Aurora wasn’t prone to frequenting pubs, particularly not ones as unsavory as this one, relative to her tastes. It was not in her nature to consider herself a snob, but her parents certainly had refined tastes, and they’d passed them on to their only daughter — their hard-won little jewel. Even if she did enjoy drinking with older men who smelled like sweat and grease, which she decidedly did not, her tastes usually ran to a better vintage than would be stocked in a place like this.
Logically, there was no reason for her to stop there. No reason at all. Not one that made any sense, except that she’d seen a familiar face ducking inside, a silhouette that had fascinated her for longer than she’d care to admit. She could pick Fabian Prewett from Gideon easily as anyone, though she didn’t know them well ——— one smelled like blood and adrenaline almost all the time, setting her teeth on edge, and one tamped down so well on his reactions that his scent rarely changed. There was something peaceful in that little tidbit of knowledge, a comfort that she could brush shoulders with Fabian in Diagon Alley and know him without pause, without thought.
Melancholy had plagued her ever since the news hit, but it had been an insular sort, born of a relationship that was, by nature, secret. There was no one to mourn to but her parents, no one she could tell what Albus Dumbledore had meant to her, whether or not she’d always trusted him, whether or not they’d gotten along all of the time. Something close to empathy bubbled in her chest as she moved toward the door, that and her ever present curiosity —— a need to understand the furrow so often between his brows, no matter what pride it cost her.
—————— In the wake of Albus Dumbledore’s death, she was galvanized.
Aurora held her breath as she pushed the door open. While she did need to breathe, she didn’t need to do it quite as often, and the smell of this place she knew would be overwhelming. She found Fabian easily enough among the rabble, like some dark-spun jewel half-hidden beneath soil. He was buried treasure, and tonight, of all the bloody nights, she was going to unearth just a little piece of him. Only what she was allowed.
Was it disappointing, to see the way his gaze fixed with perfunctory knowledge on her face without any further depth? She knew who he was, after all, knew him from a twin so identical many at school hadn’t been able to tell them apart, even after years. Her senses gave her an advantage, and yet ——— the proud, vain part of her curled up slightly in her chest, disgruntled and covering for a small patch of hurt. She pushed past it, irritated by how acutely she felt such a stubbornly irrational sensation.
How terrible it was, this fascimile of a smile, to anyone who’d ever seen him smile in their life. Aurora, unfortunately, had paid enough attention to have seen it once or twice, and she felt the instinct to snarl, honed only through years of practice. Don’t lie, she wanted to say, even as every move she made was designed to lie to others, don’t lie to me. Hypocritical but impossible to ignore, she sat across from him just to give her body something to do that wouldn’t come across as annoyed or irritated.
Polite. She filed the fact away for future study. ❝ Lucky I’m not familiar enough to unsettle you, isn’t it? ❞ Aurora says the words with conviction, as if that will make them true. Do you feel lucky? I don’t. Will we ever feel lucky again?
There was something oddly alluring about the scent of stale alcohol and the wretched tang of sweat. Fabian didn’t particularly like either smell, but it was what places like these allowed that he had come to love. These little dive bars, hidden between prominent shops or down precarious back alleyways, were a place of refuge. No one inside the dingy bar expected anything from him. The bartender did not expect some grand performance, the patrons did not need his protection nor his loyalty, instead he could simply be.
In his current state, Fabian wasn’t all that exciting. He scarcely had the energy to lift the beer to his lips, but he liked that no one here expected him to do so. He didn’t have to say cheers or keep up with the others. Instead, he could watch the bubbles that formed in his glass. He could mourn Dumbledore’s loss in peace. Hell, he could consider what the fuck had happened to him that had fucked him up so badly. Had he been put together wrong? Or had that Slytherin boy really done so much damage that even now, even years later, he still hadn’t managed to recover from the attack that he’d endured in his youth? Here, in a bar whose name didn’t matter, he could be whoever he wished to be.
No matter how sad or lonely, angry or stubborn, joyous or heartbroken, he could be himself. To unmask himself, to let his shoulders slump, was something of a gift.
All of that changed, however, when Aurora had stepped into the little bar. There was something strange about her presence, a feeling that she was out of place here, and Fabian wanted to shield her from this shitty little bar. She didn’t need to see him like this, to have the bartender glower at her, nor the other patrons ogling at her from across the bar. She was too good for a place like this. Admittedly, he didn’t know Aurora, but he felt certain that no one deserved to be inside of a place like this unless they were as desperate and forlorn as he was.
And, selfishly, he wanted to keep the delicious loneliness all to himself.
He watched without another word as she settled into the seat across from him, trying not to make his discomfort apparent. It was so damn hard to hide when his companions stared him straight in the face. How could one possibly lie when his eyes, his every little twitch, showed what he truly felt? Fabian tried his best to put his guard up, forcing his smile to grow just a little bit wider as she settled in there, and he let his chin rest in his hand atop the table. Was this what casual looked like? He’d very nearly forgotten after all of this time. Would she be able to tell that he was merely an actor (and not a particularly good one at that)?
“To unsettle me?” He laughed and shook his head slightly. The corners of his eyes crinkled, his lips turned upward, but there was no light in his eyes. Not as there had once been anyway. “I’m afraid to tell you, Aurora, that it’ll take a lot more than a familiar face to unsettle me.” A pause, and then he added in a confidential tone. “Not unless Bellatrix Lestrange walked in to this bleeding bar...” He grinned, trying his best to appear conspiratorial, and he glanced sideways at the door as though he expected just that to happen. “Seems we’re in luck,” he added and then leaned back.
“What would you like? This one’s on me.” The offer was meant to be kind, generous even, but there was more selfish reason behind it. If she was a bit drunk, tipsy even, maybe she would consider his stilted motions, his acting, as mere oddity. Better to be odd than to be miserable, after all.
andulkaphoto
jbbartram-illu
yousharknotpass
annaxmalina
pixelskylines
vaporwave
kianamaiart
blakekathryn
gummygunk
