Hogwarts, and My Best Friend Bread
Nov. 12th, 2007 10:59 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
unforthI get fresh bread at the bakery every few days. Since this is usually my first stop of a day, I end up carrying the loaf with me every where I go. This has led me to the decision that clearly, my best friend is bread, since I do all sorts of wonderful and special things with a loaf of bread as my companion. It goes shopping with me, it's been carted to museums and to Tokyo Tower and even to games. Me and bread? We're inseparable. ;)
And now for your story installment!
During the meal, Marcus talked animatedly about his family. I was distinctly quiet. It wasn’t that my attention was mostly on the food, though that was certainly a piece of it. I love my family very much, but I’m very different from them. Marcus’ family, on the other hand, sounded simply wonderful. I’d never been exposed to purebloods like them. Over the top and carefree, that’s how they sounded. Finally, though I couldn’t dodge him when he asked about my family.
“Oh, well, they’re very much how you’d expect,” I hedged. I realized I’d have to say more, though – Marcus would probably expect them to be like his family! “My mother is something of a socialite, she loves attending parties and gatherings. My father, he prefers going to his club. They’re very interested in…” I paused. I realized I’d never before had to come up with a polite way of saying that my parents were muggle-hater’s before. “They feel very strongly about the importance of heritage. My brother has been building himself something of a career in the ministry, and my parents have high hopes.” I tried to think of something more to say. Surely there must be something else? After all the delightful anecdotes that Marcus could produce about his family and siblings and uncles and aunts, I was ashamed that such a paltry description seemed to be the best that I could come up with. I shrugged uncomfortably, though. “So what happened in the dungeon on Friday?” I asked, feeling keenly the need to change the subject.
“Oh! Well, a bunch of us noticed the Durmstrang’s sneaking out, and thought that was mighty suspicious, so we followed them. I didn’t want to go,” he added with a frown, “but Katrina virtually pulled me along after her. She seemed to think that telling me I must be as brave as Guillermo and Caius, who were going, would draw me along.” He shook his head in apparent wonder. “They went to the dungeon, and we were able to piece together what they were after and get it first. It was a mirror, about this big,” he made an oval with his hands about the size of a head, “and as far as I can tell it’s perfectly normal. We haven’t figured out what it does yet, but it must do something – it was very well hidden, and the Durmstrang’s really wanted it.”
“Hmm…” I tried to think if I knew of any magical mirrors, but nothing came to mind other than a few fairy tales. “I don’t know. I can do some research if you like.”
Marcus shook his head. “You have enough on your plate, don’t worry about it. What did you do that evening? I saw you head out so early!”
“Oh, I came back soon enough,” I smiled cheerful. I was surprised to realize that I no longer felt bitter about being left behind. It was simply the way things had happened. “After I gave the key to Celestine, she and the others headed to Azkaban, and I stayed at the ball trying to make it appear as if half the student body hadn’t wandered off.” There was no rancor in my voice, and Marcus smiled apologetically.
“Sorry about that.”
“Oh, it’s quite alright. I had a nice time.”
“Fred told me,” he started. He was frowning slightly, and he paused, unsure how to proceed. “Fred told me that you danced with Palucid Nox?”
I blushed very red. Why on earth was I blushing? It wasn’t as if I’d wanted to dance with him! “Yes, well, he asked me, and it would have been rude to say no.”
“He didn’t hurt you, or do anything to you, did he?” asked Marcus seriously. I blushed further under the intensity that he directed at me. My heart started to flutter again.
“Nothing like that, no.”
“Good,” he sounded relieved. “You need to be careful of that man! I haven’t told you about the first WAP mission, have I?” I shook my head. “We went to assault a castle on the Continent, being held by a man who was definitely an ally of Nox. All manner of automata – built by Nox himself, Professor Patronius believes – were guarding it, and they were doing vile experiments.”
“Experiments?” I couldn’t quite prevent my curiousity from spilling out.
“Yes,” for a moment, good manners warred with something I couldn’t define as he tried to decide what to say. “I’m only telling you so you’ll know what we’re up against and be careful. They were doing experiments on creating werewolves and controlling them. On innocent children! It seemed clear they wish to use them in combat, and to induce them to wolf form even when the moon is not full. We managed to bring back one of the devices they were using for control, or trying to use, and it’s a nasty bit of work. And that’s the sort of thing that Nox is associated with! I don’t think you should associate with him anymore.”
“I can take care of myself,” I said a little harshly, and then I blushed, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t as if I wanted to spend time with him last night. I had little choice, truly. I have every intention of avoiding him in the future.”
“Excellent. Enough of this. We should talk on more pleasant subjects.” He paused, considering. His eyes flickered to the strange device, and then back to the table. The house elves began clearing away dinner and placing a small dessert before us.
“Seeing as this is your last year at Hogwarts,” I asked, landing on a suitable topic, “what are your plans for the future?”
“I’m hoping to be a teacher,” he replied, “indeed, if my plans could go aright, I’d wish to not leave Hogwarts at all, but return to teach some position or other. I’d like Charms, I think, it’s my best subject.”
“Why a teacher?” it had never occurred to me to want to do something as…the only word I could think of was mundane…as teaching.
“I just think it would be wonderful, to work with students and help them and support their efforts, to see them move on and succeed. It would be like having a family, only so much more so,” he continued in this vein enthusiastically for several minutes, and I was glad of the time, for I had blushed furiously the moment he spoke of having a family. It must have been my imagination, for I thought that for just an instant he looked at me as he said that. “What about you?”
“Huh?” My brain was still on families.
“What do you wish to do? I know you still have several years left.”
“I haven’t thought about it at all,” I confessed. “I expect my parents will have a marriage arranged for me before that time, and I’ll almost certainly end up on some fine gentleman pureblood’s arm at social events, smiling and gushing.” I was aghast with myself. Had I truly just said that aloud? Was there any way I could correct myself? “That is,” I groped for a more appropriate thing to say, “even in this modern age I would be content to be a wife and raise a family.” The blush rose in my cheeks. That was no better! “I mean, I really don’t know.” I finished, utterly lamely.
“You shouldn’t be ‘just a wife’ if you don’t wish to be,” Marcus frowned. “And you should not have to marry where your parents say. What would you want to do?”
“I…” I knew, after a fashion, what I’d want to do, but no husband would ever allow it. Normally, propriety would say I wouldn’t even speak of it. Yet, somehow, sitting there with Marcus, having just made the tremendous social gaff of speaking of being a trophy wife, I couldn’t help but feel that propriety could be damned. “I’d love to own a business,” I said enthusiastically. “You may not have heard, but I sell potions on the side here at Hogwarts. I know it’s terribly immodest to say, but I really am very good at brewing. I would love to open a shop in London and sell potions to those in need. There are truly so many useful applications for potions, but so many people neglect their brewing skills in favor of household charms or flashy transfigurations to impress their friends. I think that I could make a lot of money that way, and I think it’d be wonderful to try.”
“I think you should,” Marcus echoed my enthusiasm. My jaw dropped. Women do not go in to business, my father’s words echoed in my head. He’d been aghast when he learned how I afforded my school things. My mother had fainted – a daughter of hers reduced to working was the most horrifying thing she could conceive of. And Marcus thought it was a good idea. “You’re the best potion maker I’ve ever seen – I’m two years ahead of you, but it still takes me twice as long and three times the effort to do in Advanced Potions what you seem to do without half trying.”
“Thank you,” I stammered out the apology. My cheeks were going to change to that color permanently if I didn’t get my blushes under control.
An awkward silence fell for a few moments as the house elves came and took the dessert plates. I hardly noticed what I’d eaten while we’d been talking. Then, Marcus jumped up and turned to his device. While he was fiddling with it, he said, all in a rush, “so, I know this is very forward of me, and I shouldn’t even be asking, but I promised you that I’d dance with you at the ball on Friday, and then I didn’t do so, and I thought, if you were interested,” the device made a strange scratchy sound, “that is, if you wanted to, and didn’t think it was too forward, that maybe I could make it up to you, and we could dance.”
“We haven’t any music,” I objected. My heart had leapt at the very suggestion; now it pounded some place in the vicinity of my throat. The scratchy sound, on cue it seemed, suddenly became the sound of a single violin, and then a flute joined in, playing a slow waltz. I looked at the device in wonder. “What a fantastic bit of magic! It makes music?”
“Not magic,” Marcus turned back to me. He was grinning broadly, and I thought that in the fairy light he looked as red as I must have been. “It’s a muggle device called a phonograph.”
“Amazing!” So we had music. So I had to answer. In that case…I stood up with as much stately grace as I could. “Then I would very much like to dance with you.” I paused a heart beat. There was something I wanted to say, and while I’d said it before, it was the sort of thing avoided. It, too, was very forward. Yet he had taken such a chance by asking me, and he deserved to know that I wanted this as much as I said. “That would be nice, Marcus.” It felt like I’d never said his name before. I must have done so, I supposed, but it felt brand new.
He took my hand, and put his arm around my waist for the waltz. “I’m honored…Delia.” I had never thought my name would sound so special. It almost brought tears to my eyes. I was spared a response, though, as the waltz went up to tempo, and we began to dance in tight circles on our improvised dance floor.
And now for your story installment!
During the meal, Marcus talked animatedly about his family. I was distinctly quiet. It wasn’t that my attention was mostly on the food, though that was certainly a piece of it. I love my family very much, but I’m very different from them. Marcus’ family, on the other hand, sounded simply wonderful. I’d never been exposed to purebloods like them. Over the top and carefree, that’s how they sounded. Finally, though I couldn’t dodge him when he asked about my family.
“Oh, well, they’re very much how you’d expect,” I hedged. I realized I’d have to say more, though – Marcus would probably expect them to be like his family! “My mother is something of a socialite, she loves attending parties and gatherings. My father, he prefers going to his club. They’re very interested in…” I paused. I realized I’d never before had to come up with a polite way of saying that my parents were muggle-hater’s before. “They feel very strongly about the importance of heritage. My brother has been building himself something of a career in the ministry, and my parents have high hopes.” I tried to think of something more to say. Surely there must be something else? After all the delightful anecdotes that Marcus could produce about his family and siblings and uncles and aunts, I was ashamed that such a paltry description seemed to be the best that I could come up with. I shrugged uncomfortably, though. “So what happened in the dungeon on Friday?” I asked, feeling keenly the need to change the subject.
“Oh! Well, a bunch of us noticed the Durmstrang’s sneaking out, and thought that was mighty suspicious, so we followed them. I didn’t want to go,” he added with a frown, “but Katrina virtually pulled me along after her. She seemed to think that telling me I must be as brave as Guillermo and Caius, who were going, would draw me along.” He shook his head in apparent wonder. “They went to the dungeon, and we were able to piece together what they were after and get it first. It was a mirror, about this big,” he made an oval with his hands about the size of a head, “and as far as I can tell it’s perfectly normal. We haven’t figured out what it does yet, but it must do something – it was very well hidden, and the Durmstrang’s really wanted it.”
“Hmm…” I tried to think if I knew of any magical mirrors, but nothing came to mind other than a few fairy tales. “I don’t know. I can do some research if you like.”
Marcus shook his head. “You have enough on your plate, don’t worry about it. What did you do that evening? I saw you head out so early!”
“Oh, I came back soon enough,” I smiled cheerful. I was surprised to realize that I no longer felt bitter about being left behind. It was simply the way things had happened. “After I gave the key to Celestine, she and the others headed to Azkaban, and I stayed at the ball trying to make it appear as if half the student body hadn’t wandered off.” There was no rancor in my voice, and Marcus smiled apologetically.
“Sorry about that.”
“Oh, it’s quite alright. I had a nice time.”
“Fred told me,” he started. He was frowning slightly, and he paused, unsure how to proceed. “Fred told me that you danced with Palucid Nox?”
I blushed very red. Why on earth was I blushing? It wasn’t as if I’d wanted to dance with him! “Yes, well, he asked me, and it would have been rude to say no.”
“He didn’t hurt you, or do anything to you, did he?” asked Marcus seriously. I blushed further under the intensity that he directed at me. My heart started to flutter again.
“Nothing like that, no.”
“Good,” he sounded relieved. “You need to be careful of that man! I haven’t told you about the first WAP mission, have I?” I shook my head. “We went to assault a castle on the Continent, being held by a man who was definitely an ally of Nox. All manner of automata – built by Nox himself, Professor Patronius believes – were guarding it, and they were doing vile experiments.”
“Experiments?” I couldn’t quite prevent my curiousity from spilling out.
“Yes,” for a moment, good manners warred with something I couldn’t define as he tried to decide what to say. “I’m only telling you so you’ll know what we’re up against and be careful. They were doing experiments on creating werewolves and controlling them. On innocent children! It seemed clear they wish to use them in combat, and to induce them to wolf form even when the moon is not full. We managed to bring back one of the devices they were using for control, or trying to use, and it’s a nasty bit of work. And that’s the sort of thing that Nox is associated with! I don’t think you should associate with him anymore.”
“I can take care of myself,” I said a little harshly, and then I blushed, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t as if I wanted to spend time with him last night. I had little choice, truly. I have every intention of avoiding him in the future.”
“Excellent. Enough of this. We should talk on more pleasant subjects.” He paused, considering. His eyes flickered to the strange device, and then back to the table. The house elves began clearing away dinner and placing a small dessert before us.
“Seeing as this is your last year at Hogwarts,” I asked, landing on a suitable topic, “what are your plans for the future?”
“I’m hoping to be a teacher,” he replied, “indeed, if my plans could go aright, I’d wish to not leave Hogwarts at all, but return to teach some position or other. I’d like Charms, I think, it’s my best subject.”
“Why a teacher?” it had never occurred to me to want to do something as…the only word I could think of was mundane…as teaching.
“I just think it would be wonderful, to work with students and help them and support their efforts, to see them move on and succeed. It would be like having a family, only so much more so,” he continued in this vein enthusiastically for several minutes, and I was glad of the time, for I had blushed furiously the moment he spoke of having a family. It must have been my imagination, for I thought that for just an instant he looked at me as he said that. “What about you?”
“Huh?” My brain was still on families.
“What do you wish to do? I know you still have several years left.”
“I haven’t thought about it at all,” I confessed. “I expect my parents will have a marriage arranged for me before that time, and I’ll almost certainly end up on some fine gentleman pureblood’s arm at social events, smiling and gushing.” I was aghast with myself. Had I truly just said that aloud? Was there any way I could correct myself? “That is,” I groped for a more appropriate thing to say, “even in this modern age I would be content to be a wife and raise a family.” The blush rose in my cheeks. That was no better! “I mean, I really don’t know.” I finished, utterly lamely.
“You shouldn’t be ‘just a wife’ if you don’t wish to be,” Marcus frowned. “And you should not have to marry where your parents say. What would you want to do?”
“I…” I knew, after a fashion, what I’d want to do, but no husband would ever allow it. Normally, propriety would say I wouldn’t even speak of it. Yet, somehow, sitting there with Marcus, having just made the tremendous social gaff of speaking of being a trophy wife, I couldn’t help but feel that propriety could be damned. “I’d love to own a business,” I said enthusiastically. “You may not have heard, but I sell potions on the side here at Hogwarts. I know it’s terribly immodest to say, but I really am very good at brewing. I would love to open a shop in London and sell potions to those in need. There are truly so many useful applications for potions, but so many people neglect their brewing skills in favor of household charms or flashy transfigurations to impress their friends. I think that I could make a lot of money that way, and I think it’d be wonderful to try.”
“I think you should,” Marcus echoed my enthusiasm. My jaw dropped. Women do not go in to business, my father’s words echoed in my head. He’d been aghast when he learned how I afforded my school things. My mother had fainted – a daughter of hers reduced to working was the most horrifying thing she could conceive of. And Marcus thought it was a good idea. “You’re the best potion maker I’ve ever seen – I’m two years ahead of you, but it still takes me twice as long and three times the effort to do in Advanced Potions what you seem to do without half trying.”
“Thank you,” I stammered out the apology. My cheeks were going to change to that color permanently if I didn’t get my blushes under control.
An awkward silence fell for a few moments as the house elves came and took the dessert plates. I hardly noticed what I’d eaten while we’d been talking. Then, Marcus jumped up and turned to his device. While he was fiddling with it, he said, all in a rush, “so, I know this is very forward of me, and I shouldn’t even be asking, but I promised you that I’d dance with you at the ball on Friday, and then I didn’t do so, and I thought, if you were interested,” the device made a strange scratchy sound, “that is, if you wanted to, and didn’t think it was too forward, that maybe I could make it up to you, and we could dance.”
“We haven’t any music,” I objected. My heart had leapt at the very suggestion; now it pounded some place in the vicinity of my throat. The scratchy sound, on cue it seemed, suddenly became the sound of a single violin, and then a flute joined in, playing a slow waltz. I looked at the device in wonder. “What a fantastic bit of magic! It makes music?”
“Not magic,” Marcus turned back to me. He was grinning broadly, and I thought that in the fairy light he looked as red as I must have been. “It’s a muggle device called a phonograph.”
“Amazing!” So we had music. So I had to answer. In that case…I stood up with as much stately grace as I could. “Then I would very much like to dance with you.” I paused a heart beat. There was something I wanted to say, and while I’d said it before, it was the sort of thing avoided. It, too, was very forward. Yet he had taken such a chance by asking me, and he deserved to know that I wanted this as much as I said. “That would be nice, Marcus.” It felt like I’d never said his name before. I must have done so, I supposed, but it felt brand new.
He took my hand, and put his arm around my waist for the waltz. “I’m honored…Delia.” I had never thought my name would sound so special. It almost brought tears to my eyes. I was spared a response, though, as the waltz went up to tempo, and we began to dance in tight circles on our improvised dance floor.
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no subject
Date: 2007-11-12 02:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-12 07:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-12 11:27 pm (UTC)Plus, you're Jewish and all.
YEAH TOAST!
no subject
Date: 2007-11-13 08:43 am (UTC)And hey, we Jews, we love Jesus, he was grand, he just wasn't the stinkin' Messiah. ;)
Woooooo Toast! ;)