"In My Defense, I Thought You Were One Of The Bar Hangers Back There, Spotting A Moment Of Weakness And

"Sorry Molly, did I hurt you?" There was a genuine hint of concern in Amos' voice when he realized he'd almost knocked her over — but not enough to release his tight grip on the bowl of Sugar Quills, held to his chest like a prized possession. "I promise they're not all for Cedric, I haven't gone off the rails that far yet, he still has to eat his vegetables every day." Amos was surprised Cedric didn't immediately drop into the conversation to contest that statement, but a quick sidelong glance showed him staring longingly at the wall of Bertie Botts, perfectly entranced.

"Fine, fine — I'm willing to make a trade, half of these for the Caramel Cobwebs you've got in your basket," Though he had the feeling Molly was toying with him, the sight of the hands on her hips made him hold up a hand in mock surrender. "I'm trying to make treat bags for the kids at work, but everything's so bloody expensive, hence why I'm trying to hoard the discounted items like a dragon with gold."

It may have been crazy to shower Bill and Charlie with sweets but she loved treating them. They were crazy boys but loving and caring. They deserved the best and Molly was willing to do what she could to show them love, both through her actions and filling them with little trinkets of joy. And Merlin did they love their candies. It was a rare moment that they weren't with her and didn't want to forget about them while out and about.

As she was at Sugarplum's Sweet Shop, she spotted the discounted sugar quills. "Ooo!" she said to herself and scooted that way. Before she knew it Amos almost knocked her over. "Oi!" came from her lips as she looked over. "Amos! How dare you!" She knew Amos well enough to give him a hard time. She wanted to know him better. They needed to have proper playdates. Parents needed to stick together.

"A sugar quill emergency? And my boys aren't an emergency? How could you insinuate such a thing?" Molly asked with her hands on her hips.

"Never been to a Sugarplum's sale before?" Amos asked at the sight of furrowed brows, followed by a pardon. He knew he must look ridiculous, but when half the customers were on a sugar high most the time, he managed to blend in decently well. "These things get brutal, I'm talking multiple Healers needing to be called in kind of brutal," He knew that it would likely not explain his behavior much, but at the very least, he noticed the old employee stocking shelves nodding along with him.

"Diggory. Amos. Amos Diggory." If anything, Amos was just making himself look worse by repeating his name, as if the other man wasn't aware how names worked. "Are you sure? These are 50% off, you know." Unable to shut himself up, Amos held up the bowl with it's large discount sticker as evidence.

"Sorry, it's been a long day, 'm feeling a bit frazzled, like the seams are coming off," Amos figured an apology wasn't going to save him from this disaster of a show, but he figured that before he had to dart off again to save Cedric from the bad flavors of Bertie Bott's, he might as well make an attempt at it.

Corban was shopping for his younger sisters. It wasn't the most fun chore, but the two had been demanding more snacks, and it was his duty as an elder of the three to provide. The cart was almost full, filled with sweets and sours he knew those little menaces would enjoy and leave him be for a week, if lucky. He wasn't truly planning on buying the discount Sugar Quills, or maybe he would have if he deemed them decent enough. He was just curious as to what could have been the reason for said discount. The man was about to reach for it when someone else snatched it up. In a rather quick manner, it somewhat reminded him of a hawk. However, as he looked at the man and his somewhat, barely-held-together attire, he felt quipped by his imagination. There was no hawk in front of him. Just a tired but still rather handsome man.

He wasn't planning on caring until the comment had been made by the man, a rather silly one at that, childish even. Corban's brows furrowed slightly. He eyed the man up again, now studying him a bit closer.

"Pardon?" Then he paused. "I do not plan to fight you for it. They are all yours, Mister...?" he trailed off unsure what the name of the stranger was, although he could swear their face was familiar.

MICHAEL EVANS BEHLING @ Giorgio Armani

If there was one virtue Daphne luckily possessed, it was that of patience. Years of tip-toeing around the Avery estate, needing to pick the exact moment when to move and when to stay silent — she had never been rustled easily, and today was not when she was about to start, not when she needed a drink. Still, that didn't mean she was going to give in easily — especially not when someone wanted her to.

"I don't care to fix what is your problem, not mine. If you wanted to sit somewhere by yourself undisturbed, you should have chosen a less busy pub," Daphne spoke in a matter-of-fact way, little indication of emotion in the words, However, at the sight of the cigarettes and smoke blown directly towards her, she couldn't help the small laugh that escaped her.

Picking a slim menthol cigarette from her purse, she demonstratively put it to her lips. Though she did not intend to be very petty about this situation — showing that she was the mature one in this conversation — Daphne felt something take over about half way through her smoke. Head tilted to the other side, she 'accidentally' dropped her cigarette into the witch's drink to extinguish. Doe-eyed and innocent looking, she turned back, feigning an apologetic expression. "Oops."

The witch was going to be a pain in Georgette's ass. It was obvious from the first words out of her mouth. Not that she would expect anything less. It was an example of why she never wanted to interact with other people. She may have had an attitude but that didn't give others license to have one, no matter how hypocritical that sounded. If approached the right way then maybe Georgette wouldn't be such a bitch but that's not how anyone greeted her.

"I'll close my eyes where I please," she said looking at Daphne, a witch she didn't even know. Obviously a no one. "Sounds like a problem you need to fix. Has nothing to do with me." Georgette rubbed her temples as Daphne didn't speak. At least wasn't speaking for a moment but of course her annoying voice perked up again.

Georgette took out her cigarettes. Maybe the smoke would make her go away. She lit the cigarette, inhaled and exhaled, making sure smoke went in Daphne's direction without blowing it directly in her face.

fatima aamer bilal, excerpt from moony moonless sky’s ‘i am tired of making a religion out of my suffering’.

[text id: i am too little, and too much, and never enough.]

davika hoorne for elle 

"A mother's hopes and wishes, all in the gutter," Daphne replied in the same humorous tone. Pureblood households and their dedication to etiquette was unwavering, she remembered the gruelling lessons of her own — Merlin forbid they forgot which fork to stab themselves with. Cleaning the handkerchief as well, she neatly folded it on the table next to her.

"Then I'd say you have a golden business opportunity on your hands — I know plenty Ministry colleagues willing to pay a fortune for a prescribed vacation," Daphne replied. "Ah, dinner with your parents — wedding preparations I assume?"

"I fear that is something my mother has been trying for years and look where it has landed me." He teased. Manners was something he prided himself on, used in the right context. There was a concern for Daphne. "You can keep it." He had more of them at home.

"And if I do?" It wasn't hard to pay the right person to give him what he wanted, or bribe them, there was always something available at the tip of his fingers. He sits down beside her. "I am free for now. Dinner with my parents later, but I don't mind keeping them waiting."

"Since you've decided on the curious choice of sitting at a bar with your eyes closed, you may not have noticed," Daphne started as she theatrically made herself comfortable on the bar stool, further proving her point. "There is no other place to sit, the place is packed." Daphne silently nursed her glass of firewhiskey, taking a small sip before putting it down again. She used the time to look at the woman next to her, noticing the splintered fingers wrapped around the glass, but not giving any indication or response in her body language. "If you want to sit somewhere by yourself, I'd suggest the floor — I'm pretty sure they cleaned it last year."

where: three broomsticks. who: open.

It wasn't often that Georgette left the confines of her beloved store, her home, where she felt most at ease but something compelled her. Her mind was foggy and she felt she needed some air and a brief change of scenery. While she didn't dare drink alcohol she did enjoy a good non-alcoholic butterbeer. Although there would be people drinking, she thought she could handle a single butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks and then head back home. Just enough time to get in and get out. She didn't want to stray for long anyway.

She sat down at the bar and ordered her drink, making it very clear she wanted no alcohol in her drink. She would hex the wizard if he tried to pull a fast one on her. As he passed her the cold beverage, her forever splintered fingers wrapped around the glass. It was a good feeling. She closed her eyes and imagined she was by herself, but Georgette could not pretend for long as she felt someone beside her.

"You could go away right now and make this easier on both of us," she said before finally opening her eyes.

Do you ever just go wow I have a lot of repressed anger