WHERE: the white hart pub, london
WHEN: october 23rd, 1979 ;; 12:07
WITH: sturgis podmore ( @pcdmcre )
Tessa wrapped her coat tighter around her form as she made her way through the bustling London streets. The sun had been trying to peak through the grey overcast sky all morning, the occasional soft shine of light illuminating the midday air when it got the chance, but it was hardly any refuge from the cold. She looked around as she passed each shop, the roads to her right lined with traffic, pedestrians chatting away in tune to the blaring horn of an impatient bus-driver nearby, and it took everything in her not to stop and observe every detail— muggle London was intriguing, a place she didn’t frequent as often as she wanted to, a reminder of the half of her that she was never able to explore. It was almost like a glimpse into what could have been, an odd nostalgia for a path she never walked, the same way passing by a pureblood manor would tease her curiosity with what if’s.
Today wasn’t meant for entertaining those possibilities though. She had stopped letting herself wonder about alternate circumstances years ago, preferring not to dwell on the unrealistic, and as she narrowly avoided bumping into group of muggle men loitering near the pub, she focused on the task at hand: Strugis. The bell above the door chimed musically as she shouldered her way into The White Hart Pub, her cheeks bright red from the chill outside. She glanced around for the familiar face, knowing she was running a bit late ( it took longer than expected to apparate somewhere discreet, let alone navigate through such a crowd of people ) and quietly cursing herself under her breathe— for a moment she was reminded of her school days, the memories of trying to find a seat after running late to the Great Hall every week an ironic parallel to now. How fitting that she was here to see an old friend, someone she hadn’t seen since those hectic times at Hogwarts.
When she finally spotted him, sat alone at a table near the far end of the restaurant, she headed over with an embarrassed grin. “Would you believe me if I said I got lost on the way here?” Tessa asked, her tone apologetic as she slid into the seat across from him. It wasn’t a total lie, but it was still a weak excuse— he was obviously more at ease in the muggle world than she ever would be.
That morning, he had woken up to an overcast sky. Sturgis had heard it somewhere ( precisely where he couldn’t recall; something told him it was in a dream ) that one could tell how the day would unfold based on the sky; if the day greeted you with brightness, it would place a good, joyous day ahead of you. A storm was quite the opposite - an ill omen, with each cloud indicating the degree of misfortune that would plague the path ahead. He’d never bought it, not even once, and especially not now. He’d even gone to bed the night before with a cheerful type of restlessness, one that only seeing an old friend could cause.
As the door to his flat closed behind him, Sturgis couldn’t come to terms with how odd it felt being back among Muggles. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken in London’s non-magical side. Many of his memories were blurry, or incomplete. They were puzzles with pieces missing, and no matter how much he tried to fill the gaps, it would always feel like he was trying to jam in a piece that didn’t quite fit there. He remembered the stony streets, and how little puddles would form in the cracks between one square and the other. He remembered the clinking of the coins after a purchase had been made, as well as the colorful catalog of items that were sold at the markets. It saddened him that he dropped by mostly only when there was an errand to be done, especially now, as he walked among them and remembered the blood run in those around him was the same that ran through him. He could not deny that he enjoyed the pace of non-magical life, but he thought it unkind to deject the magic part of him.
Hands dug in the pockets of his coat, his fingers drummed against the lining. He couldn’t bring himself to keep his hands static, not with that childish happiness having gotten ahold of him. Sturgis would be lying if he said he didn’t remember Tessa, or if he said he wasn’t looking forward to seeing her. Even in crowded rooms, he still felt so distant from everyone, like there was a sheer barrier isolating him from the rest of the grinning faces. It hadn’t been like that with her. He found a war’s weight dragging behind the words from conversations exchanged with others, except Tessa. He’d only heard back from her until fairly recently, when it had become clear the two were no longer children, and when the way they clutched onto their wands slapped the realization into him that the stars in their eyes had been traded for wildfires. He could smell the mixture of scents - pumpkin, sweet dough, and wood - that clung to the air in the Great Hall when conjuring a memory of themselves back then, and the vividness of the memory served to make him feel some bliss. His step picked up speed, and he stepped into the White Heart Pub swiftly, as if being a second late would make him miss her.
Sturgis didn’t think anything upon not finding her there; in fact, it wasn’t until he looked down at his watch that he realized he was there earlier than it’d been agreed on. He picked a spot further to the back ( it’d become a custom at this point - humans were creatures of habit, weren’t they? ) and waited. He looked up when hearing the bell, smiling when he spotted her approaching.
“I would. Those streets can be quite mean sometimes --” he joked lightheartedly, a remainder of a smile lingering -- “and besides, it’s just easier to use the floo network ” he leaned over to whisper. After he straightened back up, he gestured at the server, turning back to her afterward.
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