The-harperbaddock - (False) Bravado

*checks my email at the club*

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

Harper Moodboard 1/?

(Off)White x Gold

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.

Aesthetic - Cancer Sun, Capricorn Moon, Virgo rising. 

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.

Laying Flowers //

Harper had created a tradition for herself that she followed every year on the anniversary of her parents passing. They— She — still owned the house she grew up in. She didn’t spend much time there after the summer they passed, but she wasn’t looking to let go of it, either. Besides, it wasn’t like they— SHE— couldn’t afford it. She was constantly still referring to her family in terms of “they” rather than “she,” even though for five years now it had just been, well, She. It wasn’t denial, it was just discomfort and force of habit.

So the house was where she went. She arrived there the night before, with a bottle or two of her parents’ favorite wine in tow, and stayed over. She cooked for herself, read, watched some old movies, looked through old albums. That night and the following day were the only times she permitted herself to cry. On that next day Harper would lie low, largely continuing the previous night’s activities, before heading to the cemetery where her parents were buried. She’d spend some time there; talking to them, doing some more reading and maybe even writing a bit, and laying flowers. Then she would return to the house, get take out or delivery for dinner, and spend the night again before heading out in the morning.

This was a very solitary experience for Harper, but that didn’t stop her from maintaining a certain appearance, specifically for her time at the graveyard. In fact, she considered it to be very much tied in as a part of her ritual. Waterproof makeup was a must, as was an elegant black outfit… Even though afterwards it was promptly shoved into a designated corner of Harper’s closet. The main facets of this year’s look were nude lipstick and a slightly flow-y black chiffon dress. She was in the midst of reading her book, enjoying the warm summer breeze on her skin, when she looked up, startled, at the rustle of approaching footsteps on the grass.

“Oh… hey,” she said softly, feeling caught off-guard and distant, but hoping that her waterproof eye-makeup made good on its claims.