where: around the booths when: Summer Solstice Festival who: Ambrose Kennedy and Pandora Pembroke ( @pembrokesbox​ )

One thing that Ambrose noticed about Wizarding London was that it surely loved its events. And they’re all so... communal. Back in the States, certain events were only meant for certain people. But here, everyone was practically invited as evidenced by the diverse crowd filled with people coming from all walks of life. Ambrose wasn’t a fan of the practice but when in London...

He was just browsing through the various offerings of the different booths when one caught his eye. There were various trinkets that could definitely be souvenirs. Ambrose stepped closer and eyed a handheld mirror. He flagged down the booth’s attendant and raised his hand to get her attention. “Excuse me. Is this one safe to hold? What does it do exactly?”

Rodolphus Lestrange​:

New England meant extraordinarily little to Rodolphus. Upper East Coast of America. He thought New York might’ve been one of the States in New England but he wasn’t positive. Probably one of the better options to visit if he felt so inclined to take a trip across the Atlantic. And that was about it. “Is it nice, New England? Does it compare much to old England?” he asked, with a humorous grin. No would mistake Rodolphus for a comedian, but he wasn’t completely dead inside.

Rodolphus lightly pressed his lips together before nodding. “I could imagine so, if events were to play in our favor. I’d say they don’t look bad for us.” He took a sip of his drink, savoring the rich flavor along with the image of a victorious future. A glorious future. “Do they still have that law in America? The one that prevents fraternization between wizards and muggles? Or no-maj, as I believe you call them. I’ve always thought that doesn’t sound half-bad. Like something we should have here, and surprisingly don’t. I suppose the Ministry thinks that Statute of Secrecy is enough.”

Ambrose felt like he could afford to laugh as if he hasn’t heard that a hundred times before. Especially after he finally got a taste of what England has to offer. But his laugh wasn’t all that forced. Part of why he laughed was out of relief. Jokes meant that Rodolphus was comfortable and that he wanted Ambrose to feel comfortable too. “It’s quaint. And it has its charm. I do love going out on my boat when the day is clear. Although it doesn’t have the same history as Old England. Not even close. Oh, but my wife would hate it here, I fear.”

“No, not bad at all.” Ambrose swirled the drink in his glass by tilting it back and forth. While the fate of America would still be up for debate if the cards fall the way they want to here in England, it wouldn’t be hard to assume that it’ll give hope to those who still believe in the older values. “Ah. Rappaport’s law.” Ambrose shook his head ruefully. “Unfortunately no. That law has been repealed in 1965. You can bet that a lot of people weren’t too happy about that. But I believe people are still trying to get it reinstituted until this very day.” 

Gwendolyn Lockhart​:

He looked so uncomfortable that she almost took pity on him.  But she remembered the smug way Gilly denied it all, and she wanted to stay.  She’d play dumb for as long as she could, but until that moment she’d give this strange, and anyone who was willfully picking her brother out of all of the fish in the sea was absolutely strange, man a prime look at the genes he was practically screwing by sleeping with her brother.  After all, they had shared a womb.  How many chances of fate stood between a total DNA swap between the pair of them.  How easily could she have turned into an awkward stalk of corn with a mop of hair.  “Oh really.  Do you want me to guess?  I’m a really good guesser.”

“Oh, well that explains it.  He didn’t exactly know I was coming, but he’s busy, and I’m –” she shrugged, unsure of how much he knew about her.  Probably nothing.  “an herbologist that doesn’t always do the best job at respecting boundaries.  But is also refreshingly honest about her shortcomings.”  She flashed him a bright smile.  “What are you reading?  Mum likes to read too.  She’s a librarian.  Never saw the appeal of reading new books.  I prefer the old, musty, handwritten sort that contains all sorts of ink stains and crisp dust.  Those sorts of books are great.”

.

Ambrose shook his head, almost aggressively. “No. Really. There’s no need.” He’d sooner fabricate a lie than listen to any more of her guesses. He couldn’t decide what’s worse, Gil’s sister getting closer to the truth on her own or hearing her come up with different ways to tell him that he’s too old to be seeing Gilderoy. God, their mother’s friend? Surely, Ambrose didn’t look like he’s old enough to have a kid their age? It’s probably his beard making him look old. He’ll have to consider shaving it.

“Yeah.” No shit. “I’m sure he would have warned me as well had he known you were coming.” Which means that Ambrose would have definitely not gone at all. “Oh. I see.” Herbology lies neither in the realm of Ambrose’s expertise nor of his interests. “That’s vastly different from what Gilderoy does.” Ambrose wanted to let her do what she needed to do but she immediately accosted him again as he tried to read. “I’m reading something of Gil’s actually.” So of course it would be new. Did that mean she didn’t like reading his book as wel?. “You only like books that are dirty?”

Gilderoy Lockhart​:

When Gilderoy was tired, there was virtually no telling what would come out of his mouth next. He blamed that on his mother, since she too never liked to be woken up earlier than necessary. Of course, when they were younger she had always hid her displeasure, but as soon as they were old enough to gain a bit of independence, it soon became clear that she valued her sleep. “I like to think so,” he replied to the comment. 

Now that he was properly sat up and awake, -for the most part anyway- he could appreciate the breakfast that Ambrose had made for them fully. Everything smelled delicious, which made it worth the while, getting up earlier. Reheated meals never tasted as good, he was right about that. Reaching for the coffee, he gratefully accepted it and took a sip. The warmth was inviting, not too hot, as he liked it. His interest was piqued however, when Ambrose mentioned needing to talk to him about something. “Uh oh… what have I done?” He asked it in a manner that gave the impression he was partially joking, though he hoped that it wasn’t something serious that he had done and Ambrose was upset. He didn’t think so, given how he was woken up this morning, but there was always the chance.

.

Ambrose never played with his food. Simply because of his upbringing as a Kennedy. But Gil’s cheeky response spurred the need to be spontaneous. So, he used his finger to get some of the perfectly cut square of butter on his pancake, before smearing it on Gil’s nose.

Even though it looked like Gilderoy was mostly joking, it saddened Ambrose’s heart that it was Gil’s first thought. The secrecy of their arrangement required their utmost vigilance. That means that any mistakes they make that could threaten their relationship required immediate correction. “No. You’ve done nothing, sweetheart.” Ambrose sighed. “It’s me. I’m going home for a few weeks. Two actually. There are just some things I have to settle with my...” He stopped himself from saying ‘wife’. “My family.”

Epimetheus Belby​:

Pim frowned as he shook his head. “No, no you’re completely misunderstanding me. I wouldn’t say that. I don’t know you or your situation. Besides, I didn’t mean it that way around, at all. Just that it’s how it would feel to me, if I were to run off to a different country just because there’s a war here, when all my responsibilities are also here. I wouldn’t exactly have that solace that my loved ones were safe. If anything I commend you for going ahead with your business here despite the state of things. Most people would be put off.” Perhaps not unreasonably, either. It wasn’t just the risk from the Death Eaters but Pim was rather surprised that there even was much opportunity in land investment at this time. “Are many people buying houses at the moment?”

He gave something of a grimace but it was easy to turn into a joke. He had survived and in his line of job survival was reason enough to laugh it off. “It does. An unfortunate hazard of the job, although when we sign up, they try to sell it to us as a perk. We have personal beds in St Mungo’s, you see. Very comfy, as well, and I do like hospital jelly. It’s not the same when you have to make your own.”

Ambrose’s features turned soft. Almost sympathetic. Just to make it clear that he no longer takes offense over what Epimetheus said. The other man seemed to realize what he had said and now he’s wheeling it back. “Forgive me. I was merely joking. Of course, our circumstances are different. I knew you weren’t saying that I abandoned everything.” Ambrose didn’t believe that too much, but it had to appear as it did. At the mention of business, a glint appeared in his eye. “Not here at least. Which is why we’re seizing the opportunity. Once this blows over, people would start looking into purchasing land again. This way, we can prepare and take advantage of it once it happens.”

He nodded, pleased to be right. Ambrose knew that it was hyperbole but he couldn’t help himself from commenting. “Well, that sounds like a terrible way to get new applicants. Seems counter-productive if you ask me. And I’m surprised. Jelly in hospitals are good here in London? I assumed they’re just as bland everywhere.” 

Arabella Figg​:

Did she? It wasn’t a good question coming from him, but it was an interesting one. Would she trade what she had now for a life where she’d been loved and supported when she showed no signs of magic? A part of her answered instantly: yes. But what would that life look like? Undoubtably, she wouldn’t have found Marian in it. Was that worth the trade? But she wasn’t about to get into all of those possibilities and what ifs with Ambrose. With a sharp gaze, she answered, “Would it hurt your feelings if I said yes?”

Her lips twitched with a cruel grin as Ambrose grabbed her arm. It was uncharacteristic of her, but the feelings that her brother stirred in her were atypical of her. “And why is that, dear brother? Afraid what they’d think? Had enough shameful secrets for one lifetime?” She snorted. “I doubt it would work for you, but being honest with myself made me happy.”

Ambrose’s expression remained still, revealing nothing but irritation. When he first realized who she was, Ambrose made it clear that he still saw her like family even if their parents didn’t. And tonight? She’s proving that she’s more of a Kennedy than she might like. Arabella had the Kennnedy temper. The Kennedy spirit that gives them tenacity to. But at the end of the day, was she a Kennedy who understands the weight of that family name? Did she ever have to carry the responsibilities that come with being a Kennedy? “No. It wouldn’t. Because I know your answer already.” 

His grip grew tighter without him meaning to as Ambrose lead his sister away. “My personal matters have nothing to do with what they did to you. I’m not the one who turned you into a secret Arabella. Or did you forget? I guess all these years, you’ve started to blame me too, haven’t you?” Ambrose shook his head. His mouth tasted bitter as he formulated the things he wanted to say. “What makes you fucking think that I have ever been dishonest with myself? Maybe that’s what happened with you, but the difference between you and me, Arabella, is that I didn’t abandon what’s needed of me just so I can get what I want. You’ve made it clear that I don’t know you anymore, Arabella. So don’t you go thinking that you still know me too.”

 Gilderoy Lockhart​:

With Ambrose running his fingers through Gil’s hair, he almost didn’t want to get up at all. It was apparent though that breakfast was already made, and as comfy as he was under the covers, he didn’t want the food to go to waste. “Mmhmm…” he hummed, moving his cheek toward the man’s hand. He tipped his head just enough to press a kiss to the man’s palm, sighing. “You could check me just fine, but I promise, I’m alright.”

For a split second, Gilderoy truly contemplated answering no, and not even as a sassy remark, but as a truthful statement. However, he knew that he should, and therefore, nodded very slowly. “In just a minute, mmhmm…” Once Ambrose moved out of the way, Gilderoy rolled over and sat himself up, still wrapped in the covers. His hair was a mess, he was sure, and he was still very sleepy, but he hoped that coffee and some good food would wake him up more. “Just to work on my book, but that could wait, if you wanted to do something. I’m not forgetting something, am I?”

.

Ambrose loved seeing Gil like this. Before moving to England, he couldn’t even remember the last time that he let a lover sleep in and wake up his bed. He rarely had the chance back home. And it was certainly wasn’t his wife who stopped sleeping in the same room as him years ago. Gilderoy slowly moved his head and kissed his palm. His lips were just as soft as the rays of sun that woke Ambrose up this morning. He smiled. “Well, aren’t you the cheeky one?” He’s been using that word more and more during his time here.

He expected a lot more resistance. Ambrose knew that Gil loves his witty remarks, and he’s definitely not safe from them in the morning. But surprisingly, the young man complied. Maybe it’s because of the smell of pancakes and butter wafting through the air. “Okay,” he replied, glad that Gil conceded. “I don’t want our breakfast to get cold. Reheating them just won’t make it the same.“ Ambrose readjusted himself while Gil sat up. He smiled before shaking his head. “No. I don’t have any urgent matters to attend to today. At least not yet. And no, you aren’t forgetting something.” Ambrose handed Gil his coffee before reaching for his. “I actually just want to talk to you about something.”

Gwendolyn Lockhart​:

She knew it.  She knew it.  She knew that Gilly was full of utter shit.  What was it he had said?  You didn’t see me with an older bloke at the carnival, Gwen.  You didn’t see anything.  You must have been mistaken.  Full of shit.  So much shit.  But that was fine.  She knew now, and she’d be cool.  It’d be much more embarrassing for Gilly to come home with her chatting up his older man.  

She had simply come over to water his plants.  He got distracted writing his books, and even though he managed to keep the herbs that were lined up behind his sink alive, that didn’t mean the more sensitive specimens would survive a distraction like that.  “Oh, hello,” she said slowly, thinking on how to best handle the situation.  “Are you Gilly’s publisher?  Or a like – a chef?  Is he that posh now?  How much would it cost you to fix him a peanut butter and jelly rather than whatever fancy chicken dish he asked for?”  She grinned, knowing full well he wasn’t any of those things.  “Oh or are you one of mum’s friends?  Whatever the case, yes!  I’m Gwen.  I’m just…” she gestured to the plants.  “you know, saving a life or two in my spare time.”

.

Instinct told Ambrose to get up from his chair, utter some unintelligible excuse, and disapparate immediately. Never in his many years of sneaking out of his family’s manor and meeting different lovers has he been reckless enough to get caught. Until now? Lulled by the fact that he was in another country and someone he truly liked, Ambrose finally slipped and managed to get caught. 

He forced himself to close his jaw that was hanging down his mouth. “I am... None of those.” Manufacturing a lie around that nature was dangerous even if they’re the easiest ones to make since she’s the one who offered them herself. It would eventually become something that they both will need to pick up and Ambrose didn’t want that. Ambrose was going for nonchalance but he couldn’t help but visibly wince when Gwen asked if he was a friend of their mum. God, I don’t look that old, do I? “I don’t know your mum as well. I’m just a friend. We were supposed to meet other friends for dinner. He told me I could wait for him here.” Was it weird that Gilderoy would have an American friend that he lets into his home? Ambrose prayed that it wasn’t. “Please. Help yourself.” Hopefully, that was the last of this interaction. Ambrose forced himself to return to the book he was reading even though his brain couldn’t focus.

Edgar Bones​:

The pause made him raise a brow, but truthfully, he was glad with the answer. Ambrose didn’t seem an easy man to please, and it was good both for him and for Mia’s business that he could see the other man as an almost friend. “An acquaintance,” he said, raising a glass. “I’ll drink my shitty beer to that.” He nodded his head then, though, knowing that he needed to give a little in order to keep this relationship afloat. After all, if he were going to play in the big leagues. “And, if you’d like to show me a new place to hang my hat… by all means lead the way.” He stood up, holding out a hand for him, raising a brow. He wondered if Ambrose would be up to the challenge.

A chuckle formed and Edgar pointed at the man. “Mhm,” he said, shrugging. “There’s that mystery. I do know I talk a lot. I like it, the sound of my voice. Peaceful.” Edgar was grinning again, to show he was only being sarcastic and he gave a good stretch of his arms, especially if he was going to have to go to another place tonight. Edgar nodded his head ever so slightly at him, smiling. “Ah, least I could do. Don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable, truthfully. Never liked that. Y’can flirt and still be decent, y’know?”

Ambrose felt relief that the man didn’t seem to put off by Ambrose turning him down. He didn’t plan on letting his lips touch the dirty mug of the bar again, let alone drinking its shitty beer so he simply raised his pint to touch Edgar’s glass before putting it back on the table to be ignored. “Cheers.” Ambrose stared at the other man’s open hand. He knew what he was trying to do. What he was daring him to do. Ambrose wasn’t going to fall for it, but he was desperate to leave this dump as well. He gave it a few seconds before finally standing up and offering the man his elbow. He wasn’t going to hold another man’s hand in public. “I know a place,” Ambrose managed without showing how relieved he felt.

“Uhuh. Peaceful,” Ambrose repeated with doubt written all over his face. “Of course, you would think so. It’s your own voice. You practically have no choice but to like it.” Ambrose knew that the man in front of him had a sister. Especially when that same sister is currently holding a very powerful position in the country he’s in. But he started to wonder if the other man had other siblings. Maybe he grew up with not too many to talk to and was feeling the need to compensate. “You don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable. Right. So what were those winks earlier for?” Ambrose teased. 

Antonin Dolohov​:

“It’s not wasting my time,” Antonin assured him. Normally he wouldn’t have been that kind, but the combination of it being Ambrose and the official assignment made him a little softer that day.

Antonin probably wouldn’t have noticed the absence of the ring, had it not been for Ambrose’s attention to the gap it left on his fingers. He wanted to say something, ask a question even, but he stopped himself. It probably meant nothing. “Who knows? He could. I guess I’ll find out.”

Ambrose simply smiled at Antonin’s assurance. Anything out of the ordinary with the other demigod’s behavior completely went over his head. “Well, you’re only saying that now because I said yes to the meeting right away. I am not, in fact, currently wasting your time.”

It turns out that Antonin knows almost as little as he does. Ambrose sighed. It couldn’t be helped. Even though it’s been months since he pledged his allegiance to the Death Eater’s cause, he still had a long way to go until he was trusted. His hand slipped inside his coat to pull a piece of paper from his pocket. In it was the name Antonin was looking for. “Here, you go.” He slipped the paper over the table, his fingers hovering over it to hide it in plain sight. “I suppose that’s it then. Unless you need more from me?”

Epimetheus Belby​:

“This is where my family are,” Pim said, simply. “At times like this, you want to stay close to your loved ones, that’s what I’m saying, really. That most people who aren’t from Britain wouldn’t want to move here when things are like it is but that doesn’t mean we all want to abandon everything we have.” There was also the question of if it would be worth it. He wasn’t one to spend a lot of money on himself. He would rather be certain that he could give back to his parents for all they had done for him in the future so moving abroad had never been on his radar from that point of view. He wasn’t like Adonis, wanting to know everything inside out to the point of feeling the need to gain an education from a different culture to further his career and what other reason would he have for going away, to where he couldn’t be on hand if his family needed him? It was a waste of money, money he didn’t really have a ton of to waste. Pim would never consider himself truly poor off but the way Ambrose so casually talked about getting a place in England because it was an investment was a different world to him. He nodded like he understood, all the same.

“Oh. What is your family business, if you don’t mind me asking? As hiring a lawyer doesn’t particularly narrow it down.” It did, however, make sense to Pim that it was Adonis who had been chosen by an American firm. He couldn’t help laughing at the suggestion of him being a lawyer and shook his head, still chuckling. “God, no. I never had the level of discipline Don has. I’m a Hit Wizard. Or usually I am, at least.”

Ambrose flashed a smile. But his lips remained firmly pressed against each other. The other man probably didn’t know just how condemning he sounds to Ambrose. He used the opportunity to look around and remind himself why exactly was he in the aisle in the first place. Ambrose grabbed what he was looking for before he continued. “Is that what you think I did? Abandon everything I have?” Given everything his family owns back home, it was definitely a lot to abandon. He didn’t know the man so Ambrose saw no reason to explain himself. Instead, he’ll just amuse himself with how the man could possibly redeem himself.

“It’s real estate,” he explained. “My family saw the opportunity to invest in land here so they sent me to handle everything here on this side of the ocean. So you see, I don’t really think of it as abandoning everything that I have. I’m merely... expanding it.” Ambrose shrugged, going for nonchalant. “Besides, isn’t there solace in knowing that your loved ones are safe at home?

“Ah.” Ambrose nodded. Even he was familiar with the occupation even if he personally never had to deal with them. “Does that explain your situation then? Are you on leave?” 

Rodolphus Lestrange​:

Another time. Yes. Rodolphus nodded with a polite, pleasant expression. Schmoozing was as painful as pulling teeth sometimes, but it was what he did. It was necessary. And Ambrose seemed to be at least a half-decent connection to make. That was something he’d already decided before showing up. The high-quality liquor Ambrose presented him in the antechamber just reinforced that. Good taste. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe they’d get along swimmingly.

“I would appreciate that, thank you,” he said, taking the gestured-to chair and accepting the glass when Ambrose poured it. “You’re from the east coast, correct?” Rodolphus asked. He didn’t know much about the United States or the Kennedys. His business didn’t stretch across an ocean. But he’d surfaced that in his preliminary research. “I’ve heard that’s a crowded region. Though, I’m sure you know far more about American real estate than I do. That’s your family business, isn’t it?”

“I am.” It seems that Rodolphus has done his homework as well. Ambrose didn’t expect anything less. He has a sinking feeling that the other Death Eater wouldn’t have agreed to meet him if he didn’t think that Ambrose was worth meeting in the first place. “From New England.” He didn’t say it with the usual pride in his voice. That would just be foolish considering they were actually in the original England.

Ambrose sighed as he nodded. “It is getting quite crowded, yeah.” By muggles, nonetheless. But Ambrose didn’t think that needed to be said. The wizarding community was never going to be big enough to outnumber those with magical abilities. “It makes land more valuable.” His lips almost split into a conspiratorial grin before nodding. “Which is why we’re investing land here as well. Who knows? There might be a market for American purebloods looking for sanctuaries here in England in the future.”

Gilderoy Lockhart​:

Gilderoy was usually a morning person. He sometimes liked to wake up early just before the sun was rising so that he could prepare breakfast, tea, and have a bit of peace and quiet while the thought about what he wanted to write that day. It was a very serene experience, usually, and he quite enjoyed getting up early enough to watch the sun rise. But other times, if the night before was eventful enough that he stayed up later than he usually would, he enjoyed getting to sleep in. 

Usually a light sleeper, this morning he was surprised to be woken up by Ambrose, who, when Gilderoy finally opened his eyes, looked as though he’d been up for a while. It wasn’t long before this fact was confirmed as Ambrose mentioned making breakfast. Humming softly, Gil looked up at him and smiled. “Good morning…” His voice was slightly groggy, having just woken up. “How long have you been up?”

. 

Ambrose smiled when he heard Gilderoy’s raspy voice, almost sounding broken after hours of not using it. His hand reached for Gil’s hair so that he could run his fingers through his hair. “Just long enough to cook,” he answered. Gil hasn’t seen the tray yet, but surely he could smell it right? “Can you smell it?” Pancakes, bacon, and eggs, and a cup of coffee for them both. He waved at the tray so that it floats over their bed. “Cause if you can’t, I’ll have to get you checked.”

“Are you going to get up?” he asked. He didn’t want to place the tray down only for Gil to knock something over once he sits up. “If you want to lie down some more, you could do that later. After we break fast.” Ambrose adjusted his seat so that the tray could hover between them. “Do you have anything planned for today?”

Antonin Dolohov​:

It felt strange to be here with Ambrose, even if it was strictly business. It was supposed to be, but the setting and Antonin’s history with the man made it hard to feel just that. He told himself it would be quick. He would get the name and leave. But Ambrose seemed so comfortable there, and it seemed like he was planning on settling in for a while.

He nodded as Ambrose ordered correctly for him. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. The vodka would be a welcome distraction at least. “That’s good then,” he said. He found himself wondering what this meeting had interrupted, but he wasn’t about to ask.

Antonin nodded. They both knew why they were here, but he decided not to argue. “They want me to connect with a man from Russia who has connections with the International Confederation of Wizards. That’s all I know about the man, but from what I can glean, he may have known my father.”

If Antonin noticed the stranger’s sly looks, he didn’t mention it. Ambrose was thankful for that. “Well, I didn’t want to be someone who dillydallies. How would that look for me?” Even after months of aligning himself with the Death Eaters, Ambrose still had a lot to prove. And he didn’t want to prove the wrong thing. “And I didn’t want to waste your time.”

Idly, Ambrose used his thumb to rub the skin right above the lowest knuckle of his ring finger. Just like he’s used to when he’s keeping his walls down. He didn’t even notice that the ring was gone. Ambrose nodded. “Of course.” It made sense. The name he got came from one of the people with the International Confederation of Wizards. “Your father?” Ambrose raised an eyebrow. He knew nothing about him. Nothing even from Alexander. “Does he have anything to do with this?”

Edgar Bones​:

“Well, do you consider yourself my friend?” Edgar asked, raising a brow, with a small grin. Of course, he’d like to think Ambrose was a friend, although he knew the other man kept particular company. He supposed all pure-bloods did, in a way. It drove him mad, if he were being honest, how picky they could be. But, Edgar always thought that he could get them to loosen up. Just a bit. After all, Ambrose was here, at this bar with him, wasn’t he? “Because then, I s’pose not all of em’. Although, they seem to meet me here, either way.”

He nodded his head, feeling a bit bad for making the other man so uncomfortable, but the game was fun, and it was too easy to do so. Still, one day, he wondered if Ambrose would regret his decision to remain so in the dark. It was much more fun, to be out here, in the light. “Well, usually I’ve found people do like a bit of mystery,” he said, with a shrug. “But I’m too much of an open book. They find out too much about me too quickly.” Edgar shook his head at Ambrose’s words. “I’ll be there Saturday. And I won’t be drunk, I promise. So no more of these bloody winks. Cross my heart.”

Ambrose paused when Edgar asked him the question. His instinct told him no. Edgar should not be his friend. Or maybe that was just the voices of his parents whispering in his ear. And yet, something about his question felt earnest and honest. A couple of qualities that Ambrose’s own esteemed “friends” didn’t seem to have. “I suppose we can work on that,” Ambrose answered truthfully but he added a smile to soften the blow. “We can consider ourselves good acquaintances for now.” Ambrose shook his head. “Maybe if we met less in this dump, we’ll actually have a better shot at being friends.”

He pursed his lips until they formed an asymetrical line. Was Ambrose some mystery other men liked to solve? Possibly. He doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeve like the other man seemed to do a lot. “Perhaps they do. I wouldn’t know,” he settled for that instead. “I’m afraid I don’t doubt that. You do talk quite a lot, you know that?” He paused before nodding. “Then I’ll be there as well. I’ll see the hands you were boasting about. And about the winks. I do appreciate that.” 

Antonin Dolohov​:

Antonin used to like meeting up with Ambrose Kennedy. Even if the other man was taken and - Antonin assumed - tragically straight, he couldn’t deny he had the hots for the man. But now that he was tangled up in whatever he was with Brenton, he didn’t see the need to flirt with Ambrose just to see what would happen. He didn’t have a chance anyway.

He took a sip of his drink. He had ordered one for Ambrose as well, hoping he had chosen the right thing. He didn’t want to waste any time. The order had come as a surprise and it was the kind of thing he wanted to get done quickly. “It did,” he said candidly. “Though, you seem more caught off guard than I do. Catch you in the middle of something?”

Ambrose was pleasantly surprised to find a drink already waiting for him. He raised it to thank Antonin before giving it a small sip. If he remembered correctly, the man’s choice of drink was Vodka. Thankfully, it seems that the man remembered his taste as well and got him a glass scotch on the rocks. “I’ll pay for the next round.” 

“It did. Although it was nothing I couldn’t reschedule.” That wasn’t too hard to believe, was it? After all, Ambrose heading his family’s business should mean that he could come and go as he pleases. But the truth was that instead of some business consultation, Ambrose was actually with Gilderoy whom he briefly excused himself from given the matter of this meeting. Ambrose didn’t have enough time to prepare. He didn’t even manage to wear his wedding ring before going out.

At that moment, another regular walked by and saw Ambrose and Antonin sharing a table together. Unfortunately, he seemed to recognize Ambrose from his many visits months before and gave him a knowing smirk. The American forced himself to ignore it. “Anyhow... is it possible that I can know why I’m supposed to give the information that I’m about to?”a

Epimetheus Belby​:

Epimetheus mirrored Ambrose’s smile. “New to me,” he clarified. “I have to be honest, I’d probably stay in the States, too, if it were me. Hell, I live here and I’m not going off on holidays while everything is like this. It’s not… the same.” It was partly a by-product of working at the Ministry. Before his injury, unnecessary time off left a sour taste in his mouth and he tended to use his vacation days to work for the Order, not for leisure. “I see,” Pim said. He presumed Ambrose meant that he was renting somewhere, rather than having bought a place so soon but he didn’t question it. “It’s much more comfortable to have a home to go to instead of a hotel room.”

Epimetheus raised an eyebrow at the question over the prevalence of his surname. “Not particularly,” he agreed, but there was little surprise when it was Adonis’ name mentioned. He had studied in the US, after all. “That would be my esteemed elder brother. I presume you met him when he was at Harvard? Don’t tell me you’re another one.” It was said in jest but he had to admit he had little desire to have a lengthy conversation with any lawyer he was not related to or working with.

Ambrose gave him a single nod. That’s fair, he supposed. The stranger’s revelation made him tilt his head. “So why don’t you?” As someone who grew up with his family’s amount of wealth, other people’s financial restrictions and limitations rarely came to Ambrose’s mind. “Current condition aside,” alluding to the fact that the man was still in a wheelchair, “although I highly doubt that’s enough to keep you from moving overseas,” he added. “It is. I consider it as an investment as well. You know what they say. The only thing that doesn’t depreciate through time is land.” That’s the entire philosophy behind the business model of Ambrose’s family.

“Huh.” Ambrose felt the urge to shake his hand again now that he feels like they’ve been properly introduced. “I see.” He shook his head. “Not at all. I met him here in fact. Hired him even for reasons involving my family business over this side of the ocean. Judging from your reaction, I suppose you don’t share the same trade as your brother?”