what a mischief you would bring young darling;

gwenog seren jones. twenty-two years of age. pureblood witch hailing from the welsh countryside. hufflepuff alumni and now a beater for the all female professional quidditch team, the holyhead harpies.

[serengwen]

ludcvic-bagman·:

She was right, he didn’t have to attend every celebration, but Ludovic loved the attention it brought to him, even if it wasn’t his team playing, people tended to love Quidditch players attending the parties. That was the only reason he truly decided to show up, for the attention, but he would never say that out loud to Gwenog. “If I had known this was going to happen I would have stayed home, Gwen. But aren’t you glad I came? Now you get to spend time with your favourite beater.”

Seeing her in such a vulnerable state was really something different for Ludo. He’s never seen her look so… Scared. Even when he was flying after her with a bat she always held a strong demenor, but he figured for her sake he wouldn’t mention it. Not now anyway. He didn’t blame her for wanting to get drunk, he had no idea what happened just moments before he walked in, if it was as bad if his mind led him to believe getting drunk seemed like one of the best coping options right now.

Ludo nodded, grabbing the bottles she handed him, looting wasn’t something he normally did, besides that one bottle he’d taken earlier, but he wasn’t going to be the one to tell Gwen it was wrong. “Yeah, I’ll come with you. We’re able to apparate just up the road, that’s where I came in.” Her last comment made him laugh slightly, there was the Gwenog he was used to. “You think the Harpies stand any chance against the Wasps this year? Quidditch season is coming up, I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Although Gwenog was not Ludo’s biggest fan, she hated to admit that he was an excellent beater; he was her biggest rival in the quidditch league at this moment in time and she had a love and hate relationship with him about his skills. She loved that he was at her level in regards to speed, strength and everything in between. It meant she had great competition and that gave her the motivation to be better every single game. However, she hated him because no matter what training Gwen did, he always seemed to be one step ahead. “Oh yeah,” she said with a nod, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I’ve never been more thrilled to spend time with you,” she added, her tone monotonous.

Gwenog was never a stealer. But tonight, there was nobody around. The place had become derelict in a matter of half an hour or even less; though it felt as if it went on for hours. There was nobody but her and Ludo around, to her knowledge, and so she doubted they would miss half a dozen bottles of firewhiskey. It wasn’t even the best one they sold, so she was somewhat thinking about the owner of the bar.

“Alright, top of the road it is, just have your wand at the ready, too, just in case. We don’t know if anyone is still lurking around outside.” And on that note, Gwen made her way towards the front door, stumbling over debris from the attack, but spun on her heel when Ludo questioned if the Harpies stood any kind of chance this year. “Of course they do,” she said with great seriousness. “Take it you just don’t want to be beaten by an entire team of girls again this year, no?” she added, a smirk growing on her lips.

[serengwen]

sweetpoiscn·:

Alecto’s eyes narrowed at Gwenog’s flippant reply to her comment, though it was soothed slightly by the fact that Alecto wasn’t the only one on the receiving end of the woman’s attitude. She stood by what she’d said back in the hospital, though, and sighed harshly in annoyance. “It may have seemed minor, but if not treated properly concussions can become major injuries that can last for months. It’s easiest for everyone to just treat the injury correctly from the beginning, obviously.”

On the outside, Alecto hardly flinched when there was an explosion somewhere from outside, but truth be told she was startled by the noise. She’d been immersed in conversation, so to be interrupted so loudly (and rudely) only increased her annoyance, and she turned toward the source of it as if she could glare the nameless perpetrator to death. No one was there, not immediately, but she swore she saw the flicker of a very familiar mask just outside the windows–a mask she had left at home. It was easy enough to summon on command, and ruining this event could be fun, but she glanced back at Gwenog and, for the first time, felt hesitance toward going off on a killing spree that was likely to happen in the next few minutes. She didn’t give a rat’s ass about anyone else at the party; those she did care about were on her side and more than capable of handling themselves. Gwenog might be able to handle herself too, but she wasn’t a Death Eater like Alecto was. If Alecto were to simply jump into the fray, it was very possible she’d have to face Gwenog down.

Shockingly, her stomach turned at the thought, and she paled a bit at that realization. What the hell?

“You’re hardly the most irritating person I’ve come across, Jones,” she said, though she was distracted by yet another loud noise by the door. The room fell silent, save for the soft murmurs of confused guests… and then chaos erupted. 

Masked Death Eaters swarmed into the room, wands raised and spells being cast, and Alecto hopped to her feet, drink completely forgotten as she grabbed her wand. A flash of green whizzed by her face, and she glared in the direction of the caster before shooting a jinx back their way, looking at Gwenog and grabbing her forearm. “We need to move. Now.”

Gwenog didn’t want to push Alecto’s patience with her much more regarding the hospital. She was probably going to get rather irked by her if she kept up her attitude about how concussions were so minor and that she gave most healers cheek whenever she ended up there. Gwen could sense by her large huff that she was getting annoyed, she she simply agreed and let the conversation go. “Anything you say, doc,” she said with a polite smile as she saluted Alecto.

She could see that Alecto was distracted by the loud kerfuffle that was happening outside. Gwenog tried to glance out the window, but from where she was sitting, she couldn’t see anything, but the shouts and bangs that erupted from outside the pub were loud enough to suggest that someone was here to cause trouble. Brought back into the conversation by Alecto’s comment, Gwenog had to scoff lightly. “I don’t think you know me well enough then if you don’t think I’m the most irritating person you’ve come across.”

With a crash, the front door of the pub flew open and stood in the entrance was a crowd of masked Death Eaters. Gwenog’s heart began to pound inside her chest, a lump developing in the back of her throat. She speedily glanced from Alecto and then around the room; her friends and teammates were all here. This was almost her worst nightmare.

Gwenog leapt up onto her feet with Alecto, only to find herself ducking immediately, her hands covering her head as green came hurling towards the two of them. As she got back up, she reached into her back pocket and grabbed hold of her wand. Her grip was so tight that her knuckles had turned white. There was no chance to cast anything in return as Alecto grabbed her forearm.

“I can handle myself,” she shouted across as she watched the Death Eaters pour into the room. “I don’t need you by my side here to protect me.” Then came another flash of green, red following shortly after. “You might need me to protect you, more.”

[serengwen]

Gwenog never felt nervous. Not terribly. But there was something about walking into the Ministry of Magic to meet with the current Head of Magical Games and Sports that gave her a tight knot in the pit of her stomach. Hamish McFarlan was not a particularly intimidating man, but Gwenog had only ever come to see him when something had gone drastically wrong during a game; leading him to be in a fuming mood. But this time was different. She was coming here because she wanted to advance in her career as a professional quidditch player. She wanted to become Captain.

She’s been in the game for four years now and being four years in seemed like a good time to take that step further. She wasn’t too new onto the scene but nor was she an ancient member. Striding into the lift, she asked the conductor for the level she required as she positioned herself next to who looked like a Ministry employee. “Level seven, please. Magical Games and Sports.” The lift conductor nodded and pulled the lever to begin the transportation. The shutters closed and they arrived almost imminently. Gwenog hadn’t been to the Ministry enough to get used to the speeds that the lift travelled at, given that she had always fallen into the person next to her.

The shutters opened once again when they reached Level seven and Gwen stepped out, gave her thanks to the conductor and carried on down the corridor while she fixed her hair. “You got this, Jones. Captain Jones,” she muttered to herself, a grin growing on her lips as she realised how much of a good ring it had to it.

[serengwen]

ludcvic-bagman·:

He could see the terror all over Gwen’s face, something he wasn’t used to. She was normally so strong, and any time he’d seen her recently she had her game face on. To see her so vulnerable really had Ludo consider how serious the situation must have been just a few moments ago. He noticed her wand in her hand, his eyes widening as he realized she was ready to attack if needed. He shook his head with a slight chuckle, not because he thought it was funny, but because he was thankful he’d missed the majority of the attack.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” He said, handing the bottle of firewhiskey over to her as he fumbled for his own wand from his back pocket. “Of course we couldn’t have a night of celebration without an attack, I knew I should’ve stayed home, but I felt it would’ve been unprofessional not to show my face.” Ludo lifted a hand to his temple, a small sigh escaping him, “I just wanted to get drunk.” He took the bottle of firewhiskey back from her, “So are you heading home? Or did you wanna get out there and help fight? I’ll help you back home if you want to get out of here, not that I don’t think you could handle yourself, just extra protection if you need it.” He shrugged lightly with a small smile, knowing full well that Gwen was a strong witch and he would honestly probably hold her back if something were to happen, but he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he didn’t at least try to help her out.

Gwenog’s heart was still thumping heavily in side her chest. It was easily the toughest one she’d fought to date - thankfully as of late, she hadn’t been in the vicinity if there had been an attack, but tonight was very much an unlucky case. Resting her hand on her chest, she tried to calm her breathing, doing her best to remain calm despite still being on high alert. The place was dark, so it was difficult to see if any of the Death Eaters were still lurking.

“I mean, it’s not as though you swear an oath when playing for the league that says you must attend every quidditch victory - even if it isn’t your team that played, or won. Plus, if you knew that this was going to happen,” she said, gesturing to the damaged and dark room that they were stood in, “then no one would call you unprofessional or bat an eyelid that you didn’t even show up.”

Getting drunk now was a great idea, but not here. Not in a pub that had just been destroyed in a matter of minutes, despite the huge amount of free alcohol that was now just steps away from them on the other side of the bar, no one around to stop them from taking it. “Well, I don’t particularly want to hang around here where someone could still sneak up behind me and kill me.” Everything had fallen silent outside and Gwenog wanted to get out while she could. She was exhausted and scared, but the latter wasn’t something she wanted to admit to Ludo. “I wanna escape this place and get home, and getting drunk is also a great idea. I need drink to forget that this even happened.” She slipped her wand back into her back pocket for now and glanced around the room, swallowing the lump that had developed in her throat. The silence was deafening. She wanted to know where Alecto ended up and if she was safe. They’d gotten separated mid battle and then she was nowhere to be seen. Gwenog prayed that she was with Lucius or her brother or just anyone. As long as she was safe and unharmed, she didn’t care.

Jumping behind the bar, Gwenog grabbed as many bottles of firewhiskey as she could and chucked some to Ludo too. “If you still want to get drunk then feel free to join. I’m going back to my place in Wales, though. As much as I don’t want to admit it, but the extra protection would be great. You never know, some Death Eaters may follow me and if two or three attack me, then I know for a fact that I’d be a goner. Or maybe you’d rather that. Then you don’t have to worry about your biggest rival in Quidditch beating your arse next time the Wasps and Harpies are due to play.”

[serengwen]

sweetpoiscn·:

Alecto chuckled when Gwenog suggested she try and make comatose-ing patients part of the practice at St Mungo’s, amusement dancing through her eyes as she imagined it. If only she had the power to make changes like that, she could potentially make that standard, especially for awful patients like Gwenog had admitted to being. It would certainly make her life a whole lot easier when they insisted on dragging her from her ward, but it was certainly unethical. “Loathe as I am to admit it, I have no power in changing the rules of St. Mungo’s,” she mused, shaking her head. “You’ll have to learn to get over your adversity toward being hospitalized, or at the very least be more cooperative toward your healers.” Alecto raised an eyebrow. “Or are you just like that toward me?”

She would certainly have to get over it if Gwenog insisted on staying within the Quidditch career, Alecto noted as Gwenog went on to describe every reason why she herself tried to avoid the sport. She just couldn’t wrap her head around willingly going out onto a pitch in any type of weather with only a broom between yourself and severe injury or death, and that was ignoring the sportsmanship that usually came with Quidditch (read: none whatsoever). She’d seen far too many Quidditch-related injuries during her employment at the hospital, and each time she couldn’t understand how the hell someone put themselves through that ever day for a living. Gwenog seemed to enjoy it, though, so Alecto tried to wrap her mind around it again for the sake of…

Well, for the sake of Gwenog. Her nose twitched, the only thing to show her annoyance at herself. 

“I… I suppose that’s all you can hope for from life,” she said slowly, the words feeling heavy in her mouth. She didn’t understand encouraging someone’s choices in life, because she herself was never encouraged by anyone save for Rodolphus pushing her toward the Death Eaters. Was she even doing this right? It was frustrating, and uncomfortable, and Alecto shifted where she sat to try and cover said annoyance. “Just do what you’d like. Anyone who disagrees doesn’t matter.”

There was the pity she hated so much. Alecto shifted again and took the firewhiskey that had been brought over, hating every drop of it but downing about half of it in a gulp. The burn was better to focus on than pity. The notion of not working in the hospital was something she latched on perhaps too much, and Alecto shook her head. “I doubt that. The hospital pays a decent amount of money, and despite the bad memories I do my best work there. It helps that I’m allowed to stay secluded in the poisons ward most of the time unless they need all available hands, but I can handle it. I’ve learned how to.”

Gwenog had come to the realisation during hers and Alecto’s conversation that she would, at some point, have to get used to being in hospital or surrounded by healers at the very least. Or at least learn how to not be a total arsehole to the people who were treating her. After all, they were there to make her better, but they could quite easily do something to make her worse, too, or even more terrible, kill her off, but she doubted that would happen, as that would probably cause them to lose their job. But they would definitely make sure that she was put in her place, and remind her that they could quite easily give her too strong of a dosage of medication which could land her in hospital for an extra week, as if to say, ‘this will keep happening until you learn to respect us’.

It was probably better and safer for Gwen to learn her lesson now after having Alecto as her healer than 6 months down the line or longer. “Fine,” she spoke with sternness, her eyes rolling. “I know I’m not going to like it, but I’ll try. You’re not the only one I’ve been an arse to,” she paused. “I’ve been an annoyance to probably half of the healers in that place, but you were probably the worst because it was such a minor injury. If it was a serious one then I would understand why I would be in there or off the pitch for however long.”

It was shocking to hear words of encouragement come from Alecto, and Gwenog quickly got the impression that that kind of thing was not typical for her. Perhaps it was the alcohol, and it was making her tough exterior break down little by little. If it was exactly the drink, Gwenog was glad for it. It made this entire encounter a lot easier, and there was almost zero tension unlike at St Mungos.

Out of the blue, there was a loud explosion-like sound come from outside the pub, followed by a few punters shouting and there was the odd scream. Gwenog’s attention was very sharply turned to the door, as was everyone’s, and her hand reached down to her wand which was tucked into her back pocket; her grip around the handle tightened with fright. “Did you just hear that?” she asked, shifting her eyes to look at Alecto. “I know a fight typically breaks out at these kind of events because of team rivalry, but that sounded like no fight.” When everything went back quiet for a brief moment, Gwen rested back in her seat, but her attention flickered back and forth between the door of the pub and Alecto every other minute.

“Well, at least you can see the bright side in all of it, right? The positives like being able to be where you have the most knowledge, you know, the poisons ward, and hey, if the pay’s good, then that makes it okay, I think.” Her eyes shifted to the door as she heard some more clatter come from outside. This time, there was no screams. “I just know for a fact that I could never do your job. Even more so if I had to deal with irritating people like myself.”

[serengwen]

sweetpoiscn·:

She bristled at first, thinking Gwenog was making fun of her, but Alecto was slowly coming to realize that this was just how the woman was. She had a feeling she’d truly know if she was being made fun of; years of being laughed at rather than with had set her on guard for good reason. Alecto’s lips twitched up when she finally allowed herself to be amused, and it was weird to realize that the amusement was genuine. Almost scarily weird, truth be told. “I’ll sell the information to Rita Skeeter and make a profit off of that before spreading information for free, thank you,” she quipped, finishing her awful drink and quickly disposing of the glass.

She missed Lucius’ wine.

She wasn’t surprised at all that what she’d encountered was just Gwenog’s reaction to being in a hospital at all, when she thought about it. Gwenog didn’t seem like the type of person who liked being confined to one space, let alone one bed, for any amount of time. “So next time you’re there, put you in a coma. Is that what you’re suggesting?” Alecto snorted and shook her head. Now there was an idea for other patients, but for Gwenog… no. “I cannot say that’s normal practice for St. Mungo’s. You’ll have a hard time finding someone to knock you out for your stays.”

Her breath caught a bit when Gwenog scooted closer to Alecto’s seat, shoulders mere inches from potentially brushing, and Alecto quickly scolded herself for the way her stomach flipped like it hadn’t… well, ever. This was a foreign feeling, something she wasn’t sure she liked at all, and she clenched her jaw for a second before making herself relax. It was okay, everything was fine. She focused on Gwenog’s answer and nodded slowly along with the story–it made sense for someone who grew up on the pitch to want to follow that career path. “I suppose that makes sense. I still don’t see the appeal, but it makes sense.”

In the background, there was a crash, like someone had dropped an especially full tray of dishes. Alecto ignored it and the murmurs that followed.

The answer was on the tip of her tongue: St. Mungo’s provides me a vast array of supplies for my various experiments and allows me to expand my poisons expertise (and developments) in a relatively peaceful environment unless they need me. It never made it past her lips, however, as her few social graces brought the conclusion that saying that wouldn’t be advisable in polite company. Not if she didn’t want to be arrested. 

Tragic backstory it was.

“… I was in the hospital a lot as a child,” she said slowly. “My brother and I lived there like a second home. I hated every moment of it, especially because it was our mother that put us there every time for attention. People always looked in the direction of the distraught parent with sickly, dying children, after all.” Alecto closed her eyes. “Truthfully I didn’t want to go back, but I’m very good with potions and it was a well-paying job that my family needs to get out of debt. I hate it there, have hated it there since I was a child, but I do what I have to. That’s all.” She finally opened her eyes and finally looked at Gwenog, completely expecting either confusion or judgement to be there. 

Gwenog nodded when Alecto wittily announced that she would sell the story to Rita Skeeter before spreading it around for free. She knew that she was merely having a joke with her - and heck, the alcohol was clearly having an effect on her if she was beginning to loosen up a bit and have a joke with someone else that was outside of what she could imagine what her social circle would be. Gwenog certainly wouldn’t be in it. However, with that jokey comment, Gwenog was slowly getting the impression that any time she did anything even remotely out of character that people joked about going straight to Skeeter. It was fine for now, since it had only happened a couple of times so far, but she knew the joke was going to get old very quickly.

Tempted to say ‘yes, please induce me into a coma long enough to see me through any recovery time period’, she fully understood why that was likely to not work. Perhaps she could convince her healer, or even bribe her with galleons, to add in draft of living death into an IV drip? But then she would be throwing someone else’s job on the line, perhaps even Alecto’s if she was her assigned healer again, and she wasn’t exactly thrilled to be doing that, either. “You could try and make it normal practice,” she said with a sheepish tone and her lip curling up on just the one side. “Or not,” she added when she saw the disapproving expression on her face refusing to change.

Not expecting Alecto to see her backstory as a valid reason to have such a strong passion for Quidditch, she was pleasantly surprised to hear that she genuinely did understood where the love for the game spouted from. Exhaling a bout of light hearted laughter, she pushed herself up from where she had slouched on the chair, and agreed with her - but only to an extent. “Honestly, not many people do see the appeal of it. It’s a job where you’re outside regardless of whether it’s 30 celsius or higher or 10 celsius below or more, it’s dirty, there’s a huge risk to your health because of the high potential of falling off your broomstick and even more so if you have absolute bastards on your opposing team that intentionally block you so you end up crashing into a stand or whichever.” The barman brought over two glasses of firewhiskey on the rocks and Gwenog threw 5 galleons his way. The drinks didn’t come to that much, but he had a busy night. He deserved the tip. Bringing her glass up to grace her lips, she continued what she was saying before necking back almost the whole drink. “So don’t worry. When people say they don’t see the appeal, I don’t get offended. It just gives me an adrenaline rush whether I watch it or play it. That’s why I love it.”

As she listened to Alecto talk about her contrasting childhood compared to her own, she felt a few tears prick at her eyes, but she couldn’t possibly let them fall down her cheek. To have her say sorry and then have a little cry in public just from hearing someone’s not to pleasant backstory? No way. That was too much for Gwenog in one night. It was awful to hear, sure. But it was confusing too, and she found herself wanting to ask why in Merlin’s name would her mother want to put her own children through that, but talking in depth about it may have been too much for Alecto, so Gwenog didn’t want to push anything too far. “I- I don’t really know what to say,” she mumbled, watching Alecto who almost seemed anxious to see what happened next. “I want to say that I’m sorry for what happened, but I know that me saying such a thing isn’t going to change what did happen. If anything, no one is saying you have to stay at St Mungos forever. I’m sure there are other places that could use a person’s expertise in potions such as yourself.”

[serengwen]

ludcvic-bagman·:

Puddlemere United Victory Party Ludo & Open

Staring at himself in the mirror, Ludo let out a soft sigh. He couldn’t help but to still be a little pissed off that the Wimbourne Wasps weren’t a part of the League Cup Champions, but, it is what it is. He was happy it was Puddlemere United rather than Kenmare Kestrels who won, they played a good game and deserved the win. He flattened his collar, figuring he’d waited long enough to show up to the victory celebration fashionably late.

He walked out his front door, slinging his jacket over his shoulder as he disapparated from his front doorstep to Puddletown, where it seemed like everyone else was disapparating from the event. Ludo shrugged his shoulders, figuring he still had enough time to have a drink or two before the night ended, perhaps he’d shown up a little too fashionably late. He strolled in to one of the nearby bars, expecting to hear cheers and celebrations, but was instead met with shreiks and worried faces. Ludo looked around, noticing people in masks standing all around, wands out and ready to be used. He casually walked through the bar, for once he was happy not to be recgonized by anybody, stopping at the counter, hand raised to the bartender, mouth open and ready to order before the bartender suddenly disapparated right before him. “Alright, I’ll get it myself then.”

Ludo hopped over the counter, picking up one of the open bottles of Firewhiskey the bartender didn’t put away and took a swig of it before hopping back over the counter once again. There was somebody standing nearby, he took a couple small steps towards them and nudged their arm with his own, “What happened here?” He questioned, as if the answer weren’t obvious.

The night had very suddenly become a blur to Gwenog. One moment, she was enjoying her time getting to know Alecto and finding out a different side to her than the harsh exterior she was first met with in the hospital a couple of weeks prior.

With almost every lamp blown in the pub, tables and chairs either broken, turn over and glass shattered all over the floor, Gwenog gathered herself together, scraped her wand off the floor behind the corner of the bar and brushed herself down. Her ears were still ringing from the eruption of noise that attacked the pub and her arm stinging from the wound she had gotten on her upper arm.

Out of her peripheral vision, she saw a dark figure approach her - her immediate presumption was that it was another Death Eater that had survived being killed or at least stunned by one of her fellow witches or wizards. Her grip tightened around her wand, ready to cast stupefy on the dark figure when light from one of the few remaining lamps hit his face and she realised who it was. “Merlin’s fucking beard, Ludo,” she spoke, breaking the silence with relief in her voice. “I almost-” she sighed, brushing her hair out of her face. “What are you doing sneaking around here after an attack? Someone could mistake you like I did but actually take it the step further and kill you.” Taking steps towards him, she swiped the bottle of firewhiskey out of his hand and took a large swig out of it. She needed it after the attack merely to calm her frantic brain down. “Death Eaters happened. Of course they would. A big celebration, lots of people all in the same vicinity. It was a perfect opportunity. Perhaps be grateful that you missed it and got out unscathed.”

[serengwen]

gillockhart·:

“Be thankful you don’t,” he replied with a wrinkle of his nose and wry, sidelong look that seemed designed to invite Gwenog in on a particularly juicy secret, “Barnabus Cuffe is a scoundrel and that’s one of his better qualities. Never trust a news-man, Miss Jones.”

Relaxing back into his chair with all the ease of a man with precisely nothing but time and money to burn, he tilted his head absently, chin tipping upward to eye her with interest. “Would it bother you terribly to be seen as a bleeding heart? As far as secrets go it’s not a terribly gripping one, but then you Quidditchers do seem to have a fondness for tough exteriors.”

Her eyebrows raised in interest and slight surprise. She was most certainly glad that she didn’t work for the Prophet if that was the case. With an expression of curiosity, she questioned him yet again. “Never trust a news-man, Gilderoy?” She raised her hand and pointed her finger at him. “Does that mean I should never trust you? You are a news-man after all. Not an editor, I know, but you still supply the Prophet with juicy gossip, I’m presuming?” She raised her hands in defence. “Purely guessing, judging by what you’ve told me.”

Gwenog sighed as she considered his question. “It wouldn’t initially bother me, per say, but it could bother the managers or coaches. But then again, it might not. If you were to say it as it is, in that I care for my family and friends during a very intense time, then I’m sure no one would bat an eyelid at it. However, it seems that Skeeter has her games that she likes to play in her writing, and I can’t say I’m particularly fond of it.”

[serengwen]

sweetpoiscn·:

Alecto was genuinely shocked at the apology, staring at Gwenog for a moment like she was waiting for her to say sike. No one apologized to Alecto; often she just said you’re welcome in a bit of a condescending tone to fill in the gap, a smug expression slapped to her face as the others moved on. Most of her crowd didn’t like to be wrong, she’d noted, so having someone say sorry was… well, it was startling. Alecto blinked a bit slowly and made herself nod, tearing her eyes away to look back out at the room. “Does this mean next time you visit St. Mungo’s, I should expect the same attitude?” she asked, perhaps a tad antagonizingly. She couldn’t help her defense mechanism. “Or will you be better about it?”

Even though Gwenog had admitted to being a bit more stubborn than usual, she was again thrown by you’re not wrong. Not only did she not expect the woman in front of her to say that, but again, the crowd she surrounded herself with normally would rather die than admit that someone else was right. Perhaps Alecto needed a new social circle–not that she had many choices. Such was the life of a social outcast. The thought of Gwenog going, then, shocked her even more, because instead of saying yes, go, Alecto found herself saying, “You don’t have to go.” Which, frankly, was as close to an exclamation as Alecto allowed herself to get. She recovered herself and went on. “I’m… I don’t hate your company. You’re really offering to allow me to pry into your deepest, darkest secrets? I’m surprised.” Her lips quirked up, and she thought for a moment.

“Why Quidditch? Surely it’s more than just enjoying the sport.” That was as good a start as any, she supposed.

“It’s alright. You can, you know,” she paused, dropped her jaw open slightly and then with her free hand, pushed it back closed. She chuckled softly, a grin steadily growing among her lips. “pick your jaw up from off the floor. Feel free to alert everyone in the room that you just got an apology from Gwenog Jones,” she grinned, gesturing to the rest of the pub.

Gwenog considered Alecto’s question regarding her behaviour and attitude at St Mungos, and there was absolutely no way that Gwenog could confirm that her attitude and general mood was going to be any better than this time. Nodding her head, she replied a very confident “Yes. You should probably expect something similar. I’m never going to like being stuck in a hospital regardless of whether its for 5 minutes or 5 weeks. If I’ve been well and truly knocked into a coma by my rival then I’ll probably be easier to deal with because of the grogginess et cetera.”

Surprised to hear that she didn’t hate her company, Gwenog scooted her chair over a couple of inches more so their conversation could at the minimum seem a little more private during such a public event. A small amount of nerves began to settle in her stomach, but she wasn’t sure why. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted Alecto to really know about her deepest, darkest secrets - not that there was anything particular dark about her past - or whether it was something else entirely.

“Why Quidditch?” she repeated before finishing her firewhiskey. “Well,” she began, placing her now empty glass on the table. “There isn’t much of an interesting background story to it, I’m afraid. My parents both work in the league. My mother used to play for the Harpies - a Keeper, and my father is a coach for the Caerphilly Catapults. Previously the Falmouth Falcons but he changed teams to be closer to home. He’s due to retire any time now. They’ve done it since I was a kid. I was essentially raised on the pitch, and so it just feels like home to me.” Changing her focus to the barman for a short second, she raised her glass and gave it a small shake before placing it back down on the table and returning her eyes back to Alecto. "Can I ask you why healing?"

[serengwen]

viciouslestrange·:

Bellatrix eyed the darkening bruise at Gwenog’s temple with a slight air of disappointment. The less Quidditch players they had plaguing society, the better. “Unless someone enchants a bludger,” Bellatrix muttered under her breath, though she didn’t care that much about Gwenog to go out of her way to kill her. “You learn something every day, I suppose. Every day is a training opportunity,” she rolled her eyes. “If you’re that bothered about me to go out of your way to prove something to me when I won’t even be there then I suppose my work here is done,” she smirked. “By all means, show up at the manor….see how well that goes for you. We have a wolf now that isn’t all that fond of unexpected visitors.” It wasn’t all that fond of Bellatrix herself, but that didn’t need saying.

“I was never bothered about you, Bellatrix. Quite frankly I couldn’t give a toss whether you ever see me play or not. Just your comments implied that you woud be restless if you were never to see me play.” She raised her eyebrows when she stared across at her, her expression remaining flat. Gwenog sat herself up in bed and dropped her hand down by the side of her, her fingers now drumming on the metal frame. “Perhaps one day I’ll test my luck, see what happens,” she shrugged. “I’ll be sure to be ready in case your precious puppy decides to try take a bite.”

[vitruvians]

100 Historical Figures in the Wizarding World - 4/100

Helga Hufflepuff favoured loyalty, honesty, fair play, and hard work. Members of her Hogwarts House usually display at least one of these traits in varying degrees. Additionally, Hufflepuff was renowned for her compassionate nature; she took in the house-elves to work in Hogwarts Kitchen where they could work in peace and safety, and while the other founders were careful in selection of students, Hufflepuff took in the rest. She was said to be kind and caring, and particularly famous for her dexterity at food-related charms. 

[leroichevalier]

→ Hogwarts houses + characteristics : Hufflepuff. (¾)

[serengwen]

sweetpoiscn·:

“I may very well have one. I hardly expected you to stay off a broom for more than a day. Color me shocked.” Her lips twitched up when she determined that Gwenog’s laughter wasn’t at her and more so at the fact that she’d listened to Alecto’s stern instructions, and she rested her leg across her knee to get more comfortable as she sipped at the drink in her hand. Her nose involuntarily wrinkled; still not her favorite drink. “I wouldn’t say unfortunately, Jones. Listening kept you in your game, so–you’re welcome.” Her lips went up a bit wider, almost cockily, and Alecto chuckled despite herself. “Who’s to say I don’t do the same at the hospital? Why, I had a patient the other day come in claiming he’d been mugged randomly on the streets, but a minute in the room with him proved him to actually be a drunk, lying arsehole trying to act tough.” Alecto snorted at the memory of the guy cowering. “That and the fact that a friend of his came in with a completely different story than what he’d told us.”

And perhaps that was a vague breech of patient confidentiality, but she’d kept it vague, so Alecto figured she was safe.

She straightened her posture slightly when Gwenog asked if Alecto could get a read on her, and she let her eyes wander the other woman curiously, searching for… well, she wasn’t entirely sure what she was searching for. That was annoying. “Perhaps with a longer conversation I could tell more, but you’re far more relaxed than you were two weeks ago,” she noted. “Though I imagine you’re still a stubborn woman who doesn’t know how to take care of herself, alcohol or no.”

Relaxing back into her chair a little, Gwenog rested her one arm across her torso as she watched Alecto sip on the drink she clearly wasn’t fond of, judging by the way her nose screwed up as she swallowed it. She understood, it wasn’t the best drink in the world; it burned your throat and the flavour was strong, but Gwenog simply drank it as it was the alcoholic beverage that got her drunk the quickest. A smile tugging at her lips, she nodded in agreement with Alecto. “Oh, it was still unfortunate that I had to be off a broom for two weeks,” she said, raising her free hand up in defence and exhaling a laugh. “But it is fortunate I listened. I’ll admit to that. I was angry at myself and embarrassed of what happened, so I was a lot more stubborn than usual in the hospital. But I will apologise for being a pain in the arse on that day.”

Listening to Alecto talk about her anonymous drunkards that appeared in St Mungos one day, Gwenog wondered what other sort of stories she must go home with after each day from either healing or people watching - or both. It was a good place to do that sort of thing, and Gwenog was envious. It wasn’t something you could do at the quidditch pitch. The only people she could do that to were her teammates, and even then, they’re the same people she saw day in, day out. However, Alecto’s job was potentially hundreds of new faces, every single day.

“You’re not wrong,” she replied to Alecto’s brief judgement of her. “A little bit of firewhiskey,” she started, raising her glass, “makes me perhaps a little more lenient on my stubbornness. Consider this maybe a good time to jump into a bit more of a deeper conversation, if you like. Find out how stubborn I can or can’t be with the burning warmth of whiskey inside of me. But if I’m preventing you from your people watching, I’ll happily go slip into someone else’s conversation somewhere,” she shrugged, bringing her glass back up to her lips for another long swig of her drink.

[serengwen]

gillockhart·:

“Well you aren’t wrong,” he agreed with an amused wave of his fingers as if the implications against his character weren’t entirely unfounded, “I enjoy a good scandal as much as the next person, the operative word being scandal. I doubt the league would much care if one of their players was going around being sentimental, would they? And if you think Barney Cuffe, the old tightwad, would budget to afford my fee more than twice a month you give him far too much credit.”

There was a pause, Gilderoy staring thoughtfully upward for a moment before he added, almost as an afterthought, “And - for the record -  I don’t have to try to look like Merlin’s greatest gift to the world. It comes naturally.” 

Thinking about it, Gwenog knew that the league wouldn’t care about whether one of their players was being sentimental during such a highly intense time. However, it was all about how Gilderoy decided to write out his piece. Gwenog knew full well that he would know a way to manipulate her words into something far worse  - if he really wanted to. She continued to hope deep down that he wouldn’t do that to her.

“Well, I don’t know Barney Cuffe on a more personal level, like I’m presuming you do seeing as though he is your boss... Right? For all I know, he could afford you twice a month. I’m not to know anything more or less.” Glancing across at him, watching how he stared ever so pensively into the space above them, she nodded her head and mumbled a brief “Mmhm,” as he corrected her about how he naturally is the greatest thing. “Sure. I’ll believe that to save arguing for the sake of it.”

[serengwen]

sweetpoiscn·:

Alecto hadn’t expected the woman to actually respond, so for a moment she floundered like her brother when Gwenog walked over and actually deigned to have a conversation with her. Her mouth opened and closed once as she looked for her words, the alcohol she’d consumed slowing her functionality considerably, and when a waiter passed she grabbed whatever drink was on the tray to try and save her dignity, nose wrinkling slightly when she realized it couldn’t compare to the several glasses of wine Lucius had offered her. Still, whiskey wasn’t awful, so down the hatch it went. Mother would be furious if she saw her daughter’s behavior in that moment–so undignified, yet she couldn’t find the capacity within herself to care. 

“You actually listened?” Alecto finally asked, eyebrows rising in genuine surprise. After the fuss she’d put up a few weeks back, she had expected to see or hear about Gwenog returning to the hospital. Her listening was a miracle in itself. “At least this way you can continue a career on the pitch.” Alecto shrugged and gestured around the room with her glass. “I’m not a fan, but you could say I like to people watch, for lack of a better term. You can tell a lot about a person by how they interact with others, especially when they’re inebriated. What better place to do so than a party?”

Gwenog watched as Alecto suddenly didn’t know what to do with herself for a moment, and found it almost amusing. For someone who seemed so intimidating and hard shelled two weeks ago in the hospital, she was virtually a polar opposite in this very second.

“Yes, I did. Try not to have a heart attack at the pure shock of me obeying by your rules for me to return to full health,” she laughed subtly. “As much as I despised your orders because I wanted to be back at work within days, I did also want to keep my job and play to the best of my ability, so, unfortunately I had to listen to you.” Taking another swig of her firewhiskey, she pulled out a chair and sat down opposite the Healer, listening to her reason for being at the celebration. “Quite frankly there is no better place to do that if you’re after inebriated people. Well,” she paused, crossing her legs under the table. “If you weren’t so keen on finding people drunk out of their minds, you could analyse people’s personalities at your job. You know, providing you’re not run off your feet like you were the day I was in,” she shrugged.

Sitting back in her chair and following Alecto’s glass as she gestured it around the room, she could see what appealed to her about people watching in such environment. However, a thought appeared in the back of Gwenog’s mind that she just had to ask. “Dare I ask what you can tell about me? Sure, I’m not completely on my arse yet, but a few more firewhiskey’s time and I sure will be.” They’d only met once before, but Gwenog didn’t see any harm in asking.

[serengwen]

gillockhart·:

“Oh don’t look so worried,” a puff of airy laughter followed as he languished back into his seat, “If I wanted to see you eviscerated in print I’d read Miss Skeeter’s column. Escapism sells, darling. People don’t want to read about the very same war they’re living every day, the news cycle swiftly becomes unpalatable, an endless slog of someone or the other’s loved ones going missing or dying — and when half the population don’t care to acknowledge that it’s even a war,” he shrugged, a dismissive wave of his fingers fluttering goodbye to substance, “Just think of yourself as a palate cleanser in a particularly elaborate meal.”

A pause followed, in which Gilderoy’s forehead furrowed ever so slightly before he amended, “If you ever tell anyone I said any of that, for the record, I will eviscerate you in print.”

“‘Don’t look so worried’ you say, even though you suggested going to the Editor to twist my tongue and imply that I thought other things were more important than quidditch,” Gwenog bit back, her tone fuelled with annoyance. Of course, the war was more important than quidditch when you boiled everything down. She didn’t want her parents, family members or friends killed, but she wasn’t about to admit that whole heartedly to Gilderoy. Merlin only knows what he would turn that into for the Prophet.

“My apologies Gilderoy, but I get the impression you would eviscerate me in print regardless of whether I shared what you just told me or not. I feel as though any given opportunity to slander someone publicly would be right up your street, just to make yourself look like Merlin’s greatest gift to this world.”

[serengwen]

viciouslestrange·:

“One of these days a bludger might go through your skull, Jones. Then it doesn’t matter whether you whole heartedly love your little ‘job’ or not, for you are six feet under…” Bellatrix raised her brows with a chuckle. “House elves are slaves, that is their whole purpose and what they enjoy doing….I’m sure our elves are happy,” she shrugged noncommittally. “You are terribly boring, Gwenog Jones. What is it about you that people like, hm? I’m not seeing it.”

Gwenog couldn’t help but scoff as Bellatrix hoped that one day a bludger would kill her outright. “Much to your dismay, Lestrange, that isn’t going to be happening any time soon. This today,” she paused, pointing at her gradually darkening temple, “was an accident. My opponent got me good but I’ll be sure to be more alert and observant next time just to prove you wrong.” Crossing her arms and exhaling a large sigh, she shook her head; her eyes still focussed on Bellatrix. “I don’t know, Bella. I really don’t. Maybe they just like me for my Quidditch skills and nothing else. The day I find out I’ll be sure that you’re the first person I tell.”