Fletcher Travers

[the-scoundrel-ts]

charlesalexei‌:

March 7

Singles Night

The Kelpie & the Imp

Open Starter

Charles awkwardly tugged at the tie around his neck, growing more uncomfortable the longer the host spoke. The idea of the whole thing left him with an uneasy feeling. He couldn’t handle crowds, let alone the fact that the stupid thing was designed for matching people up together.

He cleared his throat and straightened out his tie, teeth digging into his lower lip while he tried to appear a little more at ease.

“Alright,” He sighed and turned to look around. “Where is the bar?”

“You don’t need it,” Fletcher said and handed Charles a glass of scotch. 

He hadn’t planned on going to the singles mixer but had changed his mind on a whim. From the moment he walked in he regretted his decision. He could almost smell the desperation on the air. He wasn’t sure if he found it amusing or horrifying that many of them were younger than he was. 

After quickly locating the bar he made a beeline for the first non-predatory person he saw; Charles. 

“What’s a nice fella like you doing at a place like this? Thought you were avoiding the whole marriage thing.”

[the-scoundrel-ts]

March 7 Singles Night The Kelpie & the Imp Open Starter

Fletcher had very little desire to find a wife and settle down so one might very well wonder exactly what he was doing at the singles night. Fletcher was himself asking the very same question as he surveyed the room trying to decide whether it was better or worse to spy someone he knew. He thought he might prefer to believe that he was the only one foolish enough to find himself in the highly artificial situation. 

The truth was that he was there to keep his mother happy. She had been very understanding of his reluctance to not pursue serious romantic relationships so he thought he should occasionally give her hope that one day, somehow, he might find someone. 

Glancing around the room his only thought was that he couldn’t see himself with someone who thought a singles night was a good idea. 

He slugged back his first glass of whiskey and placed it back on the bar. “Another.”

He was going to need a bit of something to get him through the evening. 

[the-scoundrel-ts]

@siriustheblackstar 14 February

Fletcher was not strictly involved with the small group of Death Eaters who had decided to cause chaos. He had been approached to join them on the jaunt but when he had heard that they were not acting under strict orders he had decided instead to have some revelry of his own. 

He’d been banned from the shop months ago. The shopkeep had never proven that he’d done anything wrong, but at the time it had been easier to accept the ban than have the aurors become involved. That was before he’d learned of a little item kept inside that would not only be useful to him but, he thought, impress the Dark Lord if only Fletcher could get his hands on it. 

As the commotion kicked off down the street he set to work on the lock - only to find that there was none to be seen. A rare moment of sloppiness on his part, but Fletcher didn’t have time to dwell on it now. He took his wand and attempted to remove the glass only to find that it would not budge. Sighing because it was not going the way he planned, he resorted to muggle methods. 

He took off his coat and wrapped it around his hand before he punched the glass. Rather than fall completely to the floor, a few shards shot at him and sliced into his side. 

He waved them away with his wand and cursed himself, again, for his mistakes. Maybe he should have gone with the others after all. 

“Shit,” he said as pressed his hand to his side. He was fairly sure it was only a shallow cut but the blood seeping was still a bit disconcerting. 

[jonas-brothers]

[the-scoundrel-ts]

Thunderbird January 31 Open

The Thunderbird was a pretty nice establishment for a speakeasy. Fletcher knew it was more trendy than truly illicit - the fact that one could pay galleons to remain on the list was proof enough of that - but after the events of several nights ago, he craved a more sanitised environment. He was also craving copious amounts of whiskey. The Thunderbird satisfied both of those needs. 

He hadn’t arrived with anyone and hadn’t sought out any company, so he sat alone, accompanied by his glass. 

In the quiet of his flat, he couldn’t stop the creep of memories. It wasn’t that he thought the Dark Lord was wrong in seeking more power though he regretted the method by which that power was gained. He had a soft spot for children and was only grateful that he hadn’t had to be the one to ensure their welfare until the sacrifice. The mess with Regulus was something altogether different - a message that they were expendable. 

He didn’t like it. 

However, Fletcher was not so naive to think that he could back out of the Cause now. He was marked, and he was inner circle. The only other option was to do what he could to make himself indispensable and that was something he didn’t yet know how to do. 

A shadow fell across his table. 

“I’ll have another,” he said, without looking up from the empty glass he was contemplating.

[richieroyce-deactivated20200812]

You Can Count On Me To Misbehave; rich & fletch

[the-scoundrel-ts]

richieroyce‌:

The Market; 7:30 p.m. 12.18.78 @the-scoundrel-ts

Richard finished with his meeting, a dreary affair where he had to fire a few imbeciles who believed Richard would never return and thought to take advantage of that situations, and what he needed above all else was the reprieve of a certain someone who was about as easy to put a finger on as a greased up goblin on a mission for gold. It was a good thing Richard was fluent in how to find such a man, a specific man, to be exact.

He wasn’t the type to frequent such a place as the market, and yet he wasn’t the type to avoid such a place altogether. Temptation always tasted sweet on his tongue, and in the days of less responsibility and uprising, he had been convinced to spend a considerable amount of time amongst the ruffians who did frequent the half-cocked illegal business side of London. Richard liked to believe his time there was the reason he was so much better at business than his father but to say so acknowledged the daddy issues he did so well at suppressing. 

He looked out of place in his long coat with its shiny buttons and high collar, but no one dared say so to his face. The hard line of his jaw and steel in his eyes was enough to warn away any person who felt the need. Richard walked until he heard what he came for, the raucous laugh of a longtime friend, and without much preamble, he entered the tent where it was coming from. Fletcher stood next to a mountain of a man, discussing who knows what, and as soon as his eyes landed on his friend, he felt another piece of peace slide into its rightful place in his chest. 

“Excuse me, gentleman, I seem to be a bit lost,” he lied, the glint in his eyes growing as they crinkled with mirth. “I’m searching for a man who promised me a lifetime of entertainment, and yet I still feel compelled to cry I feel so bloody bored.” He didn’t bother looking at the other man, only Fletcher, his head tilting back a bit as he breathed out a low chuckle. “I don’t suppose you could help me out, could you?”

“So then the man looks at the executioner and he says, ‘oh, the bananas had nothing to do with it. I'm just a bad conductor.’”

It might have been the festive season but that was not the reason for the spring in Fletcher’s step. Since it had been announced that Richard had been found and that he would now be free, there was a levity in Society that had been missing. Richard was his dear friend and sometimes partner in crime. It was a relief to know that the Ministry, under Abraxas Malfoy, would follow a better line when it came to prosecuting purebloods. 

Fletcher had a few reliable haunts where he could be found by those who knew where to look.  He wasn’t talking to the large man in any official business capacity but because he was an old friend and an importer of difficult to obtain cigars from South America. 

Amused by his chortling companion Fletcher didn’t register the tent flap opening, or who walked through it, until Richard spoke. His head whipped around and he stepped towards the man, face almost split from grinning so wide. He’d intended to seek out Richard when he thought an impromptu visit would not be a bother, but he was happier than he could say for Richard to have found him instead.  

“What a scoundrel to leave you so high and dry. I think I might be able to help you, only you will have to answer one question first.” he said with a grin, “what do you think Violet will let you get away with, assuming she’s actually happy to have you back?”

[the-scoundrel-ts]

violetwilkes‌:

Violet had known that Fletcher could not be considered polite company but she adored him all the same. He had been there for her over the past few months in ways that many of her society friends were not. What’s more, she knew she could trust him, though Violet supposed that was something bred from years of family dinners and having mothers so close. And so, her lips only curved up higher at his comment and she shook her head, not bothering to hide the delight on her face.

“Coming from you, that’s high praise indeed,” her tone was light, but belied her own amusement. “It’s rather miraculous what good sleep and a decent meal will do for a woman.”

Violet took a sip of her champagne. “You know,” she mused. “I am hardly complaining, but I will admit I did not expect this party to be so…societal. The majority of club members are the younger set. I had expected something more…” she paused. “Je ne sais quoi?”

“It isn’t, but it is sincere,” he said. Fletcher could be quite the flatterer when the mood struck him but he found he never had to give Violet hollow compliments. He never wanted for nice things to say to her but that didn’t mean he would say too much in this instance. Richard was back and Violet was no doubt pleased but he suspected that she would quickly tire of everyone talking about it and asking after him. He assumed she would tell him anything she wanted him to know. 

Violet was one of a few people whose privacy he would always respect. 

“I have a very simple method for knowing whether something is going to be societal or not. Check the dress code. If they want ties or specify traditional dress robes then it’s going to be a stuffy do,” he said, swirling the whiskey in his glass before he downed it. “Though this one had a cheat. My mother was the one to pass me the invitation.”

[the-scoundrel-ts]

greenerxgrasses‌:

“It was rather nicely decorated, even for a bachelor’s flat, if I recall it correctly… I must get the name of your decorator.“ She shrugged off his insinuation easily, having only the desire to clear things up in his mind. Fletcher was always on that little list in the back of her mind of men she wouldn’t completely loathe for the rest of his life if she had to marry someone (Merlin knows, she’d out-live a few husbands if she were able), but marriage -even to further the family business- was after she finally got Ophelia into wifely shape and Fitz at least thinking half-way with his actual brain. 

Besides, Fletcher would rather die than be monogamous, that she could tell without him ever having to mention it.

“Only because I know it would work, my dear. You can never resist this pretty face of mine.“ Adelaide caught on quick that he was intending to leave, a lifetime of watching her father and other men in the business world taught her tell-tale signs, and she stood as well. Brushing imaginary dust from her skirt, she followed at his heels, obligatory purse for her wand and spending cash in her hand. She was eager to see what Fletcher had thought of.

“I’m walking in heels, Fletcher. You try keeping up with a man much taller than you in these things.“ A little smirk graced her lips as she kept pace with him as they headed to the door. Any stray eyes that met hers received a coldness that would send shivers down backs, even in the warm room.

“You’re looking at him,” Fletcher said with an easy wink. His flat might have been in an undesirable part of London above a seedy pub but that did not mean that he was not house proud. It was small and lacking in the grandeur that many of his society friends enjoyed and preferred but it suited him well enough. 

He smiled at Adelaide’s confidence. It was that, more than anything, that had attracted him to her. Pretty girls were a knut a dozen, especially in the Pureblood set. It was far more rare to find one so capable and who challenged him so much. She frustrated him too - often, he thought, intentionally - but he couldn’t deny he often had a good time in her company. 

“You might wish to stash your money somewhere secure. Where we are going you might lose it if it is not tied down,” he pointed out before he paused to think for a moment. “Or you might lose it anyway.”

He held his arm out for her to take so that he could apparate them to the bar. 

When they arrived he led her through the main room, not even glancing sideways to the faces that turned towards them. Their neat attire was clearly out of place, though Fletcher returned a nod to the barman. He was at home here, despite outward appearances. 

A small door out the back gave way to a room full of people seated around a table. Chips were down but the cards were still up. They were playing poker. 

“Any room at this table?” Fletcher asked. The men looked up and motioned to the empty chair before their attention caught on Adelaide, looking her over. It was not somewhere that ladies frequented.  

[valtsv]

i love sitting on a sofa with one leg crossed over the other and my arms spread out across the headboard behind me like a young, reckless, 1920s gentleman of ambiguous sexuality, with more money than i know what to do with and an intense weariness of the shallow, hedonistic lifestyle enjoyed by my companions

[the-scoundrel-ts]

violetwilkes‌:

Date: December 22, 1978 Location: Phoenix House Members Christmas Party; Wales @the-scoundrel-ts

Though Violet hated traveling by most magical means, it was not so difficult to get to Wales, especially when one had a luxurious train at her disposal. Traveling to the Phoenix House Christmas Party had afforded Violet more time to prepare and her hair and makeup were done before disembarking. She had also eaten a full meal, which meant that she would not appear gluttonous. It was her first appearance since the McKinnon’s party and Violet wanted everything to be perfect.

The emerald dress that Violet wore contrasted nicely with her porcelain skin. Her hair was up in a sophisticated style and the diamond pendants she’d threaded through her ears sparkled in the fairy lights. The dark bags underneath her eyes had finally disappeared and she appeared more rested than she had in months, not that most polite company would ever say such a thing. After arriving and making the requisite greetings, she saw a familiar face by the bar. Squeezing her companion’s elbow briefly and nodding in Fletcher’s direction, Violet moved toward him, pausing only to pluck a flute of champagne off of a passing tray.

“Happy Christmas,” she drawled, pressing a kiss against Fletcher’s cheek. “I apologize for my absence of late. I’ve missed you.”

No party was complete without a drink, no matter how sumptuous the surroundings. Fletcher tended to avoid the trays of drinks that were passed around and went straight to the bar. He knew that whatever was on the trays would be passable quality, but the best was kept aside, behind the bar. 

That lesson had been one of the first his father had taught him after he had started stepping into society. Fletcher suspected that discovery was one of the few reasons his father ever accompanied his mother to the galas. 

When Violet appeared by his elbow and kissed his cheek he was pleased, though not surprised, to see that she appeared radiant. Richard was back and it was nice to see that the haunted look had left her eyes. 

“Vi,” he said with a smile, curious to see what he could get away with, brows raised in pleasant surprise. “You don’t look like shit.”

[the-scoundrel-ts]

greenerxgrasses‌:

“I was referring specifically the things we’ve uttered in your bedroom, but think what you must.“ She smirked, deep red stained lips betraying her amusement. Long ago she’d found a comfort in Fletcher’s arms (and mattress, eventually) and it had led to such a strange sort of friendship between the two. She wondered briefly if Mrs. Travers would approve of it if she really knew how Adelaide was instead of the mask she put on at public events. 

“Is that what mothers teach their children? Interesting… never knew that.“ Perhaps it was her lack of a mother that had warped into such a creature as she was now -highly likely, as she clung so hard to whatever she could as much as she had to her dying mother- but there was little now that could be done about it.

A short chuckle left her lips as she rolled her eyes. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d seen the inside of his flat. It’d been years, surely. “I do believe I’ve never said your flat was off the table.” Adelaide leaned toward him over the arm of her chair, blue eyes looking him over as her fingers turned the crystal cup in her grasp. “You know I don’t beg, Fletcher… not unless you make it worth my while. And I just can’t risk getting soot on this dress by getting on my knees. It will take forever to get out.” Jokes spilled from Adelaide’s lips, her smirk still soundly in place. She didn’t care where he took her to, she trusted him enough not to get her in horrible trouble.

“You do seem to spend rather a lot of time thinking about my bedroom,” he said, brow lifting momentarily, though it had returned to its usual position by the time she told him that his flat was not off the table. 

There were occasions when having a decent poker face came in handy even when galleons were not involved. 

That gave him an idea. 

Adelaide had said that she wanted to go somewhere interesting, and Fletcher knew a few places. The flirtations might have been fun but he knew better than to push Adelaide regarding their old liaisons, or rekindling anything even on a casual basis. He assumed that she knew well enough what she wanted and that she had the confidence to pursue it. 

“You were the one who offered to beg,” he pointed out before he stood up and refastened the button on his blazer. He was a little overdressed for where they were going - a seedy back alley bar with a particularly good reputation for poker in the exclusive back rooms - but he didn’t think anyone would be silly enough to question it. Just like he didn’t think anyone would give Adelaide too much trouble if she was with him. 

She was right to think that he wouldn’t knowingly take her anywhere that she might be in danger.

He took two steps towards the door before he turned back to Adelaide. “Are you coming?”

[the-scoundrel-ts]

greenerxgrasses‌:

Adelaide rolled her eyes with a smirk at Fletcher’s ego. Yes, she’d spent a turn or two in his bed to try and get over her desire of Tristan Nott (and subsequently made her grandparents too keen to see her become Fletcher’s missus) but she wasn’t going to feed the beast by letting it inflate. She knew better. “If you know a dashing rogue, do please send him my way. I do get so bored at times.“

“Your mother would be horrified by a lot of the things I’ve said to and about you, knowing her.“ Her eyes cast a look around just as he did, seeing instead of the cigars and whiskey and leather, she saw the men enjoying them. Businessmen and old money with too much time to burn. Had her family worked in shadier businesses, they would be perfect marks. But alas, it wasn’t what she was meant for. Instead she had to be charming and make most men assume she wasn’t more than a pretty blonde housewife-to-be. The idea made her sick, but it was what she had to do. For the family. 

“This place is full of balding men who want peeks up a girl’s skirt and to avoid the nagging of their wives. The cigars and whiskey are just the deceptive icing on a very poorly flavored cake.” When the server came back with their drinks, Adelaide had to stop herself from downing hers in all one gulp, instead sipping at it delicately as she was meant to. “What would you say if I practically begged you to take me somewhere fun?” Perhaps the question was out of the blue, but with the prospect of going back home and planning a month’s worth of events -Yule was one of her least favorite times of the year, just because of that- and trying to wrangle her siblings in, Adelaide needed a moment to breathe and be herself. “And don’t think you have to take me somewhere nice. I mean… despite my more refined tastes, I like you after all.”

Fletcher put a hand to his chest and adopted a wounded expression at Adelaide’s comment that he was not a dashing rogue. 

“You always did not how to hurt me,” he said, but smiled a moment later so that she would know that he was not overly bothered by the comment. 

“My mother raised me to believe that what we say reflects more upon ourselves than those we talk about,” he drawled. Fletcher’s mother was the epitome of a lady. She was the only reason he had turned out to be half a gentleman, and without her influence, he knew his life would be headed down a more nefarious path than it was even now. He couldn’t say that he preferred all of the pomp and ceremony that accompanied pureblood life, but it undoubtedly presented him with a different set of tools to use in all of his dealings. “So go ahead and say whatever you like.”

“Hypothetically, I would say that if you have that opinion of this place, I am not sure you would like anywhere else I might take you. Assuming, of course, that you are not blatantly inviting yourself to my flat,” he said. He watched as she downed her drink before he took a healthy swig of his own. He thought she really must not be enjoying herself to treat the drink in such a way. 

The places he frequented were certainly fun, at least to him, though they were also, undoubtedly, seedy. It wasn’t that he thought he shouldn’t or couldn’t take Adelaide, but he also wasn’t sure that she knew exactly what she was asking. He couldn’t deny that at least a few choice locations had sprung to mind that he thought could be interesting when she said it didn’t have to be nice. Though there was one thing, in particular, that was of interest.

“Practically, I would be lying if I said I wouldn’t be swayed by a particularly good show of begging. And I do know rather a few spots that might be considered to be fun.”

[the-scoundrel-ts]

charlesalexei‌:

“Perhaps you can show me another time then,” Charles cocked his head to the side. It was a loaded suggestion to say the least. There was simply something about the way Fletcher carried himself that always seemed to catch his attention.

“You would think two failed betrothals would have gotten her off my back,” He murmured. “I’m going to need the whole bottle to get through the conversation.” Charles added and shook his head. As much as he needed to talk about the whole thing, he sincerely doubted he would survive speaking soberly. His sexual preference was the overlying problem and he still hadn’t mentioned that to his sister. Bringing it up to his father or stepmother would end as a death sentence.

“My place it is,” Charles nodded in agreement, ears going light red despite his feeling at ease about the idea. “May I uh —“ He held his hand toward Fletcher. “I figure it’s easiest to just apparate together. I had to switch the wards around a little.”

“When I have something to show I promise you will be the first person to know,” Fletcher said, even raising a hand to his heart. He even told himself that it wasn’t a lie - he didn’t think he had much worth showing off, or at least nothing that Charles would necessarily be interested in. 

“They said the third time’s the charm, so you only need to find one more lucky lady,” he said with a wry smile. As much as Fletcher might sympathise with Charles’s predicament, he couldn’t entirely understand it. He was attracted to men and women, so the idea of someday marrying a woman was not so repulsive - provided he could choose his partner.

Fletcher took Charles’s offered hand. He tended towards physical affection by nature, and it wasn’t as though it was the first intimate gesture he had shared with Charles, even if it was the first in a while. “It is almost as though you do not want any late night guests dropping by.”

[the-scoundrel-ts]

charlesalexei‌:

Charles took his alcohol seriously was all it came down to. Everything else didn’t matter very much to him — given the few things his parents gave him growing up and the amount of money in his savings account. “Do you now?” Charles raised an eyebrow, the slightest of smiles creeping over his lips.

“The cigars are the issue,” Charles mumbled. Not to mention his not wanting to force himself to have to act like the others. His showing his face there meant pretending he cared about cigars and women. “I’ve more than enough whiskey at my place.” His ears went red upon mentioning that.

“Two, whos,” He rolled his eyes. “The Abbott sisters. She appears to be under the impression I have to hit it off with one of them. The more I think about it, the better a glass of whiskey sounds.”

“Noted,” Charles whispered. Fletcher’s statement left him feeling slightly flustered. “I suppose we could try a bar, my place, or the Leaky? It’s bloody stupid they took him in.” His last statement came as an afterthought. “Although I suppose that’s the way politics works.”

Fletcher waved a hand to brush the comment aside, as though he carried valuables regularly. To be fair he often did, only they seldom belonged to him. Somehow, he never cared so much when it was something he had taken for his own amusement. Easy come, easy go, and so on. "Nothing interesting, unfortunately, or I would offer to show you."

Fletcher nodded when Charles mentioned cigars as being the issue, though he understood not at all. He made a quiet mental note not to smoke around the other man - a mark of the respect he held for him. Not many would be allowed to go between Fletcher and his cigarettes.

Not just one name, but two. Fletcher felt incredibly sorry for Charles but also for himself. He would be devastated to lose another bachelour, especially one such as Charles.

"Merlin," he breathed. "You poor bastard. You deserve a drink."

"Your place," he said decisively. They couldn't talk openly in the leaky nor in the Club. And although he needed to vent about Richard's arrest with someone, he couldn't help but feel that Charles's matter was just as urgent. And Charles was right in front of him.

[the-scoundrel-ts]

briarbriarburningbright‌:

She heard Fletcher before she saw him - the sound of his dress shoes clicking against the polished floor of the entrance hall preceded him. She closed one eye as she counted them one two three, trying to judge when he would appear by sound alone. He was, unfortunately, too fast for her, speaking first before she had a chance to.

She shook her head, tutting softly. “I thought I would grow old waiting for you, Mr Travers. It’s been so long.” Finally she turned to face him, shooting him a doleful look. It lasted for less than five seconds before her face split into a grin. “I’m only joking. You’re perfectly on time. I just can’t contain my excitement.” Her words were accentuated by a slight bounce on her feet. Had she been in flat shoes, she might’ve been skipping. But the heels her mother had insisted on her wearing did not lend themselves to displays of joy. The gleam in her eyes would have to do the work for her.

Briar walked over to Fletcher and held out her hand for him to kiss, laughing softly at the compliment. “Thank you. I bought it just for tonight. My mother is a firm believer in dressing to impress.” She let her gaze travel down his form, taking in all of the effort he’d put into his appearance. “You look pretty gentlemanly yourself. A true vision in white. We’re going to make quite the pair tonight, aren’t we?”

On time is already late, his grandmother had told him once when he was growing up, and for a brief moment, faced with Briar's pout, he wondered if she didn't feel the same way. Luckily, her lips split into a smile and he could relax, off the hook again.

He took her proffered hand and brushed his lips over her knuckles as was expected. He might have frequented Knockturn Alley, but he would never let it be said that he did not know how to at least play at being a gentleman.

"I will be sure to pass on my compliments of her tutelage when next I see her," he said. He did not allow his gaze to linger overlong, though he was certainly tempted. He had yet to determine in exactly what capacity he was escorting Briar and he had no desire to be unduly presumptuous in his attentions. However, he did allow himself to smile warmly at her obvious enthusiasm.

"I imagine that we would make quite the pair wherever we went," he drawled and extended his crooked arm for her to take. He did not yet know how they were to travel to their destination, or even what the destination was - he assumed Briar would know. First, they were to meet a small group of other diners, and from there he assumed they would port-key or apparate to the final location. It was incredibly dramatic and terribly secret, and he was curious to see it all play out again. He was curious about how the location was never revealed before time. "I hope you know where we are going. I thought I might leave myself in your capable hands for the evening."

[the-scoundrel-ts]

greenerxgrasses‌:

The sound of Fletcher Travers’ voice in her ear made Adelaide’s mouth twist into a smirk that she hid by taking the last sip of the whiskey in her hand. Her delicate fingers gripped the fine crystal glass, turning it mindlessly after she had finished her drink, as she rolled her eyes at Fletcher’s words. The man may be the heir to a rival business, but she was not officially apart of the Greengrass companies, so it was no bother for her to be friendly with him. 

Besides, he brought a bit of fun to her life, though not so much as to distract her fully. “I drink alone quite a bit nowadays. You’ve been far too busy to join me. How rude of you.” The playful scolding rolled off her lips as she slightly turned in her chair towards him.

“A forty year old single-malt. Men that could have been our grandfathers decided to try to liquor me up to get in my father’s good graces…“ Legs crossed, her foot bounced to an unheard rhythm. “Or in mine. But we both know my type.” A shrug, and she brushed blonde curls behind an ear. “I am surprised to see you here though, it’s a bit too… restrained for you.” 

“Busy?” He repeated with a quizzical raise of one brow. He was busy, always. Part of the fun of life was fitting in two different businesses, as well as all of the fun that made life worth living. Of course, the assignments for the Dark Lord sometimes got in the way, but it was just one more ball in the air to be juggled. But Adelaide didn’t need to know that. “I don’t know the meaning of the word.”

“Though I am sure if an invitation had been issued I could not have refused.” They had a history but Fletcher 

“Yes. Dashing rogues,” he said, answering the question with a rakish grin despite knowing full well that it did not require one. “Though I am not sure you can blame the men for having good taste. Though they might have waited for an occasion not related to business.”

Fletcher ordered a drink when the server arrived and another of the single-malt that Adelaide was drinking. He looked about the room when she mentioned it being a bit restrained for him and shrugged. 

“Too fancy, you mean? My mother would be horrified to hear that you believe that.” Fletcher did not mind so much. She had a point. It was not the sort of place that he preferred to spend time, even if it was better than most frequented by Pureblood Society. At least a little debauchery was tolerated in the club provided one spent enough money. “I had a meeting. And between the whiskey and the cigars, this place is not so bad.”

[the-scoundrel-ts]

greenerxgrasses‌:

Date: November 12th, early evening Location: Sip and Smoke Open Starter

She’d never been a smoker, but her father’s associates were. However, she did immensely enjoy the 40 year old single-malt they offered her after she gently turned down their cigars. The meeting had ended an hour or so ago, but she was nursing the free drink they had left her with. The smell of smoke and the soft and deep tones of the customers was just where she deserved to be. She was feeling like she had a seat at the table her father denied her and gave to his son instead. Sitting next to one of the fireplaces, Adelaide stared into the fire and lost herself in just what she could do if perhaps her father took her as heir, how powerful she could make her family in the small society British purebloods had made, as she heard someone else slip into the leather chair next to her. Without letting the fact their appearance disturbed her play out on her face, she took a sip of her whiskey and glanced over at them. “Are you so desiring for company that you thought I was a good idea?” Self-deprecating as it was, it did better not to insult her new companion.

Sip and Smoke was Fletcher’s preferred venue whenever he had to undertake a legitimate business meeting. For everything else, he favoured the back rooms of the White Wyvern. Some things didn’t feel right when discussed outside of Knockturn Alley and some things could only be discussed far from the prying ears of aurors. 

Ever since the aurors that were amenable to bribes had warned him of the increased surveillance on the aurors themselves Fletcher had decided to lay low. He did not wish the end up in Azkaban for any reason. The happy side effect was that he was spending more time in the other half of the family business and it appeared to be doing well. It was almost enough to make him think he could turn legitimate. 

Almost.

His meeting had ended and he was on his way out when he spied Adelaide sitting alone.

Fletcher only smiled at Adelaide and the mild snark of her comment. It was good to set the tone of the encounter early and she had not disappointed. 

“Beggars, choosers,” he waved a hand as if to emphasise the cliche and to put it away. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that you should not drink alone?”

He undid the button on his blazer as he settled into his chair and called over a server. “What are you drinking?”