Xenophilius Lovegood

"Yes: I am a dreamer. For a dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world." -Oscar Wilde

[ehhdgarbones]

Safe Harbors | E&X

[theyrexeno]

ehhdgarbones

Amused huff spilling out through his nostrils, Edgar grumbled a halfhearted, “Hey, stop,” as their toes poked and prodded his back and side. He pretended to try and edge just out of their reach, somehow staying within poking distance as their cute toes nudged his back. After he was done stretching he snatched a viper-quick hold of their foot, muttering in mock annoyance, “That tickles.” Their foot was then effectively tucked against his bruised side, locked in place by the bulging strength of his bicep as Edgar ignored the ache and tickled the bottom of their foot.

When Edgar loosened the clamp of his bicep pinning their foot to his side, it wasn’t to let them go. Instead he grabbed hold of their heel and ankle, and lowered his mouth to the top of their foot, kissing the soft skin over hard bone, an adoring prelude to the playful nipping that climbed up past their ankle; accompanied by growling noises for effect. Chuckling, Edgar dropped their foot and fell back onto the bed to bring himself closer to the gorgeous blonde lounging against the interestingly carved headboard.

The pale silk of their hair was moved away from their beautiful face, hooked behind an ear before tattooed and scarred knuckles caressed the smooth, unblemished skin of their cheek. Edgar was quiet, smirking to himself, while he listened to them explain that their thoughts about spending the day with him were many, and good. His smile was as warm as the look in his eyes as he stared at their too beautiful face and listened to their soothing cadence. Somewhere in the center of his chest was burning starlight that filled his entire being with its radiant glow. A star by the name of Xenophilius Lovegood. Fuck, this warmth didn’t just burn for them, but because of them.

“Then I’ll have to satisfy myself with the knowledge that you approve of the idea, even though my ego could use a little stroking about the why.” His mouth curled at the corner and Edgar winked at them before stealing a kiss from their lips and pushing himself out of bed.  As he rolled his shoulder on his way into the bathroom, he stated, “If this is you playing aloof and hard to get, Xen, I gotta tell you: it’s working.”

Once in the bathroom, Edgar picked his toothbrush out of the holder and smirked at the sight of Xeno’s posted right beside it. He didn’t know why exactly it pleased him so much but, in a metaphorical sense, he and Xeno were always together; even if it was just their things. Fuck, he was going bloody soft. Instead of checking his mental schedule for his next sparring match with one of the Order’s more physical soldiers, Edgar gave an internal shrug. There were worse things than being sensitive about someone he cared for; like being without them. He’d rather be soft than Xeno-less.

A bead of toothpaste was smeared onto the bristles before the tube was placed beside the sink. Bristles moistened by a rush of running water, Edgar checked his reflection in the mirror while brushing his teeth. His hand ran over his scruff lined jaw and he turned his face to inspect the blotch of discolored and tender skin. There was also a cut on his eyebrow and the cheek on the opposite side was scraped. Luckily the swelling had gone down over night. Overall, his mug had survived the night with minimal damage. His torso had sustained the worst of it, But he’d survived worse and his heavily tattooed skin hid most of the bruising, anyway.

The soothing timbre of Xeno’s voice dragged Edgar’s sapphire gaze away from inspecting his face to the reflection of the blonde on the bed. In spite of his mouth full of froth, he still smiled when Xeno confessed that they needed to tell Ser about the cat they’d met days ago. If his mouth wasn’t full of spit and toothpaste he’d have accused them of trying to make Ser jealous. Virtually gagged as he was, all Edgar did was stare at their reflection with both amusement and adoration. He knew how much Ser loved it when Xeno talked to him, the maine coon was all purrs and full body rubs, and Edgar loved it too. As if he needed further evidence of how good Xeno was, or more validation on how much they meant to him.

His heart did a bounce and burn in his chest as he watched Xeno climb out of bed and stride silently into the bathroom, leaping to attention and glowing brightly the nearer they padded. When their brow landed squarely between his shoulder blades, Edgar hummed in approval of the contact, still brushing his teeth clean but wanting to reach behind him to pull their arms around to circle his body. What he’d like was to stay curled around them in bed all day, or something equally mindless and relaxing.

A soft bump and warm exhale briefly washed over his skin before Xeno sidled up beside him and reached for their own toothbrush. They stood side by side for only a few seconds before the magus beside him turned their back to the counter and lifted themself onto its edge. Edgar grinned.

Turning the knob to get the faucet going again, he spat the froth from his mouth and rinsed his toothbrush before it went back into the holder and his face was cleaned off. With nothing to hold him back, Edgar wedged himself between Xeno’s legs and put his hands on the counter on either side of them. Grinning, he brought his mouth to their shoulder and trailed kisses all the way up to their neck before pulling back to look at them again.

He tucked their hair back behind their ears again as he watched them brush their teeth. With his hands on their thighs, rubbing up and down in an adoring back and forth, Edgar rumbled, “We should go by my place first. I can make us breakfast before we decide to do anything else.” Plus Ser would be furious with him if he left him waiting for food and pets any longer than he had to.

Xeno had no intention of stopping. Their smile broadened into a sleepy grin as Edgar shifted away- just barely, they could’ve still reached him without moving, but they slid down the bed slightly anyway, more than happy to play their part in the game and make as if Edgar was nimbly evading their every attempt to poke him with their foot. And then, in a flash of movement, he had their foot sandwiched in between his arm and side, and Xeno’s eyes widened, knowing what was coming before it did, “Edgar, no-” and then their words were lost as they made a poor attempt at stifling their laughter before it burst out of them, unbridled and breathless. Xeno was tragically ticklish. They turned their foot in a futile attempt to pull it out of Edgar’s grasp, palms pushed into the mattress with locked elbows as if the added leverage might have any chance of helping. When the tickling stopped they didn’t bother to try to get their foot back, instead flopping back against the headboard and letting their laughter dissipate into giggles, and then to an unconvincing frown, “That tickled.” They returned his earlier words disapprovingly, but their frown kept creeping upwards at its edges. 

Edgar’s kisses to their foot led to nipping at their ankle, and Xeno’s put-on frown was utterly obliterated now. It had never stood a chance, not in the face of Edgar Bones and his very distracting kisses. He moved up the bed again, and Xeno was more than happy to ramble away as Edgar tucked their hair behind their ear and smiled. 

“I don’t know; am I? I don’t think I’m doing very well of playing hard to get if that’s what I’m maybe doing now- you’ve got me. So I don’t know how it’d be working, you’ve already done it.” Xeno watched Edgar go, addressing his back with an idly speculative tone, “I can tell you why I’m happy you’ve got nothing else to do today, I’ll just probably- or inevitably, actually- miss things. If I tried to figure out all the reasons it could take all day. But mostly I like the idea of spending all day with you because there isn’t anyone else I’d rather spend all day with. Which I could elaborate on more. I could probably talk about how much I like being around you all day, too.” 

There was something about moving around in the space around Edgar, gravitating around his solid form where he stood before the mirror, that fed a warmth in Xeno’s chest that had been glowing gently all morning, burning brighter with touches and kisses and Edgar’s smile. Even as Xeno left their place behind Edgar’s back, where they had leaned against him, forehead to bare skin, they didn’t step out of his space. They didn’t want to- there was something comfortable in letting their hip brush against Edgar’s as they slipped around him to reach the counter, in their leg leaning gently against his as they perched themself on the edge of the counter. 

Xeno took the opportunity of Edgar putting away his toothbrush- there had always been signs of Edgar in their flat, years of friendship and spare keys would do that, but the overtness of that one was new and exciting- and washing his face to reach around to pick up the toothpaste and begin to brush their own teeth. Edgar tucking himself in between their legs and moving in close, hands bracketing them, was entirely unfair. Lips dropped to their shoulder, and then moved up their neck, slowly tracing up in a path of delicate touch, and Xeno let out a garbled hum of a wordless noise around their toothbrush. 

Fingers brushed their hair behind their ears yet again, and Xeno reached out their free hand to let their own fingers skirt, barely applying any pressure at all, around the cut over Edgar’s eyebrow, and then down to rest on his cheek, just above the discolouration of a bruise on his jaw. Their lips quirked into a hint of a smile as Edgar’s hands rubbed up and down their thighs, and they nodded, opening their mouth further as if to speak before thinking better of it and nodding again. 

To avoid the problem of moving away from Edgar but also turning on the faucet and rinsing out their mouth, Xeno grabbed onto Edgar’s shoulder and pivoted their position on the counter, twisting and leaning over in such a way that they probably would’ve slid right off their precarious perch had it not been for Edgar being there. Once they’d successfully cleaned up and returned the toothbrush to its place with Edgar’s, they shifted back into their previous position, smiling at Edgar where he stood in between their legs. 

“That seems like a good idea. And that way we can see if Ser has any ideas.” 

[theyrexeno]

newsworthy || x & e

[theyrexeno]

vanciful

She admired their spirit, that much was absolutely true. As she moved through the room, the ever-increasing hostility becoming more palpable by the second, Emmeline took to shooting glares at anyone who met her gaze. She had issues with the paper, had always had issues with it. She hated the way they pandered, the way they were willing to overlook clear, glaring error in facts in order to cause a stir even if it meant apologising at a later date. But never, not once, had she suspected that the paper was a government mouthpiece. She had a lot to think about concerning her complicity in the whole bloody affair. But that would have to wait. She had a friend to save.

Fortunately, Xeno went easily, though their words never ceased. They were a force of nature, when needed. A breeze with the power of a tornado. An intellect sharp as nails, even if they turned it to the less conventional questions. A dreamer, people said, but to say that was a disservice because they didn’t just dream, they did. People forgot that.

Like a great, blonde cat, they folded themselves into the uncomfortable chair and Emmeline found herself peering into a pair of beautiful eyes. It was always like this- Xenophilius would write letters, elaborate as his speeches, every so often and their grievances would be ignored, as was the Prophet’s way. For the wix to appear in person meant that something must be seriously wrong. Emmeline didn’t bloody doubt it.

“Ah,” Emmeline said as she reached for the paper that they presented to her. Eyes scanned the familiar piece of writing. Part of her job was reading the paper cover-to-cover each morning over a cup of strong black tea and that particular article had struck Emmeline as bland at best. Nobody wanted to write about land disputes and Don Hobday was no exception. But to take issue with it as vehemently as Xenophilius evidently had caused Emmeline’s brows to raise in question.

Donald Hobday was an ass. He was loud and abrasive and got handsy when he was drunk, but he wasn’t… Emmeline’s mouth curled downwards as her eyes fell away from Xeno’s to skim the piece once more. She had always found the relationship between wizards and the magical beings they coexisted with complicated, trying. The first time she had seen House Elves in Hogwarts, the girl had felt a sinking in the pit of her belly. Just another pureblood tradition to detest.

Emmeline had never met a centaur. Had never seen them as anything other than beasts, if she was being entirely honest, though she had never given it anything more than a fleeting thought. A coldness danced through her, racing down her arms to where she let her fingers tap nervously on the arm of her chair.

Emmy knew of segregation. Knew all too much about what happened when opposing groups took to dehumanising each other. It ended in bloodshed and, if Muggle history was anything to go by, genocide. A long, hard sigh escaped her as she thought of home and her brothers and honestly how the fuck had this gotten by the editors?

“I didn’t know that about centaurs, Xeno.” The girl admitted, blue eyes flashing to the figure across from her in an apologetic glance. They were passionate about the issue, it was written in every corner of their elfin face. “We usually don’t ask centaurs to comment because they don’t usually want to.” She admitted. “Are they generally mistreated by the Ministry, in your opinion?” God, her ignorance was abhorrent.

For all that they often found issue with the paper, Xeno couldn’t help but find the offices of the Daily Prophet fascinating. If they wouldn’t inevitably be noticed and nudged with a polite stiffness in the direction of the door, Xeno would’ve liked to find a chair in the corner and just watch until some other distraction caught up their attention and drew them away. The contrast between the way the offices worked was fascinating- at the Prophet, with an industrious professionalism, everyone doing their jobs, curled over papers and notes, to the heart of the Quibbler, in Xeno’s living room where writing was scattered between endless bits of parchment or notebooks, and could be lost for months only for them to stumble upon it again, a pleasant surprise gift of a near-completed article from themself, three months prior. They let their attention roam over the room even as they continued speaking to Emmeline the entire way to her desk, addressing her but catching glimpses of people slowly returning to their tasks. 

Seated on the chair Emmeline had led them to, their full attention was finally focused on the witch. They had a goal to accomplish, after all, and Emmeline Vance seemed like their best- and only, really- route to accomplish it. Never mind the fact that she was very nice and they probably should ask her to come with them to get a drink or go looking for ruins to speculate the history of with them sometime because they really should get to know her better. 

Because they were looking, watching her face for a reaction, Xeno knew that the first time Emmeline looked over the article she didn’t really get it. Which was understandable. Not very many people skimmed over boring articles in the Daily Prophet and were immediately filled with an urge to go right wrongs. Or at least Xeno had inferred that much from the very empty reception room at the front of the office. And because they were looking, Xeno saw the moment that Emmeline got it. Her mouth curved downwards, and they shifted, crossing their legs and leaning forward, elbow on their knee, chin on the heels of their palm, content to wait as she looked over the paper with a more critical eye. 

“Oh, lots of people don’t. They don’t really teach you in school, do they? Almost everyone knows about the Ministry’s classifications of magical beasts, it can be rather useful, but it’s not particularly easy to find out how the classification system works, really. And when you do, well- centaurs are incredibly intelligent people, and very clearly fall under the definition that the Ministry uses for ‘beings’- it’s all about being able to understand laws and take part in making them, so that’s full of problems as well, actually- but they didn’t accept the offer of being called beings. So they fall under beasts.” The system was horribly outdated and backwards.

Xeno nodded, “That makes sense. I’ve only ever spoken with a handful myself, many of them aren’t particularly interested in what humans are doing at any given time. But they might have something to say about being forced from their home.” 

“I couldn’t say anything definitively, not being a centaur. Or having spoken to all of them, or even enough of them from different places to have an idea of what their experiences are as a whole. I don’t think they interact with the Ministry terribly often- and definitely not in any sort of official sense. It’s probably better off that way.” 

[narcissax-deactivated20181101]

Diamond in a Haystack || Open

[theyrexeno]

narcissax

“Yes, potion making is an interesting concept.” She agreed with them. It was unfathomable just how useful potions could be. Imagine a world without them. She couldn’t. The blonde tousled her locks some as they moved on to talking about fossils. Another thing she didn’t really find herself looking into. Xeno truly did have rather odd tastes.

“Right, you journal for them, do you not?” Narcissa questioned with a lifted brow. She did tune in to the papers, for the most part. The Black sister liked to know what other’s were saying about her and her friends. Now, to say that she followed the rest of the contents was a stretch. It was more a manner of keeping up with other’s views of her than it was for pleasure. Skeeter was a pain in the ass most days, but she did have a large following. It paid off to stay on the right side of her graces.

Xeno nodded. They were pleased to have agreed on something with the witch, who was not exactly the sort of person they generally managed to hold a nice conversation with.

“Yes, yes, the Quibbler’s mine. Well, actually, it’s much more accurate to say it belongs to any number of people, but yes. I do the Quibbler. It’s very interesting work- its a good reason to go investigate things that I find worthwhile, anyway.” Xeno was knee-deep in the Quibbler at any given moment. Nearly anything could make a good article because nearly everything had deeper, hidden levels to it that could only be uncovered by turning one’s mind to it wholeheartedly, and Xeno was more than happy to pick up a reason to speculate as to the contents of the bits of Gringotts’ labyrinthine vaults that didn’t hold old families wealth and precious heirlooms. They tilted their head, regarding the witch before them, “Have you ever read it?” 

[chaos-hexes-deactivated20220422]

Puff Puff Pass | Lucius & Xenophilius

[theyrexeno]

lucius-a-malfoy

As he watched Xenophilius, he had to resist the urge to roll his eyes yet again. What did they think? That Lucius had somehow harmed the thing in the moments between it falling from their pocket to now? He didn’t particularly have much love for such creatures, but he was never needlessly macabre. Crushing an animal with his bare hands was more like something Lestrange would do. The last thing Lucius wanted was to have blood and gore on his hands. He was at work, not on some ill-advised raid hastily thrown together because his compatriots craved some sort of forward action.

Honestly, it was all too easy to sneer as Xenophilius asserted the animal’s feelings as if it had told them what it thought of cages. He wouldn’t be surprised if they asserted that it did. Though that suspicion was quashed when he mentioned that it didn’t speak English. “Yes,” he simpered. “I imagine that’s very frustrating for you. Did you work out its preferences with an elaborate game of charades, perhaps?”

Honestly, Lucius didn’t mean to go out of his way to be cruel. He was sarcastic, surely, but he thought that the edge to his voice was a little extreme. Lovegood hadn’t really done anything besides… be themself. However, Lucius was stressed and under a great deal of emotional upset despite his allowance for mental breakdown having ended. Lovegood was simply in the wrong place. And it wasn’t as though Lucius hadn’t been sarcastic to them before. Lucius would hardly apologise, but he didn’t think that, perhaps, his ire was merited. It was why he let out a breath before raising a brow.

“Lost where?” He asked. “And did you try the fourth floor? The Beast division might be able to help if it’s registered. If it’s not… you might be better off adopting it into the weird little menagerie you undoubtedly keep at your home.” There. That was helpful, right? He thought it was sufficient enough to make up for his sneering.

Xeno’s attention was divided, gaze sliding down to the puffskein cradled in their hands as they absently petted him with their thumb, just to move back up to Lucius again as they remembered the wizard was standing just before them. Now that they’d ensured that Fig had managed his time on the floor, retrieval by Lucius, and subsequent return to their possession without any outward signs of pain or distress, their concern had receded. Not that they were particularly at ease in the company of Lucius Malfoy. 

“No. I don’t think puffskeins have the same sort of complex thought patterns as humans do. Fig probably wouldn’t understand charades, if he even stayed in one place for long enough for me to try to convey whatever it was I wanted to tell him.” Xeno didn’t miss the sneer to Lucius’ tone, nor did the sarcasm of his tone go entirely over their head. But they responded matter-of-factly regardless because there wasn’t really anything else they could do. It never occurred to them to respond in kind- they just answered the question, absently shifting their hold on Fig so that the creature was curled close to their chest. “I’ve just paid attention. Usually when you watch creatures for long enough you can infer what they like and what they don’t.” 

Lucius let out a breath, and Xeno’s head tilted, as if trying to puzzle him out. The wizard was a complicated sort of person, really- equal parts predictable and utterly unexpected. Xeno hadn’t put too much effort towards trying to decode how Malfoy worked, there’d never been any point, but it was an interesting diversion, especially when he was being surprisingly helpful. 

“I found him in Diagon Alley, so lost there, I suppose. And no one in the area knew where he came from, or even what his name was, but he seems like a Fig to me. I was going to go there, yes, I don’t know if there’s a protocol for lost puffskeins- there should be, probably.” Xeno blinked over at Lucius, head tilting comically further to the side, “I don’t have a weird little menagerie. Or a not-weird one. I have a lot of friends who are animals or creatures, but none of them live with me. Fig could get lonely.” 

[theyrexeno]

professorminerva-mcgonagall

It was almost charming in its own way. To call it stupidity would be tempting, but wrong, to call it obliviousness might be more accurate but it wasn’t the term either. Xenophilius looked at the world in a way Minerva could not see. She felt nothing was missed as such a view of the world wouldn’t allow her to be who she was but it did make the nuances of conversing difficult. The two may as well have been speaking different languages. “Put two people in an empty room and they’ll find something to argue about.” she said dryly, “It’s ironic that we strive so hard or peace yet often seem to ill-equipped to maintain it.”

“Do you have any plans for it?” she asked, “To take the magazine,” again, using the term broadly, “Further? Capitalising on an opportunity can turn a hobby into a supporting career.”

Minerva raised her glass and finished the contents, her neat hand scribbling a small comment on the side on a essay, could no one properly cite outside evidence anymore? She’d need to devote a lesson wholly to the damn technique at this rate. She glanced but up, once again finding herself actually interested in their words, “Hmm. Perhaps that’s an endeavour to be looked into. Goblins aren’t exactly a trusting bunch, their guard their secrets as well as they guard our gold. But if one were to make any headway with the species I could see it being a person like you.” Xenophilius was no normal member of their world and sometimes the oddest few were the ones fastest accepted by those of another creed.

“Forgive me, I meant academically.” she elaborated, “They are all born knowing what they know, some arrive a tad more educated than others but the work they put in and the work they chose once they leave mark them with such differences.”

“It probably depends on the people. And how long they’re in the room. Or maybe its or how long, because the same two people could be very amicably occupying the same empty room for a while, but argue about how to get out after they’ve been there for long enough that they’re starving, because its empty. Though there’s probably exceptions. I imagine there has to be at least one combination of two people who could be in an empty room indefinitely and never argue about it.” Xeno’s brow had furrowed as they pursued the thought, but they brightened abruptly, shrugging, “That’s a good point though. I’ve always thought that its probably possible for people to exist peacefully, but its all down to how we approach the world, isn’t it?” If people approached the world in the way they did, Xeno was certain the wizarding world wouldn’t be caught in the grip of terror as the norm, resignedly shocked by the latest news of grisly murders or wanton violence. 

Xeno nodded, though the gesture was measured. The Quibbler was something that they passionately felt had the potential to do good. But it was also a labour of love that often had them in the middle of the night, laying underneath the hulking mass of the printing press they’d cobbled together out of parts and liberally applied magic, trying to sort out whatever had brightly coloured pages spewing out at high speeds and piling all over their living room. They were looking forward to a time when the process was cemented enough that they could spend their time doing more important things than creating star-shaped pop ups to put inside the cover, apologizing for releasing the latest issue a week and two days late. “Yes, I’ve got all sorts of plans. I think I might be able to convince them to let me sell copies in Flourish and Blotts. That would be very nice.” They had an in, after all. They just had to remember to ask Pandora. 

“Thank you. I’d be interesting to befriend a goblin, they seem like wonderful people. Maybe I’ll ask Nogrook if he’d like to join me for tea sometime.” 

Xeno let out a quiet, thoughtful hum, “That makes sense, I suppose. Is that interesting to watch? I imagine you get a particularly good perspective on that change, being a professor.” 

[theyrexeno]

itsmadamerosmerta

There had been a recent shift in weather towards the chilly and the cold sharpness of the evening offered a clarity that Rosy never knew she needed until she was wrapped in the frigid embrace. There was something significant about autumn in the woman’s mind. The shift in season felt sonorous, imposing and powerful- like a drumbeat, the march of time onwards, always onwards, reverberated in her bones.

She knew what people thought of her. As Madame of a pub, she was someone to respect but pitied, an old crone who had given her life over to the pursuit of money- peddling the idea that salvation could be found at the bottom of a tankard. But the Ravenclaw in her, fair and light as air, had always felt the strong and irresistible pull to nature that manifested itself in the change of seasons. There was wisdom there, the whole spectrum of life and death and rebirth that she could only truly appreciate now that she was older, a bit wiser.

Xenophilius Lovegood seemed like a person who could understand that life consisted of the many, the intangible. She didn’t know if they were spiritual or not, but Rosy knew that goodness shone from them like a beacon. That they lived in a world that was so uniquely theirs but they were so willing to share if asked. Edgar had asked and was reaping the rewards.

Elongated, as if they had been stretched out, the figure emerged from the poorly lit road only to stop, attention shifting upwards towards something that Rosy couldn’t make out. She could feel her spirits lifting, smile curling upwards at the mere sight of them.

Truth be told, there were times when she found Xeno tiring. When there were too many things to be done and she was run off her feet and their gentleness was jarring rather than a comfort. But on a night like this, the world seeming to rush at Rosy all at once, they were the most perfect companion. Would be more than happy to pick at the complexities that seemed to tie nature and Ros’ emotions intimately together. And all practicality aside, she was feeling very sentimental.

“It would be hard to forget you, Lovegood.” She said at their typically oblique answer and wasn’t that the truth? They were very beautiful, they were unflinchingly honest, they were utterly bizarre. If they weren’t at the very heart of Ed’s world, she would have chalked them up as strange and a touch suspicious.

“We always appreciate the custom,” the woman said, stepping a little further into the street and away from the door to meet Xeno as they arrived. Though, Rosy suspected, that her bartender might very well forget to charge Xeno for whatever it was they decided to order. Suspected that Bones did that a lot. She smiled as she took another drag from her cigarette, placing a hand on the younger Ravenclaw’s arm once they were within distance. People had long come to expect Rosmerta’s touchiness, tactile and affectionate as she was.

“I didn’t see the cat, though I suspect it might belong to young Ms. Dervish,” the redhead pointed towards the building one door along on the opposite side of the street where Xeno’s gaze had lingered. “In which case he is very handsome.” Rosy agreed with a smile tilted towards their elfin face. The light of the pub behind the pair, made their eyes shine softly.

“Thank you for offering to stay with me,” She said after a moment, shifting from one foot to the other as the cold seeped through the her open-toed shoes. “I love this time of year, but the weather makes me very emotional. I want to wrap you all up in blankets and sit you by my fire.”

Xeno hummed a quiet noise of acknowledgment, head tilting as they briefly indulged themself in musing on Rosmerta’s answer. They supposed they were fairly hard to forget- the way people’s faces lit with recognition when they appeared was as good an indicator of such a thing as anything else, be that recognition the warmth of someone like the Madame of the the Three Broomsticks or the annoyance and distaste of the vast majority of the people who worked at the Daily Prophet. And they weren’t so clueless that they didn’t understand that they were fairly visually striking, catching attention and easily markable as different before they even opened opened their mouth. 

She came out to meet them, and Xeno’s smile quirked broader as her hand landed with a gentle squeeze on their arm. A beat later, they reached up their hand to pat at her hand in a completely unabashed but slightly bizarre reciprocation of tactile affection. They’d long since adopted the proclivity for contact that their friends seemed to favour by default, but there was often still something stilted there, though not for lack of genuine care. 

“Oh,” Xeno followed Rosmerta’s gesture to look at the building, looking at it with an intensity that was perhaps disproportionate to determining the origins of a cat. “Well, that would make sense, I suppose, that was the roof the cat was on, and I, at least, generally favour my own roof when I’d like to be on a roof. Though that doesn’t mean he couldn’t have been visiting and trying out other roofs, though.” They tore their attention from the building, or more accurately, the section of shingles around its chimney, and looked back to Rosmerta, “He was definitely very handsome, though, so I imagine its highly likely he’s Ms. Dervish’s friend.” 

They stuffed their hands in their pockets to keep them warm, quietly continuing, words directed half to themself and half to Rosmerta, “I’ll have to remember to talk to Ser about him.” Xeno often stopped by Edgar’s flat with the express purpose of telling his cat about various interesting things they’d seen since they saw him last- generally, but not exclusively, cat-related. 

“You’re welcome. Thank you for being outside so I could offer to stay with you, if you hadn’t been I’d’ve gone right inside and not seen how lovely it is this evening.” As the sky darkened, the temperature dipped lower, and the fact of the season made itself in-ignorable. There was a beauty in the way cold air snuck in and poked at your fingers, numbed your nose and then would seep slowly across your cheeks. 

“That sounds very nice, too. One of the best bits of colder weather is that blankets become much more comforting. If it made you happy I don’t think anyone would complain, either.” 

[dreaming-trelawney-deactivated2]

lakeside  | open

[theyrexeno]

dreaming-trelawney

lakeside  | open

Sybill never really enjoyed eating in the Great Hall. Unfortunately as a student, she had no choice. But now she was a teacher and could do whatever the hell she pleased. She tended to spend her breaks and meal times holed up in her cozy office, but today she figured she ought to get some fresh air. So she took her plate that was carefully balancing her dinner and made her way outside of the castle and onto the grounds. A fading path made of stone and dirt led the way to the shore of the black lake where she set down her plate. Wand in one hand and open bag in the other, she muttered and waved. “Accio blanket.” Her dark purple and star adorned blanket flew out of the depths of her bag and gracefully landed on the ground next to her.

Taking a seat with legs crisscrossed, she picked up her plate again, admiring the food. The smell of fish and chips and a slice of apple cobble wafted towards her nose. Whilst she was a student, Sybill made a point of befriending the house elves. Access to the kitchens and the elves meant access to unlimited tea and biscuits. She often attempted to get the house elves to drink some tea, offering to read their tea leaves but they declined without fail. They still seemed to enjoy her presence however. And often times she preferred their presence to other students. Now that she was a teacher, she rarely ever stepped foot in the Great Hall, even to get food. She simply went directly to the source whenever she was hungry, and the elves greeted her with a prepared plate of her favorites.

Sybill picked up a piece of fried fish, however rather than eating it, she threw it into the lake. Then she took her wand, said “accio jar,” and a glass container flew out of her bag. Waiting patiently with the jar in her hand, she hummed to herself. After about a minute, a sudden splash of water could be heard as a rather large tentacle emerged from the deep of the lake clutching a few glowing strands of kelp out towards Sybill, who accepted gratefully. “Thank you, Timothy!”

A shadow fell across the blanket and Sybill looked up to see who had blocked out the sun. “Oh hello. Have you met Timothy?” She asked casually, placing the plant into her jar.

There was a palpable nature to the magic in the grounds of Hogwarts that Xeno had always found fascinating. Maybe it was the layers of protective spells and obscuring charms that swaddled the area around the castle, or the thousands of years worth of magic from students and creatures and the school itself that had seeped deep in the ground below their feet. If you paid attention while crossing the gates of the school, you could feel the air grow thicker. Xeno always made a point of paying attention. They were still meditating on the concept as they made a detour in the direction of the Black Lake, the rambling, directionless, train of their thoughts only derailing when they caught sight of a very familiar form on a blanket spread along the banks of the lake. Whatever had prompted them to walk past the lake instead of straight to the castle had spared them a number of stairs. 

They approached Sybill at a slow pace, hands in the pockets of the muggle jeans they’d picked up somewhere or another, the vibrant yellow of the suns painted on the knees smudged with dried mud from their inspection of a cavity in the base of a tree earlier. As a tentacle arose from the water, exchanging kelp for some fried fish, a smile began to tug at Xeno’s lips, growing steadily as they slowed to a stop next to their friend’s blanket. 

“He’s lovely, isn’t he? I’ve picked up a bit of mermish, you know, and I’d always hoped a bit that he might speak at least a few words of it, what with living in the lake with a respectable colony of merpeople, but no luck.” Xeno’s gaze had slid to the water, where a tentacle could be seen barely peeking out of the water as Timothy shifted below the surface. Their gaze snapped back to Sybill abruptly, their smile blooming back into existence as they unceremoniously flopped down on the blanket next to her. 

“The kelp is very pretty. What are you going to do with it?” Xeno moved, rearranging themself so they could lean over and peer at the contents of the jar in Sybill’s hand, their nose practically touching the glass. 

[ninianechang-deactivated2019030]

A Universe of Enigmas | Xeno

[theyrexeno]

ninianechang

Ghosts and poltergeists. Stories of hauntings and the hungry, revengeful, or even playful spirits of the departed were not unfamiliar to her but there were so many contradictions in what she had heard as a child.  The stories told to her by her grandmother drew different lines between the various types of spirits and what they were able to do on earth.  It didn’t always fit with what Bloise had told her of the ghosts at Hogwarts.

“Hmm, I’m not sure I could tell you the difference myself,” she confessed, picking up a leaf that had missed the bowl and dropping it in with the others. As wary as she had been told to be of ghosts, Niniane couldn’t fight her curiosity to discover more about them. Who knows.  Maybe they could even be the breakthrough she sought.

A little seed of hope had been planted and the excitement she felt over the proposed ghost tour was written plainly across her features.  “I wonder if I will sense them differently…”  There were things Niniane could see or sense that she knew most muggles were unable to but it was by no means universal to all things in the magical world.  “Maybe they’ll look clearer to me than they do to muggles.  I can’t wait!  Just think of all the things they might be able to tell us!”

Niniane smiled as Xeno looked about the room for horklumps.  “Bloise only bought enough to use in his potion work,” she assured.  “I haven’t entirely thrown out the idea of growing them in pots one day but gnomes…”  She frowned.  The creatures were a regular nuisance.  You had to stay on top of them lest they make short work of your ground-sewn plants and attract the enmity of your magical neighbors or the attention of your muggle ones.

“They’re similar- both are spirits of a sort. But poltergeists were never alive. Or at least that’s what people say. I think maybe they might just be incredibly ancient ghosts who forgot that they died. I imagine anyone would start to get forgetful after centuries of floating around the same general area. And poltergeists are much more powerful, they can move things where ghosts just float right through them.” Xeno had put a lot of thought into ghosts. They’d missed more than a few classes at Hogwarts after managing to corner one or another of the school’s incorporeal cohort and convince them to answer their endless questions.

Niniane’s enthusiasm was infectious. Xeno slid off their perch on the edge of the table to reach forward and briefly squeeze her arm in a gesture of excitement, their smile wide. “That would be fascinating! I imagine you would though, I haven’t thought much about how ghosts feel- oh, maybe I can ask one to float through you. Only if you want, of course, it feels very strange but it isn’t unpleasant, really, and it might be interesting.” Xeno rocked onto their heels, smile still bright at the thought of all the potential wrapped up in the idea of wandering around on a muggle ghost tour. “We’ll have to do this, clearly, it sounds wonderful.” 

The possibility of horklumps overrunning the shop was concerning, but Xeno’s worries were easily quashed by Niniane’s assurances. “That’s probably wise. And growing them in pots might work, unless they get tricky and try to escape.” They met Niniane’s frown with a nod, “Gnomes. They wouldn’t be the tidiest of customers-” an understatement, a handful of gnomes could do more trouble than a hoard of horklumps if released in Slug and Jiggers, “but they’re still fascinating creatures. Not particularly inclined towards conversation, but the last time I spoke to one and he bit me I drew the best hippogriff I think I’ve ever done. I’m sure there’s a connection there.” 

[estrela--marlene-blog]

pastels and prisons | m & x

[theyrexeno]

estrela--marlene

Her eyes were quick to flurry through the words in front of her, so enamoured and still and soaking in the knowledge which the book tried to give. It’d been a while since she’d had a book in her hands, and the studious nature of the Ravenclaw hadn’t ever subsided. She had a thirst for knowledge that she often tried to satisfy despite her finnicky nature attempting to stop it at each step of the way. She had to fight for it sometimes, fight for the fact that knowing something could be enjoyed and that she didn’t need to know everything in the world for it to make true sense. As she read the next sentence her ocean eyes widened, meeting Xeno’s as she began to speak.

 “I do hope they’ll allow us to buy these books- I wouldn’t mind taking this home with me.” She scoured the words once more as she continued, the next sentence hanging like an afterthought from her plump lips. “And best tell Edgar to be careful. The planets are in retrograde and he may need your help to make sure he’ll be okay- nothing serious, just… lots of tea and cuddles. I’m sure he likes that. Maybe some assurances too.”

Marlene knew just how Edgar could get, he saw it in her too. The restless anger at the injustice of the world was a bitter feeling when it kept you awake at night and stared you in the face as you woke. Perhaps Edgar was lucky in this regard. He had Xeno there to love and cherish him no matter what, a love for the times at hand that would surely be difficult, a purpose to continue on even when the world was screaming in his face to stop. Marlene popped a tart in between her lips, careful in guiding her next train of thought and hoping that the sweetness would battle the bitterness which swelled beneath her exterior.

 “I do hope that one day I’ll see them, Xeno. Maybe for one day I could just see things the way they do.” A smile was quick to kiss her lips, grin growing wider still as she scooted closer to them. “Perhaps. If I see a nargle I’ll let you know- do you think they hang around Hogsmeade much? Maybe we’d have a few hiding in Twilfitt and Tatting’s… I’m sure Geraldine will help me find them, he seems as if he’s keen to do anything.”

Her smile grew as they said they believed her. Sometimes that was all that a person needed. It was funny how that changed things, funny how a shift came when there was somebody willing to campaign for them, willing to fight for the beliefs that they held dear. The conversation made her all the more grateful that Xeno was in her life, and that their presence always helped her remember to continue to search for knowledge, no matter how dim the world seemed to be.

 “Yes, I think that too. Sometimes things happen for a reason- we all can’t possibly become before if we never figure out what we’ve been doing wrong… I mean, as hard as that all sounds, of course.”

Xeno was busying themself with scanning the bookshelves, occasionally plucking one volume or another out of the masses and flipping through it idly, more often than that returning their attention briefly to their plate to portion off a tiny sliver of their tart with the side of their fork. They were there, however, for Marlene, so as she spoke they let their attention move to her. And even if they hadn’t immediately looked over to her, her words as she continued to speak would’ve snatched up their focus entirely. Despite the near-immediate reassurance that what she warned of was nothing serious, Xeno couldn’t seem to stop the well of concern that seemed to spring, as if it had been lying in wait for them to notice it, somewhere in their chest. They let out a hum of acknowledgement, brow furrowing slightly, “I can do that.” They did do that, really. As much as Xeno liked to drape themself across Edgar for sheerly selfish reasons, it was Edgar who’d always been the one who took comfort from contact, Edgar who had taught Xeno to do the same. Cuddling Edgar was a mutual sort of indulgence. “I’ll definitely do that. Thank you for telling me, you should probably get that book.”  

Marlene scooted closer to them, and Xeno, perhaps influenced by the talk of cuddling, and thoughts of comfort through contact, slipped their hand into her free one, squeezing briefly and flashing their friend a smile. “You just have to keep looking.” That was how it worked, after all. The more someone looked, the more they saw. Looking sometimes meant seeing things that had always been just in front of your nose for the first time. 

“I’ve never seen one at Twilfitt and Tattings, but they are thieves by trade, so the very good ones generally go unseen just because they’re very skilled, you know. So there’s no telling, really. If you keep an eye out you may spot a slightly sloppy one. There’s plenty of wrackspurts around though- but that’s normal for a place that has lots of humans coming in and out.” Xeno’s smile had faded as they spoke, following their thoughts with intense concentration, but when their thoughts turned to Geraldine it returned again, small and pleased, “Oh, yes, Geraldine might help. I think he’s more likely to ward off wrackspurts than anything, but he could be invaluable with the nargles.” 

Xeno liked to think they were drawn to the good people. People who were kind and clever and full of ideas that illuminated entirely new worlds before them, be they intellectual or experiential or just some new layer of humanity that needed a nudge to be unveiled. Xeno didn’t know how they’d had the good luck to end up with so many good people. “Yes. Hard things are just as important as the best and easiest things. And as hard as they seem to us, they seem immeasurably small to the stars.” 

[chaos-hexes-deactivated20220422]

Puff Puff Pass | Lucius & Xenophilius

[theyrexeno]

lucius-a-malfoy

Leave it to Lovegood to take it completely literally. He didn’t care about a Niffler’s expanding pouch. He was only moderately sure he remembered what the bloody hell a Niffler was from Care of Magical Creatures. That had been a bloody useless class he had taken for an easy O. It wasn’t as if he was running across such creatures in his day to day life. Perhaps someone as odd as Xenophilius would care more about it than he would, but he was fairly certain he recalled witnessing them talking to a tree in their third and his fourth year. An actual tree. With no magical properties whatsoever. At first, it had been almost funny, but had slowly progressed into strange and off-putting as they seemed to act as if the tree was responding.

Now, he blinked, looking down at the creature he held. Perhaps a Lucius more in his right mind would be able to dole out some sort of scathing remark, or make Xenophilius work to regain what they had lost. However, he didn’t much care about the puffskein at this point. And it was his own fault that he had engaged Lovegood at all. Had he simply left the creature to be trampled by other, less careful, Ministry workers, he wouldn’t have to suffer the issue.

Letting out a tired sigh of his own, he looked down at the creature–Fig, the freak had called it–as it squeaked again. “Why do you have it in your pocket?” He asked, holding it out to Lovegood. “I don’t know much about them, but it likely doesn’t… have enough space?” Was that logical? Why did it matter? He didn’t care about its well-being, but Lovegood didn’t seem all that surprised that it had gotten out. “A cage might be more suiting.”

Waiting for them to take it, he glanced at the other and awaited the response. Doubtless, it would be wild and ridiculous, as many of the other things they said were.

The moment Lucius held out the puffskein, Xeno took a half-step forward and very gently reached out and scooped the creature up with both hands, movements slow as if they expected the wizard to pull back at any moment, taking Fig with him. But he didn’t, and they had Fig cupped in their hands, which they drew in close to their chest. Rolling Fig slightly back and forth confirmed the fact that he seemed uninjured- not a surprise, puffskeins were notoriously hardy creatures- which was a relief. Eventually, Xeno’s attention returned to Lucius, whom they blinked at a few times before remembering what he’d asked them. 

“Oh. Well, Fig doesn’t like cages.” They glanced down at the creature, pausing in case the puffskein wanted to confirm or deny their statement. The small custard-coloured ball remained silent, and Xeno pressed on, “I’ve only known him for almost a day, so I can’t claim to be an expert on his particular preferences, especially due to the fact that he doesn’t speak English. Or mermish, which I’ve picked up a bit of. But he’s heavily implied that he likes cozy, small spaces, and prefers them over being out in the open. And also I don’t own a cage.” Thumb absently petting the creature, Xeno’s head tilted, “Though I suppose that doesn’t really answer your question about why he was in my pocket. He doesn’t live in there, he was just riding along so we could see if we could find his owner. He’s lost.” 

Xeno’s rambling puttered to an end, and they fell quiet, head still tilted as they regarded Lucius from where they stood, puffskein cradled in their hand, and half a step closer than that they’d been before regaining possession of the creature. They wordlessly took the half-step back away again, attention not breaking from the wizard in front of them. 

[theyrexeno]

Over Ice Cream || X&S

[theyrexeno]

burningstarsirius

“Are there? Like what?” Sirius was generally curious as he hadn’t really considered that before, though it made sense now that he was. He nodded contemplatively as he listened to Xeno talk, which was always interesting and often very entertaining as well. “It makes sense, that how we take in the world gives us all a different perspective on it, since it’s all at least slightly different if not incredibly different from person to person. I wonder how people who are colorblind perceive the world? Or Muggles. I can’t imagine how different things must be for them.” To Sirius, Muggles were both fascinating and completely baffling. He’d enjoyed Muggle Studies more than he’d been expecting to at Hogwarts and his love of the subject had become just one of the many points of contention between him and his parents.

Sirius chuckled at Xeno’s reasoning but nodded since it made a certain amount of sense. “Perhaps you have. You must be better at it than the rest of us if you’ve successfully managed to stave it off this whole time.” His eyebrow went up a little at Xeno’s offer and he considered. A ghost hunt with Xeno would no doubt be fun. “It does sound interesting. Perhaps I’ll take you up on that offer some time, then. Have you talked to many of the ghosts around here?” Most places were haunted so Sirius didn’t doubt that Diagon Alley had a number of ghosts. Sirius wasn’t generally here at the right times to see them, though, so he’d never encountered any, though he’d had some good talks with the ghosts at Hogwarts once upon a time.

“Early summer isn’t too bad. There doesn’t tend to be much going on then and the students not in school haven’t managed to cause too much trouble yet so everyone’s slightly more calm. Sometimes it truly does depend on the day, though.” Xeno had a point about the lack of plants at the Ministry. “Indeed, there isn’t much organic life there. I suppose no one wants to take responsibility for maintaining the plants were they to bring them in.” Everyone at the Ministry was busy enough so Sirius doubted people would be willing to find time to maintain any greenery that was brought in.

Sirius received his ice cream and took a few licks, finding that he did like his choice and was glad of Xeno’s suggestion. “I’m glad to hear it. Sprinkles too, I see.” He smiled a little, not surprised that Xeno would get sprinkles on their cone. Sirius personally found sprinkles unnecessary and more trouble than they were worth since they really just tended to get everywhere and didn’t add much in terms of flavour but he kept that thought to himself.

“There’s sorts of shrimp that can see colours we can’t- I think they might be magical, but there hasn’t been nearly enough research into magical creatures that live deep in the sea. And dogs see less colour than we do, so that’s not entirely the same but it’s the difference that matters, really. It’s a shift in perception.” Sirius’ contemplative nod was met with one of unsuppressed enthusiasm from Xeno as the wizard replied to their musings. “Yes, exactly. Or even a colourblind person with no magic, that would be very interesting. It’s like an entirely different world. It’s a bit sad to think of all the experiences you’ll never experience because we’re rather limited in terms of being a single person, you know.” There were ways of magically seeing through others’ eyes, but they tended to not be very ethically good. But Xeno could contemplate it.

“Maybe,” Xeno didn’t often think about getting bored. There was far too much to observe in even the smallest of things to let oneself fall into boredom. “Oh. Yes, there’s a lovely man, Charles, who floats about down the alleyway just behind Gringotts sometimes, he’s a fairly new ghost too- only just reaching his one hundred and fiftieth deathday. And if you go into muggle London there’s Maria, who’s very cheerful and sometimes accidentally floats through me which is a very strange feeling- have you ever had a ghost float through you? But yes. I’ve spoken with a number of them, but there must be more, that’s why I’m trying to find them. And you if you come along sometime.” Ghosts offered a wealth of knowledge, after all. And more often than not, they were more than happy to stop for a long conversation- time wasn’t much of a concern among the non-corporeal. 

Nodding slowly, as if considering Sirius’ explanation, Xeno took their ice cream and trained an assessing eye on it before licking a drip. “That makes sense. And I suppose things depending on the day is true of absolutely everything. So, yes, that’s fair enough. That’s very sad about the plants though, I’ve always thought that everyone could benefit from having a plant around.” 

Xeno licked their ice cream cone, saving a clump of sprinkles from sliding down the side and right to the floor. “Yes. And you don’t have any. Should we sit down?” They were already moving to a table nearby, attention flickering between Sirius and their ice cream. “Do you like it?” 

[narcissax-deactivated20181101]

Diamond in a Haystack || Open

[theyrexeno]

narcissax

“Potion making is rather tedious.” She agreed. Narcissa had been wonderful at it, sure,  but that didn’t come with ease. She’d worked hard to know how to be exact and how to recall ingredients from mind rather than paper. The Black sister couldn’t truly blame the other from being sub par at it. “I’d agree. It is one of the things I’m glad to be free of.” Narcissa hummed, looking over the other once more. She still wasn’t sure what she made of them. It seemed they were rather hard to nail down—in the sense of personality or conversation. Their mind was ever moving forward.

“What is it you do in your spare time then?” Narcissa knew they weren’t a member of the Rebellion, but more so, she’d never noticed them at a pure blood event. That didn’t mean that they hadn’t been there; Narcissa could be fairly near-sighted when she wished to be.

Xeno nodded decisively, and then seemed to change their mind, or have what they were agreeing to catch up with them, and ended up shrugging. “Well, it’s very interesting. Potion making is fascinating in terms of theory- the whole concept is very interesting, and there’s a lot of wonderful history involved. The actual making of the potions is, at least in my case, probably better left to people who are very good at it. And enjoy it, that’s important too.” 

A better question might have been what Xeno didn’t do in their spare time. They could be found rooting around in bins because they could’ve sworn they saw a bowtruckle down there and it must be terribly lost, and curled up somewhere reading the next. The world was Xeno’s hobby. “Oh, all sorts of things. Just this morning I found a fascinating book on fossils and I think I’ll look into fossils of ancient magical creatures, I’d like to see what I can find. I spend most of my time on the Quibbler though.”

[theyrexeno]

ameliabonesx

Amelia often tried to make time in her hectic schedule for drop ins, never knowing what might come from them. Usually she preferred if they were work related but if they weren’t and she had some time to catch up with a friend, she would. Other times, she’d stay glued to her desk and work, burning the midnight oil until whatever task at hand was complete.

Fortunately for the individual knocking on her office door, Amelia had a moment to spare. And even if she didn’t, the case she’d been working on had proven difficult enough that she needed a breather. Despite how dedicated she was to her job, and how easily she threw herself into it, Amelia knew when she wasn’t being productive anymore. Parchment littered her desk and ink stained her fingers but that’s what happened after ten hours of work, wasn’t it? And she wasn’t even done.

The witch had come in early, after staying later, and had barely moved from her spot at her desk for hours on end. When the Bones was enraptured in work, it was best practice to leave it be. She wouldn’t be of any use distracted and until she took a break of her own volition, she’d prove to be poor company. The good thing was that Amelia was about ready to throw all the piles of parchment into the fire from frustration and the knock came just in time to prevent her from doing anything too reckless.

Opting to open the door herself, Amelia moved behind her desk, wand in hand as it always was before opening the door. “I hope you haven’t been standing here too long.” Truth be told, she’d only heard the knock after several minutes had passed and she assumed they’d been trying for several more minutes prior to that.

Xeno didn’t particularly like coming to the Ministry. Dropping in on many of their friends unannounced could be an adventure in and of itself- to see Sybill in the soaring reaches of the divination tower at Hogwarts was invariably a whimsical trek past ghosts and portraits and wide-eyed second-years, to visit Marlene they walked out the front door of their flat and within five minutes the ebb and flow of Diagon Alley traffic had them at Twillfit and Tattings. To see Edgar meant Hogsmeade and its engaging mixture of old haunts and new curiosities. But for those of their friends who worked in the Ministry, visiting was a constellation of interesting sights tempered by distractions of the less desirable sort. There were many things the Ministry said and did that Xeno disagreed with fundamentally. And, in the case of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, where Xeno had found their feet taking them, there was Alastor Moody as well- Xeno hadn’t run into the wizard since he had interrogated them over the break-ins and poisonings, and they weren’t in any particular rush to do so. 

The DMLE held a number of draws for Xeno, but the object of their mission today was one Amelia Bones. Finding their way to her office was no trouble at all, but, as they stood by the door, rapping out a knock in an odd beat of a tune, there was no response or answer. Their first impulse was to open the door and peek inside, but people generally liked it more when you waited until they opened the door, or at least said something. So Xeno rocked back on their heels and let their attention wander. There was an enchanted window half way down the hall that they could’ve sworn was showing a meadow outside of Gloucester that they’d visited a month ago. The grass waved as a windy gust blew over the scene, and Xeno idly reached out their hand again to attempt another knock. Where they expected the hard impact against wood, their hand kept moving forward through the air.

Xeno’s head turned abruptly, and their expression, far-away contemplative as they looked down the hall, broke into a smile. “Oh. Hello Amelia.” They let their hand, still raised as if to knock, drop, and took a step through the door. “No, I was just looking at your window- though I suppose calling it a window isn’t exactly correct, really, your sort-of-window- down the hall. It’s lovely. Did you pick the place it shows?” Xeno paused, but only momentarily before another very important aspect of their greeting occurred to them, “I brought you some cookies.” They dug a bag out of their pocket, holding it out in offering. 

[theyrexeno]

xenophilius lovegood, your friendly local fashion mess icon

[theyrexeno]

professorminerva-mcgonagall

“And yet the concept of what one finds interesting and what one finds expressly inane is a constant subject of debate and more often than not results in little more than arguments.” While Minerva considered herself a true academic and educator at this point in her life, she also had little patience for several subjects areas. It was a difficult balance for her to try and hold down conversation for the sake of exploration and yet not have her heard melted by such ridiculous drivel.

In the case of Xenophilius, she’d read the edition of their magazine some time ago out of professional curiosity and had been unable to stomach several of the articles within it as to her mind they amounted to little more then nonsense. If she wished to deal with nonsense she’d spend her days listening in on the clientele of the Hog’s Head; nonsense was aplenty within those circles. “Well, at least you’re taking the endeavour seriously.” she replied after a moment. After all, just because she (and the vast sane majority of the wizarding world for that matter) saw the articles as little more than fictitious ramblings of creatures so far flung from reality didn’t mean that the odd few, emphasis on odd, couldn’t enjoy them. “Nice to hear your base of custom is evolving.”

She raised an eyebrow, again school her not inexhaustible patience, “And what, pray tell would you consider to be a magical source of light, may I ask?” Never mind the many species of flora that did indeed grow without sunlight.

“Change the process of teaching? I think not. You see I provide the tools necessary for the children to decide what they want to be. Everyone begins the same Xenophilius, how they grow is up to them.” And she gave the same chance to all.

That there might have been a point to the professor’s reply beyond furthering the thought experiment did not even remotely occur to Xeno. The way they pursued ideas was often uncluttered by ulterior motives or hidden meanings- it simply didn’t register that Minerva may be implying that what they found interesting was, in fact, expressly inane from her point of view. “Well, yes, what’s interesting is certainly subjective. It doesn’t necessarily have to be argued about though.” 

Xeno nodded cheerfully, though the idea that the could take the Quibbler as anything but a serious endeavor was a foreign concept to them. The publication was their pet project, an outlet for their interests and opinions. “Thank you, yes, it is nice.” 

They shrugged, poking at their glass so it shifted slightly in its pool of condensation but never wavering in their attention to the professor. “There’s plenty of options, aren’t there? We know so little about goblin magics, I would hardly be surprised if they have a spell- some version of lumos maxima, maybe- that could provide enough light for a tree to grow happily underground. Or maybe they have some kind of magical item that emits light, there’s all sorts of interesting things in Gringotts. I haven’t a clue, though, I’ve never been down in the vaults that far. I tried to convince a rather lovely goblin named Nogrook to let me and he refused.” And asked them to leave, but that was beside the point.

“Do they? I don’t know many babies, so everyone might very well start off the same, but I imagine once they reach Hogwarts they’re different people.” 

[chaos-hexes-deactivated20220422]

Puff Puff Pass | Lucius & Xenophilius

[theyrexeno]

lucius-a-malfoy

Puff Puff Pass | Lucius & Xenophilius

Lucius hadn’t been expected to return to work at the Ministry for several days after his business trip, but after the bomb that had fallen into his neatly cultivated life in the form of Narcissa’s utter betrayal had left him without social direction. He was not the man he had been before that conversation, and he was sure that he would need to go to enormous lengths to find him again. Fortunately, though, he was skilled at being different people when he needed to be. The businessman, the socialite, the face of the Death Eaters, the mentor, the enemy. The businessman required the least amount of navigation, the least amount of effort when it was only the work on which he was focusing. He has reports to file, numbers to crunch from the data he had collected on his trip. It would be easy work, mundane and without emotional requirement to complete. He needed that. His well crafted reserve was frayed now, a hastily sewn seam holding it back together after his complete loss of control.

He still couldn’t believe that he had shouted at Narcissa, that he had let himself reach that point. Normally, Lucius couldn’t be bothered to feel remorse for his actions, let alone the cloying sense of shame which now curled around his neck like a serpent and elected to squeeze whenever it saw fit. He was learning to bear that serpent, but he wasn’t entirely sure how long he could abide its presence. It was the sort of vexing that came with the itch of a new sweater’s fibers, or the rub of a clothing label against one’s skin. When would he feel the need to pry it from his neck? The only reason he hadn’t yet was thanks to his understanding that he utterly deserved its presence. He had gotten away from himself, and what was worse, he had placed his hands on her. This had been accidental, of course, but he was well aware of how tight his grip on her shoulders had been. Narcissa’s skin would bear ten perfect circles that would fade from deep purple to green to yellow. As the colours shifted, would her emotions? He couldn’t bear the idea of never having her again, near and sweet and cosseted as his greatest treasure. However, he was working on accepting the possibility.

Perhaps he would send her an owl. Expressing his contrition at how he had handled the end of their conversation wouldn’t fix things. He wasn’t so naive as to believe that say he was sorry would bring her back. Still, for the sake of his pride and regaining some self-respect, he knew she deserved an apology for his loss of temper. He wouldn’t, however, apologize for anything else. Lucius had made it quite clear that he refused to buy that he was the reason she had opened her legs to Rabastan Lestrange of all people. Merlin, he hated him. There was still an uncharacteristic part of him that wanted to see the youngest Lestrange brother dead. Of course, he would make no move to accomplish the action–it wouldn’t do to turn against a highly respected member of the Death Eaters, justified though he was. There was still a life to build. Still things to accomplish even without the certainty of the legacy he would leave behind. Would there be anyone to fill his role when he was old like his father was? Better still, would his old age be accompanied by the same loneliness Abraxas faced? Ironic that Lucius had wanted to end up just like the Malfoy patriarch, and now perhaps he would in the worst way possible.

Pushing down all of his self-doubts, he looked forward to the banal action of entering information, filing reports, working through the business ventures that would doubtlessly await him. If he could just get to his desk without interaction, he could lose himself in his work. He had done it once before–ironically, the first time he had proposed a break with Narcissa. Here he was again. He bit down a bitter scoff.

The office bustled as he stepped inside. Running a hand over his shoulder to rid it of any excess ash, he took a breath and kept his eyes ahead. He wouldn’t dip his chin; it wasn’t like him, and the best way to avoid unwanted notice was to behave in a manner completely congruous with one’s typical demeanour. The Businessman was at the forefront as he strode to the lift. He very nearly made it without incident when his foot very nearly collided with something brightly coloured on the floor. He had witnessed it falling from the pocket of someone ahead of him, but Lucius couldn’t identify him from the back. Sighing, he very nearly left it there. And yet he couldn’t quite place what possessed him to lift it. And that’s when it squeaked. Squeaked.

His grey eyes widened as he registered what the custard coloured creature was. Who in Merlin’s name was carrying a Puffskein in their pocket. It sat in his palm, the fur soft as it purred. The sounds it made confirmed what it was, and he swore he had only seen such a useless little beast at the Magical Menagerie in Diagon Alley. Did they even live in the wild? How could they, with seemingly no purpose at all?

“Excuse me,” he called out, moving to catch the wizard who had dropped it. His free hand caught the other’s shoulder before he realized just who he was.

Xenophilius Lovegood. Honestly, the urge to groan was so great that he could feel the sound pressing against the back of his teeth. He should have left the thing on the floor.

Lucius knew Xenophilius only in passing, but he was a strange man. He had been strange at Hogwarts, too. And Lucius had certainly had no trouble making the other aware of his strangeness. Indeed, he had rarely had kind words to say to him. Now, he knew he would have to speak with him, of all people, with his bloody ridiculous magazine and entirely annoying way of looking at the world. Evidently, Lucius was to have no piece.

“Lovegood,” he said simply, his voice curt. “I shouldn’t be at all surprised. Only a crackpot like you would be carrying a puffskein about like a coin purse.”

The puffskein had been an accident. 

As a child, Xeno hadn’t had pets. There’d been the family owl, Eleanor, who was beautiful, if a bit temperamental, and Xeno had throughly enjoyed rambling away to her, sprawled out on the ground while she trained an eye on them from her perch on the back of a chair, far above. They’d come home with a boxes full of frogs, or jars populated with bugs and filled with intricately organized habitats on too many occasions to count, but they had never been long-lived residents of the Lovegood home. The frogs especially. While at Hogwarts, Xeno had replied to their parents’ letters through Eleanor, and the owls in the owlery otherwise. Ravenclaw tower certainly hadn’t wanted for the company of a wide variety of pets, and befriending them was arguably more a priority to Xeno than befriending their peers was. In the years since Hogwarts, Xeno had taken to wandering in such a way that they were liable to leave their flat and not return for days at the drop of a hat, which Xeno was self-aware enough to realize wasn't a particularly good environment to bring an animal into. And Edgar had Ser, who was very easily the best cat Xeno had ever had the good fortune to meet. In short, they’d never felt any particular inclination to have a pet of their own. It was much simpler to just be good friends with a number of kind animals.  

And so, incredible cuteness regardless, Xeno had decided it probably would be for the best not to keep the puffskein they’d found nosing his way around underneath a bench on Diagon Alley. Which presented them with the problem of what to do with the creature. The Magical Menagerie had all their puffskeins accounted for, and walking around the Alley with the custard coloured creature in their hands hadn’t resulted in anything either. The creature had been in their possession for nearly a day now with no leads. Xeno had given him the temporary name Fig. They were considering introducing Fig to Edgar. Too much longer and they would be in danger of never being able to part with the ball of fur. 

However, Fig was likely not just some wild puffskein who happened to end up in Diagon Alley and then fall asleep in Xeno’s hands the moment they picked him up. He had to have come from somewhere. And so they’d found themself in the Ministry on the vague impression that they might maybe have someone who might know what to do with a lost puffskein. 

Xeno was puzzling through what their next steps might be now that they were actually in the atrium of the Ministry with Fig in one of their many pockets when a hand clamped down on their shoulder and they started slightly, eyes widening as they were jerked out of their thoughts. They turned on their heel and abruptly stopped moving entirely as they registered who was standing before them. Lucius Malfoy. And, oh- Xeno’s gaze shifted from Malfoy to the creature in his hand, to their pocket, which they patted as if the evidence that it was empty wasn’t immediately in front of them already. That explained rather a lot about how Fig had ended up wandering Diagon Alley all alone, actually.

Their attention returned once again to Lucius as he spoke, and they fiddled with the long chain of a necklace around their neck, wrapped haphazardly with bits of ribbon and string, and with a number of stones with holes worn through their centers hanging at its end. Xeno figured that if they didn’t give their hands something to do, they’d have to grab Fig out of the wizard’s grasp, and they weren’t convinced that would end well. And judging by the curtness to Malfoy’s voice, and the way that seemingly everything the wizard had to say to them was an insult or a jab, it wouldn’t. 

“If I were to have a creature acting as a coin purse, a niffler would be a much better choice. They’re better equipped to hold coins- or jewels, or any sort of shiny thing- what with having a pouch that expands, after all. A puffskein would have to eat the coins, which I imagine would make them sick. But the stealing could become a problem, with a niffler.” Xeno didn’t try terribly hard to make their smile convincing, but they smiled nonetheless, small and strained as it was, still spinning one of the stones on their necklace around in circles as they rambled. “Thank you for picking Fig up though. Could I have him back, please? 

[theyrexeno]

newsworthy || x & e

[theyrexeno]

vanciful

Emmeline watched the moustache of her editor, thick and bushy over his upper lip, twitch as he made it his mission to tear her last piece of writing to complete shreds. It was his job, of course it was, to question everything she brought to him, but the longer she sat there, with the man glaring at her from across the messy desk, the more personal it was beginning to feel. The redhead fumed- she had really done it this time.

“You’re the war correspondent, Vance.” He said waving the piece of parchment in her direction as spit clung to his chin. “What, exactly, does acromantula venom have to do with the war that is currently being raged? Hmm?” The man didn’t wait for an answer, which was hardly fair. “It belongs to a crime reporter or, in this case,” he said, gesturing at Emmeline’s report with disdain, “it’s business. I don’t need some upstart falsely accusing the Ministry of,” a squint as found the phase, “shady dockland dealings.”

Emmeline didn’t need to even think before responding, ready for the question. “Firstly, you published in your paper this morning that the Death Eaters were the lead suspects in the investigation, so it does fall under my jurisdiction. And secondly,” Emmeline sat up straighter in the creaky chair, more than happy to defend the article if she needed to. Hated that she would, when there wasn’t a hint of slander in there, but itching for a fight. She loathed bureaucracy. “I simply asked the question that people should have been asking, which is what were the Ministry doing importi…” But the man was off again, growing redder and redder in the face with each passing moment.

“The Ministry are not the enemy, Emmeline. Do you understand me?” His voice had dropped to a grumble, fat finger pointing in her direction. Emmeline felt her jaw drop in disbelief. The Ministry of Magic consisted of a group of wizards and witches all of whom had opinions on blood purity. People would have to be complete idiots to assume there wasn’t any Death Eaters in their ranks. “Not in this house.”

“It’s the job of the free press, sir, to ask hard questions.” Emmeline could feel the fight bubbling out of her mouth as indignance bolted through her like lightning. She couldn’t believe her ears. The man was either naive or being very well imbursed. But before another word could leave her lips, something beyond the glass wall of her editor’s office caught her attention. Or someone. Emmeline frowned.

Xenophilius Lovegood was a force of nature. Beautiful, almost ethereal in appearance, with a mind that shone with creative insight into the world around them, Emmeline found them fascinating. They had drifted into her life about the same time they started dating Edgar and to say that they hadn’t made a lasting difference on the man would be slanderous. Everyone had noticed the shift.

But what was he doing here? Emmeline tried to return her gaze to the man sitting opposite her but blue eyes zeroed in on what Xeno was holding and a yelp escaped her, careening out of her chair and making for the door.

“They’re with me,” she announced across the busy room, finger in the air as if to attract the attention of the receptionist. She spared a glance at her editor who and ground to a halt when he realised that she wasn’t paying him any heed. “Sorry,” she added, grabbing the jacket from the back of the seat and backing out of his door sheepishly. “I’ve just gotta make sure they don’t offend… everyone. I’ll rewrite the article. Thank you, sir.”

And with a growl from the middle-aged man, Emmeline was out the door and walking swiftly towards the elfin figure in the centre of the room. She arrived just as they were patting poor Marcus on his head. “Thank you for showing him in,” Emmeline said, the young wizard looking relieved to see a hand folding around Xeno’s slender arm and tugging them away, responsibility offloaded.

“Afternoon Xeno,” The redhead said as she lead them in the direction of her desk. Crashing into her own seat, she spelled another chair from a neighbouring desk and gestured towards it. It was very well known that Xenophilius took issue with the Daily Prophet. Vocally, and often. But given the half-hour she had just endured, she was feeling deeply sympathetic. “What is it, this time?”

Xeno had launched into their introductory airing of grievances, and as they addressed the room at large there was no stopping the flow of words. They registered with a vague half-awareness as someone cut through their speech- they weren’t with anyone but themself, actually, but that hardly mattered- their gaze shifting from reporter to reporter as if locking eyes with them would force them into understanding. As far as tactics went, that one seemed particularly futile. A number of Prophet writers were simply staring at them, others had let their stares develop into glares, and a notable few were stubbornly persevering in their work. There were two who had pushed up out of their chairs as if intending to forcibly remove them from the building, and Xeno was reluctant to look away from them. Being forced to leave wouldn’t be very helpful to the centaurs, after all.

And then there was a hand wrapped around their arm, and Xeno turned their head sharply to look at the person who was pulling them away. “Oh, hello Emmeline. Lovely to see you.” Their smile was mild, seemingly at odds with the scene around them, where all eyes followed the two of them across the floor. Xeno turned slightly, making no move to break out of Emmeline’s grip around their arm, and waved their free hand at the receptionist left staring at their backs, “Thank you. Emmeline said that already, but I agree. It was nice meeting you.” The boy blinked, seemingly still recovering from the whirlwind that was Xeno on a mission. 

Turning back to Emmeline, Xeno tucked their hair behind their ear, and skipped the last half-step to what was likely the witch’s desk, judging by the way she dropped into the seat. They watched, head tilted, as she pulled another chair over with a flick of her wand, and shot her a bright smile in thanks. It faded like a cloud over the sun, however, the moment they were reminded of why it was they were in the Daily Prophet’s offices in the first place. 

“Well, there’s a number of things, really. And if I had spent more than ten minutes reading the paper- your bits are very good, by the way- I probably would’ve found more, I didn’t get past page six before I had to come here. So, given some time I could probably put together a list of problems and inaccuracies and suggestions, but last time I did that I don’t think it was particularly appreciated.” Xeno had sat down in the chair partway through their rambling, folding themself into it blindly as their eyes never wavered from Emmeline with a potentially unnerving level of eye contact. Their eyes were wide, as if to emphasize the importance of their words. “But the reason I came here was Donald Hobday. Or, well, Hobday’s article, actually. It’s about the land dispute and the family of centaurs living in the midlands- you know.” Or, Xeno had decided she knew through some mental gymnastics that inferred that Emmeline, as someone who was smart and also worked at the Prophet, probably knew all about minor ministerial dealings with magical beings living outside of tiny towns in the midlands. 

Picking up the copy of the Prophet they had rested in their lap, Xeno held it out to Emmeline across the gap between their chairs. It was folded haphazardly, so that the article in question was highlighted, the paper itself crumpled and stained and very clearly something they’d picked up at random off a table in the Three Broomsticks not twenty minutes earlier. 

“The writing is dangerously one-sided. And it’s all centered on the argument that centaurs are classified as beasts and therefore have fewer rights, which is fundamentally flawed. Also rude. Centaurs are only classified as beasts because they saw the ministry’s labelling of magical beings was utterly arbitrary.”