Lilyeliora·:

rxtaskeeter​:

Rita and Harper had a good working relationship. The elder of the two had been a valuable Transfiguration tutor to the younger in their school days, allowing her to keep her place as top of their class and answering all of her burning questions (often questions which would help her in the process of becoming an Animagus, though she was sure Harper didn’t know that). Somewhat in her debt, Rita now kept her abreast of all rumours surrounding her and her business, occasionally showing up at the hotel bar for several glasses of rum and a debrief, which always inevitably led to them discussing other peoples’ gossip while Rita probed for information on any important guests.

To greet her in daylight was somewhat odd, seeing her in the stark light of day rather than in a dimly lit room through a haze of alcohol, but Rita was always happy to see a friendly face, particularly first thing in the morning. She nodded as she took a sip of her coffee, eyes on a shopkeeper stood opposite them puffing on a cigarette as she answered.

“Actually everyone’s seemingly been on their best behaviour recently, it’s been making my job quite hard. Probably something to do with everyone wanting an easy summer. But you know me, I can always find something to write about.” She turned her gaze to Harper and raised her eyebrows, offering a knowing smile. “How’s the hotel business? Any big events lined up for me to sneak into so I can keep my career going?”

-

From gossiping between Transfiguration tutoring sessions and during common room hangouts at Hogwarts, to cocktails and chit-chat at hotel bars, Harper and Rita had spent a fair amount of time together through the years. Harper liked the younger woman. Back during their school days  she told herself that she wouldn’t have spent all that time and energy tutoring her if she didn’t. But while there might have initially been other motivating factors for Harper, she found herself looking forward to their time spent together. She still did, perhaps even more so now that they had entered the “real” world.

Harper subtly followed Rita’s gaze to the nearby shopkeeper, before flicking her eyes down to her drink and taking another sip.

“An easy summer” Harper chuckled to herself, knowing that no matter how she wished otherwise, the phrase seemed like it would always be an oxymoron for her. “But for sure, Rita, you could write your way out of just about anything. Or into it, for that matter.”

She mentally ran through the catalogue in her head of upcoming events at the various hotels and venues, tilting her head in thought and reveling in the feeling of the sun on her face.

“Hmmm, well speaking of… There are a handful of weddings coming up, but no big or notable names. A charity gala you’re welcome to crash, a few conferences where you can try and charm some gossip out of sleazy businessmen. Those are most of the local ones. With mid-to-late summer holidays, and especially the Quidditch World Cup coming up, I’m not incredibly surprised it’s a calmer month.”

Harper paused and smirked, “Well, aside from the weddings; those are always affairs where everyone is high strung, that is until the drinks start flowing.”

gretchen-whoisleft​:

always a bridesmaid // gretchen and harper

Gretchen stood perched on a platform in the center of London’s Gladrags Wizardwear storefront, but neither the many mirrors propped up around the room—best to see every angle with, trifolds of glass catching the fading afternoon light outside and bouncing it around the room—nor the glass of complimentary champagne in her hand could distract her from pouting. 

In almost twenty-three years of life, she’d had her fair share of setbacks and well-justified tantrums. There was a lot to be said, too, for this ‘not being the end of the world’ and ‘not holding a candle to the war, which was far more important and was more deserving of her time.’ 

But even as a young adult and—in her estimation—a war hero in the making, Gretchen could not make peace with the fact that her mother was remarrying. 

The sting was not helped by the bridesmaid dress she was currently trying on for size, stuck with pins and clips and an uncomfortable, borrowed pair of shoes—to get a sense of how the material would drape, if it had been made out of a material nice enough to do any draping at all—and feeling ugly in a way that Gretchen Ollivander never did, and only a supremely cursed, outdated dress could inspire. 

The beleaguered tailor had realized that the only way to get Gretchen to stand still through the already-overlong fitting was to ply her with more free champagne than the shop’s policy typically allowed. Assuming they were the only two in the store, Gretchen called out to her, frowning and trying to nudge her cleavage into something that even bordered on visible. 

“I know it needs to be tasteful because it’s a wedding and all, but are you sure we can’t take some more material out of the chest?” she asked – voice carrying, encouraged by the champagne. “And I do still think it would look better in white. The bride shouldn’t get to claim it for this one; she already has three children, nobody has any misconceptions about her history.” 

-

Harper had only been in Gladrags for a few minutes, keeping her head down as she browsed, looking to see if anything new had arrived in the past few days since she’d last been in, while she waited for the tailor to be ready for her. She’d planned on entering the shop with a witty remark to the woman about her favorite— or at least, her most frequent— customer arriving. But as Harper moved to open the door, she caught a glimpse of a pout, mostly shrouded in blonde hair and a ton of dress material, and promptly decided to enter as unnoticed as possible. Whatever was going on, she knew it was best to keep her intrigue from being too obvious. Luckily, the blonde woman was far too caught up in her own misery (and champagne) to notice.

When she heard the woman’s voice call out to the tailor, however, Harper’s head snapped up and she abandoned her previous strategy, instead walking towards the room’s central platform. “Gretchen Ollivander, as I live and breathe” she started, breaking into a smile, “It’s been far too long since I’ve heard from you.”

For a moment, Harper wanted to reach out and hug Gretchen, internally very taken aback by the thought crossing her mind. She thought, with a pang, that maybe it was a sign of just how isolated she was, but quickly banished that train of thought from her mind.

Piecing together the situation she continued on, responding to Grechen’s remark to the tailor, “But no, you cannot wear white to your mother’s wedding, even though it would be, um… a small step in the right direction for this dress”

Both of the young women laughed and Gretchen lifted her hand holding the champagne flute, toasting to the sentiment. “So, when’s this wedding?” Harper asked, settling herself into a chair off to the side of the tri-folded mirrors.

Aesthetic - Cancer Sun, Capricorn Moon, Virgo rising. 

rxtaskeeter​:

date: 2nd august, 1978 time: 7am location: diagon alley OPEN

Rita did not consider herself to be an early bird or a night owl. She found labels of all kinds to be unnecessary and extremely limiting (heterosexual, gossip columnist, Muggleborn), and these were no exception. Not only that, but neither really applied to her, being one of those freakish souls who could survive on astonishingly little sleep; falling into her bed at 2am after a long night of writing and bouncing out of bed again at 5:30am so that she could be one of the first in the office.

That being said, there was something about mornings that she found incredibly energising - the possibilities, the blank slate. Living on Diagon Alley certainly helped, her curiosity always propelling her out of her flat to watch all the shops open, their wares for the day displayed outside or in the windows. Her pace would slow as she passed the market stalls, eyes scanning to see if there was anything worth buying or writing about (there never was) as she sipped a coffee bought along the way.

It was a warm morning already, and Rita happily sat on a bench in the sun, soaking it up as much as she could ahead of her long day in a room where sunlight was often obscured by cigarette smoke and many enormous male egos. Her eyes had closed in contentment for a moment, only for a shadow to fall across her face seconds later and cause her to open them again, expression confused until she registered who it was.

“Oh, it’s you. I wasn’t expecting to see you until later.”

-

Harper’s schedule could easily vary from one day to the next. A perk of more or less being your own boss, she supposed, though she was acutely aware that her situation was much more complex than that. Usually when it started this early, though, she tended to opt for either apparating or she had stayed over at whichever hotel she had to be at the night before. But this morning she had just risen extra early; it seemed like it was shaping up to be a warm, beautiful August day, and Harper knew that the fresh air would be good for her.

She stopped to grab an iced coffee on her way from her flat to the hotel, a light breeze on her back as she strolled. Slowing down as she walked passed some benches, scanning for any familiar faces, Harper caught the glimpse of a face and some blonde hair that she surely recognized as Rita.

Sitting down next to her, she gave a small smile to the younger woman. “I know” she nodded, “usually we run into each other around lunch time or later in the day. But you’ve gotta change it up sometimes, as I’m sure you know” Harper swirled her cup around in her hands before taking a sip through the straw. “How’s work going?” she continued, “The hustle and bustle of the Prophet keeping you on your toes?”

Florence Welch, from “Useless Magic: Lyrics & Poetry”

ravenclaw✨ intelligent • witty • creative

a world alone / lorde