🥀

safiyeece​:

Safiye smiled when Harper swiped her drink. The faux innocent look on her face was unnecessary, they always did this. It was a little way of sharing their lives with each other. Even though they both had their secrets, they always sampled each other’s drinks. 

Safiye swirled her drink around its glass as she listened to Harper. She was glad Harper had decided to celebrate her birthday, even in a small way. After all of her losses and hard work, Harper deserved to celebrate herself however she saw fit. “I’m happy for you. I know it’s a hard time of year, but I’m glad that’s not stopping you from doing a little something. Let me know if you want any company.” 

It was the sort of thing Safiye said often, but usually it was done out of courtesy, because it was the proper thing to say. She rarely meant it, but this time she did. Safiye valued her solitude, treasured the rare moments by herself that she was able to steal from her two competing lives, but she was willing to sacrifice for Harper’s sake. Particularly on a historically hard day, Safiye wanted to be there for her friend, if she was wanted.

When Harper talked about keeping her expectations low, Safiye took a long sip of her drink. “That’s true,” she finally admitted. There wasn’t much else she could say on the subject. It was the most fundamental difference between the two young women. Harper was an expert at managing her expectations, Safiye was not. She wasn’t sure if it was because she couldn’t or because she refused to, but either way Safiye never kept her expectations low. It meant she lived in a constant well of disappointment, true, but for Safiye there was no alternative. She wanted more from her life, she expected more from her life, even though it was not reasonable to do so.

-

That was one of the things Harper admired about Saf. Unlike her own pessimistic— or realistic, as she insisted to herself—outlook, Safiye always had dreams and expectations in high places. Harper knew all too well that this sometimes led to dashed hopes and disappointments for her friend, but it never had and never would deter her being there to support her. While never to the same extent as Safiye, in the past Harper had once allowed herself more optimism. But that felt not only like it was ages ago, but like it was a version of herself that was no longer.

“Some company would probably be nice, whether it’s for brunch, shopping, or back at one of my places at night. Whatever works with your schedule and however the day goes, I’m sure we’ll figure it out.” Harper, in turn, sipped her drink, eyeing the nearby plate of biscuits.

“I can’t believe it’s really been five years,” she started, “Since graduation, since… everything” she gestured at the hotel room around her, knowing Safiye would catch her drift. “Sometimes I feel like this is just stalling… waiting for something to happen and for real life to begin,” she reflected, “I just don’t know what” She looked at the other woman and chuckled a bit. “Maybe it’s like one of your romance novels. I just need to meet the one” Harper teased, over-emphasizing the last two words, “and it will all fall into place.” She was joking, but couldn’t help but wonder if maybe there was some yearning behind it.

“Well, what would happen next in one of those books?” she asked, taking another sip of her drink, before finally giving in and reaching over to the plate. “After all, you’re the expert” Harper finished, nibbling on the biscuit she’d grabbed.

“Cheers to female friendships being complicated.”

“Bergdorf Goodman” 1971

Liquid Dinner // Harper and Sebastian

It hadn’t been a particularly difficult or even eventful day for Harper. No hotel crises on her radar. If any were brewing, the management had elected not to tell her yet. Shrugging to herself, she tried to dismiss the thought and convince herself that she was making the best of what her evening had become. She tried not to roll her eyes too obviously at that thought as she subtly scanned the seedy yet passingly comfortable bar.

She had been about to leave her office suite at one of the London hotels, grab herself some dinner, and head home when an owl swooped in through one of the windows in the small entryway sitting room, delivering a message. The way the bird’s marigold-colored eyes blazed into hers before it flew out as swiftly as it arrived told Harper that this was not a note that could wait until after she picked up dinner. After taking a moment to skim through it, she set her jaw, letting out a frustrated exhale as she turned around and headed back up the miniature set of stairs that led to the actual room of her office. The note, unsurprisingly, contained instructions about hotel paperwork that she needed to prepare and information about when and where to meet: In two hours’ time at one of the bars that served as a Death Eater hangout. It wasn’t that Harper minded putting in the effort to do the work. In fact, she enjoyed putting together the documents and creating their details. They were always impeccable, of course, and Harper took great pleasure in being told as much. What she wished, however, was that she would be given more notice on these tasks. She understood the importance of secrecy and discretion, and that some of these needs popped up unexpectedly, but informing her at least a couple more hours in advance should theoretically be doable.

So here she was… two hours later…. dinner-less. She sat at the bar, swirling a mostly full glass of gin and tonic. Harper wasn’t usually an impatient person, but as five minutes ticked by she contemplated downing the rest of her drink as she waited.

@sebastian-whoisleft

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.

lilyeliora​:

Lily watched Harper introduce herself to the various cats, and it reminded Lily of when she’d first gotten Chess. At barely 11, Lily had taken the whole affair very seriously. She’d visited the local shelter several times looking for, as she put it, her cat. It had been difficult, there had been several animals who tempted her, tiny sweet kittens and stately older cats, but none of them had felt just right. She still remembered the day she’d met Chess. He’d been a newborn kitten, mewling with his eyes still closed. Abandoned by his mother, the shelter’s owner had said, he’d need someone special to take care of him, and Lily had just known. Of course, now she knew that she’d gotten lucky, that Chess had grown up into the perfect cat for her, but she still believed in that knowing.

While Harper was talking to the shopkeeper, Lily looked over the cats Harper had already checked out. The “highly energetic though a little possessive” tag made her chuckle, because it reminded her of Chess. The tabby with white paws was a handsome fellow, but Lily wasn’t surprised Harper had passed on “calm and independent.” She couldn’t keep herself from attempting to get his attention, holding out her hand and clicking her tongue. She prided herself on being something of a cat whisperer, and after a few moments he rewarded her with a cursory sniff of her hand. She scratched his chin and then left him be. Her hopes rose as Harper seemed to connect with a small grey cat, only to be dashed by the shopkeeper’s words.

Lily would never consider herself someone who was good at reading people, but she was. More accurately, she had a sort of instinctive understanding of people’s emotional needs, so when Harper walked away, Lily didn’t follow. She gave the woman a few moments to collect herself and waited patiently for her to return. While she was waiting, Lily checked the labels of the other cats to see if there was another one similar to the small grey cat in personality. When Harper came back, Lily smiled encouragingly. “So we know now that you want a friendly and affectionate cat, that’s a step in the right direction. I looked at a few of the labels, I think you should introduce yourself to her next.” Lily pointed to a cat with bright eyes whose label read, “sweet and clever.”

-

Standing in the midst of the cat supplies, the variety of the offerings impressed Harper; it was like there was something for each cat. That means there’s a cat for you, she told herself, but manage your expectations the voice in her head nagged.

She soon returned to Lily and the cats, ready to jump back in. She was going to find the cat that was right for her. Maybe it would be today— she hoped it would be— but she wasn’t going to force it if it didn’t feel right.

Harper tilted her head slightly at Lily; “Thank you” she replied, hoping to convey how touched she was that the young woman had continued looking while she took a moment to recompose herself. Her gaze followed Lily’s outstretched hand until she was met with beautiful blue eyes blinking back at her.

With butterflies of anticipation, she made her way towards the cage; second row from the bottom, second to last column on the right. She saw the label that Lily had indicated, “sweet and clever.”

“Hi there” Harper found herself cooing to the cat as she reached out a hand for her to sniff, “You’re such a pretty kitty!” She didn’t know much about cat breeds, but this cat appeared to be some sort of siamese-balinese type mix; fur that was mainly whitish cream colored, with bluish-grey points and tabby markings on her head, legs, and tail.

The butterflies in her stomach intensified and the voice inside her head returned. Don’t get attached, it chanted like a mantra. But as the cat sniffed and then nuzzled forehead first into her hand, Harper couldn’t help but crack a smile, letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Slowly withdrawing her hand and starting to turn back to Lily, her head whipped back around when she felt a tap on her hand. Sure enough, a single paw rested on her hand, and the cat let out a cheerful meow.

Returning her hand to its position just inside the cage, Harper turned her head over her shoulder to Lily, and motioned her over with her free hand.

“I think she likes me?!” she half-asked, half-stated, voice full of cautious optimism.

I opened my mouth, almost said something. Almost. The rest of my life might have turned out differently if I had. But I didn’t.

Khaled Hosseini (via sunsetquotes)