The-harperbaddock - (False) Bravado

Chasing Tails //

Harper was never really an animal person. That was one of the reasons she was never inclined to become an animagus, despite knowing that she technically could, and perhaps should. Not to mention her job owning the hotels was eventually inevitable, and there wasn’t much benefit that being or having an animal could provide in that context.

But loneliness sunk in, especially with her parents passing and her leaving Hogwarts, where there was nearly always built in company of some sort. She resigned herself to that loneliness for a while, but the idea of adopting a pet, having a built in companion, popped up now and again. Sometimes she’d walk through Diagon Alley until she reached the Magical Menagerie, where she would casually window shop. A bit overwhelmed by all the smells and noises, she rarely ventured deeper inside.

How… how did people go about adopting pets? Harper wondered to herself. Did they just pick their favorite looking one? Was there supposed to be some special connection? Was it supposed to be like a getting your wand experience, where your pet picks you?

Maybe she wasn’t ready for this after all. She imperceptibly shook her head. No, Harper. You’re almost 23 years old, and you have the means to take care of an animal. Plenty of other people do it, so you can too. Stop getting in your own damn head and just do it. She was about to mentally debate back to herself when she felt a presence at the window next to her. Looking up with wide eyes, she stammered “Um, sorry, I’ll get out of your way.”

safiyeece​:

closed starter for harper baddock

There were not many people in the world that Safiye trusted, even conditionally. It was a rare occasion to see her let her guard down, if not completely, but when it did happen, it was almost always in the company of Harper Baddock. Harper and safiye had orbited the same sun of High Society all their lives. When they both made it to Hogwarts, and Safiye was a little more removed from her parents’ influence, they’d given into the gravity of their worlds and become friends. It was an odd sort of friendship, where neither woman trusted the other implicitly yet both trusted the other more than anyone else, but it suited Safiye just fine.

So tonight found her in one of the many lavish suites in one of Harper’s many lavish hotels, one or two glasses of wine further in than she might have been in different company. It had been a near unbearable day where Safiye had entertained not one but two potential suitors, truly ambitious on her mother’s part, followed by a very long charity board meeting Rohesia had insisted Safiye attend in her stead. Following such a day Safiye found herself even more fascinated by the idea of Harper’s job than usual. “Tell me about work, what did you do today?”

@the-harperbaddock​

-

Harper, like Safiye, wasn’t one to trust others. Maybe that’s one of the reasons they got along so well-- this was just one of the ways they understood each other. Despite the fact that they both kept their secrets and played their cards close to their chests, they were each other’s biggest confidant. Maybe, Harper had once mused to herself, it’s not despite the fact, but because of it. Because we both know we have secrets, and we care about and respect each other enough not to pry. 

The two girls had danced around each other in their circles of higher society until their worlds finally collided at Hogwarts. They met early on, after getting a rare poor grade on a herbology assignment. Both girls ended up in the bathroom attempting to regain their composure. They commiserated over a shared dislike for getting their hands dirty with plants, over the absurdity of receiving a low mark in herbology— of all classes— and made plans to study together going forward. Soon after, they discovered a host of other commonalities they had to bond over.

Over seven years of friendship led them to their current position; lounging around one of the luxury suites at one of Harper’s hotels, almost through their second bottle of wine. Safiye told Harper of the two potential suitors she met today, and the young women all but staged a dramatic reenactment; roasting the men with mocking voices and over-exaggerated hand gestures while dissolving into fits of laughter.

When Safiye asked Harper about her day, Harper quirked her mouth in thought, before curling her lips into a smirk and describing the encounter she had at the front desk of this very hotel a few hours earlier. 

She was in the back, when an attendant came and informed her that there was a woman insisting that she “must talk to whoever is in charge right this minute, about a very pressing matter,” The pressing matter, it turned out, was said woman’s commentary on the lobby’s current floral arrangements. “I am not a fan of these spring-toned hues,” Harper recounted, imitating the woman’s grating, high-pitched, and nasally voice, “Winter colors are far better suited to my complexion” To Safiye’s amusement, Harper continued on with her voices, giving the (abbreviated) version of the half an hour long back and forth that went on between herself and the woman, where the former attempted to reason with and explain to the latter that it was June— not traditionally a time for winter hues. “But here’s the kicker” she said to Safiye, pausing for effect, “I asked for her room number to send a complementary high tea tray, AND SHE TELLS ME SHE ISN’T EVEN STAYING HERE, JUST WALKING THROUGH.” With this conclusion, Harper dramatically collapsed onto the bed, throwing her head into her hands.

“So,” Harper continued, as she poured both girls more wine, “was the charity meeting you were-” she cleared her throat knowingly, “so kind to grace with your presence any type of productive, or was it the usual shit?”

“Bergdorf Goodman” 1971

safiyeece​:

-

“Yes, it simply must be!” Safiye simpered along with Harper, then rolled her eyes again. “Nevermind that exponential growth is fundamentally unsustainable.” It was always like this with Safiye, swift shifting between shallow swimming and deeper waters. She was by necessity comfortable with surface interactions, but she craved greater stimulation. Usually, she ignored the urge, pushing it down until it was little more than a vague irritation, but she didn’t go to the same trouble to appear Proper when it was just  her and Harper.

For a moment, Safiye allowed herself to imagine it. Her hand went to the watch in her pocket and she traced its outline as she pictured seeing the world with Harper at her side, showing her friend around Istanbul, even reconnecting with Dilara. But the memory of her fallen cousin pushed Safiye out of her reverie and she shook her head. They could, technically, but at what cost? 

“Oh, but think of all of the Society we would miss.” The joke came out thin and dry. Safiye knew all too well that neither she nor Harper would truly miss the society they’d grown up in. Sometimes she craved a lack of it, and though they danced around the subject, never openly addressing it, she had a feeling Harper did as well. The truth of it was like the sun, easier to look at through the corner of an eye rather than directly.

Safiye took the offered menu and perused it eagerly, happy to follow Harper’s plan away from the ‘sad wine-tipsy road.’ Her eyes went immediately to the cocktail Harper mentioned, gin mixed with black tea and a ginger simple syrup poured over muddled plum. It combined several of Safiye’s favorite flavors and was something she’d mentioned to Harper on more than one occasion. It was touching that Harper had remembered to include it this season, and the kind of silent gift that their friendship was built on. “Well, if you have that, then I don’t need to look at the menu.” Safiye smiled as she handed the menu back to Harper.

-

Harper internally felt a surge of pride in herself as she took in Safiye’s response to the drink. She thrived on positive feedback as it was, but coming from Safiye it hit a different chord. It felt so genuine and natural; she knew Safiye wasn’t looking to gain something from her, she had just made her friend happy. And in a world where Harper knew that was a struggle for both of them, she was honored.

They didn’t often discuss it, their feelings about their respective situations. It was clear that there was more beneath the surface that neither friend could or would discuss, but part of what made their friendship so special was their understanding and respect of those boundaries; their shared ability to catch each other’s drifts in spite of things left out. It was this same understanding that guided Harper to drop the joke. If it were anyone else, she probably would have continued in order to keep her guard up and her edge intact. Truth be told, she also had the feeling that if she tried, her voice would crack or some other tell would show itself.

Unsure of what more she actually wanted to drink, herself, Harper pondered the menu. She let out a soft laugh. “You know, considering the role I had in shaping this menu, you’d think I’d have an easier time picking something,” she mused aloud. Truth be told, beyond Safiye’s drink, she could barely remember what they’d actually selected for this menu.

The summer was difficult for Harper. Between the memories of graduation, and then her parents, plus her birthday thrown in there too, the early part of summer especially tended to be blurry and hard to focus on. For one or two years after her parents passing, Harper attempted to actively deal with both, which just resulted in whiplash and guilt. She’d considered trying again this year, but ultimately hadn’t decided for sure.

Settling on an elderflower cocktail for herself, Harper sent word down to the kitchen and bar to deliver a couple of their chosen drinks along with some sweet biscuits up to her suite.

gretchen-whoisleft​:

always a bridesmaid // gretchen and harper

Gretchen stood perched on a platform in the center of London’s Gladrags Wizardwear storefront, but neither the many mirrors propped up around the room—best to see every angle with, trifolds of glass catching the fading afternoon light outside and bouncing it around the room—nor the glass of complimentary champagne in her hand could distract her from pouting. 

In almost twenty-three years of life, she’d had her fair share of setbacks and well-justified tantrums. There was a lot to be said, too, for this ‘not being the end of the world’ and ‘not holding a candle to the war, which was far more important and was more deserving of her time.’ 

But even as a young adult and—in her estimation—a war hero in the making, Gretchen could not make peace with the fact that her mother was remarrying. 

The sting was not helped by the bridesmaid dress she was currently trying on for size, stuck with pins and clips and an uncomfortable, borrowed pair of shoes—to get a sense of how the material would drape, if it had been made out of a material nice enough to do any draping at all—and feeling ugly in a way that Gretchen Ollivander never did, and only a supremely cursed, outdated dress could inspire. 

The beleaguered tailor had realized that the only way to get Gretchen to stand still through the already-overlong fitting was to ply her with more free champagne than the shop’s policy typically allowed. Assuming they were the only two in the store, Gretchen called out to her, frowning and trying to nudge her cleavage into something that even bordered on visible. 

“I know it needs to be tasteful because it’s a wedding and all, but are you sure we can’t take some more material out of the chest?” she asked – voice carrying, encouraged by the champagne. “And I do still think it would look better in white. The bride shouldn’t get to claim it for this one; she already has three children, nobody has any misconceptions about her history.” 

-

Harper had only been in Gladrags for a few minutes, keeping her head down as she browsed, looking to see if anything new had arrived in the past few days since she’d last been in, while she waited for the tailor to be ready for her. She’d planned on entering the shop with a witty remark to the woman about her favorite— or at least, her most frequent— customer arriving. But as Harper moved to open the door, she caught a glimpse of a pout, mostly shrouded in blonde hair and a ton of dress material, and promptly decided to enter as unnoticed as possible. Whatever was going on, she knew it was best to keep her intrigue from being too obvious. Luckily, the blonde woman was far too caught up in her own misery (and champagne) to notice.

When she heard the woman’s voice call out to the tailor, however, Harper’s head snapped up and she abandoned her previous strategy, instead walking towards the room’s central platform. “Gretchen Ollivander, as I live and breathe” she started, breaking into a smile, “It’s been far too long since I’ve heard from you.”

For a moment, Harper wanted to reach out and hug Gretchen, internally very taken aback by the thought crossing her mind. She thought, with a pang, that maybe it was a sign of just how isolated she was, but quickly banished that train of thought from her mind.

Piecing together the situation she continued on, responding to Grechen’s remark to the tailor, “But no, you cannot wear white to your mother’s wedding, even though it would be, um… a small step in the right direction for this dress”

Both of the young women laughed and Gretchen lifted her hand holding the champagne flute, toasting to the sentiment. “So, when’s this wedding?” Harper asked, settling herself into a chair off to the side of the tri-folded mirrors.

*checks my email at the club*

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.