23 And Me //

Delilah, Florence and the machine

lilyeliora·:

Lily Evans had always  been an animal person. When she was a child, both young and not so young, she was forever rescuing wounded birds and scrawny tomcats from the  streets of Cokeworth, much to her mother’s chagrin and even at times irritation. She’d loved living at Hogwarts surrounded by everyone’s pets, and one of the happiest days of her life was when she adopted Cheshire. She looked forward to the day that she was no longer living in a cramped apartment and was making enough money to adopt a second cat. Until such a time came, she contented herself to window shopping at Magical Menagerie. 

It was, in fact, one of her favorite pastimes, and what she’d planned to do after work today. She was just planning to stand outside the front window for a little while, and maybe go inside to pet a few cats, when she saw another young woman standing in front of the shop. She seemed quite confused, perhaps as to what she was doing there or maybe what she should be doing. Lily watched with blatant curiosity as the woman seemed to have a silent argument with herself, wondering what it was about and what the outcome was. 

In the end, Lily’s curiosity and her sympathy ganged up on her, and she abandoned her previous plan of window shopping in favor of helping this woman with…whatever  it was she was trying to do. She stepped closer until the other woman noticed her and smiled her best, most friendly, patented Lily Evans smile. “Oh no, you’re fine,” Lily shook her head, rejecting the offered apology. “It’s just, you seem a little at a loss. Is there anything I can do to help?” From anyone else, the question might have come off a little snobbish, or impatient, but Lily had a great talent for seeming just as genuine as she was.

-

Caught off-guard by the young woman’s offer to help, Harper did her best to contort the surprise on her face into a smile (internally kicking herself for how awkward she probably looked in the process). “Oh, I just… I, um, I… think I want to adopt a pet?” she eventually managed to blurt out, “But I don’t have much experience with animals. I mean, I saw them around at Hogwarts of course, played with some cats in the common room, and I recall my cousins had a dog growing up, but I’ve never had one, myself,” she quickly added.

Harper was usually a private person, so she didn’t know why she was explaining all this to an unknown person on the street. Although on second thought, Harper seemed to vaguely recognize the girl from school, despite being unable to put a name to her face. Regardless, there was something about the genuine smile and overall vibe that the woman gave off that told Harper she was an animal person; she was someone who should be adopting and caring for an animal (not you, a voice remarkably like her mother’s echoed in her head). It was probably due, in part, to the few subtle strands of cat hair that Harper observed on the other woman’s clothing, but also just how comfortable she seemed around the pet shop; a stark contrast from Harper’s own anxious energy.

“Is this where you adopted your cat from?” Harper asked, trying to prevent too long of a lull in the conversation and move beyond her clumsy introduction.

safiyeece​:

As the closest friend Safiye had, Harper saw more of her than anyone else, more of her humor and more of her frustration. It was always a relief when she could sip wine with Harper and mock the more farcical aspects of her life. Somehow it was never depressing to think about the more frustrating parts of her life with Safiye was with Harper like it was when she was alone. The other woman’s presence, and her understanding was everything to Safiye.

She listened to Harper’s story with increasingly wide eyes, enjoying the show as Harper reenacted the whole episode from her day. Safiye shook her head at a few key moments in the story, just enough to keep Harper going, and when they finally reached the story’s conclusion Safiye threw her head back and laughed. It was the perfect vignette to make Safiye feel better about her own life. The absurdity of the whole situation belonged in the most elite pureblood parlor, shared by the women who truly did believe that the whole world, right down to the flowers, should bow to their whims and tastes.

When Harper asked about the meeting she’d attended, Safiye rolled her eyes and took a fortifying drink of wine. Then, she sat up straight in her most perfect Pureblood Princess posture. “Oh yes, we were very productive. First, we spent a good hour congratulating ourselves on just how simply wonderful our last event was, and yet after all that time I’m still not sure what exactly the event was, other than exquisite. We wrapped up the meeting by bemoaning the upcoming auction for the Society for the Upkeep of Wizarding Historical Artifacts and how we cannot possibly hope to outdo Marya Warrington at our next event.” Safiye settled back against the sofa and sighed. “So it was precisely the usual.”

-

“Oh how lovely!” Harper enthused, honeyed voice and widened eyes. “Every event simply must be more exquisite than the last!” she let out an un-ladylike snicker, interrupting her impression. She was glad that she could make Safiye laugh; she hated to see her friend so tense and frustrated. Besides, when they exchanged their ridiculous stories and encounters, it allowed Harper to forget about the tension that typically filled the cracks of her everyday life.

And as much as she did enjoy her alone time, she was getting quite lonely. That just made her value the time spent with Safiye even more.

“Technically we could do it, you know,” Harper started, knowing full well that neither of them could actually do what she was about to say.

“We could just pick up for a while and get away from here; galavanting around beautiful and exciting places, meeting new people, doing daring things. You could write your poetry and fall in love; I could…” she trailed off, not sure how she even intended to end her statement. She turned to look at Safiye and shrugged. They sat in a comfortable, if not slightly wistful, silence for a few moments. Harper looked down at her hands, fiddling with the rings on her fingers.

She finished the last of the wine, and, determined to keep the night going and spirits up, looked back to Safiye, her lips curling into a mischievous smirk. “I’m not getting stuck down the sad wine-tipsy road. Not tonight. We need some more fun” With a renewed determination, Harper summoned the drink and dessert menus over to them. “Take your pick,” she told Safiye as she passed one to her. “And you should know that I made sure we put that plum drink you like so much back on this season’s menu”

Harper Moodboard 1/?

(Off)White x Gold

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.

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.