The-harperbaddock - (False) Bravado

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to do any draping at all—and feeling ugly in a way that Gretchen Ollivander never did, and only a supremely cursed, outdated dress could inspire.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.

lilyeliora​:

Lily found herself wondering what kind of sad, lonely childhood didn’t have any animals in it. True, the Evans’ budget had always been a little too tight for Lily to have all the pets she wanted, but that had never stopped Lily from befriending every stray that crossed her path, even if just for a day. She couldn’t imagine not  having that history of little interactions that had always made Lily’s day. Hopefully the other woman had siblings, and lots of friends. 

Lily made her way into Magical Menagerie with confidence, greeting the shopkeep by name with a friendly smile. “Don’t worry about it,” she assured Harper, “Finding the right pet is a process, and sometimes it takes a while, we’ll just feel it out.” Despite her words, Lily made it her own private mission to find a pet for Harper. The other woman seemed kind, if a little guarded, like the exact kind of person who needed a warm, friendly animal in their life.

“So, have you thought at all about what kind of pet you want? Something small or large, something aloof or friendly, something to come to work with you or wait patiently at home?” Lily peppered Harper with questions as she led her to the back corner of the shop, away from the cute kittens and the glossy puppies. They stopped near the rescues, older pets who’d already had owners, for good or ill. It might have been a risky move, to take someone who’d never had a pet to the rescues, but Lily thought an older pet would be better for Harper. Besides, maybe a pet in need of healing would help Harper herself heal from whatever wounds left her so unsure of herself.

-

After the picnic incident of her toddler years, Harper’s childhood desire to go wander around outside alone, often what lead to children finding stray animals, was nonexistent. It wasn’t a conscious decision she made, but it showed itself in some ways even still. Going around in a city? Fine with her, even in a city she wasn’t all too familiar with. Anywhere more country-like, and Harper either arranged for accompaniment, or a conflict (where someone else would be sent in her place).

She noted Lily’s familiarity both with the staff and the layout of the shop, and it put her further at ease. She was truly touched by how the younger woman had seemingly taken it upon herself to help her find a pet, with no evident ulterior motive.

Lily began asking her questions about what she was looking for, and Harper realized she didn’t have much in the way of answers. “A dog or a cat, I think” she began, “And probably one that can stay at home while I work,” Harper paused in consideration, as the thought of having an animal around whichever hotel, suite, or office she found herself in crossed her mind. It was enough to make her amend her statement. “Although that could change with the right fit. Same thing with size, I suppose.” She chuckled softly to herself as she imagined walking into various hotels and meetings with a large dog or long-haired cat.

As they passed the puppies and kittens, Harper let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. They were all shades of precious and adorable, but she could feel the energy radiating off of them and was exhausted by the thought of taking one home.

Arriving at the back corner of the shop, Harper was impressed to see the number of animals they had that seemed to be rescues, or at least older than kitten/puppy age. While she was overwhelmed by the experience, she would rather have more options than fewer.

Feeling brave, Harper took a step forward, “Alright then, let’s meet some animals,” she said, almost not recognizing the excitement in her voice. She walked tentatively towards a large dog with a shiny chestnut coat, and reached her hand out for him to sniff… instinctively jumping back when he gave a low growl. Harper wasn’t sure exactly what she was expecting, but she knew that was not it.

Liquid Dinner // Harper and Sebastian

It hadn’t been a particularly difficult or even eventful day for Harper. No hotel crises on her radar. If any were brewing, the management had elected not to tell her yet. Shrugging to herself, she tried to dismiss the thought and convince herself that she was making the best of what her evening had become. She tried not to roll her eyes too obviously at that thought as she subtly scanned the seedy yet passingly comfortable bar.

She had been about to leave her office suite at one of the London hotels, grab herself some dinner, and head home when an owl swooped in through one of the windows in the small entryway sitting room, delivering a message. The way the bird’s marigold-colored eyes blazed into hers before it flew out as swiftly as it arrived told Harper that this was not a note that could wait until after she picked up dinner. After taking a moment to skim through it, she set her jaw, letting out a frustrated exhale as she turned around and headed back up the miniature set of stairs that led to the actual room of her office. The note, unsurprisingly, contained instructions about hotel paperwork that she needed to prepare and information about when and where to meet: In two hours’ time at one of the bars that served as a Death Eater hangout. It wasn’t that Harper minded putting in the effort to do the work. In fact, she enjoyed putting together the documents and creating their details. They were always impeccable, of course, and Harper took great pleasure in being told as much. What she wished, however, was that she would be given more notice on these tasks. She understood the importance of secrecy and discretion, and that some of these needs popped up unexpectedly, but informing her at least a couple more hours in advance should theoretically be doable.

So here she was… two hours later…. dinner-less. She sat at the bar, swirling a mostly full glass of gin and tonic. Harper wasn’t usually an impatient person, but as five minutes ticked by she contemplated downing the rest of her drink as she waited.

@sebastian-whoisleft

lilyeliora·:

Lily smiled a soft, patient smile as she watched the other woman struggle and not entirely succeed in covering up her surprise. It was something Lily was used to, especially in people who didn’t know her well. She never felt like the way she acted was anything extraordinary, but others seemed to think so. It might have been easy to think she was too kind, too genuine, that she cared too much, but she always had Howell’s voice in her mind telling her her heart was her strength and she should never let her mind drown out her gut. Lily Evans did not grow up in a vacuum, and she was shaped by her father’s  life, taking  on  his philosophies for herself. 

So when the brunette finally spoke, Lily didn’t laugh or tease her for babbling, or for never owning a pet which seemed unthinkable to Lily. Instead, she just did what  she  did best and leaned into the good. “That’s so exciting, I’d love to help! I’m  Lily  Evans.” Lily held her hand out to  shake. 

At first Lily was taken aback by the question about her cat. How did this woman know she owned a cat? Was she being watched? Was this woman a death eater? Lily forced herself to push away the thought, dismissing it as paranoia. Surely, after May, the aurors and especially the Order would tell her if she was in danger. She looked down and recognized the black hairs clinging to her t-shirt. She almost laughed at her momentary, absurd suspicions. “I actually got my cat from a shelter in my hometown, but I like to window shop here sometimes.” Sometimes, as if it wasn’t something she did at least once a week.

-

Hearing that Lily adopted her cat from a hometown shelter, Harper couldn’t help but wonder what that her life growing up must have been like. She pictured rolling green hills and a warm environment; one where parents encouraged their kids to pet, play with, and get attached to animals. Perhaps that was too idealistic; after all she really didn’t know anything about this girl and her background, not beyond the little she had just learned. Despite this, Harper couldn’t help but feel a pang of wistfulness, especially when she compared it to her own upbringing; though she immediately felt guilty for doing so. She knew it wasn’t meant to leave her so isolated, that her parents did want the best for her. But at the end of the day, azoy gait es (that’s the way it goes), as her grandmother used to say.

“Harper Baddock” she introduced herself, shaking the woman’s outstretched hand with a practiced ease and instinctively flashing her go-to smile, “I’m so sorry, I just noticed the cat hair on your shirt, and extrapolated” she explained soothingly, recognizing the spooked look that had quickly crossed Lily’s face. With her own strong tendency towards privacy, Harper understood the concern that arose when someone knew something about her that she didn’t expect.

“So,” she continued, slightly quirking an eyebrow, “I can’t promise this will be exciting or even successful, but if you do really want to help, please, be my guest,” Harper gestured toward the door between them, allowing Lily to go in ahead of her.

antonin-whoisleft​:

Antonin kept his mouth shut when he heard the grand doors of Malfoy Manor open and close from the parlor down the hall. He didn’t not like being there, though that had nothing to do with the manor so much as it had to do with Malfoy himself. The pair of them had never quite gotten along, too similar in their ambitions and dissimilar in their means of achieving their goals; but Antonin was nothing if not a loyal member of Lord Voldemort’s army, and he went where he was told to go.

Besides, getting to enjoy a glass of hideously expensive scotch while he waited for his contact to arrive was a bonus. The Malfoy house elf had scampered up to him with it, one ice cube perfectly chilled inside, and he’d been left to his own devices while some of his comrades went over their own mission plans a few doors down.

It was a respectable place to call a safe house, that much was for sure. As long as they all staggered their exits, disapparating or floo or otherwise, it was nearly impossible to draw attention to the place. It was too out in the open, too obvious, too… belonging to a powerful family. It really was perfect.

The doors opening was a sign as good as any that his contact had arrived; she would be the only one using the doors that day, most likely. Malfoy had arranged some ridiculous measures for anyone not pureblood to enter his house, he was sure it would be abandoned once it was clear having their few halfblood comrades walking up visibly to his manor might cause a bit of a curious stare from anyone looking too hard.

“Harper Baddock, yes?” He asked, voice smooth and welcoming, standing now in the doorway and watching the woman with his curious, perhaps a bit unsettling, large green eyes. “Lovely room, isn’t it? Lot of blondes, though.”

-

“Indeed” Harper replied, matching the smoothness of Antonin’s tone, answering his questions and comment in one word. While she wanted to make a wise-crack about what would happen should a Malfoy child be anything but blonde, Harper knew this was certainly not the place, and was still unsure enough about the company to do so. “You must be Antonin,” she stated, rather than asked, with a slight lift of her chin.

Antonin, she had already gathered, was a young man with an edge; Death Eater associations and beliefs aside. There was something about him that wrenched her stomach a bit, but she could not yet put a finger on what it was. Large eyes often gave an innocent appearance, but in Antonin’s case, the trait that came to Harper’s mind was snake-like. She hoped that she could charm him enough to end up at least on his neutral-to-positive side.

“I’d ask what else is going on around here, maybe even try to get the grand tour… but I doubt that I’d be shown or told much, or that it would even be well-received” Harper quipped, though internally unsure how much of her comment was actually in jest. She moved to focus on the business matters before she could dwell too much on her own words.

“Obviously, I have all the paperwork I was to bring. I’m sure you’ll find everything in order. I can take you through it, if you’d like,” Harper continued, gesturing to the couch and table towards the center of the room. “Or we could just chat…” she offered tentatively. “I guess getting the short end of the stick and having to meet with me isn’t so bad, considering you get a nice drink out of it,” she remarked, her eyes flicking from his face to the glass in his hand.