittedly a little behind in social cues, suddenly seemed terrifying and overwhelming. That coupled with the embarrassment and unsolicited advice at work. The fact that she had seen neither hide nor hair of Amycus over the past couple of days. It was all too much.

The man in front of her had been an easy target to latch onto. For one, he was there. Present and obviously caught off guard by her peculiar question. Unlike his employees who had been strategically trying to avoid the drunk crying cat girl like the plague.

“Not really a break-up.” Amelia sighed miserably, sniffing loudly in a very unladylike manner, “It’s very complicated but it’s like...It didn’t even begin and then went up in flames?” Amelia paused for a few moments before adding, “How do you know if you love, love someone?”