Lilyeliora​:

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

lilyeliora​:

Lily watched Harper introduce herself to the various cats, and it reminded Lily of when she’d first gotten Chess. At barely 11, Lily had taken the whole affair very seriously. She’d visited the local shelter several times looking for, as she put it, her cat. It had been difficult, there had been several animals who tempted her, tiny sweet kittens and stately older cats, but none of them had felt just right. She still remembered the day she’d met Chess. He’d been a newborn kitten, mewling with his eyes still closed. Abandoned by his mother, the shelter’s owner had said, he’d need someone special to take care of him, and Lily had just known. Of course, now she knew that she’d gotten lucky, that Chess had grown up into the perfect cat for her, but she still believed in that knowing.

While Harper was talking to the shopkeeper, Lily looked over the cats Harper had already checked out. The “highly energetic though a little possessive” tag made her chuckle, because it reminded her of Chess. The tabby with white paws was a handsome fellow, but Lily wasn’t surprised Harper had passed on “calm and independent.” She couldn’t keep herself from attempting to get his attention, holding out her hand and clicking her tongue. She prided herself on being something of a cat whisperer, and after a few moments he rewarded her with a cursory sniff of her hand. She scratched his chin and then left him be. Her hopes rose as Harper seemed to connect with a small grey cat, only to be dashed by the shopkeeper’s words.

Lily would never consider herself someone who was good at reading people, but she was. More accurately, she had a sort of instinctive understanding of people’s emotional needs, so when Harper walked away, Lily didn’t follow. She gave the woman a few moments to collect herself and waited patiently for her to return. While she was waiting, Lily checked the labels of the other cats to see if there was another one similar to the small grey cat in personality. When Harper came back, Lily smiled encouragingly. “So we know now that you want a friendly and affectionate cat, that’s a step in the right direction. I looked at a few of the labels, I think you should introduce yourself to her next.” Lily pointed to a cat with bright eyes whose label read, “sweet and clever.”

-

Standing in the midst of the cat supplies, the variety of the offerings impressed Harper; it was like there was something for each cat. That means there’s a cat for you, she told herself, but manage your expectations the voice in her head nagged.

She soon returned to Lily and the cats, ready to jump back in. She was going to find the cat that was right for her. Maybe it would be today— she hoped it would be— but she wasn’t going to force it if it didn’t feel right.

Harper tilted her head slightly at Lily; “Thank you” she replied, hoping to convey how touched she was that the young woman had continued looking while she took a moment to recompose herself. Her gaze followed Lily’s outstretched hand until she was met with beautiful blue eyes blinking back at her.

With butterflies of anticipation, she made her way towards the cage; second row from the bottom, second to last column on the right. She saw the label that Lily had indicated, “sweet and clever.”

“Hi there” Harper found herself cooing to the cat as she reached out a hand for her to sniff, “You’re such a pretty kitty!” She didn’t know much about cat breeds, but this cat appeared to be some sort of siamese-balinese type mix; fur that was mainly whitish cream colored, with bluish-grey points and tabby markings on her head, legs, and tail.

The butterflies in her stomach intensified and the voice inside her head returned. Don’t get attached, it chanted like a mantra. But as the cat sniffed and then nuzzled forehead first into her hand, Harper couldn’t help but crack a smile, letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Slowly withdrawing her hand and starting to turn back to Lily, her head whipped back around when she felt a tap on her hand. Sure enough, a single paw rested on her hand, and the cat let out a cheerful meow.

Returning her hand to its position just inside the cage, Harper turned her head over her shoulder to Lily, and motioned her over with her free hand.

“I think she likes me?!” she half-asked, half-stated, voice full of cautious optimism.

Chasing Tails //

Harper was never really an animal person. That was one of the reasons she was never inclined to become an animagus, despite knowing that she technically could, and perhaps should. Not to mention her job owning the hotels was eventually inevitable, and there wasn’t much benefit that being or having an animal could provide in that context.

But loneliness sunk in, especially with her parents passing and her leaving Hogwarts, where there was nearly always built in company of some sort. She resigned herself to that loneliness for a while, but the idea of adopting a pet, having a built in companion, popped up now and again. Sometimes she’d walk through Diagon Alley until she reached the Magical Menagerie, where she would casually window shop. A bit overwhelmed by all the smells and noises, she rarely ventured deeper inside.

How… how did people go about adopting pets? Harper wondered to herself. Did they just pick their favorite looking one? Was there supposed to be some special connection? Was it supposed to be like a getting your wand experience, where your pet picks you?

Maybe she wasn’t ready for this after all. She imperceptibly shook her head. No, Harper. You’re almost 23 years old, and you have the means to take care of an animal. Plenty of other people do it, so you can too. Stop getting in your own damn head and just do it. She was about to mentally debate back to herself when she felt a presence at the window next to her. Looking up with wide eyes, she stammered “Um, sorry, I’ll get out of your way.”

The piercing dichotomy of wanting to socialize and be part of society, while also wanting to disassociate yourself from people and all the chaos in the world.

fabianprewtt​:

“Hey…” Soft footfalls stopped, grounding Fabian in an indecisive stance. Not quite an uncomfortable one - maybe slightly - but one more of trying to avoid intrusion yet acknowledge Harper once she had spoken. If the actual location wasn’t indicating wanting solitude enough, Harper’s book and black clothes seemed like bright, blaring signals that she might want to be left alone. Yet, she had spoken, and thus Fabian had stopped. 

She was a fellow Ravenclaw. They had lived together for years in that tower. She wasn’t a stranger - or, well, adulthood perhaps had made them that, but still. Not a complete stranger. Fabian considered what more to say, not a loss of words per se, but trying to feel what would be the best course - asking how she was seemed quite pointless, catching up unfitting, unless Harper led the conversation there. It ended with him gesturing softly at Harper’s book. 

“What are you reading?”

-

If, when she looked up, it had just been some unknown passerby, Harper likely would have returned to her book, doubling down on her oblivion and indifference to the outside world. But when she recognized Fabian, she felt compelled at least say a little something. The thought that maybe now, of all times, the networking instinct was kicking in, almost made her chuckle with its absurdity.

They hadn’t spoken often since their last night at Hogwarts. A night that was supposed to be a whirlwind of joy and excitement, with some other understandably mixed emotions thrown in, ultimately ended up a night marked, for Harper, by shockwaves and tear stains. Sometimes it felt like the past five years had been centuries, other times, just a few months. Seeing Fabian made it feel quicker; it brought back fond memories of late nights in Ravenclaw Tower, talking, studying, hanging around.

“Pride and Prejudice” Harper answered sheepishly, eyes darting from the cover of her book back to Fabian. “I’m not usually one for romance novels,” she explained, “but a friend suggested I give one a try… and this—“ she hesitated, thumbing through the pages, “this was my mother’s copy.” Harper could have stopped sharing after that, instead continued on. “I guess now felt as fitting as ever to give it a try,” she mused, gesturing towards the elegant headstone to her left. It was sizable without being tacky, and clearly the pair of the one to her right.

“So, how about you?” Harper asked, before realizing her mistake, “I mean, how are you doing? Not what are you reading… Unless that’s what you want to answer. I mean—” she put a hand to her face, mortified at tripping over her own words this way.

Tennis Court- Lorde