O r i o n

Gryffindor. ESTJ-A. Lawful Evil.

[obviouslyorion]

edisonbeaumont‌:

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“Piss poor indeed.“ Edison edged, lips pursing. Hadn’t Christmas just occurred? He certainly felt as if his quota on quality family time had been reached & had yet to start sinking below the required mark. “I don’t doubt your ability to lie, dear brother.” All his shit talk meant, undoubtedly, that he’d already excused himself from the proposed dinner, but that in & of itself opened the door for Edison to squelch Orion’s flimsy plans to ‘work’ or denounce him in the presence of their parents for continuing to be a cockamamie & slippery sort of fellow. Perhaps even: the worst Beaumont Brother. “One of us will certainly have worked today. – If you wanted a position within the organization, I could always find you something. I’m thinking of firing my assistant. No - that would require you being useful & seeing as your here in the middle of the day for a Quidditch match, I’d say that’s not your strong suit. I’m sure the groundskeepers may be looking for something of an intern.”

“I’m working right now. Networking is a big part of the fashion business. Not that you’d know anything about it.” In truth, Sera was likely to win more contracts through networking. Her disposition was far more agreeable than Orion’s, and his shot at making connections would likely come in the form of name-dropping in front of pretty young interns and reporters. 

“I’d rather die than be your assistant. Poor girl must have the hardest time keeping herself busy. I’d think you’re keeping Chudley afloat by yourself if I had to believe all your big-talk.” Orion would be the first to admit that he only skimmed Edison’s interviews for his own name. He’d missed the bits where his younger brother heaped credit on his coworkers, players, and everyone else in the league.

There was still the issue of being accused that he wasn’t working. In reality, the claim shouldn’t have bothered him -- - it was one he levied at Edison time and time again - -- but Orion succumbed to a tinge of resentment. For a  man who claimed to be impervious, he was incredibly susceptible to the bait dangled in front of his face.  “You’re being pretty damn rude to someone who came out to support their baby brother.”  Condescension was topped off with an interlude of tsk, tsk, tsk just in time for another cigarette to be lit, “You ought to be grateful. I’ve already done so much for you. The cloaks, dinner with your family, not telling the gossip rags that you wet the bed until you were fourteen or some other bullshit. The list goes on.” 

[obviouslyorion]

beautyxandxpoise‌:

“No business,” she said serenely, pushing her hair out of her eyes as she dug from her pocket a pack of cigarettes. “Just watching the game, expressing no support for either team. No need for a reserve player today.” She noticed him sizing her up and her lips curled into a small, polite smile; she lit one cigarette and placed it between her lips.

“Expressing no support for either team?” He mimicked the question in shock, “If you’re going to tell me some people support Puddlemere, then you may as well be brave enough to own up to it.” Time wouldn’t be wasted on lecturing someone who was at least twenty years his junior, especially not when that someone worked in the fashion industry. That alone was a recipe for Sera to call him up and give him some spiel about being nice to people who were in direct contact with the Beaumont brand. As if he gave a shit. 

One thing was certain, though, and it was his shock at the cigarette hanging from her lips. It was something most wizards seemed to detest, though Orion himself clearly wasn’t among that group. “Aren’t players supposed to avoid smoking? Not much use to a team if you can barely get your breath out there, are you?”

[obviouslyorion]

mgr-oliver-wood‌:

“You couldn’t pay me enough to wear that shit,” he replied without thinking, his voice a little deeper than it had been a moment ago. If Oliver were honest with himself, he hated Orion Beaumont more than words could truly express. His eyes locked on his team, he crossed his arms across his chest. “I would rather be dead than wearing Beaumont.” It wasn’t necessarily true, he owned at least one Beaumont cloak himself, but as of this moment, he was considering tossing it if only to prove a point. For now, he tried not to focus on the ache in his heart at the reminder of how useless he was to the team, unable to play. “Don’t you have somewhere to be? The stands, perhaps, where the rest of the fans sit?”

“I’m sorry, did you just lower your voice?” It could’ve been the smoke in his hand, but his incredulous laugh bordered on the verge of a fit of coughing as he considered that Oliver Wood was trying to be intimidating. Beyond the display, however, Orion refused to accept the idea that anyone would spurn a Beaumont Cloak. Whatever qualm Oliver had with the CEO, there was no doubt that the product was quality and he’d probably worn one at some point in his life. 

“If you wouldn’t be caught dead in something with my name on it, then you may as well kill yourself. Anything you own’s probably got some sort of Beaumont influence.” He rolled his eyes, despite dark hues being eclipsed by designer shades, “Whether it’s the stitchwork or the style. Not that you’d know a damn thing about either. I’m sure you just put on whatever your mum lays out for you of the morning.”

Where the rest of the fans sit? 

“Funny you should mention the stands, since that’s exactly where you should be.” A better man would’ve offered condolences to Oliver’s condition, but all it took was one sour conversation for Orion to reach for the one thing that he assumed would most hurt a former athlete. “Suppose all of us can’t be fortunate enough to be given a nice managerial job instead of being put out to pasture. You must feel incredibly grateful to Ms. Newf.”

[obviouslyorion]

edisonbeaumont‌:

“Who made you this way?“ Edison asked, knowing full well that no one could ever quite put a finger on it as it appeared to be Orion’s fault alone. Though, Edison was sure he’d now be sitting between the only other plausible guilty parties.

“Dinner? Bloody hell, Orion.“ Edison shook his head, hands on his hips & he would’ve sworn he could physically feel his blood pressure beginning to rise.  Depending on how the game went, whether he was put or elated, he imagined there would be only one good way to wallow or gloat & that was in the presence of the opposite party. Plus, he was beginning to forget what shade of white Selena Newf’s bedroom walls were & that was just unacceptable. Now, however, it appeared he’d be taking his parents out to dinner. “Be sure you’re coming with us.” Edison warned. “If you’ve got an excuse, you know I’ve got a better one.”

“What way? Charming and considerate?” It was horseshit and even Orion had a hard time getting the words out without snickering. “I’m looking out for our parents, Edison. They won’t be here forever, and what kind of sons would we be if we didn’t take them out to dinner?” Piss poor ones, not that it mattered in the slightest. 

The only thing that could’ve made Edison’s disappointment sweeter was if the eldest Beaumont had any inkling that his brother’s post-game plans involved Puddlemere United. All things inappropriate aside, just the thought of inconveniencing Edison on such a personal level would’ve sent Orion over the moon. It was better that he believed Edison to be some celibate curmudgeon, wasting away in his billion-galleon home. 

"If you think you’re better at weaseling your way out of plans with the family than I am, then you’ve got another thing coming.”  Orion had, in fact, already been laying the groundwork for his early departure. From the moment he announced that Edison had so graciously offered to take the family to dinner, he’d lamented about the timing of the whole ordeal. “I’ve already told them how much I want to make it, so I’m going to be positively crushed when I’ve got to leave for some business. But, you know how it is. One of us has to work.”

[obviouslyorion]

edisonbeaumont‌:

“Leave it to you to wrap up garbage & present it as a gift.“ Edison clicked his tongue. Disappointed but not surprised. He’d have asked if Orion was hard for cash if he didn’t already know the answer & pushing the envelope was more his older brother’s style anyway so Edison looked away as Orion began to light a cigarette. Luckily, a mix of the wind & Orion’s deliberate shittiness, meant he was roughed in the face regardless. Tucking his chin against his opposite shoulder in an effort to avoid it, Edison rolled his eyes grumpily at the empty seats next to him. “No one asked you to.” Edison said dismissively, fighting the urge to jerk the cigarette out of the corner of his brother’s mouth. “I hope you plan on sitting next to them because I’m not going to listen to ‘back when Fisher was on the pitch was real flying’ for the entire game.”

“Me? Oh, no, no. I have better seats than this. You’re in mum’s seat right now. This one -- - “ A hand came down on the armrest of his seat, fingers strummed aging wood to accentuate the point, “ - -- is for da. And the one beside you over there is yours. Shame I couldn’t find four seats together, but I’m always willing to make the sacrifice.” 

There were few situations in which Orion couldn’t help but crack a malicious smile at his younger brother’s expense. This was one of them. For a man who survived his entire childhood by convincing his parents that he was the Patron Saint of All Things Fair and Just, Orion’s ability to hide his tendency to be a shitheel was waning. “Nobody’s going to compare to Fisher in dad’s eyes. You could reincarnate him and still have to listen to that shit. Which you’re going to do today, at some point, because they expect you to take them to dinner once you’re done. We were all thrilled you’ve been so generous.”

[obviouslyorion]

mgr-oliver-wood‌:

Dear god, he’d truly hoped it wasn’t going to be that Beaumont brother. He rolled his eyes, not even attempting to hide it at this point. “Right,” he said with a tone that could only be considered annoyance. “At least if they do fall, they’ll do it knowing they weren’t weighed down by the name of Beaumont Cloaks.”

“Tch. If anyone’s cloaks are going to weigh a chaser down, it’d be the polyester garbage that you’ve decided to put on your team.” His eyes were eclipsed by shades, but his gaze remained fixated directly on Oliver Wood. “I take it you had a hand in designing those?” A once-over was all he really needed to confirm, but he took his chance anyway. “Guess you don’t have to worry about wearing the uniform anymore, so why would you bother budgeting for something quality?”

[obviouslyorion]

edisonbeaumont‌:

“Was it yours, mate?“ He might’ve laughed had his humor not gone drier than ever come game day. “Shit in one hand & hope in the other & let’s see which one fills up faster.” Edison said flatly, finally pulling his eyes off the pitch to glance in his brother’s direction. “It’s going to be tricky.”

“No, but I thought I might pick it up for you. Seems like you’re thinning a little ‘round the temples. Every time I look at you, I feel a little more fortunate that I hoarded up all the genes for decent hair.” 

Having taken the appropriate measures to shit all over his younger brother, Orion satisfied himself by reaching into his pocket for a pack of smokes. Without bothering to offer one to Edison, he lit the cherry and slid the paper back into his cloak nonchalantly; a jet of smoke found it’s way toward Edison’s face soon after. “Great attitude you have about the whole thing, Edi. I’m beginning to regret offering tickets to Mum and Da.” 

[obviouslyorion]

raffertynewf‌:

“Y’know, I’ve only just realized I’ve forgotten to wear my lucky knickers. Hopefully our Boys in Blue won’t feel the effects.“

"I thought something looked different about you. Might need to let your wife know so she can get her mourning out of the way.” 

[obviouslyorion]

mgr-oliver-wood‌:

It wasn’t Orion’s fault, really. He’d been standing there with his back to the man, so of course Oliver shouldn’t blame him for the comment he made. But that didn’t stop his body reacting as it normally would, a drawn-out inhale of breath met with a stiffening of the muscles along his shoulder blades. As he turned, he merely cleared his throat, eyeing the man who’d clearly made a comment he hadn’t intended to be overhead by the players or staff of Puddlemere.

“Sorry, mate, what was that?”

He supposed a more shrewd man would’ve known to backtrack when they came face to face with Oliver Wood. Everyone knew the former quidditch star’s involvement with Puddlemere United, and most everyone loved him nevertheless. Orion, unfortunately, wasn’t one of those people. 

“Sorry, didn’t realize you couldn’t hear me, mate.” The word dripped from his tongue, unfamiliar and acidic before Orion made a show of clearing his throat. “I said it’d be good if this wind would knock Puddlemere off their guard.” He’d repeat it over and over again if Oliver wanted to play that game, but Orion settled instead on tapping his cane on the ground and cocking his head just slightly to the right. When he spoke again, his voice was even-keeled, if not a little quieter, “Did you get it that time or should I fetch a quill to write it down?”

[obviouslyorion]

beautyxandxpoise‌:

“Some people support Puddlemere, you know,” Dawn drawled with a roll of her eyes, turning her head towards Orion as she drew her scarf tighter around her neck. “But yes. This wind is a horrid curse.” She ducked as a piece of plastic flew directly at her head.

Fawley. That was her name, wasn’t it? Fawley, Fowley, Flannery? Orion recognized her only as the model who had decided to give him lip at a show put on by Beaumont Cloaks. Ridiculous though it was, he held enough of a grudge to narrow his eyes and size her up. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re one of them.” That would be the icing on the cake, wouldn’t it? Having the redhead rooting for Puddlemere made too much sense. All Orion could manage was to roll his eyes at the notion, evidently no longer interested in small talk. “What business do you have here, anyway? Are there bottles of water to push somewhere? Brooms to sponsor?”

[obviouslyorion]

“This wind’s a curse, isn’t it? I think I saw a man’s hairpiece blow off earlier -- -  not to mention all the bloody trash flying about.” Not only that, but it had tousled Orion’s robe to the point that he regretted bothering with the cloak entirely. He’d felt dragged in every possible direction before he entered the stadium, though it took very little to fix himself. Cane in one hand, cloak slung over the other, he turned to the nearest person who seemed to be within earshot. “Hopefully it’ll knock Puddlemere off their guard, right?” That was putting it lightly. If anything, he rather hoped it would send one of Puddlemere’s players careening into the nearest tower. 

[obviouslyorion]

beautyxandxpoise‌:

Dawn flipped her long red hair over her shoulder as she strutted down the runway, a pair of heavy gold wings fluttering on her back. The spotlight shone on her slender frame as her hips swung to the rhythmic beat of the background music, almost louder than the screams of the crowd beneath the elevated podium which she stood on. She blew the cheering audience a kiss as she tilted her body to one side, exposing a pale shoulder as she strode back down the runway, mouthing along with the lyrics. She saw you waiting for her backstage as she removed her wings and makeup, your reflection in her mirror. Her mirror-self rolled her eyes. “What the hell are you doing here?” she asked impolitely.

Truth be told, he couldn’t have given two shits about fashion shows. A younger Orion would’ve practically salivated at the prospect of a room full of leggy models giving him attention for nothing more than being the man who signed the checks for Beaumont Cloaks. Nowadays, the entire ordeal was thought to be tedious and perhaps a little unnecessary. When had he gotten so old? 

Every now and again, though, someone would catch his eye or rub him the wrong way. Every now and again, he’d manage to muster up the bare minimum when it came to interest in the comings and goings backstage. 

What the hell are you doing here? 

Scoffing was a natural response, though it was more to buy himself time than anything else. “Me?” He wondered then how old he must’ve looked to her. Over fifty was considered ancient these days, wasn’t it? Maybe he looked the part of a lech who hung around, peering in mirrors while desperately trying not to fog the glass with his mouthbreathing. Hah. “I’m the man who owns Beaumont Cloaks.” Nevermind that his brothers, sister, and father still had their names on miscellaneous dotted lines. Orion was Beaumont Cloaks, as far as he was concerned. “Who the hell are you to ask me a question like that?” 

[obviouslyorion]

lizablythe‌:

“Usually once or twice a week,” Eliza replied with a shrug. She wasn’t much of a cook, and after her long days, the last thing she felt like doing was trying to make herself something. Some people found dining alone strange and awkward, but Eliza quite liked it. Besides, she usually ran into people -some she knew, some she didn’t- who wanted to talk, buy her a drink, and share a meal. It was a bonus when they paid, like Orion apparently was, but even on the nights where she sat tucked into her booth alone, it was better than being cooped up in her apartment with her cat. Most of the time, anyway.  “They’re doing alright. Lost a heartbreaker to Denmark last I saw, though.” She took a drink and then rested the glass against her knee, idly tracing the rim with her fingertip as she listened, but didn’t look at, Orion. Dark eyes were focused on the movements of the players on the screen. “The rushing of the pitch was new. I thought we were all going to be trampled,” she said conversationally and with a click of her tongue. She offered a noncommittal lift of her shoulders. “If the Cannons play the same game we’ve been playing, they might end up with the same result. The Beaters need to focus more on the defensive plays because the Chasers are getting knocked around too easily. Puddlemere’s figured out what won them the Cup and they’re doing their best to knock them off of their game. It worked last time.” Eliza wasn’t entirely sure when it had shifted from us to them, but she wasn’t playing for the Cannons this season. It had finally sunk in. And it kind of sucked, actually.  She took another drink.

“I won’t pretend to know anything about what’s going on up there,” his finger lifted from his glass only to indicate the television closest to them. “Shame they lost to Denmark, though. Football always seemed like a tedious sport to me. There’s not nearly as much action as I’d like. Watching two teams endlessly running around just makes me tired.”

He could easily scoff at the rushing of the pitch, which was a spectacle that he’d decided was very much beneath the Cannons. It was something he expected out of Falmouth -- - the scrambling, fighting, and overall aggressiveness of the situation - -- but he’d watched from his box as rabid fans claimed the field. His feelings might’ve been more aligned toward the chaos during his younger days, but Orion was older and certainly in no shape to be tossing jinxes at any witch or wizard who had the misfortune of wearing blue. “They’ll be flagging wands next game,” he mused. “Can’t imagine what the consequences were on the financial side of things. Ballycastle’s not likely to let anyone come near their stadium now that we’ve made a mess of it.” 

Orion could appreciate the viewpoint of another bystander. He had never played quidditch himself -- - Merlin forbid he incur the wrath of his father - -- but he’d attended enough games and had watched from the sidelines long enough to feel like he had something to contribute to the conversation. Liza had been on the pitch not long ago, but she’d been forced to stand aside while someone else took her place; as far as Orion was concerned, they were on an even keel. “Not a bad analysis. If you ever decided to leave managing behind, you’d make quite the commentator. Lee Jordan’s going to have to watch his back. I hope they’re considering your opinion when it comes to coaching decisions; it’d be a waste to let you wither in a locker room.” 

[obviouslyorion]

edisonbeaumont‌:

He couldn’t disagree with his brother there. As much as it pained him. Their sister was certainly doing just fine for herself. She wasn’t a prick, she hadn’t gone wild & returned with a child, nor had everyone’s constant needling & expectations run her off to tenure at Hogwarts. She’d wound up a well-adjusted, functioning member of society. The rest of them were probably nearly degenerates in their parents’ eyes. Save for the fact that Sera had never married, but that didn’t seem to have an affect on her. Nor had Archer’s nuptials had any real affect on anyone’s opinion of him seeing as he was in a happy marriage with children, it seemed to be discounted since it made him happy. 

“If you say so.“ Edison said, suspicion edging into his tone. Inevitably, however, Orion’s kids would probably wind up in peak fashion given their proximity to the brand, but that wasn’t as entertaining an image as the one of wind-breaker trousers & quilt patterned jumpers. 

When offered, Edison reached for another cigarette despite his better judgement, which he’d evidently swallowed down some time ago. A summoning charm was tossed out at the suggestion. Finally, a good idea from Orion. Edison dashed his cigarette against the gold ashtray like he was a professional & leant back in his chair, surveying his older brother & his glass. “You do remember you’ve already done that don’t you?” 

Edison certainly wasn’t going to forget the deliberate nature of Orion flicking his cigarette at the floor. “You ass. – I’ll forgive it this once.” Edison knuckled the ashtray closer to Orion’s side of the desk. “But only because you’re a barbarian & it’ll count as my act of charity for the day. What’d you make fun of me for earlier? - Visiting a children’s hospital.” Edison shook his head, snickering in disbelief. 

You do remember that you’ve already done that, don’t you? 

The liquor and his inherently terrible nature kept Orion from stifling the grin that stretched the corners of his mouth and exposed his teeth. “My memory’s not as bad as yours yet, Edi.” How could he forget the look on his brother’s face when he’d flicked a tiny pile of ash onto the carpet? “I’m feeling generous now, though. Might be the scotch.” It was definitely the scotch. Without the sedation of liquor, he would’ve inevitably scorched Edison’s floor without so much as bothering to look at the mess he made. In his current state, it was easier to forget that his prime objective was to torment his little brother; tamping the cigarette on an ashtray was the least he could do. 

What was it he had made fun of Edison for? “You’ll have to be more specific.” The carpet had been ridiculed, as had Edison’s personal taste and his lack of companionship. Orion was certain he’d also insulted his younger brother’s shoes, but such insults were so commonplace that he couldn’t be sure they hadn’t happened in the distant past. When the incident in question was named, however, he waved Edison off, “Donating to a children’s hospital.” Even worse, really, though that was partially why Orion took ownership of the quip. “Really it was more about the whole party. There were a lot of factors; I like to think I have more finesse than laughing at your waste of money.”

“Next game’s in Scotland, is it?” Of course it was. Orion had booked a room as soon as the announcement was made, but he feigned disinterest for the sake of conversation and a desire to look unaffected by the chance for Chudley to make up for their misstep in Dublin. “Suppose you’ve been busy working out schedules? Too busy to come to your office for a whole bloody weekend. Practically had to camp outside your door to get an audience with your highness.” 

[obviouslyorion]

lizablythe‌:

The booth could easily fit seven or eight people, and she’d dragged the team here on more than one occasion to celebrate a win or, more often than not, commiserate about a loss. That meant it gave her room to scoot her back against the wall and stretch one leg out in front of her, the other knee pulled up to her chest. One of the waitresses caught her eye and already had her preferred draft in hand when she swung by the table. “Thanks, Jackie,” Eliza grinned and took a swig from her glass before setting it aside and gesturing across the table. “He’ll have a beer, too. And two of the usual.”  Settling back in the booth and nursing the beer in one hand, Eliza gestured to the TV directly across from them. “It’s Ireland’s national team. I’ve been following them since we went to Dublin.” 

A beer and two of the usual. While Liza made herself at home, Orion idly wondered if he’d have to suffer through some sopping mess of a burger or if ‘the usual’ was a bit more palatable. Judging by the look of the place, he couldn’t expect a Michelin-quality meal, but it’d be better than whatever he could’ve cooked himself. At least there was solace in knowing that the kitchen staff was more culinarily competent than he was, no matter their skill level, even if they were a bunch of muggles.

“You come here often, then?” The staff knew her and her order, which would’ve been impressive if they weren’t surrounded by too many televisions. Orion could begrudgingly admit to himself that the atmosphere was brighter than The Leaky Cauldron, but a distinct lack of magic left him on edge and uncomfortable. Elitism aside, he regarded the television and the woman in front of him. 

“Impressive,” he drew the word out as long as he possibly could. Muggle sports held no interest to the eldest Beaumont, but he’d be a piss poor Irishman if he didn’t at least have some interest in the country’s team. “How’re they stacking up this year?” Despite sounding like a man who regularly followed the national team, Orion’s attention was focused solely on Liza and, to a lesser extent, the beer that was brought to him. “Dublin seems like a lifetime ago,” he admitted, grinning into the first sip of a beer that turned out to be much better than he’d anticipated. “Quite a disappointment, that was. I’m sure we’ll make up for it in Edinburgh.” 

[obviouslyorion]

lizablythe‌:

obviouslyorion·:

Eliza had to disagree. As a player, she’d only had one broom through her entire school career, and really only bought a new one her third year with the Cannons, after her agent insisted…and the old one had been broken in a tragic accident. She could have repaired it easily, but her agent had gotten her a deal with Nimbus and the rest was history. She had photo shoots and ads in the papers for the latest models, but up until her most recent injury, she’d had the same broomstick for her entire career. It was just…routine. Most Quidditch players had it. It probably wasn’t something someone who didn’t play would understand.  She was halfway to saying she had money to pay for her own meal, but if a Beaumont wanted to pay for her to drink beer and eat a cheeseburger, more power to him. Eliza shrugged and headed toward the pub, tossing a glance over her shoulder as she went. “I can get you autographs from the ones still playing if that’s your thing,” she teased. Humor was a defense mechanism. That’s what the healers had said. But it helped ground her, remind her that while this man might still see her as what she once was -and what she still wanted to be- she was no longer playing.  If Eliza was honest with herself, she knew that the simple word (star) had made the decision for her. “Come on. But I warn you, it’s Muggle friendly and there are televisions on the walls.” She wanted to catch the end of the football match, anyway. So she ducked inside, held the door open for Orion, and then made a beeline for her usual booth, nestled in the corner, with a good view of one of the biggest televisions. It was the little things in life. 

Still playing. 

Interesting choice of words. Orion acknowledged it little more than a raised brow, though he filed it away for a time after he and the former keeper had a few drinks in their respective systems. Was she bitter? Realistic? He couldn’t be sure. One thing he did know, however, was that he wouldn’t have ever considered gracing a muggle establishment under different circumstances. 

“Televisions,” he mused in an attempt not to sneer. “Well, I’ve seen worse. The Leaky Cauldron has drunks at every barstool.” How bad could it be? The sensory overload, he assumed, would be worth it. “Consider it collateral for the autographs.” 

He was amazed by her confidence, if only momentarily. Without so much as a hostess to escort them to a booth, Eliza took up her spot and made herself comfortable long before Orion eased into the seat in front of her. “I’ll follow your lead on the food, then.” She must’ve known what was best at the Muggle-equivalent of a pub. Was this the equivalent of a pub?

All at once, his eyes were drawn to the numerous television screens on the walls. “Which game are we watching, Blythe? Wouldn’t want to miss any of the highlights.”

[obviouslyorion]

lizablythe‌:

Eliza cracked a smile and combed her fingers through her hair out of habit. It was a mess from the wind, she knew, but she kind of liked it that way. She bit her lip as her gaze flicked back towards the rack of broomsticks in the window. Her itchy fingers made this walk difficult every day and if she kept more money on her, she’d have a fleet of brooms of her own by now. “I shouldn’t be,” she said, shoulders lifting in a half shrug as she tucked her hands into her pockets. “The Nimbus I bought a couple months ago would be insulted.” And it was a fine broom. Astounding speed. Moved with the gentlest guidance. Smooth and sleek finish.  It was no Firebolt, but she’d always been a bit of a Nimbus girl, truth be told, all the way back to her days on the Slytherin Quidditch team.  It took a second or two for her to place the vaguely familiar person, brain jumping from faces to names before it settled on Beaumont. Oh, right. Edison’s brother.  She looked past him towards the pub she frequented often. It was owned by a wizard but also had an entrance to the muggle side of the street, so the fare was different than most, but she loved it. The amount of times she’d ordered takeaway, she should own a small portion of the place.  “Yeah, I need to grab something to eat.” Lunch. Was it lunch? A quick glance at her watch told Eliza it was really more like something between lunch and dinner. If breakfast and lunch were brunch, what did that make this meal?  Linner, probably. 

“You can never have too many,” he nodded toward the brooms, as if everyone in the goddamn wizarding community could afford whatever they wanted at the drop of a hat. He had personally never been that much into collecting brooms, but he had an array of canes that acted as a sheath for his wand to show for the fact that he was hardly frugal. To each their own. 

He was astute enough to realize she was looking toward the pub -- - he even tossed a look in the same direction for show - -- but her explanation sealed the deal. Orion had nowhere to be, and he wasn’t going to waste a golden opportunity. “I’m getting lunch as well. Mind if I join you? I”ll foot the bill for the trouble.” A grin was impossible to manage by the time he nodded toward the pub she’d been eyeing, “It’s not every day that I meet a quidditch star on the street. The most I get to hear about the Cannons is from my brother and Quidditch Daily. So, it would be my pleasure.”