#srk starter

[regandaniels]

"This is a bit nervewracking out of the blue, but I guess I’m back in town for the foreseeable future. So...Hi?” 

[herladyshipkatie]

katie & al • Jun 1 • text

KH: I'm at my flat and my fridge is empty so I have pizza and red wine en route. You in?

[jimothypotter]

Jamie & Val • June 6

Jamie: So I’m cute, huh?

[rosewesle]

rose & jake | sweet love

There were very few things Rose detested more than an abundance of free time. Free time led to over thinking, which led to idle criticism, which led to thinking too much about her miserable existence. Dramatic? Quite possibly. But Rose had always been prone to theatrics. 

Diagon Alley isn’t exactly a relaxing place to be. There are so many people who know her, and her hair is a dead fucking giveaway. She has taken to wearing a long cloak with the hood pulled up to disguise herself, but it gets harder and harder to do so, because she’s often dressed in Muggle clothing. The Muggle clothing makes her even more conspicuous. The click of her heels is almost as loud as the clicks of the cameras as they snap photos of Rose Granger-Weasley, Muggle Liaison, daughter of the Minister for Magic Hermione Granger-Weasley—look over here! What’s new, Rosie Posie? Still breaking hearts? It grates on her like nails on a chalkboard but she forces herself to move along. 

Her destination looms in front of her. A wizard bar, new to Diagon Alley. It’s one of those concept-bars like the ones that Muggles have. The paps blessedly leave her alone as she crosses the threshold and pulls her hood down with a huff. 

Alone. At a bar. With NO Muggles and unlimited time on her hands... she sighs and orders an old fashioned, which at this bar is obnoxiously labeled as a Firefucker. It suits her, she thinks, especially in this mood. 

Someone sits down next to her and she swears for a second that she might actually kill them, but she thinks better of it. “Don’t you know to leave a gap?” 

[regandaniels]

Regan opened the door to the bookshop, allowing her to finally push the hair out of her face. She was excited to be back in London with her friends, hopefully getting her career on track and starting her life. It’s not that she regretted moving home after school but knew she did it mostly out of guilt, feeling terrible that her brother never bothered to even send a postcard to their parents, let alone come visit. She felt she had to visit for both of them, no wonder she stayed so long.

The shop was smaller than she remembered, but she had only visited London a handful of times before moving permanently. Still, she knew exactly where to go to find what she was looking for. Her copy of Pride and Prejudice was at her parent’s house, no doubt catching dust on her old bookshelves. Her mom had offered to mail it to her, but it had been worn and read so many times, Regan feared it wouldn’t survive the post office, and using wizard methods never worked well when it came to her muggle parents. 

She found a used copy that definitely could use more love, made her purchase, and braced herself to go back outside and across the street to a coffee shop. By the time she finally settled into a chair by the window with her iced coffee, she was exhausted. She decided to start a reread of the book she just bought but looked up when she heard footsteps approaching her chair. “Hi?” She winced internally when she realized she phrased such a simple greeting as a question. Starting conversations was never her strong suit.

[valentinezabini]

the villa | val & james

@jimothypotter

Valentine loved the views from the villa. All of his best memories of his father (before the scandal) were at the villa, or out at sea, bouncing up and down as his father deftly maneuvered the boat up and down the coast. The villa belonged to Val now, a promise his father had kept after he turned 17. It was the place at which he felt most at home. England was lovely, but Italy’s food was far superior. Plus, the deck overlooking the water was his favorite place in the world to write. Especially considering his current project was a book of poetry. It wrote itself from the views he had. 

Inviting Potter to the villa had been a risky move. Val was most unguarded surrounded by the sea, his emotions breaking through the dam he had carefully built up for so many years. It was the most personal place he could possibly be. More so than Hogwarts, or home, or London. His roots were here, in every possible way. The artwork had all been handpicked by himself, every piece of decoration combed over meticulously. The fridge was stocked with his favorite foods, the china in the cabinet was handpicked at an auction, even the soap in the bathroom was all a reflection of who he was. He hoped that his instructions had been accurate enough for him to find the place, as it was well hidden from Muggle intrusions. 

And Potter would be in it. In moments. He had servants, not House Elves. He preferred to hire local witches and wizards who could speak both Italian and English. It kept him talking in Italian—the language of his grandmother—and English. Currently, they had prepared a spread to welcome their visitor (they were incredibly overjoyed to hear that he was seeing someone outside of his servants), full of fresh fruits, dates, and a proper amount of wine. Val sat still as a statue with a glass of cabernet in his hands, waiting for James. 

[herladyshipkatie]

eggplant parm.

Katie tapped her manicured nails against the tan leather of the Mercedes’ back seat, the dull tapping sound calming her. She’d first slept with Albus almost a decade ago, but the thrill of anticipation she felt before they met up had never fully faded. Unlike so many of the men she dated, he never expected her to be anything besides herself. He saw parts of her that few people got to see–her messiness, her anxiety, her idiosyncrasies–and it didn’t matter because he wasn’t her boyfriend or someone she wanted to become her boyfriend, he was just Al. That didn’t stop him from making fun of her for taking cars instead of apparating places, of course. 

Maybe it was kind of silly, but she simply didn’t see the point in risking a splinching to save fifteen minutes in travel time. Sure, they could usually put you back together, but why take that chance? Not to mention that there was something to be said in defense of riding through London. It made her feel connected to her adopted city in a way that few other experiences could.

The car slowed, pulling to a stop in front of Rose and Al’s building. She thanked the driver, gathered the food, and nodded at the doorman on her way into the lobby. Katie sometimes thought she could time the trip from the lobby to their door down to the second, she had walked it so many times. She let herself in quietly, heels clicking softly down the hallway. She was fairly certain that Rose wasn’t here tonight–she had chosen to spend a few days in France while this fiasco with the PM’s son blew over–but nonetheless, Katie kept an eye out for her redheaded best friend as she made her way through the flat. It wasn’t that she was avoiding Rose, or even that she was hiding this thing with Al. Rose just had a tendency to ask questions that Katie herself didn’t know the answers to.

She found Al in the den, focusing intently on a book. Katie knew that she got to see hidden parts of Al too: his reading glasses, his furrowed brow as he thought through a particularly complex herbology concept, his second-guessing. She slipped out of her shoes, nudging them into an out of the way corner. She laid the pizza and wine down on the coffee table in front of him before making her way into the kitchen to grab plates and glasses. By the time she returned, Al had set down his book and was opening the box. “It’s meatball, by the way. I’ve been craving it for ages.”

[delilahlongbottom]

         Regan walked down the halls of the Ministry, balancing several large filing boxes and a cup of coffee. She had an unbelievable amount of work, it seemed that every Witch and Wizard had decided to perform magic in front of Muggles this week and as usual Delilah was left to clean up the mess. 

She was already on her third cup of coffee and could see even more in her future. The stack of boxes she struggled to carry obscured her few so she didn’t see the figure she bumped into when she rounded the corner, sending her files and coffee flying. “Shit, bugger, fuck.” She cursed, letting out even more obscenities that  would normally never leave Delilah’s lips. “I’m so sorry I didn’t see you.” She said, remembering her manners as she desperately gathered her papers before they got soaked in coffee.