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[wongas--frank]

White and Lilac Boredom

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Albus gave a grunt of annoyance as he turned a page in the book.  It was hard doing everything one handed, and with the wrong hand at that.  He’d always prided himself on the independence he had, the way he lived.  His shoulder and right arm were still mostly useless, the stasis spell keeping the bones in place to heal.  Meant he had very basic control of his right hand and that was about it.  

Thank Circe he could unlock is phone, even if he couldn’t do fuck else with it.  

His muggle friends were put off with explanations of a family thing, which was easy enough to believe.  His magical friends and relations were harder to put off.  Worry in the forms of letters and flowers and someone had even sent a Patronous, which really he wish had been James so it would have been him singing off key.  But it left his room looking like an advert for Valentine’s day.  And it did so little to alleviate his boredom.

Or his shame.

Or his rage.  

The sound of the door opening had him looking up.  A smile bloomed across his face, eyes brightened, and he let the bright and happy Albus mask slip easily into place.  

“Please tell me you brought snacks?  Hospital food is dreadful.”

“What kind of fucking friend would I be if I didn’t?” Frank had practically waltzed in with stacks of boxes, though he wasn’t so sure where to put them.

The guard outside had made him open all of them to make sure he wasn’t going to blow up the most famous wizard in his twenties. There were cupcakes missing from the perfect dozen he made, all randomly chosen by the guard outside for inspection, and a slice of the cake had been removed—though at that point Frank was convinced that they just wanted some of the food he had made.

He didn’t want to admit he was anxious, but baking did make him feel better. The idiots with the letter really meant what they were going to say. Arlo said that the whole thing had to do with blood purity, though Frank was confused: attacking Albus wasn’t going to stop everything Harry Potter had done already. It wasn’t like the systems in place were all dependent on one person… were they?

“I actually don’t feel that terrible for not having written you sooner!” Frank wasn’t even the kind of person to really write. Albus was already swimming in gifts and well-wishes anyway. He wasn’t family, that’s for sure—so he didn’t really get priority to visit. And that was… fine.

[wongas--frank]

Prides aren’t just for Lions

@oxfordasp

Albus moved through the crowds at London’s pride like oil, sliding around groups of people with a well placed smile and a laugh.  He’d ducked into an alley once he’d arrived and spelled his hoodie away, the croptop tight against his chest and leaving his midriff bare.  He’d dumped a handful of a potion into his hands and run it through his hair, leaving it seemingly changing all the colors of the rainbow and sparkling in the light.  His own design, it was formulated to keep his hair iridescent and looking rainbowy all day long.  Tight shorts, rainbow Converse, and a liberal application of emerald green eye-shadow and he was bounding out into the crowd with less than a care.  

He joined new friends for pints and chips before disappearing again, finding friends here and there.  He was in fine form, flitting about and not holding too close to any one person or place.  The day’s activities were only the beginning of his fun: he was ready for sundown and the after-parties to start.  He was happy, content, smoking like a chimney and drinking like a fish.  He’d just received another gin and soda, a subtle dip of his rainbow polished pinky into the glass and a little flash of magic to keep it pure, when he smiled at whomever had just come his way.  

“Great day for it, innit?  Hard to argue with this much sun and this many bodies!” Albus said with bright smile and sharp eyes.  “Can’t wait till things get just a little crazier, no?”

Frank’s time at the parade was becoming quickly limited, much like that muggle cinder princess story about the ticking clock. While there wasn’t a pumpkin carriage involved, that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to be in any less trouble if he didn’t make it back to the Leaky Cauldron before the pub got busy.

But the familiar voice of a friend drew him away from that concern—and Albus Potter fit in perfectly with the crowd. Perhaps the only time Albus fit in anywhere. It took Frank a second to realize, behind the eyeshadow and glitter, that it was actually someone he knew who was trying to make conversation.

“Crazier?” Frank raised a brow at Albus’s statement, as if daring him to make it so. He clapped a hand on Albus’s shoulder, eyes wide upon realizing something.

“How are you gonna do that You don’t got any of those… secret ingredients, do you?” Now seemed like the perfect time for one of those that Albus had mentioned back at the apothecary a few days ago. Frank reached over and patted Albus’s head, mussing up whatever rainbow sheen he had.That didn’t look like it came out of a muggle salon. “Unless you have some of this stuff left instead?”

[wongas--frank]

Look Around

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Albus rolled a pen between his fingers, staring at the screen of his tablet with something akin to annoyance.  The ratios weren’t settling and it was leading him to burn through more reagents and time than he necessarily wished.  It wasn’t a breakthrough by any amount - he wasn’t working to change the very basic nature of potioneering here - but there had to be a more effect manner for creating dreamless sleep than dosing people with a level of magical opiates that was frankly insane.  And it was a good project while he watched the counter for the master herbalist, Mrs. Blynn.  Good job to have found a journeyman position that let him practice and grow without being chained to a cauldron.  

That’s how you ended up with hair like his namesake, apparently.  

The small runic circle in the top corner of the tablet flickered, warding against another wave of magic as the door swung open.  He wasn’t the best at register work.  And people were sometimes off put by the nails.  But these were powder blue and totally nonthreatening.   He waved his hand over in the direction, a greeting in barest form.  “Do come in, take a look about.  Let me know if you need anything at all,” he called out, the speech well worn.  He reached for his coffee, eyes looking up and smile easy.

The first round of cauldron cakes was good, according to the one other person who had tried it. That didn’t mean that the ingredients Frank had back at the Leaky Cauldron were sufficient for what he was trying to do, and he wasn’t sure some of them had aged well. That kitchen’s not a home, that was not the stove he knows—though most of his cooking he was trying to do now by wandwork.

The Leaky Cauldron was watched by someone at the front of the shop, but that didn’t mean that Frank had all day to pick out what he needed. Hell, he barged into the apothecary and immediately started looking through the shelves for something that’s resistant to heat, but very mild in flavor.

“Oh shit—Albus—I didn’t notice you were there…” It was only at the customer service welcome that Frank had realized there was actually someone at the counter. How could Frank not had noticed? Everything that Albus was—from his name, his face, and his nails—were damn noticeable for leagues away. And those generic words of welcome were well practiced at the Leaky Cauldron.

Frank tilted his head to look at what looked like a clipboard in Albus’s hands. “What’s that you’ve got?”

[beatrice-lestrange]

Worth The Waste

How the entirety of the magical community happened to fit in the Great Hall spoke a lot about how small it was. While Beatrice was sure that not everyone could come, it was clear that there was no one who had not received an invitation. Her eyes scanned the room quickly as she moved from table to table, less eager to look for company and more interested in doing some eavesdropping of her own.

The familiar wave of jet black hair passed her and she couldn’t help but follow. Whatever injury Albus Potter sustained, Beatrice couldn’t actually see from where she stood. It was the first thing she looked for, though she was more concerned with getting within earshot of him. She was determined to prove that he was just as pigheaded as his father and spoiled to the core with how much attention he had received.

“You look just like your father.” Beatrice nearly snorted, holding back her laughter. She almost wished, for how much Harry Potter spent trying to protect his son, that Albus was had an injury that was actually worth the waste. “How lucky is it that he decided that the entire department of law enforcement revolves around you?”

@oxfordasp​ 

[thcdreadless]

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The nerves bubbled inside Scorpius as he apparated onto the ground at Hogsmede station. Wizards and witches alike where appearing around him, heading towards the carriages that would pull them to the castle. He stood himself off to one side so he could wait for Albus to arrive. He wouldn’t have come tonight if it wasn’t for him, and merlin knows it took some convincing, but here he was. He wasn’t sure seeing his old classmates was going to be such a thrilling experience as people had expected, and he definitely wasn’t certain this was the right thing to be doing in such times, but if Albus thought it was safe, then he trusted his judgement

As he saw a head of black hair appear just ahead, he knew it had to be his old friend. When he saw him from the front, Scorpius couldn’t help but gasp slightly to himself. It was impossible to describe the way Albus looked, but Scorpius almost couldn’t believe the sight before him. The black cloak hung so elegantly off his shoulders, his heels giving him that bit of extra height.  He looked powerful. 

“Wow Al.” He grinned slightly as he walked up to him. “I feel underdressed.” Scorpius couldn’t take his eyes off of his friend, and for a second it seemed like he was the only one there with him.