VI Quote of the Week:

His pale face almost shone in the wandlight as he looked around, checking back the way they had come and the grassy hills that were just fading out of view, like salvation slipping away.                                        -- notlibatiusborage, Brains, Brawn, and Spider Silk

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What had some poor salamander or frog done to deserve getting chopped up into someone’s cauldron? Especially if it was to make something silly like Hair-Smoothing potion or an Acne-Banishing draught?                                                     -- crabbeapple, Brains, Brawn, and Spider Silk

“Thank you,” she responded, smiling.  “Your opinion is quite valued.”  Over the course of their tea, she had let him see more and more past the mask she normally wore.  Such a thing would typically cause worry to bloom in her chest, but she had known Igor for some time now; there was a kinship in their mutual caution, but even she knew the desperation for true contact, true understanding.                                                                            -- forever-toujourspur, Draco

Instead of continuing on with the subject as she gulped down her water, Tilden abruptly and enthusiastically changed the subject. Daisy winced internally; obviously she hadn’t hidden her embarrassment all that well. They were both of them truly awful at subtleties. Which was really just another way to be quite certain Tilden hadn’t meant anything but casual conversation by mentioning the Potters’ new baby— but still!                                                                       -- perennialgrace, Sharing Scars

Family Embarrassments ~ Daisy & Septimus ~ June 22nd, 1980

Fawley Estate June 22nd, 1980, 2.35pm @crabbeapple

Sunday afternoon was a picture-perfect June day, with the sun shining cheerfully and a pleasant breeze weaving its way through the countryside, keeping the weather from growing too hot. It had rained a little earlier in the day, but that only made the grass seem greener, and anyway, it had all cleared up now. It was lovely outside, but she was stuck inside; it was, in Daisy’s opinion, a perfect waste of a lovely afternoon.

She was leaning against the wall near the French doors, wondering if anyone would notice if she wandered off to stroll through the gardens. Or, for that matter, if anyone would notice if she just left. She hadn’t wanted to come to this stupid fancy party in the first place, but her family had insisted; the head of the Fawley family, her stepmother’s grandfather, was turning one hundred, and skipping had not been an option. Believe her, she’d tried. It was most unfair.

And yet, for all their insistence that she attend, no one in her family had paid her any attention since they’d arrived half an hour earlier. Her half-siblings were off playing with their cousins, somewhere in the depths of the massive country house. And her father and stepmother were deep in conversation with one of Anna’s sisters.

Daisy was trying not to feel too hard-done-by, but not really succeeding. She didn’t want to be here, and she knew no one wanted her here. It wasn’t as though any of the Fawleys were rude or unkind; like her stepmother, they were all extremely well-bred and were exceedingly polite. But she knew what they thought of her. She was Annalise Hookum née Fawley’s husband’s illegitimate half-blood daughter. She most definitely didn’t belong here, and it was just sort of awkward.

With a sigh, she moved away from the door, heading for a nearby table filled with flutes of champagne. Maybe if she got really drunk and totally embarrassed Anna, they wouldn’t ever try to drag her to one of these things again. It was a good idea, she decided, plucking a glass off the table and taking a large gulp as she made her way back to her spot by the window. Only to find it now occupied. “That’s my spot,” she said without thinking, before realizing how dumb that sounded. It wasn’t even like it was a chair, it was just a stretch of wall, albeit one with a nice view of the garden.

Charity,

Heard through the grape vine it was your birthday. How ancient are you now?

Hope you have a good one!

-Sep

______

Septimus,                                                                                         @crabbeapple

Don’t you know it’s rude to ask a lady her age? Honestly, how could you? I may never recover. I’ve half a mind to owl Auriga to smack you for me. We both know she would.

Only joking! It’s so sweet of you to think of me, I don’t get many owls on my birthday these days. 

I’m still not saying how old I am, though.

I’ll make a designated effort to have a lovely day, thank you!

-Chari

Darlings Dear || Walden & Crabbe & Goyle || April 2nd, 1980

Date: April 2nd, 1980 Time: 6:00pm Location: Death Eater Safe House

The meeting had ended, the Dark Lord had made his leave surrounded by his usual cloud of awed silence and respect, and now Walden took the opportunity to lean his chair back and throw his boots up onto the elegantly carved table they had all been seated at.

Most of the other Death Eaters had made their leave at this point, but he was allowing himself a moment to rest. The night before was a bit of a blur, but most of it he had spent sprawled on the floor and woke up in bed with no memory of moving from his spot on the rug at the foot of his armchair. His head was aching, as was the rest of him. It was a familiar ache, however, and one that he had long since learned to live with, but that didn’t mean he immediately wanted to jump back into apparating so soon. A quick nap, and then perhaps he would return to his bed.

Or, that was his plan until he heard the familiar crooning of his favourite pair. Lifting his head from where it was resting on the back of his chair, he peeked from under a lazy eyelid to spy the hilarious couple.

It felt like his birthday all over again.

With a grin, feeling this was exactly what he needed to give him some pep, he pushed himself up from his seat and sauntered over to where Crabbe and Goyle were sitting, perching himself on the table beside them. “Hello, darlings,” he greeted with a smirk. “How are my two favourite lads doing?”

@strikes-goyle @crabbeapple

Human’s Best Friend || Marlene & Crabbe || March 12th, 1980.

@crabbeapple​

“You be good, Gallie, especially when they cut your nails. They’re turning into real dragon claws” Marlene kissed her terrier’s wet snout with fondness, playing with his ears for a second before Kleo, her dog’s veterinarian Healer took him up the stairs to the clinic on the second floor of the Magical Menagerie in Diagon Alley.

After spending the weekend in Scotland with her grandparents, and having taken Galahad with her, of course, the Jack Russell was in desperate need for a full beauty salon treatment. It actually managed to surprise the blonde witch how a puppy so small could get so fucking messy and dirty. Fur all tousled and dirty, with dry mud and herbs all over his coat, dirt under his claws and even some dried blood around his snout from a bird he had caught. Galahad had been so filthy that she had not even taken him home to her apartment last night, but left him at the McKinnon Manor until she could take him to the vet the next day.

Galahad was young, barely a year old or so. And the problem with puppies like him was that they were just like little children: they hated baths. Gallie was no exception. Marlene wondered if bath predicting was included as one of the assets of the animal “sixth sense” because, swear on Merlin’s grave, her dog had been resisting her the whole way. Marlene was sure she had red marks on her arms even with her clothes between her skin and Galahad’s nails. Even so, it looked like the terrier was nowhere near done with his open rebellion against soap and water.

The vet had only covered a couple of steps when Galahad skilfully nipped at the woman’s forearm, hard enough to startle her but otherwise completely harmless, and managed to wiggle himself to freedom, taking advantage of the woman’s momentary distraction. Marlene gasped as her terrier darted down the stairs, a dirty flash of mud and hair. She launched forward to intercept him, but Galahad, quicker than she could even hope to be, slipped right under her legs and made a dash for the door with a joyous bark. Freedom was only a door away, and more wet earth to roll in awaited at the other side…

“Watch out!”

Of course, the poor dog did not count with the unexpected pair of legs that blocked his race. Galahad bumped snout-first against a wizard who had entered the shop, naturally smudging the hem of the man’s robes with his muddy coat.

“Galahad, no! Look what you’ve done, you rude little mutt!” Marlene groaned with embarrassment and rushed forward to catch her pet, handing it over to an apologetic Kleo who hurried up the stairs. This time, she held Galahad firmly so he would not find other means of escape.

Marlene rubbed her face, feeling her cheeks pinking.

“Oh boy, I am so, so sorry! I apologize for my dog’s behaviour!” she commented, her voice truly embarrassed “He spent the weekend reconnecting with nature, and now he is not so keen on letting go, as you can see. Merlin, your robes! I am truly very sorry!”

//Happy Valentines Day, Bless!! I love writing Crabbe and Goyle together with you :D Ramsey is a lot of fun to read and write with! I love the comedy you work into your writing and how you can intertwine it with drama and complex emotional moments. Awesome!

Aw shucks! You’re great, happy Valentines! I love writing the knuckleheads with you too!

VI Quote of the Week:

Severus shared the name for her elaborate glass of water, and it made her smile, though confusion gathered in the wrinkles between her eyes. It was a sweet name, playful— and entirely unlike the Sev she had known. Which perhaps spoke to how long it had been, how inadequate saying ‘they had grown apart’ was. Or maybe there was something more to it, a game, a puzzle, another layer that she hadn’t grasped yet. Now that, that would be entirely Severus Snape, and even thought she hadn’t solved it yet, it made her smile more, pleased to know he wasn’t such a stranger now after all.                                                                             -- asphodelroot, Odd Places

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Narcissa was surprised by how easy Tilden was to read.  In truth, she shouldn’t have been - most people were.  More to the point, it was that she had for so long surrounded herself with those who intentionally hid their emotions, their thoughts.  In her world, those were as close kept secrets as any.  It might not have rankled her before, but for some reason, seeing the brightness that shone on Tilden’s face when she complimented his garden, she wondered if it was all worth it.                                                               -- forever-toujourspur, In the Garden

"You lead the way. You must know the route." And you're more disposable. And you're bigger. It would take any attacker, as they went deeper into what his mind still called the forbidden forest, a smidge longer to bring down Crabbe physically, which meant he could run away or curse it.                                        -- notlibatiusborage, Brains, Brawn, and Spider Silk

No, this time it was Severus bloody Snape. About as far from Ramsey Goyle as you could get within the Death Eaters’ ranks. Sep grimaced at the thought of the sullen, sallow-faced young wizard. He was a weasel, Sep thought derisively. Scrawny, untrustworthy and too smart for his own good. The Dark Lord seemed to like him, though, for whatever reason.                                                 -- crabbeapple, brains. Brawn, and Spider Silk

VI Quote of the Week:

And then Sep provided a perfect excuse, gesturing to his baby and claiming that he was waking up. It didn’t take much more than that— Auriga nodded and led the way from the room. So that was why people had kids, she decided. They were a good excuse for leaving boring parties.                                                      -- perennialgrace, Family Embarrassments

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Alastor took the offered calendar, and just as she said, a time and location had been written for earlier in the morning. They wouldn’t know the time frame the victim had died until an autopsy was complete, and that report wouldn’t be complete for a couple of days. But now they had somewhere to start. N.A1134 - He wasn’t sure what that was, or if it even was an address. But an address would probably be the most helpful. They could retrace the victim’s last steps, or the intended ones. He rubbed his chin.                                           -- head-auror-moody, Another One Bites the Dust

Severus had managed through hook and crook to get his fireplace temporarily connected to the network. He didn't like the fact that it made his home more easily accessible, or the way that he had to fold up completely to get his head in. And it had been a little embarrassing when the dead pigeon had fallen on his head mid floocall with a client, but the thing was working now.                                                               -- notlibatiusborage, Black and White

To his further delight, the baby had quickly calmed down again and was dozily cooing to himself, quite content. Sep grinned down at him. It was like his son had been in on the impromptu escape plan and knew that his work there was done. Clever little chap!                                                           -- crabbeapple, Family Embarrassments

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He took a few moments to readjust his tie, shirt and suit. His anger from being pinned against a wall and threatened simmered. For now, he would go along with Goyle’s demand. “Noted,” he responded coolly, and it was. Death Eaters who were loose cannons were a liability; it was something the Dark Lord ought to know, if he didn’t already.                                                                  -- xavier-wilkes, The Cleanup Crew

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And suddenly the eyes were there, like boils sprouting from under her skin and blinking owlishly from her flesh. She was watching him, seeing him. He needed to leave now before she saw too much. Before the eyes started crowding him, burrowing under his own skin into his erratically beating heart.                                                                           -- apromisetoeveryone, Walden the Lovely

She nodded as Moody explained how he’d come to be here, her colour deepening as he talked about how peaceful and quiet the park had seemed. It usually was, when she wasn’t racing around it, not paying the least attention to where she was going. “Same here,” she said. “I mean, not about work, but going for a walk. Or a run, rather. It’s a nice place for a walk. Plenty of families around later, but in the morning it’s really lovely.” She made herself stop talking when she realized that he wasn’t paying all that much attention anyway, instead focused on lighting his cigarette.                                                                         -- perennialgrace, Still Night Air

Gloves were all well and good, but he wanted to feel the violence he inflicted. The violence he asked for and welcomed. It was a reminder that he was in control. If anyone hurt him now, it was because he allowed it, not because he was some weak victim, unable to fight back. Not anymore. Never again.                                                   -- crabbeapple, What’s Done in the Shadows

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“I’m not ashamed,” Sep countered, though in actual fact he was a bit. There had been a brief span of years in his late teens and into his twenties when he’d thought that bleached blond was a good look on him. Letting his hair go back to its natural dirty blond had been one of his better choices in life. He quaffed the drink with a little too much confidence to overcompensate and coughed as a little went down the wrong way                                                                  -- crabbeapple, Pray for the Wicked

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Arthur picked up the pace a little. Just the wind. Probably. Maybe. A few more blocks. He became aware that the street now seemed darker and he glanced upward to see the street lamps dark. The sun was going down quickly, making him wish it would stay up just a little bit longer. Once again, he thought he heard rustling. This time, he stopped and turned around. Still, he saw no one. Had he a hand free, he would have reached for his wand, but at the moment, Molly’s groceries were more important. Being a bit apprehensive about some wind wouldn’t be a good excuse when he returned home with broken eggs.                                                  -- the-curious-weasley, Along a Street Darkly

“Oh! Alright then, I see how it is! Selling me out to Skeeter of all people, really – and here I was thinking we were friends! I’m crushed!” she declared dramatically, complete with a hand across her forehead as if she were a swooning maiden. She assumed Auriga was teasing as well, and so she wasn’t actually worried. Mostly she was concerned that some of her past deeds would make their way back to Ramsey – though that shouldn’t really matter, either, considering he was not a figure in her life. So it was fine. Who cared if all her secrets made the pureblood rounds?                                                         -- charity-h-burbage, Pray for the Wicked

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But it wasn’t her place to say anything about that. She’d probably imagined it anyway. He was fine, just like she was fine – or, well, maybe he was a bit more fine than she was, considering she was definitively not fine most of the time, but they were fine and she had no need to call attention to his fearful aura which she had almost certainly imagined due to a lack of practice in studying such things.                                                          -- charity-h-burbage, Sort-of Acquainted

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“I hope she’s at least been teaching you a few good healing spells. I might have to have a word with her if you say otherwise,” he told the young man. Rommie always made special note to look after him after they’d been rough, but their relationship was … slightly different from hers and Tilden’s, so he wasn’t sure whether their healing routine was similar.                                                                          -- edgarbonesknows, Glasses

“Maybe we should pick up some carrot seeds before we go up. I’ve been trying to build up some excitement about growing vegetables, but you know how kids are with vegetables,” he chuckled. “Percy asked if we could grow ice cream instead, and I told him that I’d look for an ice cream plant and get it if there was one.” While he didn’t know a whole lot about plants, he was pretty sure he’d remember if there was one that produced tubs of pre-made ice cream. “Anyway, I was thinking of getting another vegetable to grow. What would be good for the summer, you think?”                                                                -- the-curious-weasley, May Flowers

Sep wrinkled his nose, disappointed, but settled back in his chair. ‘Sorry, haven’t’ was a much preferable  response than, say, ‘No cigarettes for you, murderer! I know you did it and you’re going to Azkaban!’ after all, so he supposed he shouldn’t be too ungrateful.                                                                   --crabbeapple, the-curious-weasley

crabbeapple replied to your post: peach: do you have any piercings or tattoos?

Ha, yeah, people tell me that ‘addictive’ line every time I get a new tattoo. Like I’m gonna snort the bloody ink or something.

It is a silly way to phrase it, isn’t it? People can be funny about things like that.

Do you have very many tattoos? Anyone you recommend?

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VI Quote of the Week:

The problem was, he didn't know if this bookshop would even bother with eastern texts about augury and divination. They were hardly Dark Arts and the number of translators and transcribers and printers could hardly be more than a handful. And the odds anyone would come in looking to buy them were low too. Books didn't have expiry dates like potions but they still took up space.                                                                       -- notlibatiusborage, Like Minds

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Such wonderful days, they had had. The three of them tackling each day and night with the careless energy of those who were half way between childhood and adulthood, thinking that such times would last forever. Thinking that the cracks would fill out and disappear. Instead, they had widened, and the days had come to a sudden end.                                                                 -- cherrybomb-witch, There For You

The bar was warm, so she shrugged her cardigan off and set it over the back of her chair before taking a seat. “How’s your drink?” she asked. “Mine doesn’t appear to have any tea in it. At least, I definitely can’t taste it. It’s not bad though, do you want to try?”                                                          -- perennialgrace, Dance the Night Away

Look at me, Sep thought cheerfully, blowing out a long breath of smoke. What a pal! Talking up Lucius’ll get any suspicions Moody and his bunch have about him forgotten in no time! That was what friends were for, though, and he considered himself a great one.                                                                         -- crabbeapple, Owl and Mouse

Why Did It Have to Be Spiders? || Septimun & Marlene || Sep. 28th 1980.

Spiders! Why did it have to be spiders? Marlene already hated them well enough when they were tiny and meant her no harm at all. But giant spiders who were constantly gloating about what a nice meal they’d make out of her was a whole new level of “ICK!”.

Though compared to the many other atrocious attacks Voldemort and his followers had unleashed in the past, this one seemed almost childish (if it wasn’t for the human-eating part of the spiders), Marlene found herself almost wishing she could face a couple of lose dementors instead (and dementors were particularly brutal to her fragile emotional stability!). At least they talked less and weren’t covered in hair.

“I swear on Merlin and the All-Mighty God!” she hissed, blasting a couple of smaller acromantulae from her path “I’m going to fully dedicate myself to develop a spell that shoots spider repellent out of my wand! Ugh! Bloody Hell!”. She raised her left foot after stepping on the discarded body of one of the nasty little beasties and swore loudly. Now her favourite pair of combat boots were ruined.

She heard a scream a couple of streets ahead, so she stopped wasting time on the unfortunate incident with her boots, and rushed towards the sound. A spider, far larger than the one she had blaster a few blocks back, was looming above a cornered woman, with the dark cloaked figure of a Death Eater lurking close by. Marlene slipped her fingers into her mouth and emitted a well-tuned whistle.

“Oi! Fly-breath! How would you like a little hot on your arse?” she screamed, catching the attention of the acromantula and drawing it away from the terrified woman, giving her the chance to escape. Marlene did not waste time either, and before the spider had even started walking towards her, she fired a stunning spell followed by an exploding charm. The spider squealed, froze and then blew up in bits and pieces. Marlene made a disgusted face, and kicked a hairy limb out of her way, before turning to face the Death Eater.

“Nice little stunt you lot have pulled this time” she pointed out, almost casually, while uncoiling her favourite fire whip from the end of her wand “Really wish I had seen Voldemort’s face when he announced you would be unleashing spiders in town like the plot of a lame Hollywood movie about giant creatures attacking Manhattan or something”

@crabbeapple

VI Quote of the Week:

“I work in Knockturn Alley. Even if it is for a legal and prestigious apothecary, people..get the wrong idea. Especially after they found that Goldstein man dead there. And I know I can rub people the wrong way, especially with the stress of the Mastery I was perhaps combative.” He’d been over this before with Tilden, shortly after the printing press incident, when he’d been buying new shoes. Ones he was currently wearing, ones that hadn’t been tracked through blood and viscera. He glanced down at them for a moment. He needed to stop thinking about that duel if he wanted to naturally suggest to Tilden (or better still, have Tilden suggest to him) that the herbologist put in a good word for him.                                                                 -- notlibatiusborage, Bad Reputation

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‘Whatever,’ she’d said at Easter, watching him toss the charred remains of their father’s Howler into the bin. ‘Just focus on what you’re good at and what you enjoy. Fuck the rest.’                                                          -- crabbeapple, Sun-Filled Days of Youth

I s’pose that’s part of being an adult, eh? The comment made Alastor pause. He’d forgotten that many Order members, Tilden included, had only graduated from Hogwarts a few years ago and even more recently. It made him feel old, and something else. Inside, he could feel a twinge. There was no sense in letting those feelings pull him under, at least not now. He couldn’t send Tilden home just because he thought the man was too young to be out patrolling when something terrible could happen that affected him for the rest of his life, or worse, end it. Remember, it’s their decision. It wasn’t much comfort.                                                                 -- head-auror-moody, Watchful Eyes

Another sip of water, and Narcissa took the intervening moment ot look around the garden.  It was an achievement, one that Narcissa was sure had had much more labor go into than her own.  “I tend to spend more time in the greenhouses.  The work outside is tended to by other, but it is my design and instruction, I suppose one could say.”  Strangely, she felt bashful about this in the wake of Tilden’s hard work.  Unusual to say the least, Narcissa’s brow furrowed at this odd feeling.                                                                 -- forever-toujourspur, In the Garden

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Alastor Moody could be a man hard to deal with, he had a temper to be feared and a bluntness that stung more than any jinx. But he was serious and straight to the point, and above all, a reasonable man, not a mere hothead (of those, Remus knew plenty, and while he cherished them dearly, he had more than enough). So he listened carefully to his instructions and nodded to each of them while admiring the man’s capacity to inspire leadership and trust. There was no denying that between him and Dumbledore, they were the strongest pillars of the Order.                                                         -- the-wolf-within, The Tongue of Wolves

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In a way, it was refreshing being with him. He read like a book, everything right on the surface and she didn’t have to worry if he had any ulterior motives.                                                                          -- forever-toujourspur, Loyalty

With an appropriate chuckle at the mention of the man’s boys in school, Walden hummed along with the ramblings. These odd sounds and simple gestures of listening ended with an abrupt snort when Arthur suggested that he might settle down with someone eventually. It hadn’t been an intentional slip of his emotions, but he couldn’t take it back now. It was nearly impossible to imagine himself finding someone to settle down with, let alone having children. Nevermind, it was completely impossible.                                                                      -- apromisetoeveryone, A Bench

Fear and frustration kindled into rage of his own in Sep’s mind. He was in pain and in danger and his patience with this fight had reached its end. Dropping the Shield spell again, he pointed his wand at the troll, the one opponent big and slow enough that he knew he could hit it.

“Avada kedavra!”                                                                                     --crabbeapple, Troll Bait

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