He ventures off the beaten path [Tracey]

Knockturn Alley was the sort of place Seamus’s mother always warned them never to go, so of course they’d tried to sneak down on multiple occasions. That was when dark magic was something adventurous and exciting and taboo. Mrs. Finnigan was a sharp witch who didn’t miss a thing, so they were never successful, and then as he got older Knockturn started to lose its appeal. After Voldemort’s return, when the dark arts became a truly dangerous force in the world, something to stand up against.

These days he avoided it out of habit, and because he had no need for the things, or people, one found there. He was a seriously boring wizard, after all. He drew on paper and he drew on people and he went home at the end of the day. He’d never had any desire to experiment with magic, to do anything dark or dangerous, and he didn’t have many friends who did either. Perhaps that was why he was drawn to Tracey. She was so much more… out there than most people he knew, and now that they were communicating he figured his life could use a bit of it.

The bar she suggested was dim and eclectic. The people nearest the door eyed him suspiciously as he came in, as if sensing his feelings of out-of-place-ness. Uncomfortably, he glanced around.

He saw Tracey from afar, recognized her from all those years at school, but it was like seeing her for the first time. He found himself studying her face, trying to find some part of himself in it. It was stupid. Their relation was distant, but he imagined he could see it anyway. She looked up and he put up a hand in a silent wave, making his way through to her table.

Dean looked around as he sat down. “Interesting place,” he said. It wasn’t a lie. The  walls were covered in odd curios that he distracted himself with looking at, still unsure what he was going to do or say. He wanted to make a good impression, God, he had to. But he didn’t trust that he could.

Tracey rolled her eyes at the curse breakers lurking at the bar. The group of boisterous men were laughing loudly as she and one of their friends went back and forth over ward schemes, trying to one up the other. Half of the stuff that Tracey was pulling out of her as were schemas that she’d never even put to practice, only seen in ancient history texts. The guy kept trying to one up her, but the sharp Slytherin Alumni put her best foot forward and cut him off at the chase.  It was only when her drink was finally done that she hit him with the most complicated ward scheme she had available. Leaving them all speechless, she smirked and walked back to her table, hip swaying as she heard the crowd of boys teasing their friend. If she’d been nervous before, it’d swiftly been washed away by that little debate.

It was after the holidays and a dark Sunday, like most winter days seemed to be. Usually, she’d be at home at this time, getting her stuff ready for another potential trip, but she’d taken the whole week off, as if she was preparing for something horrid to happen. Like her visit with her newly discovered cousin was going to go to shit or something. Dean hadn’t seemed like a psycho through his letters, but one could never be sure. Not that Tracey thought that really. It was more as if she was unsure if his Gryffindor self would be able to tolerate her and her father. Most former Gryffindors she’d come in contact with were skeptical of their rival counterparts, even after graduation. She’d just have to prove herself multi-faceted, at least.

If she was quite honest with herself, she was concerned more about the outcome of the meeting. Her dad hadn’t been so curious about anything since her mother had been cursed to insanity. She’d gone to visit him at the Devil’s Den which housed his job, and he’d actually come out of his lair to have a meal with her in one of the private rooms. The one thing that’d always characterized Adonis Davis had been his undying curiousity, and the appearance of Dean Thomas had awakened that aspect of him, and with fury. He was voracious in his search to know, not just about Dean, but about Tracey herself. She would hate to have to disappoint him by ruining this relation for herself and for him. Call her selfish, but it was similar to Slytherin so what could one do.

She was sipping on a warm drink, her hands wrapped around the cup when she saw him walk in. She raised her hand in greeting, flashing him a broad grin. She was almost certain that he’d never been to this place before, and she could see his hesitation. It was kind of adorable. “Don’t worry, I didn’t lead you into a pit of dark wizards. It’s mostly a ministry dive.” She rolled her shoulders, waving for one of the server girls to come and serve him, turning back to her cousin. “A lot of the skilled workers like to come here instead of going to the Leaky. We like chatting magic and talking shit, versus listening to the beaurocrats whine about budget cuts and expenditures.” She nodded at the girl who dropped off the drink, and leaned back into her chair, not hiding her scrutiny of Dean.

“It’s weird. You’ve got my dad’s nose. It’s finally set in.” Shrugging, she tipped her drink to him. “Cheers cuz.”

Dean gave Tracey a broad smile. That seemed a good first step. Trying very hard to be casual, he shrugged off his coat and slung it over the back of his chair. He wanted to look like he was comfortable here, with her. She probably wasn’t fooled. He’d known most Slytherins to be sharp if anything.

“Yeah, it doesn’t look too ominous,” he said. Watching her with her steaming drink, he figured he ought to get something, but he didn’t know what to order. He was partial to butterbeer, but the same drink order as a thirteen-year-old in Hogsmeade for the first time didn’t feel like the way to go. About to ask for recommendations, Dean blinked as a drink was set in front of him. “Oh, thanks,” he said, unsure if he ought to shell out some money or if that would be impolite. “I can pay you back, y’know, if you like…?” He trailed off awkwardly. She was looking at him.

His hand found its way to his nose unconsciously. "Erm, thanks?” he said. He wanted to reply in kind but all he’d ever seen was a couple photographs of the man who was supposed to have been his father. Laughing nervously, he raised his cup in response instead. “Cheers.” She seemed friendly enough, but now the initial small talk was over. He’d never had a relation his own age, much less one like Tracey who had a way of flustering him. What did you talk about? All of his cousins were younger and liked Hot Wheels and Star Wars. He felt everything he knew about socialization dripping out his ears. How did you get to know a person, again?

“So, er,” he began, “where’re you headed next?” He liked to hear about her adventures, so he thought he’d start with that. He hoped she hadn’t had to postpone some exotic trip to see him. “I always wanted to get out of the country, you know,” he admitted. “Like, as a kid. I thought I’d travel. But, time, and money…” He chuckled. “I’d change careers, but I like what I do. Tattoos, that is.” He didn’t think he’d ever told her, and felt silly. She had divulged so much of her life in their letters and he hadn’t bothered to mention how he spent his days. Looking down at his drink, he ran his finger around the rim of the cup.

Tracey blinked rapidly, confused before bringing her drink up to her lips. “Why do you need to pay me back? It’s not like this will be the last time we’ll meet…well, at least I hope not.” Shrugging away any anxiety, she leaned back into her chair, her elbow leaning onto the table. This place may be familiar to her, but it damn sure wasn’t familiar to him. She wondered if that made him uncomfortable. Even with the lack of danger around them, there were still people who were so stuck in the wizarding world that they were paranoid, but that didn’t seem to be the case. He was nervous, and that was all she hoped.

Where was she headed to next?

“I don’t really know.” Work with the Unspeakables was hard sometimes. There was no real way to maintain a real schedule. Outside of the classes that she needed to maintain Outstanding grades in, she was literally a leaf in the wind. “I go to school too, so a few days out of the week, I’m in Egypt. Otherwise…” She shrugged, a wry smile on her face. “I just to where they send me. I’ve the week off actually, and I’ve spent most of it lazing about.” Tracey was almost always on the move. Stagnation lead her to thinking dark thoughts, and there was so much seriousness involved in her job, that she didn’t want to be sunk into darkness again.

“You can still get out of the country.” She volunteered. Wizards had it easy, only needing to apply for international portkeys to travel outside of country lines. All it took was a few galleons and a plan. “One of our classmates a few years older than us likes to do tours. I’ll see if I can find his info for you.” She’d tried to go on one of those guided tours, but she was so curious that she’d wandered off and quite pissed of the rest of the tour. “Travel isn’t the same for wizards like it is for muggles. You have a few more opportunities to explore…”

At the drop of some personal information about himself, Tracey fairly lit up. She was afraid that she was going to be the only one talking, like he didn’t want to be there. It kind of hurt, but she was interested. Rubbing her inner wrist were the runes were etched into her skin, she arched a brow. “Tattoo artist? That’s…admirable.” There was something about the dedication to putting permanent artwork on someone’s skin, letting them be your forever canvas. She wanted to divulge, tell him about how her mother loved to draw, but she wanted to know more about him. “Have you drawn forever? Where do you work?”

“Oh, okay,” he said, letting the hand that had been halfway to his pocket rest. “I’ll get it the next time, then.” He smiled, trying to force himself to be comfortable with her. She knew how awkward he felt, he could tell by the look on her face. He figured it must be fairly obvious. He’d never been an actor; he’d always worn his heart on his sleeve.

Listening to her describe her work and school, telling him she had the week off, Dean nodded. “Sounds nice,” he said. “Or, well, I don’t know if you like doing nothing or not.” He’d found that many of his generation, himself included, became prone to staying busy after the war. She reminded him then how easy it was for wizards to travel, and he looked down into his cup, embarrassed. “Yeah,” he said. “I forget, I guess—bit of muggle coming through. Or, I dunno.” He shrugged thoughtfully. “Maybe I just don’t really want to leave.”

He gave her another smile as she asked about his art. This was easier to talk about, and she seemed to be interested, for which he was terribly grateful. “Oh, forever, I figure,” he said. “I can’t remember not drawing.” He laughed a little. “It was always my thing. People used to draft me into making banners and stuff.” Dean sipped his drink and savored the warmth that traveled through his chest. “I work under Gregoire Cartier, in the shop on Diagon. Covered in graffiti, can’t miss it.” He wasn’t sure of the shop’s reputation among Tracey’s lot, and worried, perhaps irrationally, that she might think him somehow uncool. He knew this feeling. He felt like he was on a first date with someone he was desperate to impress.

He didn’t know what he’d been expecting her to be. This meeting, their letters, all of it he’d walked into blind. When he had looked into his family he hadn’t known what he would do if he actually found one. And now… If he were to be honest, Tracey wasn’t his family, the same way that his dad—stepdad—was: they hadn’t grown up together, they didn’t trust each other. They didn’t love each other. Perhaps they would someday. But Dean had no idea how to get to that point. This was something completely new.