#p:flora

[augustcallow-blog]

get you wild ✲ flora & august

@florafraser

Slytherin house was no so unlike the Hufflepuff one in August’s eyes. It was underground, for starters, and August quite liked that about it - the stone steps, the cool, crisp air, the feeling of going into something that was secret, private. Perhaps, in another life, August might’ve been a Slytherin - if he hadn’t been given the debilitating ability to see flashes of the future, he could’ve been a pureblood boy with ambition coursing through his system. He would’ve been an auror; he would’ve been the best in the Duelling Club. As it stood, however, August was none of these things - he was high and sprawled across Flora’s bed, staring up at the emerald that decorated her dormitory. “If you could be sorted into any other house,” August started, sitting propped up by one elbow to watch Flora, “what house would it be?” He was mildly coherent and aware today; since he’d run out of money and drugs, he’d had to take what he could get - wherever he could get it. Unsurprisingly, most of the drugs in the castle belonging to students were uppers, things to keep them awake and focused in order to study longer. August was now caught somewhere between the person he should be - pureblood, rational, hard as stone - and the person people knew him as: lazy, friendly, unabashed. It was a strange mix that Flora had experienced before - they’d gotten high together enough times that August didn’t have to worry about his behaviour offending her. “Personally, being in the lofty towers of Ravenclaw and Gryffindor sounds unappealing as fuck,” he said. “And a lot of fucking walking.”

The cigarette in his hand was burning down, and August took a drag as he sat up, gracefully swinging his legs off the side of her bed and making his way to the small dresser. It was laden with the kinds of trinkets and paraphernalia of a woman - makeup and jewelry and things that August had played with in his sister’s and mother’s room. He picked up a choker, turning it over, before looking at Flora. “So what’s the plan for tonight? Honestly, as long as there’s something stronger than alcohol involved, I’m there.” August placed the smoke between his lips before pulling the necklace over his head, messing up his blonde hair. It sat snug against his throat, and he started rifling with her belongings - another trait that most found annoying, considering that August never asked permission and simply invited himself. “And follow up question, are you planning to ditch me if you hook up? I don’t really trust myself to get back to the castle on my own,” he said, smiling at Flora self-deprecatingly. “So ride whatever dick you want but you’re coming home with me, right?”

[lennoxfraser-blog]

what the water gave me ↠ the frasers

The rushed exit from Hogwarts, the long train ride home, and two apparitions later, Lennox stood with Flora at the edge of their property boundary. The spell that their mother had had constructed when Lennox was a baby prevented anyone from apparating in - useful when it came to unexpected visitors, bad when it came to being tired and wanting to just fall into bed. Lennox used a simple levitation charm to carry their trunks for them, the two heavy objects floating behind them as they walked. Lennox had been quiet for most of the journey, grunting out orders to Flora where needed - it wasn’t just the image of Professor Vector’s dead body that was playing on his mind. Everything that had transpired at the Valentine’s Party - good, bad, as yet undecided - chased itself around Lennox’s head, and he was almost glad for a bit of time off at home. Here, things were simple; here, he was just Lennox, and his instructions were clear - take care of mum, take care of dad, take care of Flora. Simple, easy.

“C’mon,” Lennox murmured, shuffling down their dirt driveway and seeing the house ahead. There were lights on, despite the hour - it was nearer to dawn than anything else. Lennox supposed that his mum usually had a candle burning in her room, and their dad kept odd hours too, especially if he was working on anything at the moment. “I’m going to sleep for the next two days,” Lennox sighed as he went around to the back door with Flora in tow, finding it - as usual - unlocked. The dogs were sleeping in their kennels, and perked up at the sight of the Fraser children, tails thumping against the wood. “Stay,” Lennox whispered, passing his hand across their heads before slipping in through the door, holding it open for Flora, and then their trunks. He flicked his wand at the hallway and let the trunks settle quietly on the floor. Turning to his sister, Lennox yawned and stretched his arms over his head, blinking at her wearily. “Don’t make too much noise,” he whispered, “or you’ll wake mum up. Let’s just go to bed, yeah?”

Truthfully, Lennox was happy to be home. He regretted that the sacrifice was Professor Vector’s life, but if anything good was going to come from it, some time away from school was good enough. Just as Lennox wrapped an arm around Flora’s shoulders, giving her a half-hug, a cry pierced the quiet of the house - it sounded like a cat yeowling, or a baby bird, or-- Lennox’s brows furrowed in the darkness of the hallway, looking at Flora uncertainly as it happened again. And it was then, unmistakably, he knew it wasn’t an animal - but a baby’s cry.

[lennoxfraser-blog]

seven devils ↠ the frasers

Nothing felt as good as coming home. Lennox missed walking through the grounds surrounding the house; he missed petting his dogs; he missed the smell of the laundry powder and the way there was silence. It’d been a long journey from Scotland to London then back to Scotland, and Lennox had left Flora at the top of the stairs and fell asleep the moment he hit his bed, but they’d been home for a full day, and he felt sufficiently recovered. His trunk remained unpacked, sitting like a constant reminder at the end of his bed, and he’d managed to kick it open to find his dress robes. They were having dinner with the Thornbrooks that night - Christmas even tradition, as it were. The Frasers gave their Christmas Eve to the Thornbrooks in exchange for having Christmas Day to themselves, for which Lennox was grateful. Holidays tended to make their mother worse, the stress and guilt making for a bad combination that would’ve spilled over had they been forced out of the house. Lennox, showered and wearing only his pants, scrubbed the towel over his head to dry his hair a little more. It was getting long, and he pushed it back off his face before pulling open the door to the bathroom that he shared with Flora, finding that she was already in there.

“Good, you’re getting ready,” Lennox said, not wanting to say that he’d feared she’d boycott the dinner entirely. The Thornbrooks were among Flora’s least favourite people, and almost every holiday season ended with some new kind of bad blood between them that Lennox desperately tried to mop up year-round. “I know I say this every year, but do you think we can just... have a nice dinner tonight?” Lennox said, half-sighing. “They’re not going to be polite and they’re not going to be loving - they’re probably going to make thinly-veiled comments about all kinds of things before telling you to find a husband. So don’t act surprised - and don’t react,” Lennox said, rubbing his hair with the towel once more before tossing it into the hamper. “Alright?” Lennox asked, looking at Flora in the reflection of the mirror, eyes looking over her face - he knew that being home was the worst time of the year, but he’d always hoped that his presence eased a little of that for her. “For me?”

[lennoxfraser-blog]

what kind of man ↠ the frasers

FLASHBACK | Summer 2024

The annual Thornbrook summer garden party - strictly by invite only - was in full swing. The Thornbrook estate, spread across several acres of rolling green land that had proudly been passed from generation to generation. Despite the ties to purity that it seemed to demand, Lennox was proud of it: the Thornbrooks were one of only a handful of pureblood Scottish families left, and it would die with his grandparents. Neither Lennox nor Flora had that purity - not that they minded - but it was a shame that Lennox could do nothing to help continue that legacy. And yet, despite everything that should’ve driven Lennox from that land, his grandparents had always pulled him back in, grooming him to be the heir. He was a Fraser, true, but he was the only male descendant that the Thornbrooks had. Looking around the garden party, Lennox knew that all of this was supposed to be training - a way to get him ready for a future filled with this every week.

A floating white canopy had been erected over the party to provide shade from the warm sun. Lennox had stood with his grandfather that morning and raised it up, their wands aloft. Each table had been decorated with the colour scheme of white and gold: everything was spotless, pure. Blooming flowers were at the centrepiece of each table, while food was served on gold-rimmed plates. But the real spectacle were the people: witches and wizards had come dressed in their best for the Thornbrooks. Everyone was dressed in shades of white, beige, champagne, or gold - even Lennox was wearing white, which seemed to emphasise the tan of his skin from long summer days riding on his motorcycle. His wand was tucked into an inner pocket of his jacket, just in case he needed to clean up a spilled drink at some point. But his job for the day was to circle the party, smile, and shake hands - these were mostly Ministry people that his grandfather worked with, and they were among some of the best connected families. “Is your sister coming today?” asked Ulysses, clapping a hand on Lennox’s shoulder and standing beside him, the two surveying the party in progress. An orchestral band planned, the sound caught by the light breeze and lifted up. It was beautiful, but pointless - pretty but useless. “I think so,” Lennox said, mouth turning into a frown as he remembered Flora. “She’s probably just-- fashionably late, or whatever,” he shrugged, giving his grandfather a tight, reassuring smile. “Go enjoy the party, pa - I’ll make sure she gets here.”

[cammiesummers-blog]

Spit Your Fire || Cammie & Flora

florafraser said: 👊 bc these kids r roommates n there r bound to be clashes when u got two spitfires in one place :'))

👊 for an argument/fight starter

It wasn’t to say that Cammie was a neat freak, per se. She just enjoyed being a little more on the orderly side. Knowing that the rest of her life was a mess made it easy to justify being clean in her room. And it wasn’t that Flora was necessarily messy, just... not as clean as Cammie tended to be. Some nights if she was unsuccessful at catching bait, Cammie would wander back into the room, sloppily cast a silencing spell, and start to clean before passing out. 

But it was just that one thing that would tend to set her off: something thrown on the ground or crumbs or even something as elementary as a shirt folded incorrectly. Her eyes would roll and she would leave the room to try to ignore it, but it would tend to bother her throughout the day. Sometimes when Flora wasn’t around, Cammie would tidy up the other girls space. 

One day when coming home from skipping a class, Cam saw Flora in their room. “Hey, Flora. Would you mind cleaning your room a bit, later?” Of course it was said with a slight sarcastic tone, just like everything else Cammie said. It wasn’t always intentional, but it also was used often to cover up the heavy sass implied with her statements. “I mean it’s just a little bit on the messy side.”

@florafraser

[lennoxfraser-blog]

the shape of us ↠ the frasers

Summer was well and truly ending, and in true Scottish fashion, the winds and rain were picking up. Stepping out of the castle doors with Flora in tow, Lennox took in a deep breath, letting the fresh air fill his lungs and clear his head. “Good day for it,” he deadpanned sarcastically, glancing over his shoulder at his sister before turning back around. He’d pulled Flora out before breakfast, right when everyone else would still be sleeping to make sure that they had the pitch to themselves. Maybe it might’ve been seen as counter-intuitive to train with his sister, considering the fact that she was on an opposing team, but Lennox knew that if she really wanted to, she could have him knocked off his broom in ten minutes flat, practice or no practice. The rain was light, but coupled with the wind, it turned into a hazy mist that clung to his skin. Their brooms, tucked under their arms, were light as they headed down to the pitch, which was unlocked at dawn by Madame Aduras for this very purpose. 

“We probably should’ve practiced more over the summer,” Lennox noted with a frown as he stepped onto the pitch, neck craning to see the stands and goal posts. “Kind of feel a bit out of shape. Anyway, just have to work harder now, right Florrie?” He’d told her his plan for that morning - of practice, of exercise - and she hadn’t been pleased; maybe she’d even thought he was joking. But he knew that with the right motivation - and the right amount of push from his side, she’d follow suit - there weren’t many places that he would go that she wouldn’t follow after. “Broom down - stretch it out,” he told her, placing his broom down and starting to stretch his legs, pulling his ankle up behind him. “And no complaining - it’s far too early for that shit.”

[the--theo]

Why are you so interesting | Theo&Flora

Theo: Theo look at her with amusement, ready with his sarcasm but as he saw the way she looked down at the floor he recognized a look he sometimes saw in the mirror before hiding it and destroying any mark it may leave. He rose his brows and bent down to grab a T-shirt and pull it down over his head. As he pulled the edges to cover his upper body he squinted slightly. "You can't actually think that Flora." He said with a know-it-all voice and crossed his hands before his chest. "Like, first of all, why the heck would anyone ever be grossed out of you or your body? You're hot and if a guy says otherwise I'd laugh in his faggot face, k?" He was complimenting but his tone wasn't all that nice because he found it completely unbelievable that she had just said what she had. He hated it when people didn't have an objective view on themselves. Be it a lower opinion on themselves or a higher than the needed. "Second, who should I smack in the head for feeding you those lines" he asked and chuckled just a slightly bit. "And third..." He began and just grinned, looking at her, down and up.