harry potter → families → the bones

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@starry-amelia
harry potter → families → the bones
starry-amelia
Amelia watched as Benjy’s eyes met hers, and she noticed herself feeling almost… vulnerable. Was he trying to figure her out? Did she even have anything to ‘figure out’? Should she be trying to figure him out?
Or, more likely, he was just making regular eye contact, like people typically do when they have actual conversations. She was being paranoid. Probably.
She laughed lightly, thinking about how she could, admittedly, be a tad… controlling, sometimes, and how it was a new thing for her to be at peace with other people making decisions. “Dangerous in real life, surely I agree,” she smiled, “but in this case it got me a glass of cheap whiskey, so I suppose I too can’t complain.”
What was driving Amelia to drink so early today? She almost stopped in her tracks, wondering what was appropriate to share with a half-stranger. She hummed, shrugging almost, though she was thinking quite hard. She thought of Edgar, who seemed to be friends with everyone, and although he wasn’t dumb and wouldn’t share just anything with new acquaintances, he did have the personality of an open book. Her own social life did not work the same, and maybe it was because she often kept her mouth shut and stuck to small talk, never really getting to know anyone.
“That… is a good question,” she took another sip from her glass before speaking again. She supposed she had been ‘thinking quite hard’ about a lot of things, recently. “Work, maybe? Feeling pointless in the universe, perhaps? Or even just plain boredom?” she thought aloud, shrugging once more. “Who’s to say?”
The wizard wasn’t particularly sure what to make of this witch. She had a casual cavalier way to her speech that he wondered if she carried into other areas of her life. Benjy was always happy to have the company of a pretty face inclined to make a memorable mistake.
It seemed his inquiry was a bit more than she was prepared to share. That was alright. He wouldn’t take the truth from her, but would just accept what she had given him. Patience was rewarded with increasingly severe answers. Work was mundane, but feeling pointless in the universe–that was a topic the man could sink his teeth into. Something raw, complicated and messy was far more interesting to him than superficial small talk.
“If I knew you better, I might say that only boring people get bored, but no one wants to hear that sort of bullshit. Especially when you gave a much more interesting answer, that begs to be unpacked. Nothing quite as good to drink to as an existential crisis.” Benjy turned on his stool to give the witch more of his attention. Still, to avoid the temptation, his eyes didn’t linger too long on hers, but drifted from them down to her lips and over the curves of her cheeks, jaw and clavicle. The dip there was always so distracting to him: delicate and fragile, as it was.
“So, how many drinks do I need to buy you for you to be willing to talk about why you are feeling pointless in the Universe? Because no one is pointless. The Fates give and take from us all. We have to just be prepared to take the opportunities when they come–and not be afraid.” Benjy was not one to really settle for polite small talk. He wanted to have conversations that mattered. He wasn’t shy to push for them, either, even with a relative stranger.
Amelia looked at the man for a moment before saying anything. Had she expected for him to grasp onto her passive comment so tightly? Not quite. Maybe she should have, though. She hadn’t spent very long sitting next to the wizard, but he didn’t seem like the type for casual conversation. It seemed like she had chosen an interesting drinking partner tonight indeed, without realizing it.
As she thought about how to answer him, she realized that what Benjy said was true. "Nothing quite as good to drink to as an existential crisis,“ she repeated, laughing. She raised her glass up to him and downed the rest before saying anything else. “You say it like it is, don’t you, Mr. Fenwick?”
“Are you buying me drinks, now? Besides, who said I was unwilling to talk about anything?” Amelia teased lightly, even though she knew fully that talking about her insecurities and existential issues was the last thing she planned on doing when she sat to get a drink next to a handsome man at a bar. As she listened to his words, she wondered how it was possible for someone to sound so sure. Not being afraid? She hadn’t felt sure of anything or been without fear since she was a teenager patrolling the Hogwarts halls. She sighed.
“...Maybe one more drink before I tell you all my secrets, hm?”
A terrible loss. She was a great witch.
starry-amelia·:
Although Amelia prided herself on her ability to be focused and careful, she did have a bad habbit of getting lost in her own thoughts. Usually she tried to force herself to limit her overthinking to when she was alone, perhaps at home or getting a drink. However, as of late, she had a lot of things flowing around her mind, with work and her parents and her own insecurities, so she allowed herself to be a little distracted as she went about her day.
This being distracted, however, is what caused Amelia to fall directly on her face, having not realized her shoes were untied as she was looking for a book to read. Her cheeks quickly redenned and she hoped no one had seen her, but the other’s voice told her that her wish had not been granted. “Yeah, that’d be nice,” she laughed at herself.
As Amelia fell to the floor, Dirk instantly rose to his feet upon witnessing the scene in front of him. A level of concern to his tone as he offered her his hand. “Are you alright?” Dirk inquired, staring down at the girl on the floor in front of him. Dirk had been on the other end of this situation many time as a young boy, he practically fell down the stairs of Hogwarts everyday in first year, the shock of them moving often had gotten to much for eleven year old Dirk. “That was quite a fall.”
“I think I’ll be okay, I think my ego is hurt more than anything,” Amelia laughed again as she reached out to grab the boy’s hand. Her cheeks were still pink when she was on her feet again, but at least her audience seemed to be nice. “You’d think I’d learn to pay attention to my shoelaces after years of wearing shoes, huh?” She said, charming them tied again. “I’m Amelia, by the way. Thank you for the help.”
Doris sat in a little Diagon Alley cafe, and watched as the rain pattered against the windows, lost in thought. A journal lay open in front of her and her quill lay limply in her fingers, only a few words written on the blank page in her elegant handwriting. She used to write in her journal every day, long eloquent passages transcribing her thoughts and feelings. She had stacks and stacks of filled books, filled with memories of a time when she had very few troubles and her heart was as light as a cloud.
These days she found it harder and harder to write as she used to. Her schedule at St. Mungo’s was grueling and when she did manage to carve out time to herself she felt heavy with fatigue, as if she was a stone sinking deep into an endless dark water. She found it difficult to concentrate on the words she was writing down, and would often lose her train of thought. This was one of those times, she had gone to her favorite cafe during her break, determined to write down her thoughts but she had barely gotten a few sentences out before something on the street had distracted her and she was lost.
Her attention was pulled away from the world outside when she heard the chime of the bell at the door and she was greeted by a familiar face. “Hello,” She said, waving them over with a smile. “Would you like to join me? I have enough tea for the both of us.”
When Amelia woke up, she realized that she had no plans. No work to do, no family obligations to suffer through, no social events to attend. She had nothing to do. Days off with no obligations or specific tasks to accomplish had the tendency to put Amelia on edge, and this stress was only intensified with everything going on in the Wizarding World. Amelia hated to feel useless. She knew she should relax and enjoy her time off, but she just felt like she was wasting time that she could be using to further herself in her career or helping the Order or doing something. She almost decided to go back to sleep, but knew she would feel guilty if she just slept all day.
Seeing the rain outside as she was getting ready for the day comforted Amelia, in a way. She loved a sunny day as much as anyone, but there was a certain peace in rain hitting against windows. It made her want something warm to drink and something fun to read. She remembered a small cafe in Diagon Alley she used to frequent quite often, and decided that if she should be enjoying herself anyway, why not bring a few things and enjoy the rain from inside somewhere other than her flat?
After putting some books, parchment and quills in her bag, Amelia grabbed her umbrella and decided to walk to Diagon Alley. She didn’t live that fair, and it wasn’t pouring quite yet, so it would probably be good for her to enjoy some fresh air.
When she opened the cafe door, she smelled the pastries and coffee, and knew she had made the right call. She heard a voice call out at her and looked around slightly confused, but smiled once she saw Doris sitting down. “Oh hello!”
Her and Doris never spent much time together, and Amelia couldn’t really figure out why. She supposed they never crossed paths much at Hogwarts since the other witch was a few years younger, and the Ministry and St-Mungos staffs were vastly different work environments. She’d always emjoyed the girl, though, so she walked towards the table instantly. “That would be nice, actually. What are we drinking?”
MBTI AESTHETIC: ISTJ (12/16)
ISTJs are steady, productive, responsible organizers who are driven to create and enforce order within systems and institutions. They tend to believe in laws and traditions and expect the same from others. They are not comfortable with going against the rules. ISTJs are extremely dependable, however, because of their strong sense of duty, they might have a difficult time saying “no” and may be taken advantage of. ISTJs are faithful and loyal individuals who care deeply about those they are close to, but may have difficulties expressing their affection.
Open starter - Location up to whoever replies
“What... the... hell?” Mundungus winced at the light that was filtering in, his right hand reaching up to cover his eyes. He needed a moment before he was able to sit up. His shirt was missing but he could feel his wand in the pocket of his pants. That was proof that he had done something responsible even though he couldn’t remember why his shirt had come off or how he had gotten on the ground in the first place.
“That’s it,” He mumbled and shifted to cradle his head in his hands. The hours leading up to blacking out were all a blur. It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened and it likely wouldn’t be the last. A quick glance around left him not recognizing his surroundings and needing to cover his eyes again. “I’m not drinking again for the rest of the month.”
Amelia was making her second cup of coffee, wandlessly adding in her perfect amount of milk and sugar, as she glanced periodically to the being on her living room floor. She looked at the clock on the wall and thought that maybe she should wake him, but remembering how drunk he had been the night before she figured he could use all the rest he could get.
It had been a pretty standard night at the Leaky Cauldron, all things considered. Amelia, a good few drinks in, had been planning on finding a witch or wizard to bring home, a warm body she could spend the night with. When she was scanning the room, she noticed a very intoxicated Mundungus blabbering on about something she didn’t really understand, and as the pub started to empty and he didn’t seem to have a place to stay that night, she thought it wrong to just leave him there.
Her and Mundungus weren’t close by any means, but she liked to think they knew each other well enough. Although she worked at the Ministry and he did... well, whatever it was that he did, they seemed to frequent the same places and circles more often than you would think. Order meetings sure, but also bars and pubs and the few social events she attended. He was a familiar face that she didn’t mind looking at.
Amelia looked up from her mug startled, only to realize that the man seemed to be waking up. “The month ends in a few days, dear, but knock yourself out,” she laughed. “Would you like some coffee?”
Amelia Susan Bones : a moodboard
starry-amelia
Amelia looked at the man almost inquisitively as he spoke. Benjy Fenwick, she thought. Hit wizard, member of the Order, a few years older, was he in Hufflepuff, maybe? Ravenclaw? She had spoken to him maybe a handful of times in her life, usually small talk or business talk. She didn’t doubt that he probably knew her brother a hell of a lot better than he knew her, but she didn’t mind the semi-new face. He’d always seemed nice, and Merlin knew she could use a pleasant conversation right about now.
“Cheap and I don’t have to make my own decision? Sounds great, sign me up,” she grinned back at him as she nodded, half to him and half to the bartender who proceeded to pour her a glass. “How are you doing, Benjy?” She asked before raising her glass up to him and taking a sip. “Hmm, is this… whiskey, maybe?”
Benjy was not one to really think of others as strangers. He divided the world a bit more pragmatically. There were allies and enemies, friendlies and suspects, good time girls and bad time brawlers. They all had their place in the spectrum of grey that he painted over the world. Fenwick did not perceive too much simple black and white. His work made sure of that. The war was doing its part to blur things further for the man.
Where Amelia fell on that spectrum was up in the air really–her place in the Order made her something of an ally, but did not get her trusted. Just because Dumbledore had enough faith in her to bring her into their collective did not mean that he blindly trusted the witch. His faith had to be earned. Actions, not words, were what meant something to Benjy.
“Not a fan of making your own decisions? Dangerous way to live life,” Benjy challenged, his eyes searched hers. The urge to push into her mind tugged at him. He always was battling that urge.
Legilimency was second nature to him. He might not have been born one, but he had such a natural proclivity for it. He was gifted–the man could wandlessly and non-verbally slip into another mind without causing even the slightest amount of pain (unless he wanted it to hurt, of course). He needed only to sustain eye-contact. It was a useful skill in his profession. One he tried not to abuse in casual socialization.
He let his gaze leave her eyes, pulling away from the temptation of dipping into her mind. “Can’t complain,” he drawled, when she asked after him. A curt nod of his head and another sip from his glass confirmed her assessment of what the barkeep was pouring for them tonight. “Aye, nothing so fancy as Ogden’s, but it does the job well enough. Since I picked your poison, why don’t you tell me what’s driving you to drinking so early?”
Amelia watched as Benjy’s eyes met hers, and she noticed herself feeling almost... vulnerable. Was he trying to figure her out? Did she even have anything to ‘figure out’? Should she be trying to figure him out?
Or, more likely, he was just making regular eye contact, like people typically do when they have actual conversations. She was being paranoid. Probably.
She laughed lightly, thinking about how she could, admittedly, be a tad... controlling, sometimes, and how it was a new thing for her to be at peace with other people making decisions. “Dangerous in real life, surely I agree,” she smiled, “but in this case it got me a glass of cheap whiskey, so I suppose I too can’t complain.”
What was driving Amelia to drink so early today? She almost stopped in her tracks, wondering what was appropriate to share with a half-stranger. She hummed, shrugging almost, though she was thinking quite hard. She thought of Edgar, who seemed to be friends with everyone, and although he wasn’t dumb and wouldn’t share just anything with new acquaintences, he did have the personality of an open book. Her own social life did not work the same, and maybe it was because she often kept her mouth shut and stuck to small talk, never really getting to know anyone.
“That... is a good question,” she took another sip from her glass before speaking again. She supposed she had been ‘thinking quite hard’ about a lot of things, recently. “Work, maybe? Feeling pointless in the universe, perhaps? Or even just plain boredom?” she thought aloud, shrugging once more. “Who’s to say?”
The days where Amelia caught herself looking at the clock more than her actual work were the worst. Sure, it obviously meant that she was bored, and being bored always got on her nerves. Being bored at work, though, was a special kind of bad for Amelia. It started with her wishing she was somewhere else, and usually quickly evolved into her spiralling about her career and ambitions. This had been one of those days since two hours into her shift, so as soon as her clock rang 5 o’clock, she was quick to gather her things and leave her office.
Amelia didn’t intend to end up at The Leaky Cauldron, but then again, when did she ever? She had quickly changed out of her work clothes before leaving the Ministry, and her wandering through London just so happened to lead her to the magical inn. She entered and looked around, it wasn’t quite busy yet but had a fair amount of witches and wizards, and that was typically the pub atmosphere Amelia prefered. She walked right up to the bar, setting her bag down next to her stool of choice, and glanced at the person sitting near. “I’ll have whatever they’re having.”
It wasn’t an unusual thing to find Gwen, or in fact any of the Harpies, at the Leaky Cauldron. It was where they usually went for birthdays and celebrations that warranted something a bit more special than the pub local to the stadium. It was one of the chasers celebrating tonight, and Gwen was sure they’d said six, but there was nothing wrong with arriving early. She’d never been able to get timings right on stuff like this anyway. She was much more a show up when she could type of person. Plus there was nothing wrong with a coupe of pre-drinks.
When the woman appeared next to her, she couldn’t help but raise a curious eyebrow. “An interesting way to choose your drinks,” she commented wryly, though she raised her glass to her anyway. The double shot of red-currant rum hardly suspect but still not necessarily identifiable. “What if it’s really awful?”
Amelia recognized Gwenog, after a second glance. Partly due to their time at Hogwarts, and more prominently due to her growing success as a member of the Holyhead Harpies. She had always been fond of the other witch, albeit they didn’t know each other quite well, but Amelia thought she was quite cool, from the few interactions they’d had. She didn’t mind that she was the one who happened to be sitting next to her favourite seat.
“I try my best to keep some things interesting. An office job can get tiring, and all that,” she replied with a small shrug. She watched the bartender pour the drink, trying to figure out what it was. “Well, I’d be disapointed, but then I’d know never to order it again,” she laughed, grabbing the glass and raising it to the girl. She took a sip, and though she recognized the burning sensation usually accompanied with alcohol, she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. “Although, maybe before deciding to order or not order again, I should figure out what it actually is.”
The days where Amelia caught herself looking at the clock more than her actual work were the worst. Sure, it obviously meant that she was bored, and being bored always got on her nerves. Being bored at work, though, was a special kind of bad for Amelia. It started with her wishing she was somewhere else, and usually quickly evolved into her spiralling about her career and ambitions. This had been one of those days since two hours into her shift, so as soon as her clock rang 5 o’clock, she was quick to gather her things and leave her office.
Amelia didn’t intend to end up at The Leaky Cauldron, but then again, when did she ever? She had quickly changed out of her work clothes before leaving the Ministry, and her wandering through London just so happened to lead her to the magical inn. She entered and looked around, it wasn’t quite busy yet but had a fair amount of witches and wizards, and that was typically the pub atmosphere Amelia prefered. She walked right up to the bar, setting her bag down next to her stool of choice, and glanced at the person sitting near. “I’ll have whatever they’re having.”
Benjy was drinking early today. Maybe it was better to say that he was just picking up where he had left off in the wee hours. He was drinking too much. The man knew that, but what else was there to do? Another girlfriend had moved out. He wasn’t even sure how long she had called his flat home. Had she even really moved in? He couldn’t say for sure either way.
The man was no good at relationships. Especially when there was a war brewing. As if he had been better before this mess started up. Romance was not his forte. He’d given it a go once, but that was lost in the past now. Love was for better men: men without secrets and shadows in their eyes and scars on their hearts and hands.
A voice drew him from staring at his glass of whiskey to glancing beside him. The man’s brow arched towards long blonde hair as he questioned the woman’s decision. Benjy did not know Amelia well, but they had shared a few words about the Ministry on occasion. She worked for the Wizengamot and his employment as a hit wizard brought him before the court now and again.
“You sure you want to do that?” he drawled out the question, warm and friendly. The edge of the day, and those before it, had been softened by the drink. “All it has going for it is that it is cheap.” A half grin dimpled one of his cheeks, giving the man a devil-may-care air about him. Dark clothes contrasted against fair skin and light hair. In another life, he might have been an aristocrat, but he had thrown off all that. He might have been born pure, but he was the furthest thing from a purist.
Amelia looked at the man almost inquisitively as he spoke. Benjy Fenwick, she thought. Hit wizard, member of the Order, a few years older, was he in Hufflepuff, maybe? Ravenclaw? She had spoken to him maybe a handful of times in her life, usually small talk or business talk. She didn’t doubt that he probably knew her brother a hell of a lot better than he knew her, but she didn’t mind the semi-new face. He’d always seemed nice, and Merlin knew she could use a pleasant conversation right about now.
“Cheap and I don’t have to make my own decision? Sounds great, sign me up,” she grinned back at him as she nodded, half to him and half to the bartender who proceeded to pour her a glass. “How are you doing, Benjy?” She asked before raising her glass up to him and taking a sip. “Hmm, is this... whiskey, maybe?”
Things at the Goblin Liason Office had been going well, leaflets were circulating and Dirk had managed to get a few stories printed in The Daily Prophet. Persuading the editors had been alot of work, but ultimately Dirk had worn them down until they eventually agreed. As a reward for his hard work, Dirk’s boss had given him a few days off. A majority of which Dirk had used researching into different Goblin unions being set up throughout the world. Tapping on his table, Dirk straightened out his back, having been hunched over the book in front of him for far too long. Casting a glance around the room, Dirk smiled lightly. “Need a hand?” He asked, noticing the person struggling.
Although Amelia prided herself on her ability to be focused and careful, she did have a bad habbit of getting lost in her own thoughts. Usually she tried to force herself to limit her overthinking to when she was alone, perhaps at home or getting a drink. However, as of late, she had a lot of things flowing around her mind, with work and her parents and her own insecurities, so she allowed herself to be a little distracted as she went about her day.
This being distracted, however, is what caused Amelia to fall directly on her face, having not realized her shoes were untied as she was looking for a book to read. Her cheeks quickly redenned and she hoped no one had seen her, but the other’s voice told her that her wish had not been granted. “Yeah, that’d be nice,” she laughed at herself.
Amelia Susan Bones - The Busy Bee
21. Born July 24th. Leo. Pureblood. Loyal to the Order of the Phoenix. Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Wise, fair, considerate. Stubborn, argumentative, defensive. Pygmy hippopotamus patronus.
KEY POINTS
Growing up in the Bones household
Amelia’s childhood was a little… intense. From the time she could make flowers blossom in the palm of her hand, her parents told her she could do whatever she set her mind to. When Amelia said, “I could even become the Minister?”, her father took her words and never let her forget them. Of course, Amelia loved her parents and was grateful for them, but they could always be a little… much. The Bones household was one of excellence. Her parents had always prided themselves on being excellent caretakers and loving their children without question. Amelia was raised well, there was always food on the table, and she was taught to care for all types of life and wizard, but in turn for this happy childhood her parents expected excellence. They would say constantly that they didn’t care what their kids wanted to do so long as they were healthy and kind, and that their successes were only the icing on the cake, but Amelia sometimes doubted the accuracy of this statement.
Of course, Amelia had loved being involved in as many clubs and initiatives as she could during her time at Hogwarts, and was following the path to success that she wanted regardless of her parents wanting her to do so, but a large source of Amelia’s insecurities rest on her wondering if her parents even liked her, or if they were just proud of her achievements. Did anyone genuinely like her, she often wondered. However, at least she has a big brother to depend on. When Amelia thought of her parents, she thought of a fear of disappointment. When she thought of Edgar, she knew she was enough.
Edgar and Amelia against the world
After family dinners filled with questions about extra curriculars and grades that turned into questions of promotions and connections, Amelia was the most grateful for being able to talk about anything with Edgar. They could always talk about things that weren’t related to productivity or future plans. They shared their secrets and their fears. She could laugh and cry in front of Edgar, he was the person she could be most vulnerable with. Her brother was, without any doubt, her favourite person. There was a reason they instantly moved in together after Hogwarts, against their parents wishes to stay in the family home, after all.
She trusted Edgar with her life, and would follow him to the end of the world. She was scared when he told her he wanted to become an Auror, but she knew he could do it. When he talked to her about the Order of the Phoenix for the first time, she was nearly dropped her cup of tea, the same fear as before being heightened. She had already told the Order that she would give them all the support she could from within the Ministry, she thought the work they were doing was extremely important, but being directly involved… She was scared for her other half. She knew now that he would become a target, and that he would be involved in missions more dangerous than ever. She smiled weakly, though, and gave him her full support, though from that moment would wake up frequently in the middle of the night with dreams of He Who Shall Not Be Named murdering her brother.
Taking Hogwarts by storm
From the moment the magical castle started being visible in the distance from the train window, Amelia was determined to make her time there memorable. Half of her wanted to show her parents that they were right, that she could do anything she set her mind to. Another half was just pure, 11 year old excitement.
While Edgar seemed to flourish in most things he did effortlessly all while maintaining a much larger social circle than her, she worked tirelessly in everything she did. If you could use any descriptor to describe Amelia Bones it would be STUBBORN. AS. HELL. She prided herself on sticking to her guns and being as loyal as Helga Hufflepuff herself, and this meant to her that she would put her 100% into everything she did, not to mention never backing down from an argument. When she knows she’s right, she knows that she is right, and she will make sure you know it as well. That didn’t mean she wasn’t open to different points of view or learning new things, but it was hard to convince her of anything without proof and reason.
She studied hard, joined every club she could, and when she got her prefect letter she jumped for joy. It still didn’t feel like enough, especially with her father’s muted reaction, so she spent the remainder of her time obtaining all of her OWLs and NEWTs until she was selected to be Head Girl and could say that she had finally done everything she could in her magical school of wonders.
She did sometimes wish that she had spent a bit more time making friends and having fun. Her best friend, Daisy, often told her that she was overworking herself, and although Amelia laughed it off, she secretly agreed with the girl. Sure, she had crushes and friends and kissed a few boys here and there, but the memories her friends had of watching Quidditch game and never missing a Hogsmeade weekend were quite different than hers.
Now… what?
With Amelia’s stellar Hogwarts track record, it was no surprise that her becoming a Ministry employee happened almost instantly. The Improper Use of Magic Office had so much to teach her about the inner workings of the Wizarding World, and working in the same department as her brother was comforting, even if they didn’t interact all that much. She entered the life of an adult witch ready to get her foot in the door and to change the world, little by little.
She quickly realized, however, that being an overachieving Hogwarts student didn’t do much for her past getting her pick of career. In the workplace she still had to prove herself in the same ways as everyone else, sometimes twice as hard if she was dealing with someone who knew of her stellar track record. Aside from that, no one really knew that she had once been Head Girl extraordinaire. She had to restart from zero in the real world to get to where she wanted. On top of that, no one was too concerned with giving her a Wizengamot Administration Services promotion while a war was brewing outside their doors.
Amelia found herself stuck. Edgar was protecting the wizarding world, and what was she doing? Making sure a 14-year-old didn’t set his mother’s garden on fire outside of Hogwarts, all while having few relationships that weren’t co-worker small talk and the occasional hook up with a stranger she met at The Leaky Cauldron? She loved her job, and she was going to keep striving for excellence, but she couldn’t help but feel insecure, lonely, and most of all, scared. Was she going to have spent her life working hard for nothing, only to die alone during a War? There was no way she was going to let that happen.
character aesthetic – — ( amelia bones )
❝ without struggle, there is no progress. ❞
The days where Amelia caught herself looking at the clock more than her actual work were the worst. Sure, it obviously meant that she was bored, and being bored always got on her nerves. Being bored at work, though, was a special kind of bad for Amelia. It started with her wishing she was somewhere else, and usually quickly evolved into her spiralling about her career and ambitions. This had been one of those days since two hours into her shift, so as soon as her clock rang 5 o’clock, she was quick to gather her things and leave her office.
Amelia didn’t intend to end up at The Leaky Cauldron, but then again, when did she ever? She had quickly changed out of her work clothes before leaving the Ministry, and her wandering through London just so happened to lead her to the magical inn. She entered and looked around, it wasn’t quite busy yet but had a fair amount of witches and wizards, and that was typically the pub atmosphere Amelia prefered. She walked right up to the bar, setting her bag down next to her stool of choice, and glanced at the person sitting near. “I’ll have whatever they’re having.”