???

Ted Tonks. 49. Broadcaster. Wizarding Wireless Network.

[tedtks]

grcngernotes​:

A pudú? Hermione had never heard of such a thing, though she made a mental note as to research the species when she arrived back at her flat. Magical creatures and animals in general had only become an area of research for her towards the end of her Hogwarts career when she was finally sorting out what field of work she wanted to go into. SPEW had always been such a large part of her interest that she’d resigned herself to the library more than her own dormitory during her final years just to study the magical creatures in the world. Hagrid was also quite the help, though Hermione didn’t particularly enjoy the hike over to his small cottage at the edge of the grounds. “Do they stay small, then? And grow antlers as well? I’ve only ever seen a handful of deer in my life, though they do get quite big…” Her parents never let her have so much as a goldfish at their home which was why Hermione was so thrilled to finally be able to have a cat of her own while entering Hogwarts. 

Thick ringlets shifted to one side as she tilted her head in the slightest at his music recommendations. It was no question that Hermione wasn’t the most in touch when it came to trends, though she liked to think that the classics would always stay cool so to speak. Ron begged to differ and called it old man music, but it was a comfort to Hermione. Eyes lit up slightly when he mentioned that he too was muggleborn, and she suddenly wondered about his own experiences and whether or not they were similar to her own here. “Are you? No, I didn’t know that… But I’ll be sure to give it a listen. You know, my father adored George Harrison… Gave in to the entire Beatle mania thing back in the sixties, which was a bit odd given that he’s a dentist now.” 

“No. They stay pretty small. Like a mini-deer. Think they’re on the endangered list now or so. Can’t really say. Not something I keep up with much.” Or at all. Or really ever. Ted had been drawn to Herbology more than creatures, keen on keeping all his fingers and toes more than he was dealing with some Manticore or whatever it was they felt was right to show kids back then. Hogwarts was a death trap. He didn’t know how he or Andromeda or, God, Dora had made it through in one piece. 

“Beatle mania. Right, Well, uh, can’t fault them for their hits. Always had a top charter but a bit before my time out of school. Harder to get a vinyl into the castle back then. If you’re looking for recommendations now, and like I said earlier you can tell me piss off when I get started, Siouxsie & The Banshees would be a good place to go. Talking Heads, Fleetwood Mac. They’ve got a whole thing you could fall into. Sad story, amazing music. Think it’s pretty important to be critical of the music and the musicians you’re consuming. I think it makes their work really click, right? You know why they chose to write about what they did, find the meaning in their songs. And Stevie, oh boy, she just had a rough go of it but the art she made from it is stunning. Nothing else like it. Now I’m sure you’ve heard of Blondie, The Clash, but if you’re looking for something softer give Carole King a try. Just take a few hours, settle in, and listen to tapestry in one go. That woman is a genius. No one else like her. Well, Carly Simon. Joni Mitchell. A few like her then.”  A tap on the shoulder had Ted turning and he was met with the friendly face of one Glenda Chittock. With a rousing hello, Ted lent an ear to her whispering, the words and darted an eye towards the stage one Lorcan d'Eath was still giving it a go. “I’m sorry. I really am, Hermione. I’ve, uh, just heard I may be able to snag an interview with Spellbound. You’ll listen to the show though? Let me know what you think?”

[tedtks]

tcnks​:

And perhaps it wasn’t fair to place this burden upon their father, who had spent his life trying to make the world seem like a kinder place than it really was and had shied away from the realities of war to build his own improbable little family and hope that they might thrive. But there was something grim, growing out there amidst the sentiments of the world, whispers of war that had taken seed and stirred up even the most stalwart of the first order members who were now getting twitchy and restless and reminded Tonks, so dearly, of how much their role mattered. Of how much of a part the Ministry should be playing in quelling these dangers to their world, to the safety of the people in it, and how they were turning a blind eye to so much of it.

Their own frustration had begun to fester, poisoned by the understanding that they’d given Scrimgeour the opportunity he needed to strip them of their privileges, to blind them to what was really going on and take another pair of eyes out of the department. Order Meetings like the one they’d been to that morning, that they’d done their best to ignore because every revelation weighed a little heavier upon them, every bit of information something else that they couldn’t act upon because their badge was only good as a paperweight these days. “No, dad,” and maybe they frustration had been bound to boil over eventually, but they’d never wanted it to be at him. “It’s not going to go back to normal — it’s not normal out there. The Ministry is—”

They hadn’t said it out loud, hadn’t acknowledged it, but they knew that it was wrong, that things had been wrong for a while. That Scrimgeour wasn’t acting out of the best interests of the public or the department, but only out of political optics. “Something’s happening inside of the Ministry it’s like — it’s like they’re trying to weed out opposition, to get rid of anyone who’s looking too closely. They don’t want me there.”

Their father had never wanted a part of any war, not the one that had killed his friends and certainly not the one that Tonks could do absolutely nothing about. 

“What do you mean?” The flair up of anger should be expect by now. Dora hadn’t changed that much, not really. Perhaps it was hereditary, the Tonks never having much of a tolerance for holding on to sadness when better emotions could be had or the Blacks penchant for anger. Ted had hope, and he though he had, done a good job of teaching that emotions (even the less than fun ones) weren’t a sign of weakness. He’d shoulder through and help Dora work this out.

“The Ministry is the Ministry, Dora. They’ve never changed. And if they’re still up to their old tricks, what is you being there going to change? If they want you out and you want to be there, we’ll find a way to get you back in. I’ll talk to Arthur. See if he can work with Kingsley but you’re not...It’s bigger than just you. Always has been and you can’t expect to fight it all by yourself. You shouldn’t even be fighting it. I don’t need to tell you what happens to be people that do.” Ted caught himself, pulling back both physical and shutting up at once. Fingers drumming uselessly on his knee for a moment before his grip on his wand renewed and he was standing up and assessing the untidy kitchen with the eye of a man who had spent a lifetime getting training on how to keep a clean house and hadn’t managed to learn a lick of tidiness. “Let’s fix Harvey.” He shot a half-thought out cleaning spell towards the sink, the plates and bowls and dishes banging into each other with little care to delicacy as he turned to his daughter with a plastered on grin of positivity. “You can do it. Just a nice bit of sunshine for him.”

[tedtks]

zodiac bingo - libra

Libras value empathy. They are receptive. They can be other people’s mirrors. Because of this, they have strong opinions about other people, but take a long time to understand themselves. They want to be seen as the responsible figure who can balance out the turbulent elements around them. They feel an intense amount of guilt and shame when they are unhappy because they know that their unhappiness affects everyone around them.

Libras are compassionate and empathetic people. They are willing to go out of their way to help others. They dislike conflict and avoid confrontations. These traits lead them to be manipulated by others. Libras also have a tendency to be indecisive. They are so concerned about other people's feelings that they let other people make decisions for them. Libras put a lot of weight on the opinions of others. Although they are secretly terrified of negative judgment, they have a hard time avoiding the spotlight.

You could say that Libra is the master of compromise. They want to please everyone and will do anything to keep the peace. They are also very compassionate people, and sometimes have a hard time saying no to others. This can somewhat complicate things when those others are manipulative or self-serving.

[tedtks]

grcngernotes​:

. 

“Oh yes. It quite the awful rage at the moment. Clabberts in cupboards, diricawls in the bathroom… I’ve heard that some host parties to show up their finds… Rather cruel, isn’t it? As if it’s some strange status symbol to have illegally bought some creature who has no business being in such a small space. You know, years ago, muggles used to buy giraffes and deer and tigers and such as pets if they were wealthy… I can’t help but recognize the similarities,” she informed the man with a small shrug of the shoulders. It was true though, the department was working overtime to rectify such reckless behaviour.  Lips stretched into a smile at his mention of his own club, though she’d noticed his quick change of subject. At least they weren’t talking about his daughter though. “I’m afraid I haven’t heard much about it, though I’m sure that my friend Ron would have gone mad over it. He had a rat, though I think he lost it a bit ago… Scabbers, his name was. I can’t recall seeing too many rats back at Hogwarts, though I suppose my cat had a knack for scaring them off,” she chuckled, unable to even imagine how wild Crookshanks might get over a bunch of rats racing against each other. “Ted’s Tune Time… I’ll have to give it a listen, is it a conversational show as well? Or do you only play songs? I’ve been told that I should… broaden my taste in music. Too much muggle tunes, Ron says… Though I quite like The Beatles and John Denver and Kenny Loggins… A bit dated, but that sort of stuff is nice…” 

“They give the diricrawl the bath, at least? Or run the shower? Like the humidity, don’t they?” Clabberts and diricrawls. Ted had enough with just a puppy in the house with them. He couldn’t imagine inviting a whole zoo to move in and having it go well. “So I’ve heard. You know, my tía used to have a pudú, like a deer but, uh, bit smaller. Little more round. Never asked if she was supposed to have it. Didn’t think like that when I was your age but it was sweetest little thing. Nothing to worry about but it eating your plants though. Not like it could breathe fire or anything.”

Amused confusion flooded Ted’s features as he listened to Hermione tell him all about Ron’s rat. “It’s not, uh, well...Can’t say I saw any rats in my dad in the club but Dedalus and I didn’t set out for it to be that kind of club. More of a place to hang out really than anything. Is that what they’re doing now? Playing with rats?” The confusion, now brightly dismissed as a topic he could go on for hours about was brought up, came back quickly. Just as Ted tried to hide a smile of pity as the young woman seated behind him listed off some artists that had no chance of making the Ted Tonk’s Top Ten list. “Don’t know if I’ll be able to help you out then. It’s all muggle and muggleborn music I play on there. Occasionally we get a muggleborn artist on but they tend to head back into that old world instead of sticking it out in this one when they get a hit. I’m muggleborn myself. Dora never mentioned it? Gotta say you might want to give it a listen if you’re stuck on the Beatles. Real great stuff on there. Or, I think so! But I’m a bit biased.” 

[tedtks]

tcnks​:

There was an inherent comfort that came from the sound of her grandparents language spoken aloud, it reminded them of a quieter, more sheltered existence before the world had crept on into their lives and made everything so complicated. Of their grandmother’s cooking and their father insisting that she speak to him in that same tongue, because he wouldn’t see their culture disappear before his own eyes. The magical world did that to the people it pulled into its orbit.

Still, they were so very tired of the waiting, the endless stasis of not knowing what lay before them. Bubbles drifted past, cotton-candy coloured distractions that popped upon their nose and once upon a time would have been greeted with amazement and delight but these days served only as a passing distraction. “I just want things to go back to normal,” they replied, they very same futile wish that they knew would not come true, “I want to do my job and not be—”

A failure. They didn’t want to be a failure anymore.

“I don’t want to start all over again, dad, I don’t know how to do anything else.”

And that was the crux of the matter, wasn’t it? They’d found something they were good at, that had felt right and made them feel like they were doing something important. How long could they keep pretending that the longer this suspension stretched out, the less likely it was they’d ever be allowed back into the department. “I don’t think they’re going to take me back.”

“You don’t know that, peuchen.” For all his dislike of the Ministry and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Ted knew that Dora had found a spot where she fit. It had been one of the worries of parenthood, conversations Dromeda and him had over a warm cup late at night when someone was supposed to be in bed and had to change the subject abruptly when the unconscious noise of clumsy footfalls on the stairs alerted them to their private conversation moving to a more public forum. Or in the back garden, sitting by the far fence with a cigarette they definitely weren’t smoking split between them as they looked out to the sea and tried to figure out if the way they had settled into raising another person was going to be good enough.  Failure was something Ted thought the world could do without but, if it had to be a part of the balance of life, it shouldn’t be something anyone navigated alone. Life was brighter and hard times easier when you didn’t try to make it on your own. A safety net was important, so much so it could be the thing keeping you alive instead of dead. In this case, it wasn’t his child’s life he was worried about but them and every instinct was telling Ted he could just march into the offices of the DMLE and talk to whoever was in charge of this whole suspension business and come to a solution that worked for all parties. They’d be dumb to let her go when her dedication was absolute. He’d still rather than dedication didn’t involve the government but it could be worse. So much terribly worse. He and Dromeda hadn’t done too bad of a job, had they?

If there was no way to distract and no way to help, Ted was at a loss. He hated the parts of life that were simply waiting, stuck in an uncomfortable moment when there were clear avenues to take to make it less uncomfortable quickly, but he could recognize that these periods of growing up were important. He’d never think of Dora as sheltered. (She’d made sure they never had the chance to shelter her.) But she was grown and that meant Mom or Dad couldn’t step in the save the day anymore. His own life had shook out so differently, responsibility (of his own making) being dropped in his lap at age twenty. Having a family didn’t make career changes a possibility. “Things will go back to normal. You just have to give it time this once, Dora. Let them look over your career and all your accomplishments and your hard work because you and I both know half their lot isn’t as devoted as you are. And maybe after all of this blows over, you take a few more hours. Pick up some overtime and try your hardest to keep doing your best. People don’t overlook hard workers. Not when they’re the reason the aurors are working well.”

[pedrohub]

[tedtks]

grcngernotes​:

. 

Her stomach dropped at the seeming enthusiasm about the person who truly seemed to have made it their life’s mission to make Hermione’s a living hell. And this was their father? He seemed a bit too normal. And kind… Not one that would breed a short tempered, rabbit sized monster. Either way, he seemed decent enough and Hermione thought it rude to simply leave after getting a hand-me-down drink from the other. She’d at least have to finish it first before making a graceful departure. Eyes flashed back to the talent, and then to Bellatrix who was so calmly sitting by her lonesome with a mob of emptied chair around her. Annoying, but somewhat impressive that someone could fend them off for so long. 

Managing to stop herself from rolling her eyes at such high praise about the person she thought less of than an actual sewer, Hermione simply gave a nod and a small smile that was masked by another sip of her drink. “Oh, I don’t have many questions… Though I suppose all of us at the ministry have been a bit curious as to why they haven’t been at work? You know, we do see aurors quite frequently. It’s strange not to see a face that’s almost always around…” The words were spoken quite innocently, curiously, though she wondered if her father knew the reasoning behind it. Hermione gave a small shrug before returning to her drink. “But yes, I work in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, though I do head a smaller organization inside of that which focuses on the work I started as a student at Hogwarts.” It was clear that this was quite the area of interest for her by the way those eyes and voice perked up. “House Elf liberation,” Hermione clarified firmly. “You wouldn’t imagine how many offenses are perpetrated against House Elves due to their status. They receive no representation to this day in courts of law…”  Another sip, “Though I could probably talk your ear off about this as well… What do you do?”

“You see the aurors in the creature department that often? I had no idea you lot had so much cross over. Guess it makes sense though. Do you deal with a lot of wixen taking in illegal creatures? Because I’ve heard a story or two about that sort of thing. You know, someone once told me about an abraxan in a flat. Right shock on their face when they opened up the door for a noise complaint. I’m sure you hear about that sort of thing all the time.” 

Despite common assumption, Ted wasn’t the greenest person in the village. He had held his own against formidable foes such as Puddifoot and J. Pippins, always questioning him to know the details on Warbeck’s next tour or the Vibe Twins next album. When the loaded question about Dora’s absent from the Ministry came him way, Ted could only brush past it with questions of his own. His kid hadn’t chosen to tell Hermione, or maybe they had and the girl beside him was only looking for confirmation. Either way, it was none of Ted’s business why or how or when Dora told the world. “Oh, is it? You started a whole movement while you were in school? Have you ever heard of the Rat Race Club? Started it myself with Dedalus– He works over at Ollivanders. Greatest wandmaker I’ve ever met!  Well, we started it when we were at Hogwarts. Is it still going strong? Big membership? Not that I think it could compete with your House Elf Club. No! Go ahead! Talk my ear off. I’ve said enough. I’m over at the Wireless. Have been for the past, God, nearly twenty or so years. I’ve got a weekly show, Ted's Tune Time? I’m on every Wednesday at three. Been trying to bring some, uh, I wouldn’t say culture but, you know, diversity to the magic airways here.”

[tedtks]

tcnks​:

There was nothing in the world that couldn’t be fixed by their father’s sheer optimism and force of will, or so they’d always been led to believe. Tonks had never once seen him come up against a problem that he couldn’t attempt to talk his way through, and as he rattled off three solutions to three problems in quick succession, none of them problems they’d even cared to acknowledge beneath the weight of the biggest ones, it felt like trying to push a boulder up a hill. Gravity was always going to bring it down again.

“I don’t want a party this year, pa,” they replied, the idea of throwing a party, let alone wanting to be there surrounded by all the people who’d be most disappointed in them felt like a curse rather than a good time. “I just want to—”

Pretend that today had never happened. That the last few months hadn’t happened. To somehow return to their job and the way that things had been before they’d let themself sink to the point where their best friend was hardly recognisable (or was that just her), she had a kitchen full of Devil’s Snare and they were ten seconds away from crying all over their dad on said kitchen’s floor like they hadn’t done since the summer before sixth year when they’d done their utmost best to hide from Charlie how devastated they were that he was disappearing on his dream placement and leaving them behind. 

“Charlie’ll be here,” they offered eventually, blinking rapidly as if the idea of losing their house plant and that they couldn’t face their mother just yet could be swept under the rug neatly by that point. “It wouldn’t — Tenks wouldn’t like it up here. He needs a backyard.” That’s what Charlie would say at least, that a dog like Tenks who was used to Cove Cottage should be able to run around.

No party this year?  Well, that was strange but Ted could accept it. His own big birthday was looming nearer and nearer as the years dragged on and he was in no hurry to get it. A party was the best way to usher in an old age (Not that thirty was old but they’d learn that soon enough.) but it was clear Dora had no interest in discussing invitations or catering from the kitchen of Ted or presents.  With a wave of his wand, Ted produced a tissue. Not trusting them to have anything of the sort in arm’s reach. “No party then.” The bright positivity he had pushed into his earlier speech was fading as Ted slipped into his parents native tongue. Trying a gentler approach to comforting Dora might be the ticket into unraveling all the things troubling her. “You just want to what?” A soft shower of colored bubbles left his wand, the sort of thing that used to be just the trick into getting her to smile.  She was so much like Dromeda sometimes that Ted wondered if he had contributed to her raising or conception at all. Dora’s narrow minded focus when it came to her morals or work was steadfast. Unwavering in the face of authority or criticism. He should have noticed, back at Ostara, that something bigger was wrong. They had told him and their mother and instead of pushing and smothering, Ted and Andromeda had let it lie. Big mistake. “He can do one night without the yard. You don’t want to get into the pet sitting business? Not even for me?” 

[aanakin]

[tedtks]

tcnks​:

The heavy drape of the arm around her shoulders drew a faint hiccuping breath as their father trod cheerfully, obliviously, into the minefield discussion of a birthday that had been dropped, unanticipated, into their lap before they could prepare or grow excited or even think about it — because their life was enough of a disaster right now that thinking about it hadn’t even made their top ten of things to be concerned with. How had she turned thirty without even noticing.

Their mouth dropped open, dumbstruck by the sudden understanding, as chatter about birthday months and questions of what you got a dog for their birthday sailed through their brain, ricocheting unhelpfully as their tongue stuck like glue to the roof of their mouth, stalling again on all the things they hadn’t said because her supportive, cheerful father would say it all for her and miss the point entirely in the process if he kept on going long enough. 

“I don’t know what to do,” they offered instead, faced with a barrage of questions they didn’t have any answers for and realising, belatedly, that they’d spent so long building resilience and self-reliance and steel into their spine and all those qualities that were so important in a good auror that they didn’t know how to let anyone, even their dad, hold them up. They’d never been afraid of anything in their life, so why were they suddenly terrified of what all of this meant, of the future and their career and that slippery divide that was growing between them and their best friend because they were scared of what was happening to them and who they might be without a job that had replaced their identity at some point in the last decade. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Let’s start at step one, hm?” And maybe that sentence was a buy for time as his child unraveled in his arms because it had been years since he’d heard anything as troubling as that tone in their voice. Not since the times of nightmares and insistence on more stories or a bedtime snack or anything to stop the natural progression of returning to sleep after a nightmare. Or, maybe it was more recent. The thrill of Hogwarts he’d been delighted to witness first hand (and only once as opposed to some parents’ sixth or seventh time watching it happen) giving way to the slightest bit of anxiety at leaving home or had it? Dora had always been headstrong, determined like only her mother could be, even at eleven. Boarding school nerves had barely made an appearance. 

“We’re celebrating your birthday in May this year so you can take that one thing off your plate for now. Throw a party at the house and invite whoever you want and I’m sure if you asked a few times you could even get Alastor to wear one of those coned hats with the ribbons. Step one, done. Just like that. Step two is....alright, dinner. Made enough food for you to have meals in the freezer for the next few weeks so you don’t need to fret over grocery shopping. Another thing off the plate. Or, on the plate. Birthday handled and meals are handled. I can deal with your mother if you don’t want to come over tonight to pick it up but I’m sure she’d come clean up some of this if you asked her. Now you just gotta tell me if you want me to tell her not to come over. Look at that. Not even five minutes and we’ve got three things figured out, peuchen. Easier than you thought it’d be.”

Somewhere in the middle of his run-on sentences and spur of the moment planning session Ted’s grip on Dora has tightened, pulling her close to his side lest she tried to impose another month’s long vanishing act. Strangely though, he didn’t feel any tugging from his side but from his ankle. With a slow turn of his head Ted’s eyes landed on the little table monster, Harvey. “Maybe it’s time to send Harvey here back where he belongs. You can borrow Tenks for a few days. Figure out his birthday and have someone else in this place with you.”

[tedtks]

grcngernotes​:

. 

Hermione, ever so focused on her career, had been that person to not have a proper drink until the age of eighteen in the company of her parents and friends on her exact birthday. While Hermione had since gotten into the habit of maybe a portion of wine after work, she certainly wasn’t accustomed to whatever his wife had been drinking. It was the sort of drink that Ron could swallow down in one go, but Hermione would be nursing it in the middle of sips of water for the entire night. Very tame, though she had no time to let herself loose tonight. Not when there was a Crookshanks sized pile of paperwork sitting on her desk at home. 

“Well… I’m sure anyone could call themselves an artist, and while art is based on interpretation, there are simply some things that are not art… The muggle world, for example. Where my parents live in Camden, there is an artist who sold an invisible sculpture. Quite literally a spot of air for millions. And then there’s the issue of wealth disparity and the privilege of the rich in the art space; that which allows people freshly out of school to pursue a career in music although they might not be good, but make it due to their parents’ funding and lack of responsibility to a job to earn their own money…. But it’s only my view on it.” She was in no way an artist herself, but who would she be if not opinionated?  She stomached another sip of her drink before giving the man a small nod. “Right, I’m close to Ron. With most of the Weasleys, but Ron and I were in the same year together.” Dora? Nymphadora? A brow quirked for a moment before Hermione managed to keep a neutral expression. “Oh, yes! Though I’m afraid to say that I don’t know much about her…”

A man who found words easy, never struggling to fill the space around him with chatter and babbled, rose both his brows as he listened to the young woman beside him talk. “Sorry? I, well, I don’t mean to disagree. It’s just that saying that. You think of the painters and the potters. Knitters and those people who make the little trinkets.” His home was full of enough of them to keep them all in business. “All the people making their livelihoods on that sort of thing and it feels a bit bad to just mark them off as craftsmen, doesn’t it?” And Ted might have disagreed with the first part of her analysis but he was stifling a chortle at her point that really hit the nail on the head. “Now if you say that a little too loudly someone who went to, what was it? Not W.A.G.A. Oh! The W.A.D.A. they’ve got set up might hear you. And, listen, I can tell you secondhand that the man on stage doesn’t do well to constructive criticism.  Not Hannah. That was Abbot’s daughter. She was named– “Hermione.” Right. “I’m Ted.” Good. “Glad to have finally met you.” Just giving a drink to the woman he knew had gotten into a row with his kid during a birthday dinner. “You work on the, uh, elves? The house elf rights?” Mols’ gossip could be an endless source, making it difficult for someone like Ted to keep track of everything he heard from her after she heard from the pages of Witch Weekly and what he heard from her husband that he wasn’t supposed to mention. If he was remembering right, and he really hoped he was, the Twins’ birthday dinner was off-limits. “If you get me started on them, don’t be surprised if I talk your ears off. Got photos on me and everything. Great kid. Fantastic! Too smart for her own good but I’m sure you’ve picked up on that if you’ve been around them enough. Never really got over the thing she had with the train engine. Not that it stopped her. You know she got through the academy on her first try? Doesn’t happen for most or at least that’s what all your Ministry folk say. What do you want to know?”

[tedtks]

ofxdedalus​:

Dedalus picked up his glass and took another sip, narrowly avoiding snorting it out his nose as he smothered a laugh at Ted’s choice of slang. “Ahhh, I wouldn’t rule it out just yet.” He set the glass down, coughing ever so slightly as he wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. “Get enough beers in me and I very well may end up at that new place, pulling some mad shapes on the dance floor. Throwing mad shapes? Ah, you know what I mean.” It wasn’t something he was exactly intending on doing — Hogsmeade was more than enough festivities for him.

“Good to know, good to know. Looks like I may have to bribe her for intel. What do you think, wand holster with lace trimming? Something frilly?” It had been many a year since he had stepped foot in the tea shop, but the windows always seemed incredibly sickly sweet in their design. “Don’t tempt me, Ted.” Dedalus had lost count of the amount of times over the years he had ended up embarrassing himself after a few drinks, and the last thing he needed was to harangue the minister, however amusing mimes may have been. “I think they might be a way off yet. He probably needs to reread his ideas for prison reform first.”

He nodded in understanding. “Mum and dad used to burn theirs together, make a real thing of it. Not entirely sure if it worked,” he shrugged, “but it made them happy. They’d go out into the garden with some candles.”

Ted was beaming at his words, his humor hitting and finding a home somewhere in his friend. And wasn’t that the best part of the night? Being able to joke with an old friend while his own boggart sat feet away? Her and her husband who sized Ted up like the next great reason to go back to Azkaban. “Maybe it’s what you need to cap your night off. It’s got to be better than listening to this.” He tilted his head Lorcan’s way, rolling his eyes dramatically as he did so but wasn’t able to stop himself from breaking out into laughter. “Ded, if I have to hear him one more time at the station I’m going to go spare. I don’t get it. It’s...I never want to say music can be bad but I think it is?” “Mad shapes?” Now that was a new one. “Mind if I steal that?” He could just see his wife and child’s face when he started on about throwing mad shapes. Merlin, he needed to remember to tell Sirius that one. “Glitter is big, isn’t it? Don’t know how you’d go about getting glitter on a wand but that’s your department.” He leaned in, fingers tap tap tapping against the bar top as he smiled wider. “Okay. Not mimes but the man deserves a few good words about conditions then, doesn’t he? Doesn’t feel good to think on that place and I’m sure he’s not thinking on it often. You know, muggles do music therapy. Maybe I should go over and suggest that to him?”

“Candles? Sounds nice. Honestly, a bit perfect.  You know, gotta say I thought I wouldn’t like a casual Beltane this year but I don’t mind it. Plenty to do, to see, no big all day thing. You get to focus on what’s important. With a side of terrible songs.”

[tedtks]

grcngernotes​:

Lorcan d’Eath wasn’t quite Hermione’s taste, though she had heard that familiar voice on the WWN more than enough times to recognize the name. It was impressive that they were playing here, though she was more interested in finding ways to look like she wasn’t some awkwardly single person pacing around and making her laps due to the inability to find someone to talk to. Usually she would be rambling on to Ron or Harry, though Harry was undoubtedly sleeping away and Ron had said he’d be there though Hermione wasn’t sure that would happen at this point. 

So she walked around, fingers twiddling with the outline of her pockets as she tried to look intrigued by the musical artist for their voice and not their appearance. The girl backed up, away from the small crowd gathering around the stage and to the bar where she’d spotted a familiar face just after she was tempted to take an empty seat. It was like a sigh of relief when he spoke to her instead of having to feel as if she was pestering the man, but Hermione responded nearly instantly at his invitation. 

“I could use a drink, thank you-” Hermione replied, offering a half-hearted smile when he beckoned her to that stool where a second-hand drink was sitting. “Performance art? I believe that an artist has to be involved for a staging.” She took the drink, eyeing it for only a moment before having a small sip, the sudden sting making her wince back in the slightest though Hermione tried concealing that face she made. “Your wife has strong taste-” 

Ted’s mouth twitched, the corners heading upward but he managed to contain himself and not laugh outwardly at the woman’s reaction to Dromeda’s drink. “She does. Probably should have warned you. Sorry about that. Forgot not everyone has the sort of taste for it.” Tipping and tapping his feet against the last rung of the bar stool, his gaze drifted over to his sister in law. She drew every eye in the room. Did she have a natural presence or was it the memories of the past when her face was splashed across every paper? He’d been unnerved since Ostara, hesitant to come out but Beltane was a holiday and Andromeda had wanted to go. He’d never been talented at denying her anything that could make her smile. “You don’t think anyone can be an artist?” He asked, attention being pulled away from the woman he felt he had to keep an eye on. Watch with the careful hesitant of a deer in the road, frozen in fear as they waited for the moment of the car to strike. Not that it would. Hadn’t in years and just because he found himself in the same location as Bellatrix Lestrange and just because she was suddenly speaking to him didn’t mean anything of the sort would occur. People could change.  Maybe. Probably not people like that. “You’re friends with one of Arthur’s kids, aren’t you?” She had that look about her, one of the many faces bustling around the burrow in a mass he could never keep track of. “You are! Han– Sorry. You know what they say, old age and memories. Least, that’s what Dora keeps telling me. Oh! You must know her too if you’re hanging around with their lot.”

[tedtks]

tcnks​:

“A few days ago?” they offered distractedly, not overly interested in thinking too hard about just when Fred and George’s birthday extravaganza turned disaster had happened. Their blood still boiled at the memory of Granger and her smug face and the combination of that and the letter were only — maybe it had been a few days. But why would their dad even care about a birthday he hadn’t attended? 

It’s not like you’re feeding him registered with perhaps more emphasis than it should have done, because they hadn’t fed their own little miracle plant, nor had they watered it, and yet Harvey grew on anyway. It really was the ideal house plant, relying entirely on sustenance from the plant shop below with little to no input from Tonks at all to keep it alive. “He chose to live here,” they insisted instead, as an eerie understanding descended that something they didn’t want to know was looming just around the corner. 

Evidence was gently slid beneath their nose against the plants supposed crimes and it was stupid, really, it was just a plant. But Harvey was their plant and just like everything else in their life right now, it seemed Harvey was not what he purported himself to be. “I don’t want another — I don’t want—” they weren’t good at emotions that weren’t just angry and so whatever this was bubbled uncertainly inside their throat until their eyes welled and they sat back, with a thump onto the floorboards to stare at the stupid Devil’s Snare that had infested their kitchen with an overwhelmed little wail. 

“It’s my birthday,” they realised instead, out loud, and buried their face into their knees.

God help them. Merlin too, if the man could be bothered to life a finger for once. A year without the razzmatazz chaos of their birthday lead up hadn’t sat right. He had waited every morning this week for the arrival of child by fire, green flames and snorts of joy ushering in their arrival to be dotted upon and spoiled because it’s my birthday week. And every morning, Ted waited in the kitchen with a cup of coffee and a breakfast spread that was sped past by a wife on a mission to save lives (or reverse children's’ charms), a dog without patience, and a cold fireplace.

He shuffled across the floor of the kitchen, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “We can make tomorrow your birthday too. A whole week or month just about you. We’ll just have to check and make sure we’re not stepping on Tenks’ toes. You don’t happen to know when he was born, do you? You’ll have to help me plan his day or week or month. Can’t think of anything to get him but bones, Dora, and that can’t be good enough for him.”

With a squeeze of their shoulder, Ted tried his best to wait it out. His gift of gab, spilling everything in his mind had to be hereditary, as the best method of figuring out what Dora got up to had always been to wait. The best method was also her mother’s method. Not his. “Do you want me to keep planning the dog’s day, tell you what’s waiting for you back home, or do you want to tell me what’s going on it there?” Ted couldn’t wait the silent minutes it would take for them to crack more. “You’re not done for good. They can’t risk losing you on the job. How many kids make it through the academy on the first try? Three? Four? Every couple of years? And don’t worry about Charlie. Arthur told me you two got into it the other night. None of that sticks around for too long when you’re happy with someone. It’s healthy to fight a little. Not that– Don’t tell your mother that.”

[darksber]

[tedtks]

tcnks​:

Their forehead furrowed faintly as they rocked forward onto their toes, forearms settling across their knees as they replied with snort, “Of course it’s April — Fred and George’s birthday was only—”

A few days ago? Time had been slippery lately, without a schedule to stick to, and they’d been so preoccupied with the letter that morning and Order meetings and Charlie taking up space like a lump that really it was tough to say. Better not to think about it. “Of course I named him,” she settled on instead, beaming at the vine that had become something of a decorative feature in their otherwise spartan apartment. Fleur could suck it. They hadn’t exactly anticipated a how-to-guide on fern care but that was their dad, the perpetual Mr. Fix-It even if the word dependent seemed suspiciously layered with meaning they weren’t willing to consider. “I can take care of a plant, dad,” they replied, eyes narrowed with suspicion, “Just look at Harvey.”

Gently ignoring his attempt to brace himself for whatever strength he needed for this particular conversation, whatever was going on with their dad he’d eventually spill because talking was something you could never stop him from doing. Their lips twitched faintly and they looked at Harvey, as they had in passing since his first little sprouting appearance, with a furrowed brow as if it might reveal some new aspect of the plant that they’d missed. “He’s very friendly,” they offered after a moment, as if this were a particular characteristic of a plant, “He’ll always try to grab your ankles when you walk past. It’s like having a little table monster.”

“Was only?” He questioned, giving Harvey a prod with the tip of his wand. Eyebrows raising as the thing wrapped itself around it and giving it a sharp tug that nearly had Ted keeling over. “Was only when?” “You’re not taking care of him, Dora.” Ted tried his best to ease into the heart of the conversation. If she was so busy that she couldn’t even remember her own birthday, with work and the ever disappearing boyfriend (and come to think of it, Arthur had mentioned something about a row between the two kids), he’d need to try his best to let them down as gently as he could. As gently as Dora would allow herself to be managed. “He’s self sufficient. It’s not like you’re feeding him and any nutrients are coming from downstairs.” By the way he had grown tall enough to reach her flat, he was surely eating well.

“Alright. He’s sociable. Let’s call that touchy instead? He’s attracted to living things, likes wrapping himself around them. What other plants can you think of that do that? Other vines that you wouldn’t expect to see in the home. Because, Dora. Peuchen, you can’t keep him here. We’ll get you a nice little table? Monster? A table monster instead because this one isn’t exactly the gentle giant you’ve been pattering on about. You’re lucky he hasn’t hurt you yet.”

[tedtks]

ofxdedalus​:

“I suppose that’s true.” Dedalus replied with a grimace. He supposed that he should have been grateful that wands up noses wasn’t something that he had to deal with on a regular basis…. or ever, really. Dealing with that could happily be left to the healers unless the wands were broken in the process. “It’s all the merriment, isn’t it? People get all up to mischief when it’s a festival.” Including himself, in earlier days. But things were different now, with dark shadows looming on the horizon. 

“Too true.” He grinned. “It would be sorry indeed to see it go to waste. Ugh, don’t remind me. You know, it’s been what? Six months now since I started working for him? Still not entirely sure what he does with all his time.” Garrick Ollivander was quite the mystery, and not one that Dedalus wanted to particularly get to the bottom of. Laughing, Dedalus set his glass down on the bar. “No, no, I don’t think there’s much of anything at Azkaban. Can’t really picture the dementors running a drama club for the inmates. Be a bit grim, wouldn’t it? But you learn a thing or two about that sort of thing when you live in Paris. Love their weird pretentious performances, innit? Lost count of the amount of mimes I saw….” Well, perhaps he was exaggerating just a little bit. “Shit!” He exclaimed suddenly, patting at his pockets. “Have you burnt your beltane wishes yet?” A rather crumpled piece of parchment was removed from a pocket and dropped onto the sticky wood of the bar. “Nearly forgot.” Removing his wand from his holster, he pointed the tip at the parchment and set it alight.

“Is that your way of saying you’re not going clubbing tonight? Not going to tear it up on the dance floor? Get, what is it, popping?” Ted knew how he sounded when he used modern slang, knew how it looked trying to stay relevant, and that was part of the reason he did it. To see the exasperation on the face of the young as he willfully dove into a language he didn’t understand or remember correctly.

“Six months? Can’t be that long. If you really want to know, Puddifoot’s got all the gossip. Not a thing goes on without her putting her two knuts in.” The self appointed head of the Hogsmeade Small Business Association knew everything that went on in these streets. Somehow. “Might help. You never know. Can’t say Fudge is pushing for the prison reform he campaigned with. But mimes working with the dementors? Now that’s the kind of idea you should suggest to him.” He gesture to the minister, surrounded by a few aurors and Madame Rosmerta in the far corner of the room.  Ted stared, a bemused smile creeping slowly onto his face at Dedalus’ actions. The small fire of burning parchament quickly resulting in a pile of ash. “Not yet. Want to burn them with Dromeda. She’s a bit old-fashioned about these kinds of things. Heard it was good luck for the marriage to do them together once and she never got it out of her heard.”