P: Sebastian1 - Blog Posts

sebastian-whoisleft​:

Sebastian did his best to be on time to the meeting, which was to say he was just over twenty minutes late. It was strange for him, too – not to be late to meetings, but certainly to be late to the information-drops held at bars. He had a sneaking suspicion that this was why he’d been chosen for today’s handoff…but it almost might have had something to do with the fact that it was Harper Baddock he was meeting and, unless they were sleeping with or enjoyed intimidating them, many of Sebastian’s fellow Death Eaters considered themselves above meeting with the lower-level informations. 

Knowing who he was meeting – and knowing the venue well – took a lot of the pressure off things. (A little more pressure might have encouraged him to show up on time, even early, but Sebastian wasn’t interested in connecting any Point A to Point B that would make him be a more devoted servant of his Dark Lord.) 

The Gilded Serpent was an infamous Death Eater haunt, frequented by seedy people doing seedy dealings often enough that people didn’t blink any eye when spooky, grizzled folks crossed the threshold. 

And so nobody, either, cast a second look in the direction of Sebastian Nott: his youthful glow, his recently-arrested father, his tousled hair. 

“Right on time,” he said, laying the fake congratulations on himself while he sidled up to the bar. 

Get in, get the information, get out, Antonin’s voice said in his head. Quickly. 

Sebastian flagged down the bartender instead. 

“Is that your first one,” he asked Harper, lifting a brow. “Or do I have some catching up to do?” 

-

Finally he arrives Harper thought, resisting the urge to look down at her watch as Sebastian slid into the seat next to her at the bar. She didn’t know him well. She didn’t know many of the Death Eaters well, to be honest. But the fact that he didn’t seem too keen on immediately turning his nose up at her gave Harper some semblance of hope. Combined with his tousled hair and the easy smile on his face, she felt like she couldn't be mad at the young man.

She was impressed that he was even making an effort to have a conversation; his words implying that he was going to stay for at least a drink or two. Harper had enough encounters that lasted barely long enough for the documents she had prepared to leave her hands, and she could count the number of times she received a thank you.

“And to think I was worried you’d stood me up,” she remarked, shooting him a sly smirk. “Don’t worry, you’re only-” she paused to effortlessly polish off what was left in her glass, “two drinks behind,”

For what it was worth, the Gilded Serpent made surprisingly good drinks, and most drinks were even better when you weren't drinking alone, as far as Harper was concerned. As a general rule, she was a private person: In her day-to-day life she didn’t usually let people in, and she certainly wasn’t the one who usually initiated conversations. But her rules changed when she was out at night; at a bar, a club, a party, really anywhere with drinking and nightlife. Definitely when she was drinking— but even when she wasn’t— something made her want to socialize; and she was damn good at it when she wanted to be.

“So, what are you drinking?” she asked Sebastian, tilting her head towards the waiting bartender.

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.

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