the prodigy

Septima Vector. 28. Neutral/The Order. Professor of Arithmancy.

[septimaxx-blog]

bagnclds:

     ‘Hey, if the number nine – or honestly any other number than voter polls – can do anything to help be beat Lestrange, call me a convert.’

She’d never really been one for Arithmancy in school – she’d taken it, sure, for fifth year year, before giving it up to put Muggle Studies back on her schedule, but even though she knew it was a useful subject she’d never quite been able to convince herself that numbers had much more meaning or magical property than was immediately apparent. The way Septima talked about it, she always wished she’d been more interested in it when she’d had a chance to learn about it. But she’d been more focused on concrete things, in school, and they’d grown up, somewhere along the way. 

     ‘How would that work? I mean, believe me, it sounds fascinating, but I’m as clueless as they come when it comes to numbers.’

“In that case, forget convert, I’ll have you full-fledged zealot in no time,” the brunette joked lightly, “Truth be told, I don’t think you’ll need arithmancy to win...just don’t forget this ‘ol Hogwarts professor when you’re sitting in the office of the Minister or Magic.”

Arithmancy was and would always be Septima’s entire life. It was all she ever knew but somehow, still managed to remain her livelihood. Unlike her younger siblings, the life she had been given, in someways was truly the life she wanted. While they did their best to stay away from their inherited legacy, Septima embraced it with open arms. The blood the coursed through her veins was comprised of nothing but numbers and equations as ancient as the subject was itself, her history just as much a part of her personality as anything else.

“Well much of it is finding patterns- not just any patterns but the kind of patterns that are invisible to most witches and wizards and then finding ways to manipulate those patterns through magic, if that makes any sense?” Septima supplied, “Elections, in our case, present a rather unique set of variables that in my opinion, can make for some pretty fascinating patterns.”

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laurenwakefields:

Location: Diagon Alley Date: October 15th OPEN

The Order meeting had happened that very same morning, and Lauren was sure the news of the stolen Pensieve were going to hit the newspapers by that afternoon. It was a massive deal, such a large piece of evidence stolen like that. Yet, she felt way safer now that she knew it was out of Death Eaters’ hands and properly hidden. She trusted Alastor with her life, and she knew there was no way he was going to do anything to put people in risk, even though he was probably going to have a hard time trying to explain this. 

She didn’t really feel like performing today after everything that had happened hours ago, so she had spent a couple of hours perfecting her tea blends, there had been some clients coming for some readings, and the rest of her day had gone by making flower crowns and necklaces. Carrying a multitude of those she had decided to go take a walk along Diagon Alley. 

“Hey, how’s it doing dude?” She asked with a smile to the person in front of her. “Do you want a flower crown? They’re charmed so they won’t get ruined.”

She had been reading through the paper as she walked through Diagon Alley in the late autumn morning. She had ignored the flashy, attention-catching headlines that the front page boasted in favor of diving straight into the third page to get a fuller understanding of the events which had just occurred, mostly just thankful there hadn’t been another death. Engrossed in the contents of the paper, Septima was pulled out of her thoughts by a cheery, dare she say, friendly voice.

Peeking over the newspaper’d edge, she noticed a younger women sporting an arm full of the aforementioned flowers crowns. Smiling politely, the professor shook her head, “They’re really beautiful and I appreciate the offer but I’m afraid I’m not much of a flower crown person...” she trailed off before, before looking at the woman once again.

She was a familiar face, one she recognized from her days in the Ravenclaw common room, “Lauren, was it?” Septima asked, with a slight hint of recognition in her voice. “Did you make these yourself?”

[septimaxx-blog]

f + s

@greybacked

[amazingyoungwomen]

[septimaxx-blog]

bagnclds:

     ‘Oh, but the standing on tables is half the fun,’ she insisted. ‘That’s why anarchy and property destruction go hand in hand. Some innate human desire for doing things you’re not meant to, or something like that. If I could stand on the tables during my meetings at work, I think I’d lead a much more relaxed and productive life.’

She couldn’t help but laugh, a little, at the image of Septima – collected, rational, straight-laced Septima – standing on a table screaming anything. But as different as they’d been when they’d been friends in school, it seemed like these days they were so much more similar than she’d ever noticed before. 

     ‘Well. There’s nothing in my life besides work, right now, but surely you’re less boring than I am. What else have you been up to?’

“I’m sure it is...” Septima laughed lightly, as she shook her head, “I’m just afraid it’s not much of my style, but if you do decide to start standing on tables at work, I would give anything to be a fly on the wall at those meetings,” the professor grinned, “Now that would be entertainment! Not to mention I love to see you stick it to all your colleagues.”

In many ways Septima missed their Hogwarts days. It seemed back then that their world was so different then. But much to the professor’s pleasure, nothing had seemed to have changed between herself and Millicent, still as close friends as ever.

“Well, I’ve made some rather exciting developments in my studies of the predictive properties of the number nine. Did you know that it’s the sole, non-prime, odd, single-digit number? It’s truly remarkable!” Septima replied excitingly, before realizing Millicent could probably care less about the number nine, “On a more relevant note, I was interested in looking into the connections between arithmancy and elections and thought now would be the perfect occasion to do so. What do you think?”

[septimaxx-blog]

greybacked:

But you really think disappearing again will change anything? Last I checked, time and space have been real effective for us

He wants to throw up his hands in response to her, to give up on whatever they were trying to solve here. The puzzle of complicated emotions that lay before them appeared near impossible to solve, and he was at a lost by just what picture they were trying to get the pieces to form. Leaving again was not an option he particularly favored either, though he saw little else to do. He could not tell her he didn’t feel anything for her, nor did he want to give in to those feelings either. It seemed as though they were at an impossible impasse. 

“Just fuckin’ tell me what you want me to do then, and I’ll do it,” he sighs, unsure of what he was about to get himself into. 

She doesn’t say anything though, just simply looks at him with those eyes that could bring the wolf down to his knees in just one glance. He wonders if she ever fully realized the hold she did have on him, that as much as he would go on about how he had her wrapped around his finger, she had more control over his emotions than even the wolf inside. 

When she steps forward he knows what she’s trying to say, that distance is not what she wants or needs in that moment. And it is not what he wants either. He wished it were different, that he hadn’t missed her like hell in the time they were apart. That is wasn’t their more physical moments he longed for, but instead the moments in between. She understood a part of him that no Death Eater ever could. Where they saw a beast that loved chaos and the loss of control, she saw a man that often struggled to maintain what little control he did have. He missed having someone around that understood him so well, that he could confide in when he needed it. 

It is then when he realizes, that maybe they were looking at this thing the wrong way. Until that point the only options they considered were the two extremes: either stay part from each other permanently, or attempt to rekindle what was left between them. But perhaps there was somewhere in the middle they could at least attempt to try for now. 

He nods his head to let her know he understood what she was trying to communicate. Taking a deep inhale he steps into the same beam of moonlight she was in, his features now clearly visible for her to see. He wonders for a second if he looks different to her, if all the months of one battle after another have shown some kind of ware in his features. She looked almost exactly the same to him, though perhaps a little more tired and melancholy. 

“Alright,” he nods again as his eyes study her’s. “So we don’t avoid each other like the other has the dragon pox, but we don’t start foolin’ around either- as hard as that may be for you,” he shoots her a faint knowing grin. While in the past that would have meant yes, they were definitely going to fool around a little, now there was a bit more sincerity to his tone. “We’d still gotta be careful though, nobody should know how in the hell we know each other and why.” He looks at her cautiously for a second, unsure how the plan sounded to her. 

“Would that be better?” 

She unsure how to respond to his offer, so she doesn’t at all. In truth, she doesn’t know what to ask of him at this point, unsure if there really was really anything he could do to change their situation. In contrast, by his next words she can’t help but laugh lightly- a sound she hadn’t made in ages, something that had begun to feel foreign against her lips.

For a moment she feigns offense at his comment, despite knowing full well what exactly he means, “Please, I think you’re the one who couldn’t resist me if you tried,” she responds, folding her arms stubbornly, smirking every so slightly. Her mind, instinctively travels to all the ways she wants to prove him wrong, but for a second she pauses. She thinks it’s this what she misses the most- the easy moments between them. The moments that remind her of the old times where things were much simpler between them.

For all the complexity that plagued their relationship, Septima had always appreciated that their relationship boiled down to a true, genuine connection between the two of them. There was nothing fake or empty between the two of them, but rather the space between them was filled with something deep and utterly unconditional. It was that very care that they had for one another which seemed to simultaneously simplify and complicate their situation, all at once. 

But she stops herself for a reason, reminding herself of exactly why things went wrong for them and her hands fall limp to her side, the determined smirk on her face fading as fast as it had appeared.

There are days when she looks back on their relationship fondly, and other when she looks back on it with nothing but bitterness and regret. She supposes it’s precisely that which makes their relationship so difficult to end or rekindle, altogether. They’ve become apart of each other’s lives for better or for worse, and have to acknowledge that to make positive strides towards progress.

She imagines they would have worked out in another life, but not this world, especially not under these circumstances, so his current suggestion, she felt, was their best option. It was far from perfect or ideal or even a guaranteed fix to their problem, but seemingly the best thing they could come up with.

Perhaps it was a temporary solution, but it was still better than no solution at all.

“I think that trying it is worth a shot, though at this point, anything is better than what we’re currently doing,” the professor replied with a honest shrug, “I think whatever it is, we can make it work...” she trails off as she places a hand on his shoulder, without thinking before quickly realizing she’s probably crossed a line. She retracts her hand and looks away from, but nonetheless, there’s still a genuine hope in her voice. Truth be told, though she’s hopeful, she’s not sure if she believes her own words. If the past was any indication of what the future may hold, she worries their chances of maintaining whatever this was, were grim.

“If anybody asks me about you, I’ll be sure to tell them you just happen to be a fellow arithmancy researcher who wants to help my with my textbook,” she jokes lightly, “Sound believable enough?” she asks, shifting her weight ever so slightly.

[septimaxx-blog]

bagnclds:

    ‘They can’t expect you to teach students how to handle with something like that,’ she said, disbelief tinging her voice. ‘Surely that’s, like… the definition of a parent’s job, if it’s even something anyone can be expected to prepare a child for. You teach Arithmancy, not life skills and coping mechanisms. And Dumbledore…’

She hadn’t thought about it, until just then, how Dumbledore would even be taking the news that Doge had betrayed him. Inscrutable as anything, the old bastard, she would have bet, if anyone had asked her to bet. 

     ‘Surely that’s Dumbledore’s responsibility. Merlin, I can’t imagine what I would’ve been like if something like this had happened when we were at Hogwarts. I would’ve been rioting, covering the Great Hall in bloody… flyers of some kind, standing on tables shouting about who knows what. Made a complete fool of myself, I’m sure.’

“Oh you would not believe the things these parents expect of me sometimes...” Septima sighed with a slight chuckle-  “Just a short while ago I received a Howler from a mother who was furious I kicked out her child again for bullying some poor muggleborn. Dumbledore and I had a good laugh about that one, even if he didn’t let me respond with a rather snarky Howler screeching: ‘you’re child had it coming’.”

She appreciated Dumbledore as a headmaster more than most realized- he was one of the few people who never doubted her abilities as an educator (or as a person). It was rare one’s employer was so trusting and understanding, something Septima valued very highly.

“I have no doubt you would be doing exactly that,” Septima grinned, “Though you know I would be right by your side,” she grinned widely, “I’m afraid I would have to draw the line at standing on tables, even though my father probably wouldn’t even notice if he walked straight past us.”

[septimaxx-blog]

gidecnprewctt:

“You’ve found me out,” Gideon replied around a huff of laughter, pointedly ignoring the periodic digging in of Percy’s heels into his sides as if Percy was a jockey and he the unwilling steed being urged to just get on with it. Wandering down the aisle towards where Septima had been ruminating over chocolates for seemingly the past half hour (Gideon was fairly sure he’d never spent so long on a decision in his life) he continued cheerfully, “As a big supporter of both sweets and firewhiskey, I’ll let you in on a secret — like any good whiskey you’ll find the best stuff on the top shelf.”

Reaching up — above the eyelines and sticky hands of Honeydukes most frequent visitors — he trailed a finger along the row of brightly coloured boxes, forehead furrowing as it settled against a deep red box. “The Blishens are made with very dark chocolate — classy, but they’ve got a mean kick to follow. Meanwhile, the Quintin Black, over there in the black box, gold writing, now that’s smooth, silkier going down.”

“Mum said—” Percy began, head perking up over Gideon’s shoulder and loudly continuing over Gideon’s hasty attempt to stifle another pearl of wisdom, “—Mum said that you like whiskey too much, Uncle Gid. She said she’s going to hide the Elf Wine when you come over because you always—”

Gideon cleared his throat loudly, pointedly, but Percy cheerfully carried on regardless, “—Drink like a fish and embarrass yourself. How much do fish drink, Uncle Gid?”

“Too much, apparently,” Gideon replied around a laugh designed to deflect just how awkward he felt, scratching at the back of his neck as he glanced towards Septima with a determinedly straight face. “For the record — Embarrassing Drunk Uncles give the Quintin Black an eight out of ten, excellent for taking home to your mother.”

Listening carefully to his every word Septima allowed her eyes to follow the path of his hands as he reached up, even above her own line of sight. It was probably for the best that the slightly more tasteful treats remained up so high, keeping them away from the uncontrollable masses of little children, who ran around the shoppe without a care in the word. As he continued on, Septima found herself surprised by the sheer variety Honeydukes had to offer.

If she wasn’t overwhelmed before, then she certainly was now, thankful to have a sort of chocolate connoisseur by her side.

“My goodness- you’d think chocolate would be less complicated than arithmancy...” Septima chuckled to herself as she glanced over at the little tuff of red hair which had now taken to informing the entire store of Gideon’s drinking habits.

Laughing lightly Septima grinned appreciatively, “Well in that case, I think I’ll be taking the Quintin Black- I’m sure my mother will absolutely enjoy it. Thank you so much for your help,” she smiled, as she tucked the box under her arm and held out her other hand, “Septima Vector,” she introduced with a pleasant smile. 

“And if you needed any help picking out sprouts or really anything but candy, I’d be more than happy to return the favor...but if you’re stopping by the Neep and you enjoy your alcohol, you might want to pick up some Shrivelfig-- it makes for a delicious glass wine,” she added, with a slight wink.

[septimaxx-blog]

d-a-diggle:

Top-most shelf, he thought to himself, his hand following Septima’s direction. One… two… three to the left.

He grabbed a couple of the quills in the jar and presented them to the woman, the smirk growing into a smile.

“You know me, Septima,” he said, a tinge of sarcasm in his tone as he took the final bit from his ice cream, leaving the rest of the cone in its napkin. “I’m simply too spontaneous to plan an outing with. I just come and go whichever way the wind carries me.”

He reaffirmed his grip on the cane, leaning a bit on it, only to hear tapping on the glass behind him. No doubts crossed his mind that his owl was tapping away at the window, reminding him not to lean on the cane for fear of breaking it. Instinctively, he stood up straight again.

“Unfortunately, the students have grown particularly fond of taking my quills at the library desk and not returning them,” he uttered, the sarcasm no longer present in his voice. “I’ve grown tired of having to wait for Dumbledore to provide the desk with more quills, so I figured I’d stop by after my ice cream to stock up. Now what about you? What brings you to these parts tonight?”

She watched as his hand glided over the books until he stopped, hovering over the deep blue one, which had caught her eye and smiled as he handed it to her, along with a few quills.

“Spontaneity...the wind?” she echoed, with a light chuckle, “I’m doubtful of that...I think that perhaps you’re just trying to avoid me altogether,” she teased, playfully as she allowed her eyes to wander over the journal in her hand. She spotted no immediate faults in it, and upon further observation noted the notebook was indeed in good condition.

As she listened to his dilemma, Septima paused thoughtfully, “Have you perhaps considered charming them? I do know of a few good charms that prevent objects from leaving a set perimeter...” she offered, “I’m sure it would save both you and Dumbledore a couple sickles, at least!”

With the shake of her head, the professor sighed, “I filled another two notebooks and needed a new one to keep my notes organized- you wouldn’t believe how much space my research has been taking up lately! I swear it feels like I’m here just about every other week,” Septima groaned, lightheartedly. 

[septimaxx-blog]

greybacked:

The smile that began to form on his lips soon fades when he notices she was still unhappy with the situation. She was more than just unhappy though, he thinks to himself, unhappiness was something that eventually faded with time and distance- but time and distance were two things they both had plenty of. Despite this, somehow it didn’t feel like any time had passed at all. When he looks at her now everything still felt as fresh as the day he left- and as he watches her avoid his gaze he has a feeling it may be the same for her too. Whatever this was between them wasn’t just unhappiness, but something that had cut the two of them much more deeper. 

He wishes he had it in him to give her what she wanted- what they both needed. That he could afford her this one mercy, but he just couldn’t find it in himself to swing that final blow. She obviously was having the same trouble herself, or else she wouldn’t need him to do it for her. So then where exactly could they go from here? With neither wanting to officially part ways or do anything to repair what was left at the same time. 

The place he had found himself now in life was in no way fit for a relationship of any kind. Nor would he want to attempt otherwise. No matter how much the idea seemed appealing- especially now with her standing only feet away from him, he couldn’t allow himself to give in to his desires for her. Which is perhaps more cruel than breaking it off with her entirely. 

In the time they’d spent apart he threw himself into his duties and the beds of whomever caught his eye, giving the wolf in him more free reign then he’d previously allowed. He had found a way to make himself content with the situation, although that didn’t mean his thoughts never drifted back to her either. It seemed like no matter how hard he tried, he still couldn’t shake her from the back of his mind, dwelling their simply to taunt him. 

Whatever this was between them was too deeply rooted to be cut out as simply as she wanted it. It was going to take more than shouting lies to her about what he did and didn’t feel during their time together. it was going to take a real amount of effort and time on both of their parts to finally put this thing to rest. That was if they even both wanted to.

“For the same reason you aren’t either,” he sighs as he runs his hand through his hair. “I’m not gonna lie about shit you know isn’t true, just to make you hate me. It’s not gonna fuckin’ work, and you’ll only wind up hatin’ yourself in the end because it didn’t.” His words come out tired, though with a good bit of conviction behind them, because he knows her. He knows she’s probably beating herself up over all this, when her anger should really be directed at him. 

“I’ll disappear again if that’ll help,” he offers, “but I’m not gonna fuckin’ lie to you.” He manages a small chuckle at his next words in spite of himself, “I think we both saw how well that went the last time.” 

She was probably a hypocrite-- begging him for lies and honesty and everything in between all at the same time. Nonetheless, he’s right and she’s knows it-- no matter how deeply she craves for empty words and lies to fall from his lips, she knows full well they won’t change a thing. Because lies never do. Maybe if she’s lucky his words could placate her throbbing pain with a different, much sharper kind, but eventually it’ll fade away and she’ll still be left with nothing but aching feelings and a broken heart.

It’s a problem she doesn’t know how to fix- and utterly and entirely unfamiliar sensation, a feeling she refuses to become acquainted with because no matter how hard she tries, Septima Vector was never one to give up. She’s unlike in her father in many ways, but a stark sense of resolve and an never-ending need for resolution was something she no doubt inherited. 

She had always prided herself on being different than him, but she’s begun to envy his world view- just numbers- no feelings, no emotions, no pain, no hurt.

She longs for the days when her most pressing struggle was choosing between lesson plans or completing an all too complex numerology problem, for they were all problems she could solve, all problems she could control. But emotions and dare she say it- love, were different- they followed no rules and bowed down to no master. Emotions were an uncontrollable beast, and of course that was exactly her type.

“Fine..suppose that you’re right and lies aren’t going to fix a damn thing..” she responds, almost bitterly, the sting of admitting defeat harsh in her throat, as she wishes more than anything that she was right, that a few lies spoken aloud could fix everything, “But you really think disappearing again will change anything? Last I checked, time and space have been real effective for us,” she responds, her final words dripping with sarcasm. It’s become a fact, that they cannot remain apart, only further proven by their current interaction, for even when physically seperated, she had failed miserably at keeping him out of her head- everything thought drawn back to him like magnet.

But perhaps that’s where she had gone wrong.

She had done everything in her power to make him disappear from her heart and mind, to pretend like nothing every happened, when perhaps what she needed to do all along was to stare her problems down and face them and if pointing out all the flaws in his suggestion was the only way she could somehow ask him to stay in her life, then so be it. With her back still pressed against the wall, she looks over with him and feels completely powerless, thankful for the shadowy night to shield away the the fear and worry hidden behind her dark eyes.

She wants to say ‘don’t go again’, in a single breath, no louder than a whisper, but knows she would regret it, the moment it left her mouth. Maybe it’s what needs to be said to stop it all, to change the pattern and put an end to an endlessly repeating cycle of pain and uncertainty, but she cannot bring herself to string the words together and speak. Instead she chooses silence, opting to take a step into the sliver of moonlight cast in the alley, gazing at him, wondering if he can read her every thought.

[septimaxx-blog]

yxxley:

“Oh yes,” they said, the corner of their mouth quirking up slightly as they looked back at her, mind going to one of the last unexpected visitors they had had to their office. No one had gotten burned by their notes, but plenty of other things better kept secret had happened when Alecto had come by the Ministry earlier that week. There were, of course, other ways that their days seemed to grow increasingly intense down in the department, especially given the way things seemed to be so intent on going lately. The secrecy was easy for them. Offering up honestly was much more difficult, which was perhaps why the current circumstances were concerning in a way they might not have been a year ago. Everything they had learned thus far had changed them, and there was no denying that it was perhaps bleeding over into other aspects of their life as well.

“Of course, efficiency is always supreme; Unspeakables seem to have perfected efficient secrecy. I wasn’t much interested in that sort of experimentation before, but I can see the appeal now, especially with something rather practical,” they nodded. “Are you working on anything outside of your teaching? Not that I would claim to understand any sort of research in your field. I’ll admit I didn’t take arithmancy during my final years; it wasn’t needed for the hit wix training, after all. But perhaps it would have been helpful for my current career.”

She’s slightly intrigued by the ‘oh yes’ which fell from their smirking lips, though she knows better than to ask. She would often have to tame her curiosity, for while it had it’s benefits, it did indeed have it’s drawbacks- the need to seek answers to her every burning question. “I suppose there really only is practical efficiency, for I know not of a wizard who seeks out charms to make their life less efficient, wouldn’t you say?” she replied thoughtfully as she turned to their next words.

She's mildly surprised by the question, but happy to oblige an answer, “Well, I’m not sure it’s entirely outside of teaching, but I am in the current process of researching for the arithmancy textbook series I’m currently putting together. I find the Hogwart’s current arithmancy textbooks are outdated, and quite frankly out of touch,” she explained, as she nodded, “It’s unsurprising, as I’m afraid most don’t continue arithmancy in their final years unless they plan on a career at Gringotts or it’s required for a select few ministry positions,” Septima admitted, a hint of disappointment lining her tone, “But it’s in my hope to change that, for as you mention, it’s a surprisingly helpful subject. It can often be dismissed in the Wizarding world, but the capability to predict through numbers can be incredibly powerful- it’s why I hope to change the way the subject it taught- perhaps then, more people could acknowledge it’s value and perhaps pursue the subject through their later years and even into adulthood.”

[septimaxx-blog]

bagnclds:

     ‘I wish I could say it was,’ she answered. She hadn’t exactly imagined that campaigning for Minister would be thrilling, but she had at least hoped it would be a respite from the inane routine of her actual job. Instead, it was just more of the same: all politicking was the same, it seemed, no matter at what level you worked. 

Septima’s work always sounded so interesting. Millicent had loved Arithmancy when she’d taken it at Hogwarts, and while she had never even considered pursuing it or teaching as a career, sometimes she found herself wondering if she might have been happy had she and Septima switched places. Though teenage students, maybe, were the one thing less tolerable than entitled male politicians. 

     ‘Unfortunately, the campaign is just the same shite day in and day out. Lestrange trying to discredit me for nonsense reasons, Minchum making terrible decisions I have to fix, the Prophet reporting on my every interaction and word. Everything that’s happened with Doge has been… a welcome break from the monotony, honestly.’

“I could imagine it being rather difficult on you, though you’re handling it like a champ,” Septima sympathized, encouragingly, “I have no clue as to how you do it.” The extreme scrutiny she knew Millicent was under could not have been easy to handle. When her words turn to Doge Septima freezes slightly, the mention of the case catching her off guard. 

The paper, she had found, had become increasingly harder and harder to read each day, the headlines more worrying, if not more horrifying than the previous. It was a reminder that peace, while seemingly pure, was never truly untainted. There was always more, always more chaos- is was only a matter of when and where. It wasn’t something that arithmancy had taught her, but it was certainly something that years and years of arithmancy research would support. 

“The whole Doge has been making waves around Hogwarts as well. Parents and to some extent, students, have been sent into quite a tizzy. I do my best to promise to prepare them for the world that they’re about to face, but as you can imagine, the helicopter parents don’t take it particularly well.”

[septimaxx-blog]

greybacked:

He stands there frozen for a moment, taken off guard by what she was asking of him. He should have known she wouldn’t have been scared off by him so easily, his affliction was never something he hid from her, and she had grown all too aware of what it meant sharing a bed with someone half man half beast. No, it would take much more than a simple show of teeth to chase her away, something such as this required blood to be drawn.

But could he do it?

Her eyes are begging him to, to drive in the final blade, to relieve her of the pain he’d caused her. And he wishes he could give that to her. He tries for a moment, his breathing growing heavy as he attempts to muster up every bit of malice he could pull from his darker half. But even that isn’t enough for him. If she’d have asked him to put the blade to his own throat he’d have done it right then and there for her, and done so without any thought simply because she needed it. But this, this was different. 

Cruelty was not a stranger to him, indeed he used it like a finally crafted weapon, but to use it so harshly on her was something he couldn’t bring himself to do. There was more to it than just that though. If he were a better man he probably could have given her what she wanted, simply for the sake of giving her some form of relief. However, despite his best efforts for her, he was not a good man. There was a bit of selfishness in him that still played at his emotions, and it’s that selfishness that aids him in not slamming the door on whatever it is between them forever. 

His shoulders visibly slump as he gives up the inner battle. Anything more than what they are now would be stupid to attempt, and nor does he want to in times like these. But maybe one day, after all this is said and done, and she’s seen why he has needed to to do this, then perhaps they could salvage whatever is left between them. 

He steps closer to her then, his eyes softening as he accepts the decision he’s made. His feet don’t stop moving until his face is only inches away from her’s. There is a brief moment between them at first. As those dark eyes of her’s look up to meet his, he forgets how intoxicating they could be. The closeness in proximity was not a new thing for either of them, but in this setting it was treacherous. He moves his hand to brace against the brick wall behind her as his gaze moves from her eyes to her lips. He doesn’t even realize he’s leaning into her further until it’s nearly too late. Their lips linger dangerously close to each other’s for a moment, as a familiar aching fire builds up in his chest. It’s not until he locks eyes with her again does he remember this is far from the time or place to be doing this. 

His anguish is visible when he pulls himself away from her, though he doesn’t break her gaze. As the two continue to look upon each other through the darkness, a silent conversation takes place. He cannot give her the form of release she wants, but neither can he give in to his desire for her either. So for now, unless she drives the final nail into the coffin herself, it appeared they were stuck in this hazy limbo of their’s. 

To finally answer her questions, he places his hand on a particular spot on his ribcage. A faint but ornery grin beginning to form on his lips as he pats the spot where a rather lewd tattoo of the woman resides. It is the first time he’s given her such a grin since they were together and something about the act feels oddly soothing, albeit it achingly familiar. 

“Okay?” He asks her, making sure she understood. 

She watches him carefully as he seems to be weighing her request and she prays he’ll finally fulfill her plea, though the moment the tension leaves his shoulders and he steps towards her, she knows her prayers won’t be answered. She had always been able to read body language- no doubt the result of her keen observational skills mingled with a talent for noticing the smallest of visual details and cues, but with him, him of all people- he need not speak a word to her for her to know exactly what was running through his mind, with the knowledge she was likely just as transparent to him.

He had always had an ability to read her and it was something that often frightened her in ways nothing else could, for with him, keeping her emotions locked up and hidden away deep had become an impossibility. 

As he continues to near her, she expects him to stop to pull back altogether, and finds herself surprised when he locks eyes with her, watching his intense gaze drop down her face until he stopped, hovering over her lips. What she doesn’t expect is how badly she wants him to follow through and close the gap between them- brush his lips against her’s and make her forget everything. Just moments ago she was begging, pleading him to break her heart beyond repair and now she wanted nothing more than to give in to his touch.

To let go.

The moment he braces himself against the wall behind her, she’s instantly drawn to far more lascivious memories, memories she’s done her best to keep deeply repressed but wander through her mind ever-so-often when she takes a shortcut through a empty alley or walking through a dark pathway late at night. Needless to say it was early on in their relationship that Septima had lost count of the number of odd places they had engaged in less than innocent acts.

She had been no stranger to intimacy when they first met and had expected their relationship to remain as entirely physical, entirely unprepared for the onslaught of emotions that would follow what was supposed to be a single night of desire manifested. 

She for one, had never understood why he pursued her to begin with and still had never gained solid answer to this day. They shared little, if anything in common, for what could a arithmancy professor and bartender possibly converse about? The answer, as it turned out, was plenty, as their nights, once filled solely with passion, soon began to be accompanied by talk of nothing and everything all at once. Their relationship was paradoxical, complicated, and messy, to say the least, but at it’s height, it was undeniably good.

Until everything had come tumbling down, brick by brick, her heart shattering a single piece at a time.

When he finally pulls away, she hates herself for feeling disappointed of all things. She despises the way he seems to hold a power over her, how the simple though of kissing him robs her of her every conviction. “Not okay,” she responds, her voice shaky, as she does her best to hold firm, understanding exactly what he means. She wants to laugh, cry, and break down all at the same time. It’s that damn grin that drives her crazy- that promise that no matter what happens they can never simply be over and she’s a fool for thinking it ever can be, because no matter how hard she wishes thing were different, whatever they had is as permanent as the stupid tattoo on his ribs.

“Goddammit...” she mutters, unable to look him in the eye, suppressing the smile she wants to so badly return, “Why won’t you just let this end?”

[septimaxx-blog]

I need a pensieve because my head is filled with thoughts about you.

"I’m actually curious- has that line ever really worked?”

[septimaxx-blog]

bagnclds:

The best thing about Septima was that spending time around another confident, capable woman who didn’t have a large enough ego to get in the way was essentially the best palate-cleanser from the infuriating men of politics that Millicent could imagine. She could always expect a reasonable conversation instead of having to worry about being talked over or condescended to.

She looped her own arm through Septima’s offered one and fell into stride beside her, a comforting and familiar gesture that brought a smile to her face despite the pain in her head. 

     ‘That sounds perfect, frankly,’ she said, and she could nearly hear her own stomach growl aloud at the mention of pastries. She really needed to stop skipping breakfast; hungry wasn’t a good look on her, especially early in the morning. ‘But please, enough about my headache. What have you been up to? I feel like it’s been ages since we had the chance to talk, I’ve been so damn busy.’

For as much as Septima adored arithmancy, she often found herself lonely in the field, for it was typically filled with witches and wizards twice her age, who almost entirely out of touch with her generation, if not reality itself. Thus, Septima had always had to look beyond her field for friendships, elated that her friendship with Millicent had managed to last not only the test of time but space itself.

As they walked side by side in the direction of cafe, Septima smiled as she watched her friend’s spirits visible lift at the mention of food.

“Lovely,” she grinned, as she paused at the women’s query, “I suppose my life is as complicated and hectic as it always is, but I’m afraid I haven’t been up to much- between taking on an extra set of classes and researching for my textbook, I haven’t had a stitch of time to call my own.  But how have you been, my dear? I imagine life’s much more interesting on your end with the campaign and all.”

[septimaxx-blog]

yxxley:

They let their eyes wander over the other notebooks, idly picking up another equally as beautiful leatherbound journal, this one blood red with black etchings of intricate filigree, perhaps more their style anyway. With a notebook chosen, they were a little less interested in standing around and chatting, but for once they didn’t see rudeness as warranted. No matter how things had been at Hogwarts, they had little reason to torment her now, especially considering how completely separate their worlds seemed to be now.

“It does get dangerous when I have visitors to my office. Despite warnings, not everyone takes such threats seriously. But I suppose it’s necessary when there are so many who wish to steal our secrets. It seems impossible not to be intrigued by the mysteries of the world,” they said with a vague wave of their hand, as if that very thought hadn’t been causing them problems. If things had been different for them, they thought that perhaps they could’ve made an alright professor, though of what they weren’t certain. Yaxley supposed it was easier when your interests in molding young minds related to arithmancy rather than understanding Death. “Invisible ink seems like plenty for your purpose, but I will say that illegibility charms are thoroughly entertaining if someone else should get their hands on your notebooks expecting secrets. I’m relatively new to that sort of charm, anyway, but I suppose it is rather interesting if that’s the sort of thing you’re interested in.”

She allows her eyes to gaze over at the notebook her holds gingerly in their hands. It’s a striking shade of red with pitch black, albeit delicate tracery. It’s something she would have never chosen for herself- the ornamental work an unnecessary excess and the color much too bold for her liking. She never took a personal liking to particularly flashy objects, but she could still manage appreciate the beauty in details of the fine notebook.

“I could imagine your days can become quite intense, especially when dealing with unwanted visitors,” Septima responded. For a women who came from arithmancy, a field where all discoveries were supposed to be shared and made public, she still held great understanding for the value of secrecy. It was through teaching she had learned that at any given time, not all minds should be privy to all information. There were careful lines to be draw, lest the wrong information fall into unprepared minds. Thus, secrecy was often a form of protection. She supposed the politics and bureaucracy of teaching were not nearly as interesting as their’s though she supposed both lines of work shared more similarities than what met the eye. “Invisible ink does the job, but I am always looking for more efficient alternatives,” Septima explained, “not to mention, I've been known to have quite the taste for experimentation,” she elaborated.

[septimaxx-blog]

pirates (alternative: space pirates) au

SPACE PIRATES AU

I.

She’s the thing of legends- by far one of the most feared captains in the Milky Way, not because of an overwhelming amount of firepower or swashbuckling skills but due her sheer ability to design and execute missions with a such a ghostly precision, many question if she actually exists.

The few who have been unfortunate enough to come face to face with her call her the Arithmancer.

II.

She gained the nickname on the basis that her mind perceived information in such a manner, that she could somehow manage to predict how a mission would go down, down to the millisecond- her incredible talent with numbers and probability, allowed her to constantly be factoring in a multitude of variables, ensuring the success of each raid.

III.

Born into money, Septima’s goal had never to increase her own wealth, but rather to take from the ultra-rich and give to the poor. She’s especially passionate about ensuring every young mind had the opportunity to have an good education, often anonymously allocating funds to planets requiring more educational resources. It should also be made clear that no intolerance is allowed on her ship, her crew a home to a multitude of species, all welcome aboard, so long as they are loyal and open-minded.

IV.

One of her closest friends is Millicent, the captain of an allied ship who has the goal of conquering the entire galaxy and changing it for the better. Septima is far less ambitious, perfectly content with making small changes, one planet at a time, though she often finds herself widely impressed by Millicent’s resilience and enjoys her company on the few occasions they’re able to see each other in person.

@bagnclds

V.

Contingently, her first mate Dedalus is another one of her dearest friends. They’d had grown up together on Earth, assuming they would drift apart following graduation, only to find themselves living and working together aboard the same ship. Septima would be an utterly useless captain without him, often going to him for advice in times of despair. In truth, he is the only one she entrusts with her ship and crew whenever she cannot be aboard.

@d-a-diggle