when you are young they assume you know nothing

Daisy Hookum. Eighteen, former Hufflepuff, baby Phoenix. 

[perennialgrace]

forever-toujourspur​:

afternoon tea with a side of inquisition / narcissa & daisy / august 28, 1980

Narcissa resisted the urge to gape across the table at her unwanted guest. She should have known that the intricacies and benefits of knowing everyone’s business, whether gossip or truth, would have been lost on the girl in front of her. After all, that was how Narcissa was taught to think - knowledge is power, and power can be leveraged to get what you want. Her mother had ingrained that lesson in her well, in subtle smiles and dagger-like glares, in keen ears and an even keener head. Druella’s own philosophy, nearly mirrored in her daughter but not quite, was ‘why have friends and confidences when you could have sources?’ In that same way, her whole childhood, Narcissa had been warned against anyone who might want to use her for her position, for her family’s name and power. Any mistake could have been tantamount to ruin. Narcissa should have known that Daisy wouldn’t have had the same *perspective*.

A smirk gently twisted up the corners of her lips. “Your naïveté betrays your youth,” she murmured quietly. “No matter,” she brushed the matter aside, “it should hardly matter for someone such as yourself. After all, it is not likely you will ever enjoy a prominent enough position to benefit from those relationships.” For not the first time, Narcissa was reminded of how *different* she was from other people, how her own pedigree and education had shaped her life - largely for the better. She, her family, even Purebloods in general, were meant for something *better*, something more meaningful, something not afforded to common Wizardkind and Mudbloods. Glancing over at Draco, Narcissa smiled down at him. That was the future she wanted to give her son, one where his pedigree and potential would be honored over those less than worthy.

When Daisy spoke of her parenting, Narcissa stiffened. Of course, she had not said anything explicitly against her, but a barb was still a barb. “We are not most parents.” Daisy went on and on… and on. Narcissa began to wonder if she ever shut up. Soon, she lost the original point that Daisy had been trying to make and decided not to press it further. Admittedly, Narcissa was tiring of Daisy’s presence and the usually long fuse of her temper was running short, between lack of sleep, constant worry, and the knowledge that this evening would see only a few hours of sleep once more. She sighed quietly, resolving to sit inside from now on - where unwanted company may be screened at the door.

This resolution, of course, only lasted until her request for Daisy to leave was willfully ignored and an elaborate lie constructed to remain. Left with two options - leave or stand her ground - Narcissa narrowed her eyes across the table at the girl. “Yes, you might injure your ankle further. What a pity that would be.” Her voice dripped sarcasm in an uncharacteristically unsubtle way. For the smallest of moments, Narcissa considering conjuring ropes to tie her to the chair - at least that way, she would get the rest she so desperately wanted. “Though with so many other chairs available to you, I have to wonder why you chose mine. What you may be hoping to gain…” Narcissa let herself trail off, goading the girl into her next response.

Of course Narcissa didn’t buy the bit about her ankle- Daisy hadn’t expected her to and frankly would have been quite disappointed if she had. Regardless, she decided to act as though she hadn’t heard the sarcasm dripping from the older woman’s words, and shook her head dejectedly. “I know,” she agreed with a very loud and exaggerated sigh. “It would truly be awful. Imagine the papers reporting on it- New mother Mrs Malfoy sends teenager limping away! I wouldn’t dare harm your reputation by hobbling off until I’ve had a few moments to recover,” she added with a sugary-sweet smile.

Daisy blinked at the pointed question, slightly surprised by Narcissa’s directness. Thinking quickly, she plastered a grin across her face. “Well, because I just had to admire your new baby of course! He’s so cute!” This said without so much as a glance at the sleeping infant. Daisy would never understand the appeal; they literally looked like old potatoes. “And of course, for the conversation,” this with a slight smirk. “I mean, you’re so knowledgeable on current events, clearly. I would just love to hear your opinion on everything going on lately. Like- oh my god, didn’t a vampire kill someone recently? Or was it a werewolf? I can’t remember,” she admitted with a shrug.

“You must know all the details, though,” she continued pointedly. Why bother trying to be subtle? She’d never been able to manage it no matter how hard she’d tried. “Since you’re so in the know. With your obsession with reading the papers, and everything. Do you think Death Eaters were involved?” Daisy propped an elbow on the table and leaned forward, wide-eyed, the picture of inquisitiveness. “I would love to hear your take on things. Since you’re soo knowledgeable.”

[perennialgrace]

head-auror-moody​:

Out of Place ~ Stripper AU ~ Open

Whoever her boyfriend was had shitty taste in women that was for sure. Unless her behaviour was the surprise she was talking about. Poor sod, he thought to himself as he watched her type away something on her phone. She was definitely one of those entitled people, and it took a lot of his patience to not just drag her out of the club himself.

“Oh I wouldn’t be joking about bombs, not in this day and age,” he replied with a grim expression, “And as someone who’s seen what they can do, they aren’t very funny. You’re free to wait for your boyfriend, but you’ve been given a warning. If you get a second warning, you’ll be banned, understood? Do enjoy yourself, Miss Hookum. Off you go.” He didn’t really care what she said afterwards; as far as he was concerned his dealings with her were finished. 

Pulling out his phone, he opened up his email and typed out her name and description with a note that she had been given a warning for bad behaviour and being uncooperative. Should anyone run across the same thing, they could give her a second warning and a ban. He sent the email and then opened up his text message. ‘Keep an eye out from one of the kitchen staff meeting up with a young woman with a backpack. Let me know who it is.’ He sent it to the guard on duty watching the cameras just in case he . Soon, he’d know who her boyfriend was, though he didn’t really care. But since she had made trouble, and was likely to continue to be trouble, he wanted all of his bases covered.

The security dude seemed thoroughly unimpressed with her comment about a bomb, taking another moment out of his oh-so-busy evening to lecture her. Daisy rolled her eyes, not bothering to give him too much of her attention as she slipped her phone back into her pocket. Her comment wasn’t a joke that was supposed to be funny; she was mocking him, was he too dumb to notice? Daisy wasn’t stupid- she’d never say something like that in an airport or anything- but god, who was going to threaten to blow up a strip club? This dude took himself way too seriously.

His comment that she was on a warning was a surprise, though she did her best not to let it show, giving him a dubious expression instead. “Understood,” she said mockingly. “Dare I ask what exactly this warning was for? For having the nerve to be a student with a backpack? Or was I just not deferential enough and your little wee feelings got hurt?” Shaking her head, Daisy slung her bag over one shoulder, and climbed out of her seat. “Have a fantastic night,” she called over her shoulder as she stalked off in the direction of the bar.

End?

[perennialgrace]

plantsandpotions​:

“No one can blame you for that,” Tilden insisted gently. He couldn’t claim that he would last under torture. In fact, he was certain he wouldn’t, and the possibility of it ever happening was chilling. Almost as chilling as the continued reminder that it had happened to Daisy. He felt like his heart was being crushed and all he wanted was to remain here with her, safe and away from the wickedness of the world, until this stupid war was nothing but a distant memory.

Yet his reassurances were doing nothing to ease the pain in Daisy’s eyes. Tilden wished he knew what to say, the perfect thing that might actually help. That might revitalize her waning hope. But maybe that simply didn’t exist. 

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “But I have to hope that we will. We will survive. We will get justice for your mum. We will find whoever did… did that.” He nodded down at her chest, the scar now covered once more by her blouse. “Maybe it won’t even be us who finds him. But bad people… I have to believe that they get what’s coming to them in the end. They don’t get happy endings. I have to believe that.”

Because otherwise… how could he go on? How could any of them? What was the point of anything without hope? If they didn’t have hope, then maybe they’d already lost. But Tilden refused to believe that was the case. There was still so much good to fight for and as long as that was the case, he had to keep going.

“As for… for the scar,” he said. “If you wanted, I can see if I can find anything that would… would help with it. A potion or a spell or something.” He guessed that if she hadn’t gotten rid of it after all of these months, it was because she couldn’t. If the Death Eater had carved it with a curse, that could mean that no healing magic could erase it. But if it could make Daisy feel better, Tilden would happily scour the annals of magic to find something that might help. “I’m sure there’s something out there that could erase it or hide it.” 

Maybe he ought to ask Severus about curse scars. He’d not go into detail, not wanting to share Daisy’s scars with anyone else, especially someone he knew she didn’t like, but the other potioneer might have some good ideas. Besides being very clever, he was also very good at Defense Against the Dark Arts. It would be worth a try, at least.

She hadn’t expected Tilden to have any answers, so his honest I don’t know wasn’t surprising. His hope that things would just… work out, though, that bad things would happen to bad people... it just didn’t work like that. The Death Eaters had been killing and hurting people for years now and the Ministry and the Order seemed totally unable to stop them. The idea that they would just get what was coming to them… It seemed far too hopeful.

Not to mention, the idea that it would just happen, that they’d pay for what they’d done in some obscure, out-of-sight way- well, that didn’t sit right with her either. She didn’t want to just assume that her mother’s killer would be brought to justice. She wanted to deal with them herself. But in the year and a half since her mother’s death, she’d never run into them again- or if she had, she’d not recognized them. They could already have been caught and tossed in Azkaban, for all she knew. That idea didn’t sit right at all.

Truthful as it may be, her thoughts were slightly unsettling, and Daisy returned her attention to her blouse, trying again to refasten the buttons. Her hands were still shaking slightly, but she managed to get a couple of buttons closed- enough to hide the unsightly scar at least. She looked back up at Tilden, trying to smile at his offer of help, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“There isn’t really a point,” she said quietly, folding her arms back over her chest. “I’ve been to a bunch of healers, but curse scars… there wasn’t much they could do about it. And I’ve tried a bunch of glamour charms, but they don’t really help- they’re meant to cover small scars, they look weird covering something this big.” A not-especially-amused laugh slipped out as she continued, “I’ve even thought about going to a Muggle healer, if you can imagine. I keep thinking about that time I got stitches as a kid, and wondering if they’d have some sort of trick for fixing scars like this. But I can’t even begin to imagine how I could explain it to a Muggle without sounding crazy.”

Daisy didn’t have the aversion to Muggle medicine that most magical folk did; in hindsight, she thought it was fascinating that they had tried to sew her leg shut, after she’d gotten a nasty cut as a kid. She couldn’t quite picture them having a solution for this, though. And even if they did have some fancy fix, it might not even stick- curses could be weird like that. She could almost picture the imaginary doctors’ bafflement as the scar they were trying to fix just kept reappearing, no matter what they did.

[perennialgrace]

plantsandpotions​:

Tilden nodded in cheerful agreement, craning his neck to try and get a good look at the band, in case there was a sign somewhere around them that proclaimed their name. He thought that it might say something on the drumset, but he couldn’t read it from where they sat. He made a mental note to take a closer look when they returned to the dance floor. They were pretty good and the idea of being able to say ‘oh we heard them before they were famous!’ was pretty appealing. Tilden wasn’t generally the sort to brag, but tipsiness made it seem like a fun idea. What if this was the next huge hit in the muggle music world?

He sipped his drink, the name of which he couldn’t recall, and grinned as Daisy chatted happily. It was really nice to get away from it all. He was sure that these Muggles all had troubles of their own, but it was easy to feel like their lives must be easy and carefree, unaware of the threat that loomed over them, invisible to their world. It was nice to just pretend he was one of them, just for a few hours. 

Which could become a regular thing, in Daisy’s case, as she made a sudden suggestion about her search for work. Tilden’s brows rose. He hadn’t ever considered that she could look outside of the magical community for a job. Most witches and wizards would balk at the notion. It didn’t strike Tilden as a terrible idea, however.

“I mean, you’d have to be careful not to let anything slip, but it could work,” he said, cocking his head thoughtfully. “Unlike loads of magical folk, you know how to act around Muggles, so you would know not to go on about dragons or travelling by Floo or anything like that. And if you were careful, you could even use magic when no one was looking, to make the job easier!”

The more he thought about it, the better the idea sounded. He was sure that there were plenty of wonderful jobs in the muggle world, even if they might not be as exciting as the ones they were used to in the magical community. And it would mean that for at least a good portion of her days, Daisy would be effectively hidden away from the eyes of the enemy, who would likely not be looking for witches amongst the humdrum daily lives of non-magical Londoners. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his lot hated Muggles, but more often than not of late, their attacks were centred on magical areas of the UK, trying to squash the rebellion or target the Ministry. While the Muggle world wasn’t safe, it felt safer in some ways than Diagon Alley or even Hogsmeade.

“If you got a job out here in Muggle London, what would you want to do?” he asked Daisy. He knew that part of her struggles to find work since finishing her examinations was the fact that she wasn’t sure what she wanted. She hated the idea of working in a shop, but didn’t particularly seem enthused by the prospect of Ministry work either. The war and the Order of the Phoenix kept her tethered to England, so she couldn’t really explore employment abroad, so it made sense that she was having a hard time figuring it out. But maybe if there were more possibilities than they’d previously considered…

Daisy took a sip of her drink as Tilden considered her suggestion that she look for a job in the Muggle world. She made a face at the reminder that she’d have to hold her tongue about anything magical around her theoretical Muggle coworkers, wondering how long it would take before she’d let something slip. “True,” she sighed. “I’d probably get in a spot of trouble if I were obliviating a bunch of Muggles on a regular basis, huh.”

She started giggling as the idea reminded her of a time in her childhood when she’d very flagrantly used magic in front of Muggles. “Did I ever tell you about when I sliced my leg open when I was a kid?” she asked. “I fell off a tree or something, and my mum took me to the hospital to get stitches, but when they started trying to sew my leg back up I started using magic and basically knocked everything over and scared everyone in the emergency room half to death. An obliviator had to come make everyone forget about it. I’d probably get in a bit more trouble doing something like that now, though, than I did then,” she added with a laugh.

Tilden seemed to be taking her suggestion of a Muggle job more seriously than she had meant it, and she tilted her head, trying to think of what she might do in the Muggle world. “I honestly have no idea,” she admitted. “I don’t think I’d wanna work in a Muggle shop any more than I’d want to work in a magical one. I don’t really know what else Muggles do.” She shrugged a shoulder, reaching for her drink and taking another long sip. It wasn’t quite as strong as her last choice, but was pretty good. “I wonder how long I can get away with being unemployed for,” she mused. “Before Anna starts threatening to throw me out or something,” she added, rolling her eyes. She didn’t have the excuse of studying to explain away her unemployment anymore, after all, especially not now that she’d passed almost all of her NEWTs.

“Maybe I could get a job as a bartender,” she decided, namely because it was one of the half-dozen Muggle jobs that she knew of, and the bar where they’d grabbed their drinks was still in her line of sight. “I could learn how to make all these fancy drinks! Or I could join a band. Although I’d probably need to learn an instrument first or know how to sing or something. But I could totally use magic to make myself seem good at that!”

[apromisetoeveryone]

Beckoning || Prompt || Sept 28, 1980

Date: Sept 28, 1980 Time: 7:00pm Location: Outskirts of Glasgow

Walden hollered at the giant that was stampeding behind him, hoping to urge it forward. Whether the beast heard him or not, he wasn’t sure, but it certainly barrelled forward without a thought, letting out a large roar as it tore a lamppost from the ground and threw it at the nearest building like an oversized javelin. 

“‘Atta boy!” Walden cheered from behind his mask, throwing a fist in the air. All of these missions where he simply got to watch as the beasts raged through towns and tear people apart were some of his favourite. As much as Walden enjoyed playing with his own toys, he could admit that it was sometimes nice to watch the might of a giant tear into people and do most of the work. It meant less trouble when he stole a victim away in the chaos. Easy to count a missing person toward the body count of rampaging giants.

In this case, the Muggles had no idea what had even hit them. It was rather hilarious to watch their faces mold from wild confusion into abject horror as they watched the creatures wreak havoc. They didn’t even understand what was tearing through their sweet little town, tearing at brick and stone, crushing skulls with their bare hands.

The giant he was currently corralling into the main square turned to grin excitedly at him, making it clear that it was indeed heading his orders. This was rather impressive, Walden thought. Most giants would simply go into a blood frenzy and tear at everything if they got too excited. This one was quite happy to listen to his incoherent shouts and take actions. 

Grinning back and offering a wave, he pointed his wand in the direction of a fountain and let loose a simple spell that chipped away some of the stone that held the fountain together. The giant, getting the idea, ran forward and single-handedly tore the main section of the fountain from the earth. 

Seeing the giant’s line of fire, Walden panicked for only a moment before dashing quickly to the side as to not be crushed by the crumbling rock and shower of water that was suddenly shooting up from the square. The water was already soaking through his cloak and dropping loudly onto his mask before he could put up a ward to keep most of the spray from drowning him completely. He let out a loud bark of laughter, truly enjoying this game he was playing with his giant pet.

@perennialgrace

[perennialgrace]

It turned out that there was at least one magical creature that Daisy hated even more than mermaids. Giants. Good lord. As tall as the surrounding buildings and absolutely revelling in the destruction they were causing, and how the hell were you supposed to stop them?

Daisy had been doing her best to shoo the Muggles to safety, but they were remarkably slow to react. Well, she supposed that wasn’t fair of her. They were giants after all. Daisy was horrified by the sight of them, though she, at least, had known they existed. These poor Muggles were just in shock. She’d convinced those she’d come across to head home and get in their cars and drive away as fast as they could, which she figured was the best she could do. Though the Ministry were going to have a hell of a time trying to track all the witnesses down, later.

Trying to get the Muggles to safety was about all that seemed safe to do. After all, she didn’t have the faintest idea how to take down a giant! She had aimed a stunning spell at one, and it hadn’t done more than annoy it. Well, not annoy, so much as really piss off. Daisy had found herself running away- something she would absolutely never admit to, but good lord, what else was she supposed to do?

She’d run for a few minutes, weaving through the streets and alleyways until the giant gave up trying to find her. Of course, she immediately ran into another giant, who was apparently having a grant time destroying the town square, ripping a large, previously ornate fountain to shreds. Daisy grit her teeth, trying to remember if she’d ever learned about giants’ weaknesses in Defence Against the Dark Arts, but coming up blank.

A shout of laughter drew her attention to another person across the square. No, not just another person- a Death Eater. She’d known they had to be lurking around here somewhere, enjoying the chaos. There appeared to be just the one of them in the main square, so Daisy didn’t hesitate, pointing her wand at the masked figure and shouting, “Stupefy!”

[plantsandpotions]

perennialgrace​:

Daisy shook her head as Tilden pointed out that it might be hard to punch a mermaid, underwater and all. “It would be so satisfying though! Bloody mermaids. But like, hexing one would be even better. God I wish I coulda done that.” The mental image of luring a mermaid out of the water and bopping it on the head had her bursting into giggles. “Like whack-a-mole!” she cackled. “Whack-a-mermaid! I wonder what sort of mermaid trap I can get set up. Like, maybe they’re like nifflers and like shiny things and I could lure them with something shiny. You took Care of Magical Creatures right? How do I trap a mermaid?”

The reminder of her utter disgust of mermaids distracted Daisy enough that she more or less forgot about the rude bloke she’d wanted to punch. Enough so that she made no further move to track him down, and returned to dancing with Tilden, interspersed with the occasional continued grumble about mermaids. Really, they were the worst. She’d rather come face to face with a werewolf than ever have to deal with a mermaid again, ugh.

As the latest song came to a close, Tilden suggested they get another round. Holding his arm for balance, Daisy turned back in the direction of their table, where she’d left her cardigan. The cardigan was still draped over the back of her chair, but their drinks had indeed vanished. “Oh my god, who stole our drinks? Rude!” Though hers had been mostly empty, but that was besides the point. “Let’s get another,” she agreed, though she’d have been just as happy to keep dancing. “I think I should get something more… normal, this time, though,” she continued, her voice loud to be heard over the music. “I don’t know what that was, but it was definitely not tea. It was strong,” she added in a not-at-all-quiet whisper. “I’m kinda drunk.”

Continuing to hold onto Tilden for balance, they made their way back over to the bar. There was a bit of a crowd gathered around the bar, potentially even a line, though not one that made any sense to Daisy. Or at least, not one that she was paying any attention to. She spotted a small gap between two customers and practically jumped toward it, inadvertently knocking another customer aside as she pulled Tilden with her. “Hi!” she yelled at the bartender, waving to get his attention. “Can I have one of those?” She pointed almost at random to a drink another customer had just ordered. It was a reddish colour and was garnished with two cherries, which looked pretty good to Daisy.

Tilden frowned and hummed thoughtfully, mind wandering back to his Hogwarts days and Care of Magical Creatures classes. He wasn’t sure they’d ever actually covered merfolk in those classes. After all, merfolk didn’t really need care by witches and wizards. They were more a different sort of person, rather than an animal, much like goblins or centaurs. And even if it crossed any professor’s mind to try to teach about them, they’d be hard-pressed to convince a merperson to come to the surface of the lake to effectively be harassed by a bunch of teenagers. He was pretty sure that they must have covered the basics of mer-anatomy and culture at some point, but nothing was immediately springing to mind which might help Daisy in her hypothetical quest for revenge.

Luckily, his lack of an answer didn’t appear to be of pressing concern to Daisy. Which was just as well, as the overwhelming atmosphere of their surroundings coupled with his tipsiness was making it difficult to stay focused on problem-solving. It was much easier to pay attention to the more immediate concern of his thirst and the fact that their drinks from before had been snatched up. Later it might occur to him that it had simply been a case of a club employee clearing the unattended beverages away and that he probably wouldn’t have wanted to drink it after leaving it unwatched for so long anyway, but in the moment it felt like a great injustice. 

Grimacing at the inherent unfairness of life, Tilden nodded along to Daisy’s words and steered them towards the bar. “Maybe tea is something different where that drink is from,” he suggested. He’d wonder if it was a Muggle thing, but he knew enough Muggles and Muggleborns to know that wasn’t the case. Maybe it was a joke, because the drink was about as far from a nice calming cup of tea as he could imagine. He laughed at Daisy’s confession. “Me too!” he told her. He didn’t drink that often and he was starting to suspect that he was a bit of a lightweight when it came to alcohol.

He let Daisy lead the way to the bar, which was surrounded by a small army of thirsty club-goers. They’d never get the bartender’s attention if it were left to him and he was grateful for Daisy’s fearless persistence, even as he murmured apologies to the people around them. “Two please!” he added when Daisy ordered. He hadn’t caught sight of the particular drink she had chosen, but he trusted her judgement. And even more than that, he didn’t want to be in anyone’s way any longer than necessary. He caught a few unfriendly looks being sent their way. He got the feeling they’d jumped a line of sorts. He apologized some more as he dug through his pockets for some money.

The bartender was too busy to care about whose turn it was, though. Despite the relatively early hour, he was already looking tired and annoyed. Maybe it was near the end of his shift. He simply nodded and started making the drinks as Tilden slid the right amount of pounds across the bar. Once the drinks were handed to them, Tilden ushered Daisy towards a free table, relieved that no one had acted on their impatience. 

“This place is really cool!” he said as he took a seat. “Muggle music is good, eh? I wonder if these guys are famous! That’d be neat!” He craned his neck to try and get a look at the band across the dance floor. “D’you think they play all night or does this place also play music with, you know, electricity?”

[perennialgrace]

Daisy noticed one of the other customers at the bar glaring at her, and realized (belatedly) that she must have cut the line. Ah, well. Nothing to be done about it now; the bartender was already making their drinks. She gave the glaring customer a big smile, just to be contrary, and scooped up her drink once the bartender set it down. “Thanks!” she chirped, as Tilden pulled her away towards a free table.

She set her drink down and dropped into her seat, glad to sit down for a moment but also sort of wanting to get right back to the dance floor. “It’s awesome!” she agreed, turning in her seat to look at the band. She couldn’t really see them, across the crowded dance floor, but she knew she didn’t have the faintest idea who they were. “They aren’t famous yet,” she decided. “But there’s someone here tonight who owns a big music company and he’s gonna make them famous. In a year from now, they’ll be so big that even our world will know about them- and we will have seen them before they were famous!” She turned back to Tilden with a grin. “We’d better figure out who they are so we can properly boast about it!”

Daisy tilted her head to one side, looking around for some sort of sign that might have info on how long the band was playing for. “I dunno,” she admitted. “Marlene just said they had good live music. I bet they’ll get real tired if they have to play all night though. Maybe they’ll play records later?” She sighed happily. “God, I love Muggle London. It’s so nice to get away from it all. All these silly Muggles thinking life is perfect!” She picked up her drink and took a sip, relieved to find it a little less strong than her previous choice. “Maybe I should look for a job in the Muggle world,” she continued, setting it back down. “Wouldn’t that be weird? God, imagine trying to explain to my Muggle boss that I’m late for work cuz of a Death Eater attack,” she added with a giggle. Maybe that shouldn’t be a funny subject, but, well, she was drunk, so it was funny.

[perennialgrace]

head-auror-moody​:

Out of Place ~ Stripper AU ~ Open

He snorted at the zone one comment. If she thought he lived there, then she was denser than he thought. Since it sounded like she’d be carrying a backpack with her regularly, he hoped she was at least smart enough that she’d be subject to a search again. The club couldn’t risk it. Just because people were regulars didn’t mean they couldn’t try something one day. Reputation was a difficult thing to restore, so it was better to avoid any reputation damaging situations.

Hearing that her boyfriend worked here, he raised an eyebrow. Immediately he thought she was dating one of the dancers, but she quickly clarified herself. There weren’t that many people who worked in the kitchen, so he’d have a decent chance trying to guess who her boyfriend was. Still, it seemed odd to meet at someone’s place of work when the place was a stripper club. He didn’t quite understand why she didn’t just text her boyfriend and wait outside, unless she was curious about what a stripper club looked like inside. “If you tell me his name, I can let him know you’re here, or I can just announce it to the kitchen staff and hope the right person meets you.” All he wanted was to move this along quickly now that he had cleared her. He had half a mind to tell whoever it was that they were dating a pain in the neck, but that was hardly his business to comment on. He was going to give his security team a heads up about her and how to deal with her.

“You know, it might be better to meet him somewhere else next time. If you’re always going to be carrying around your things in a pack, don’t be surprised about a search. Just something to keep in mind.” Maybe she would take his suggestion; he hoped she did. That way, he wouldn’t have to go through this performance again. However, since she seemed to want to make things as difficult as possible, he wasn’t sure if she wouldn’t come back just to test his patience. He might just have to put that ban on her anyway.

The offer to go and let her boyfriend know that she was here might have been an attempt at being nice, but Daisy was pretty sure he was just trying to figure out who it was she was visiting. As if she was going to tell him and risk getting Tilden in trouble! While she felt herself to be entirely in the right in this confrontation and was sure that Tilden would agree, well, she’d still feel a bit guilty if she accidentally got him fired.

Daisy raised her chin in the air, doing her best to look down her nose at him. “I can find him myself, thank you very much. I am surprising him,” she added, with the air of someone speaking to a particularly slow toddler. She rolled her eyes as he suggested they meet elsewhere in the future, turning her attention back toward her cellphone. She ended the recording- what a waste of time that attempt had been- and started typing out a text to Tilden, asking when he was on his break. She’d just wait at the bar until he was free.

“Unless you’re banning me,” she said to the security guy, her tone rather smug, since she had done absolutely nothing to necessitate a ban, “I will meet my boyfriend wherever I bloody well please.” She sent the text, then returned her full attention to Moody. “Now can I go, or do you need to waste even more of my time checking that my laptop isn’t a bomb or something.”

[perennialgrace]

plantsandpotions​:

perennialgrace​:

Sharing Scars - Aug 2, 1980

Daisy looked so terribly miserable that Tilden almost told her that he didn’t need to know, that she didn’t have to say anything if she didn’t want to. He bit his tongue, however. If she truly didn’t want to say, he would understand, but he knew the bitter taste of secrets and how much it could burn away at you keeping them. He might not need to know, but she might need to say it.

Yet as she went on to explain, Tilden’s blood chilled. A Death Eater had done this to her. Now he did need to know, as a cold anger rose up in his chest like great lungfuls of icy breath. So many terrible things had happened in the past two years and they were all trying so hard to keep moving forward, to cling to some sort of hope and fleeting normalcy, that sometimes he went whole days without thinking about the fact that those Dark wizards had kidnapped Daisy – and others among their number – and tried to torture them for information. Shame swirled within the anger. How could he have never done more to help her in the aftermath of that horror? How could he have not gotten her some sort of justice or revenge?

Useless, angry questions, of course. What could he do when no one knew the identities of the Death Eaters? What could he do, when he couldn’t even recall the battles he’d been in or the attacks he’d witnessed?

Miles away from where they’d been only minutes earlier, he felt a dawning dread as she turned away, unbuttoning her blouse. Horrible, morbid curiosity demanded that he see, but shameful fear made him want to look away. If he did the latter, though, he didn’t want to think about how that might make Daisy feel. He steeled himself and nodded his understanding, forcing himself to not look away.

When she turned back towards him, he scarcely noticed at first the way she didn’t meet his eyes, the almost sickly pallor of her face, nor the pattern of her bra now visible to see past her unbuttoned shirt. His gaze was caught on the scar.

It was wings. This was no scar caused by accident or as an unplanned consequence of torture. This scar was the torture. Tilden understood the mockery immediately. Phoenix wings for a captured member of the Order. His stomach felt like it was in his throat. The anger roared back, so loud in his ears that he thought even Daisy might hear it.

But then he looked up at her face. She was staring over his shoulder and though there was a sort of determined hardness in her expression, she looked like she was going to be sick. Would him being angry on her behalf help? Would it make her feel better? Maybe if the scar was fresh, her own anger new and raw. But she was baring a secret to him as much as she was baring her skin and he wasn’t sure anger wouldn’t hurt her all the more.

“Daisy…” he said quietly. He had no idea what words would follow. What could he say to make her feel better? “…I’m so…” Sorry. And he was. He was sorry that he hadn’t known, even if that had been her intent. He was sorry that this had happened to her. That he couldn’t go back in time and stop it from happening in the first place. That he didn’t know the who or how or when or where to even start to make it right.

“Whoever it was,” he told her after a moment, voice gently determined. “They’ll get what’s coming to them. They might have been laughing then, but things always catch up to bad people in the end. These–” He lifted a hand towards the scars, but didn’t touch, didn’t want to overstep his bounds and her fragile trust. “–they don’t make you any less. Not less beautiful, not less brave.” He’d never been good with words and he cleared his throat awkwardly now, fretful over how stupid he probably sounded. “Merlin, they make me realize all the more how brave you are! I can’t imagine… hiding them all this time, not saying anything! I’m so sorry, Daisy!”

He wanted desperately to hug her, but worried that she would pull away, the branded wings on her chest a new barrier between them.

Daisy felt like she might faint. She was not the type of person who fainted, the idea was almost laughable, but she felt like she might. It took a moment to realize that this was because she’d stopped breathing, as she waited for Tilden’s reaction, and it was with some effort that she forced herself to draw in a deep breath.

After a long moment of silence, he spoke- haltingly, clearly at a loss for words. Her gaze darted toward him, then down to her blouse, which she quickly pulled closed again. Her fingers shook as she attempted to fasten the buttons, and after a few tries she gave up. At least the scar was more or less covered now.

Tilden was still speaking, his voice stronger as he tried to reassure her. She loved him for it, but there really wasn’t anything he could say to make any of this better. She was less beautiful- her body was disfigured by the horrific scar, it wasn’t going to fade any more than it had already, she couldn’t bear to look at it and she didn’t think for a second Tilden would feel differently. And his insistence that he still thought her brave— she let out a short, entirely humourless laugh, dropping her face into her hands.

“I’m not brave,” she said, her voice slightly muffled. She looked up, but couldn’t quite meet his eyes as she continued. “I broke while he was torturing me. I gave up information. Gave him names.” The fact that no one had died as a result of her weakness was small consolation. None of the others who’d been kidnapped had broken.

“As for the Death Eater—” She shook her head. “Who’s to say any of us will even survive this. Let alone that any of them will get what they deserve. Whoever killed my mother— I’m never going to find out who killed her, and get justice for her.” She had accepted that fact long ago, but it still hurt to say. “Why would this be any different?”

[perennialgrace]

plantsandpotions​:

perennialgrace​:

Dance the Night Away - July 14th 1980

Tilden swayed distractedly along to the music, guided more by Daisy’s hands grasping his own than by any real conscious effort to resume dancing. He scanned the crowd with what he envisioned to be a ferocious expression, just in case the cad who had badmouthed Daisy was looking. That’d teach him to steer clear!

It was difficult to maintain the angry demeanour, however, as Daisy declared her intentions. Sobriety might have made him skeptical of the idea of his rather petite girlfriend taking on a fellow twice her size in a matter of fisticuffs, or at least fret about the notion. Yet the giddiness of drink made the image not only seem plausible, but downright applaudable. 

“Yeah!” he agreed enthusiastically. Getting to see Daisy punch someone in the nose, someone who really deserved it, would be a wonderful thing. He reckoned that would be the sort of memory that would make a wonderfully powerful Patronus in the future. Unfortunately, the rude bloke was nowhere to be found. “If we see him, he’s done for!” Whoever he was. He’d been wearing a red shirt and had dark hair… Or maybe it had been a blue shirt? And he might have been blond, now that Tilden was thinking about it…

“It’d probably be hard to punch a mermaid,” he said, hopping a little on one foot and trying not to wince in the wake of Daisy’s misstep. “Underwater and all that.” He let go of one of Daisy’s hands to mimic throwing a slow-motion punch. “They’re probably really good at dodging. I think you’d have to get them to come to the surface and then when their head pops out of the lake, that’s when you nobble them in the nose! Plus, they can’t come after you, ‘cos they can’t come out of the water. Though I’m not sure how you’d get them to come up to the surface…” A problem to consider certainly.

Minutes passed, hastened along by the upbeat music, and soon the rude fellow faded from the forefront of Tilden’s thoughts, along with any lingering anger. What was the point of being grouchy? They were having a good time, far away from their normal lives, with no immediate responsibilities or fears pressing in on them. All the dancing was tiring, though, and as the song came to an end and there was a brief moment of rest, Tilden realized how thirsty he was. 

“D’you wanna get another drink?” he asked Daisy, raising his voice a little as the next song began. He looked over in the direction of the table they’d left behind earlier, but saw no sign of the drinks they’d left there. “I think someone’s nicked ours!”

Daisy shook her head as Tilden pointed out that it might be hard to punch a mermaid, underwater and all. “It would be so satisfying though! Bloody mermaids. But like, hexing one would be even better. God I wish I coulda done that.” The mental image of luring a mermaid out of the water and bopping it on the head had her bursting into giggles. “Like whack-a-mole!” she cackled. “Whack-a-mermaid! I wonder what sort of mermaid trap I can get set up. Like, maybe they’re like nifflers and like shiny things and I could lure them with something shiny. You took Care of Magical Creatures right? How do I trap a mermaid?”

The reminder of her utter disgust of mermaids distracted Daisy enough that she more or less forgot about the rude bloke she’d wanted to punch. Enough so that she made no further move to track him down, and returned to dancing with Tilden, interspersed with the occasional continued grumble about mermaids. Really, they were the worst. She’d rather come face to face with a werewolf than ever have to deal with a mermaid again, ugh.

As the latest song came to a close, Tilden suggested they get another round. Holding his arm for balance, Daisy turned back in the direction of their table, where she’d left her cardigan. The cardigan was still draped over the back of her chair, but their drinks had indeed vanished. “Oh my god, who stole our drinks? Rude!” Though hers had been mostly empty, but that was besides the point. “Let’s get another,” she agreed, though she’d have been just as happy to keep dancing. “I think I should get something more… normal, this time, though,” she continued, her voice loud to be heard over the music. “I don’t know what that was, but it was definitely not tea. It was strong,” she added in a not-at-all-quiet whisper. “I’m kinda drunk.”

Continuing to hold onto Tilden for balance, they made their way back over to the bar. There was a bit of a crowd gathered around the bar, potentially even a line, though not one that made any sense to Daisy. Or at least, not one that she was paying any attention to. She spotted a small gap between two customers and practically jumped toward it, inadvertently knocking another customer aside as she pulled Tilden with her. “Hi!” she yelled at the bartender, waving to get his attention. “Can I have one of those?” She pointed almost at random to a drink another customer had just ordered. It was a reddish colour and was garnished with two cherries, which looked pretty good to Daisy.

[perennialgrace]

forever-toujourspur​:

perennialgrace​:

afternoon tea with a side of inquisition / narcissa & daisy / august 28, 1980

Narcissa’s temper - ever a spring so tight it was ready to break - was thinning rapidly.  Her lips pressed into a thin line as she leveled an icy gaze across the table at the younger woman.  There was a scant five years between the two of them, and yet Daisy seemed so much more… immature than she had been.  “Yes,” she offered tersely. “Why ever should one keep up to date on the happenings of their friends, and the campaigns of new charities.”  She paused, a small smile twisting her lips. “Oh, but that’s right - I’m sure you don’t know anyone in the society pages, so of course it wouldn’t be important to you.”

Daisy’s eyes fell to her book and Narcissa watched as she gave a dramatic roll of her eyes.  “Educational for me, yes, though I’m sure Draco enjoys the pictures.”  Her grip tightened on the pram, even just mentioning his name to her, as if she were unworthy to even think it.  Her eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of giants.  Mermaids at Hogwarts - yes, she’d made a hobby of watching them through the glass in the common room, but giants?

Even worse still, she was talking to him.  Narcissa felt the indignation rise up within her, that she would deign talk to her son.  “Don’t talk to him,” she said softly, her voice cold and quiet but laced with venomous poison.  “Don’t talk to my son.”  She hadn’t given much thought to Hogwarts - had only been thinking about the years to come in a more general sense.  Picnics, summers at the cottage and all across Europe, teaching him to walk and talk… she didn’t even want to think about him going away to school.

“If you had any brains at all, girl, you’d know there are no giants at Hogwarts - at least not outside of that oaf, Hagrid.”  His name dripped off her tongue as if it were a soiled rag in summer heat.  “More to the point, if you had any brains at all, you would get up from this table and leave me and my son in peace.”  Narcissa’s eyes narrowed across the table as she watched Daisy carefully.  Would it be so bad to cast a Confounding Charm on her, just to make her shut up?  Could she get away with a Body-Bind?  Would that make her stop?  If anything, imagining the look on her face was almost enough to quell her temper.

Daisy snorted at Narcissa’s intended insult. Like she would be all offended by the suggestion that she didn’t know any of those high society losers! Which wasn’t even true- her stepfamily were sacred 28 and were always at those dumb parties- but frankly, she would have been much happier if she didn’t know a one of them. “I keep up with my friends by like, actually talking to them,” she said. “Like a normal person. God, who wants to read about two witches wearing the same dress robes to a party. What a waste of time!”

God, but these uppity pureblood sorts were weird. Like, what the hell sort of name was Draco? A rich bratty pureblood kid named Draco who was learning about poisons in his infancy— yeah, he was gonna turn out great. Daisy opened her mouth to say as much, but Narcissa beat her to it, practically snarling at her not to talk to the kid. Daisy raised her chin. “Or what?” she asked, before letting out a laugh at the witch’s indignation. “Fine, I won’t talk to him. He’s not exactly a thrilling conversationalist. Though, you know, I always thought that parents loved it when people went all baby-talky to their kids.”

She bristled at Narcissa’s implication. “I have plenty of brains,” she snapped, scowling. “It’s called exaggeration, ever heard of it? Though,” she added, unable to let her point go, “I’ve no doubt if there were giants roaming about the grounds, they’d be mates in no time.”

The order to leave was quite the opposite of subtle, which Daisy could appreciate. Not that she would make things that easy for the witch. “I would,” she sighed, with all the drama she possessed. “But there are no other tables available, and you know,” she continued, inventing on the spot, “I twisted my ankle the other day. It was feeling a bit better earlier, but I’ve been walking, you know, and I need to rest it now or I’ll simply fall over in the middle of the street.” She shook her head, as though it were truly a tragic moment. While also making a mental note to remember to limp dramatically when she did eventually leave the table.

[perennialgrace]

plantsandpotions​:

perennialgrace​:

Sharing Scars - Aug 2, 1980

Daisy jolted back as if Tilden’s question had given her a physical shock. Tilden reached out to catch her arm before she could fall off the couch, her legs caught awkwardly under her. She didn’t end up needing the help, managing to catch herself at the last moment. Her free hand was at her throat, clutching the neckline of her shirt. Her expression, warm and inviting mere moments ago, was now stricken and upset. Her words echoed her dismay, a contradiction of hurried excuses. 

Tilden sat back, brows drawn together in concern. “It didn’t feel like nothing,” he said. If it were some inconsequential scar, the sort that everyone got over the course of their lives, he doubted that it would have been so noticeable under his touch. Nor did he think Daisy would be reacting this way. Foreboding twisted in his stomach, like a snake awakening and starting to squirm. “It felt… big. Or serious, at least. When did it happen? Was it during a fight with Death Eaters?”

He tried to think back to any of the times she had been injured. His memory, always fuzzy at best when it came to the war, however, made it difficult. There could have been countless times that she had been hurt in the course of a battle, only to be tended to and healed before he could witness the injury at a time when he might actually remember it. He felt a sudden and strong pang of frustration at himself. What good was he if he couldn’t even keep track of his own girlfriend’s wellbeing? 

“I’m sorry,” he told her, unsure if he was apologizing for his failure to notice the scar before or for noticing it now. Part of him wanted nothing more than a Time-Turner, to turn back the minutes and stop himself from ruining the moment so terribly. But most of him wanted to know the truth. How had Daisy gotten hurt? When? And had it been an accident? A fight? If it were just a simple scar, why did she look so scared?

Daisy’s hands were shaking. She let go of the now-wrinkled fabric of her blouse, clenching her hands together to try and get them to stop. She was going to have to tell him, wasn’t she? She supposed she’d always known that she would have to one day, but- well, she’d really hoped that she’d have mastered a glamour charm to cover it up by that point. She didn’t want him to see it.

“It… I…” She swallowed, not sure how to explain. “You’re right,” she said, after several silent seconds. “It’s not nothing.” Her reaction had made that plain as day. “Don’t be sorry,” she said, putting off explanations for a moment longer. “No one knows. I didn’t want anyone to.” She’d been so careful that no one know. It had been months of wearing high-collared dresses and shirts— she hadn’t been to the beach once this summer, and she loved the beach! She’d been so careful, but that was ruined now. She either had to tell Tilden, or lie to him- and she really didn’t want to lie to him.

“It was last winter,” she said after a long moment. “When I was kidnapped. The Death Eater—“ She paused, unable to get the words out. She could barely even think about it without feeling sick, without remembering the pain and humiliation. He’d branded a pair of wings into her chest.

Giving up on trying to explain, she turned slightly away from Tilden, and reached for the wrinkled collar of her blouse. Her hands were still shaking and it took her a moment to unfasten the top few buttons. Her fingers brushed against the rough skin of the burn, and she winced, but pressed on. Much as she didn’t want him to see it, talking about it seemed harder. “It’s bad,” she warned. An understatement. It was hideous. A constant and horrible reminder.

Finished with the buttons, she let the blouse fall open. She’d left the bottom half of the shirt buttoned up, but her bra was clearly visible, just below the awful scar stretching across her chest. Being half-undressed like this ought to have been making her blush like crazy, but Daisy was pretty sure that she was as pale as a ghost as she turned back toward Tilden. She kept her gaze fixed on the wall behind him- she didn’t want to see his expression.

[perennialgrace]

plantsandpotions​:

Dance the Night Away - July 14th 1980

“Yeah!” said Tilden, less drunk than Daisy, but very much caught up in her energy and pleased by his apparent role as bruiser boyfriend. “Piss off!” It felt somehow wonderfully freeing to say this to some random rude stranger and not immediately follow it up with a bashful and hurried apology. He wasn’t even sorry! He even did his best to crack his knuckles menacingly. He was somewhat successful, though the sound was drowned out by the music.

The Muggle didn’t seem to be in a mood for a fight, in any case. He grumbled and vanished back into the crowd, no doubt in search of another more agreeable girl with whom to dance. Later Tilden would recognize that it probably hadn’t been his doing that made the man back off, but in the moment he grinned triumphantly at Daisy. “That’s him told!” he said, feeling more confident than he had all evening.

His cheerfulness faded at the sight of the glare darkening her expression. He hadn’t properly caught the man’s departing words, but clearly Daisy had and they hadn’t been polite. Tilden’s smile turned to a frown in an instant. “What did he say?” he demanded. He craned his neck, trying to catch sight of the Muggle in the crowd. The man was gone, though. Or blended into the rest of the dancers. Tilden hadn’t really paid much attention to his appearance in the first place. “D’you want me to find him? I’ll make him apologize!”

Tilden had never considered himself a fighter, not even when he’d joined the Order of the Phoenix. He certainly didn’t consider himself the sort to get into brawls with random folk in a club in the middle of Muggle London, but he was tipsy and amped up on music and emotions and the electricity of Daisy’s smile. He wanted to bring the latter back and in the moment it felt perfectly right to do so by threatening to punch another man in the nose.

“I’ll punch him in the nose!” he said, to make this abundantly clear.

Daisy turned back to Tilden, her expression the picture of indignant outrage. How rude. Her annoyance didn’t last long, though, as she returned her attention back to Tilden and noticed how annoyed he looked. “He was rude,” she announced, not caring overmuch as she reached for his hands to try and nudge him into dancing with her again.

Tilden’s announcement that he’d punch the rude Muggle in the nose made Daisy bounce excitedly on her heels. “No, I should punch him!” she announced with glee. “Marlene taught me how, did I tell you? And I haven’t even had a chance to try it out yet! I gotta punch him!” Without letting go of Tilden, she tried to turn around and spot the Muggle in the crowd. “Where’d he go? I need to punch him!”

But he had vanished from view, so far as Daisy could tell. She actually had no idea what he looked like, in all honesty. “If you see him again tell me do I can punch him,” she said, returning her attention to Tilden and their dancing, and accidentally stepping on his foot. “Oops! Sorry! But also actually just in general, remind me when someone is rude so I can practice! Like a mermaid, I would love to punch a mermaid, stupid fish!”

[perennialgrace]

plantsandpotions​:

perennialgrace​:

Sharing Scars - Aug 2, 1980

Daisy’s hands were on Tilden’s face, fingers cool in comparison to his flushed cheeks. He could feel her pulling him closer and leant eagerly into the kiss. The scent of her shampoo filled his nose, sharpened with the tangy edge of the cider on her breath. For a long moment the world slowed and seconds stretched to joyful hours.

In the back of his mind, he was worried he’d spill the glass of cider he still held in one hand and so rather blindly set it down on the coffee table. With that out of the way he had both hands free to roam, though he made a clumsy mental note to watch out for Daisy’s drink, too. It would be a bit of a mood killer if he accidentally spilled it down the front of her shirt.

The mood, as it happened, was destined to be ruined anyway. Tilden’s fingers skimmed across Daisy’s collarbone, dipping low enough to feel the beat of her heart, then stopped abruptly. It wasn’t decency or embarrassment that had stopped the wandering hand, but the unexpected change in the texture of Daisy’s skin. What Tilden had expected to be smooth was suddenly ridged and rough, as if she had a large scar across the expanse of skin between her collarbone and her breasts.

But she couldn’t have a scar there, could she? Tilden would have noticed it ages ago! It wasn’t like he never saw the skin of her chest…

Except he hadn’t, he realized. Daisy always wore nice outfits, but now that he thought about it, the neck-lines never scooped low enough to show more than the dip at the centre of her collarbone. How long ago had she been injured? He was almost sure that the dress she’d worn to the Potter wedding the summer before would have revealed a scar, so it had to have been some time since then.

Tilden sat back, the happy haze of moments before slipping away. “Daisy? Are you… are you alright? Do you have a… a scar there?”

The world seemed to fade away as they kissed. Lost in the moment, in the feel of his lips on hers, Daisy didn’t really notice Tilden putting his drink down, nor that his now-free hand didn’t join the other at her back. Her hand had moved to his hair, and the few parts of her mind not focused on his lips were instead centred on the feeling of his curls coiling around her fingers. So it took her a rather long moment to realize that his hand wasn’t on her back, but was instead tracing along her collarbone- just below it, in fact. Had paused in place on her skin.

She froze. Went utterly still as he pulled away. She wasn’t sure she even breathed as she came crashing back to earth, her lightheaded, lighthearted mood vanishing in an instant. The scar. The hideous brand that stretched across her chest. He’d just touched it. Was it too much to hope that he hadn’t noticed, that he’d moved away for another reason?

Apparently so. His question made that clear enough. Acting on some fight-or-flight instinct- solidly flight in this instance- Daisy moved back, trying to jump to her feet. If she’d managed it, there was a solid chance she would have been out of the door before her brain caught up with her. However, fortunately, she had been sitting on her knees, which meant that she just wound up nearly toppling off the sofa instead.

She caught herself with one hand just before she fell right off, the other tugging at the neckline of her blouse, pulling it back up well above her collarbone. Damn it, damn it. She usually wore shirts with properly high necklines, clothes that sat high enough on her shoulders there was no risk the neckline would slip. But tonight she’d worn a new shirt, made of a soft, pliant material, with a neckline that rested just on her collarbone. Because it was pretty and she’d wanted to look nice. So stupid, after all these months of being so careful.

“No,” she answered automatically, a bit too loudly, wincing even as she said it. He’d felt it. Maybe even seen it. And given how she’d just reacted, there was no way she could just brush it off. “Yes,” she corrected. “It’s nothing. I- It’s nothing. Just a scar. I have a million of them. It’s nothing.”

[perennialgrace]

head-auror-moody​:

Out of Place ~ Stripper AU ~ Open

In his head, he was trying to figure out how he might be able to turn this around. Though he’d been in much more difficult situations before, she was far too annoying to let her walk all over him. For now, he’d play nice.

It looked as if she’d done this sort of thing before, because now she had her hands free to begin emptying her bag. This meant that her phone was still recording, and that he really ought to not look directly at the camera anymore. Maybe she had made posts on her social media before about other encounters. Maybe she was one of those nightmare customers. And she has a boyfriend who works here. Just my luck.

He watched as the items were distributed on the layer of napkins. Textbooks - legal ones. That explained a lot. It reminded him of a past girlfriend who’d been a lawyer; arguments were never fun, but those ones had been particularly loud and large. Among the textbooks, a laptop, various other items and loose pills. He doubted she was distributing them since they weren’t in a bag. Whatever they were, if she decided to take one and caused a scene, then he’d be more than happy to handle that then.

Alastor eyed the items carefully, concluding that the likeliness of anything illegal was slim. If she was actually smuggling something in, it would be a first to be done by textbooks or a pack of feminine products. Maybe they ought to get an X-ray screen like in the airports. “You can pack up your things. It may be easier if you carried a smaller bag next time. That way a simple flashlight search will suffice.” He paused before adding, “You mentioned visiting your boyfriend, bit of an odd place to visit someone.” It seemed like a shitty place to bring a date to.

It was immensely disappointing when the grumpy old security dude didn’t so much as blink at any of the items she piled on to the table. Not the slightest flinch at the pack of tampons, no interest at all in the loose paracetamol she must have spilled at some point. That was incredibly disappointing. She’d been really hoping for him to do something stupid, something that could go viral. Beth had had a video of some of her family’s pets go viral on TikTok last year, and Daisy was near to giving up hope of ever getting anywhere near as many followers.

She left her phone camera recording, just in case, but she wasn’t holding out much hope now. She glowered at him as she carefully slid her books and laptop back into her bag. “I came right from uni”, she told him icily. “Could hardly just stop by home to drop off my textbooks. I’m not some rich boomer living in zone one.” To be fair, she could have been living in zone one, if she’d opted to live with her dad and stepmother while attending uni in the city. But she hadn’t- she’d instead decided to flat with five other students and have to take a bus and two trains to get to school, and while that mightn’t have been the smartest ever decision, well, at least she could be properly scathing about rich boomers.

Daisy paused at his next comment, rolling her eyes as dramatically as she could manage. “He works here,” she told him, her tone implying clearly that he should have figured that out. Then she blushed, realizing how he might interpret that. “Not- not up there,” she clarified, gesturing toward the stage though still very much not looking toward it, her face feeling incredibly pink. “He works in the kitchen.” She was about to say who he was, but paused- was she going to get Tilden into some sort of trouble? It belatedly dawned on her that maybe she shouldn’t have picked a fight with the head of security at his place of work. But Moody was so rude! He’d started this, not her.

[perennialgrace]

plantsandpotions​:

perennialgrace​:

Dance the Night Away - July 14th 1980

Daisy certainly seemed unfazed by their collective lack of experience and Tilden found it easier not to care as he laughed along with her. They were holding hands, her fingers interlaced with his, keeping them together on the crowded dance floor. All around them people were moving to the beat of the song, dancing in such a variety of enthusiasm and styles that Tilden was completely unable to gauge what was talent and what wasn’t. Some of them were singing along and some were simply lost in the music. Tilden would have liked to join in with the former group, if only he knew any of the words. The song wasn’t at all familiar to him, but he was enjoying it immensely.

He laughed all the harder when Daisy attempted some sort of spin move that proved too complicated for the both of them to pull off and resulted in their arms tangled clumsily together. Daisy stumbled a little as she freed herself, and they collided with some other dancers. Tilden’s laughter immediately turned apologetic. “Sorry!” he echoed, smiling bashfully at the jostled strangers. They scarcely seemed to notice, lost in each other’s company. Even as he and Daisy watched, they leaned into each other in a passionate kiss.

“Oh my,” murmured Tilden, then immediately felt old as he realized how much like his dad he probably sounded. He gave his head a shake and turned back to Daisy, eyebrows raised comically. “I’m not sure they even noticed us,” he said. Much as he loved kissing Daisy, he wasn’t sure he would want to do so in the middle of a crowded place like this. He was bashful enough about his dancing.

In his distraction, he’d slowed his dancing almost to a stop, temporarily simply swaying awkwardly on the spot, out of beat with the music. This, as it turned out, was a sign of weakness. Another grinning bloke appeared beside Daisy, so suddenly that Tilden almost thought he must have apparated there, and tried to pull her away to dance with him.

“Hey!” said Tilden, flustered by this development. “We were dancing!”

The other fellow laughed. “Is that what you call it?” He moved to put his arm around Daisy’s shoulders. “C’mon babe, I can show you how to properly dance.”

The couple she’d gone tumbling into didn’t seem to be even vaguely aware of her. At first she thought that maybe she hadn’t stumbled as badly as she’d thought, but it quickly became apparent that they were just a little too preoccupied with each other to be aware of her error. Daisy felt her cheeks go pink as the couple started kissing rather passionately in the middle of the dance floor.

Daisy turned back toward Tilden in time to hear his ‘oh my’, which had her bursting into giggles. At least it seemed he didn’t want to follow their lead; that seemed way embarrassing, to be snogging on the dance floor, surrounded by hundreds of people. “I guess not,” she agreed, laughing. “My terrible dancing clearly didn’t ruin their evening at all.”

She was standing a little ways off from Tilden, following her bump into the other couple, and apparently some random bloke had decided that meant they were no longer dancing together. Admittedly she was rather drunk, but even allowing for that, it seemed like he just appeared out of thin air, stepping between she and Tilden with remarkable speed and slinging his arm around her shoulder.

“Ew,” she complained, shrugging free of his arm and mostly-accidentally elbowing him in the side. “Get lost or my boyfriend will beat you up,” she announced over her shoulder, giving Tilden a bright grin as she stumbled back toward him. She hoped the rude Muggle wouldn’t put him off dancing. She was having fun!

“Bitch,” she heard the bloke mutter. She supposed that was the result of having just been elbowed in the stomach, but really, rude, she thought, turning around to glare at him. Her hand had wandered to her pocket where her wand was stowed, though by sheer dumb luck she remembered just in time that he was a Muggle and she couldn’t go hexing him for being a jerk.

[perennialgrace]

head-auror-moody​:

Out of Place ~ Stripper AU ~ Open

This situation was continuing to be an interesting one. Kids these days. Then the phone came out. Before he could say anything, she was pointing the back of her phone at him - the camera, presumably. Alastor clenched his jaw and took a long breath. He’d been in worse situations, but boy, she was being incredibly annoying. This was the last straw, but he knew he couldn’t just drag her out, not with the damn video rolling. She dropped her ID on the table. Cleaning her card when she got home probably was a good idea - so far her only good idea, though he wasn’t going to tell her that. If she wanted to record him, then he would aim to give her as boring of a show as possible. The last thing he needed was something going viral.

“This is a routine inspection. No one has accused you of anything.” Yet. He took the card from the table and held it up in front of the flashlight. “Daisy Hookum,” he read and glanced over to her. “Nice to finally know who I’m speaking with, Miss Hookum.” He turned the card in his hands a couple of times to check for any bumps or raised ridges. It felt legitimate and the picture matched. The date of birth looked reasonable enough to match.

Alastor set the card on the table and slid it over to her. “That’s fine. Now your backpack. Set it on the table and remove its contents.” Sure, he could dig through her backpack but he could see that being interpreted in an unfavourable light. “It might be easier to use both hands to unpack, but do continue recording this by all means.” The only thing the video would show was him doing his job.

She smirked at his forced calm, glad she’d remembered to get out her phone. He was still an arsehole but he’d have to be all boring and polite to her now if he didn’t want to end up going viral. Her smirk grew as he ultimately gave up on trying to prove her ID was false, and she snapped it up as soon as he slid it across the table.

“Duh,” she said at his suggestion to use both hands, rolling her eyes as she stuck her phone in her bra, the top of it sticking out enough to keep recording. She hefted her heavy bag onto her lap, and for a moment quite seriously considered just unzipping it and dumping the contents everywhere. But there’d been a reason she’d been reluctant to just let some arsehole manhandle her belongings- her school things were expensive.

Taking care to maintain her murderously indignant expression, she took a moment to grab half a dozen napkins, spreading them across the table in an effort to protect her things. Then she unzipped her bag and carefully stacked her MacBook, several textbooks, and various notebooks and folders and papers on the table. She took not inconsiderable satisfaction in placing her legal textbooks face-up and clearly visible.

On top of those, she placed her make-up bag, several pens, her housekeeps, and a pack of tampons (placed prominently at the top of the pile, since men were scared of them), as well as the various debris that filled the bottom of her bag- hair pins, receipts, scrunched-up scraps of paper, and several loose pills that must have escaped a bottle at some point. God, she hoped he got excited over those, thinking they were something illegal, when the strongest thing she’d ever taken was a bloody nurofen. “There, you happy?” she asked, sitting back and crossing her arms.

[perennialgrace]

plantsandpotions​:

Sharing Scars - Aug 2, 1980

“Yeah, no kidding,” Tilden agreed, chuckling as he carefully summoned the pitcher of cider into the room and topped up Daisy’s glass. “I sorta wanna ask Dad where he got it, but I don’t want him worrying about me, thinking I’ve turned to drink to cope or something. Plus it might be a wee bit pricey. He gave it as a gift, after all.” He poured himself a little more of the cider as well and leaned back against the couch, frowning thoughtfully up at the ceiling. A plant on the windowsill behind his head reached out a flowery tendril to gently tickle his brow. “I s’pose we could try making it ourselves…” he mused. “Buy some whiskey and cast a Cheering charm onto it. Somehow I think there’s probably more to it than that, though.” 

He’d never cast a Cheering charm onto an object after all, only other people. And even then, it wasn’t a charm he’d used since Charms class back at Hogwarts. It was hardly something that came up in everyday life. And anyway, he wasn’t sure how he felt about spells like that, which affected someone’s mood. While certainly the effects of Cheering charms were quite benign, it still felt a little like you were taking a person’s choice away from them. Controlling how they felt. It definitely was nowhere near as bad as something like a Love potion or the Imperius curse, but it still felt weird. When he and Daisy had enjoyed the enchanted whiskey, it had been their choice to do so, with full knowledge of what they were doing. But he still wasn’t sure it would be a good idea to try to recreate the whiskey themselves.

Looking back over at Daisy, he blinked away his wandering thoughts. Outside the window the sun was sinking closer and closer to the horizon and the light that filtered in past the leaves of his houseplants was a sleepy golden hue that complemented Daisy’s hair and freckled features. Faint shadows of leaves painted abstract shapes across her cheekbones and nose.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, not worried about how daft or enamoured he might sound. He reached out to brush his fingertips across the side of her face again, then leaned in to kiss her gently. His hand dropped from her face to her shoulder, sliding slowly to her back, the fabric of her blouse soft beneath his fingers.

“Oh, god,” she said, shaking her head. “If you were, who could blame you.” The fact that they weren’t all of them drinking day and night was quite the miracle really. She smiled her thanks as Tilden refilled her glass, taking a long sip, though she nearly spilled it all over herself at his suggestion. Her expression lighting up, she set her glass down on the table.

“A ton of cheering charms, I imagine,” she thought aloud. “I wonder if it’s something done early on in the process, or if they just enchant the drink itself? Cuz if it’s the latter, we could totally do that. Or maybe it’s not cheering charms at all, it’s some sort of potion. In which case it should be easy as anything for you to whip some up!” Maybe some modified version of a euphoria potion- watered down, sort of thing? She wondered how risky it would be for them to just try it- pour some potion into a bottle of whiskey and hope for the best.

Daisy’s mind was quite firmly on the possibilities, but Tilden’s thoughts had drifted elsewhere. She blushed at his compliment, smiling as he leaned closer, brushed a hand along her face. Well, she was happy to be distracted from her plans- though she would absolutely be revisiting this topic.

She was still smiling when their lips met in a gentle kiss. It slowly slipped away, after a moment, as Tilden’s hand left her face, moving to her shoulder. She was very aware of where his hand was- a good awareness, in one sense, but also a hint of unease. It wasn’t until his hand slide down to her back that she could entirely relax and lose herself in their kiss, as it travelled further away from her scars. As she relaxed, her arms moved too, reaching up to settle on his face, his neck, pulling him closer.