dismantle, repair. [tag; zephir]

He wasn't here yet.

That didn't surprise her; Tabitha was constantly early. It was a trait that she'd somehow inherited from her father. He ran a tight ship, never late, never on time, always early. Zephir had actually sent her a letter. Their somewhat stilted correspondence had dried up over the past few months so his letter was like a bolt out of the blue. She wasn't actually going to turn up today.

Tabby had been doing really well lately. Things at home, though not perfect, were better. Her parents were kissing over breakfast and sleeping in the same bed again. The vicious arguments had all but vanished, except when her father didn't pick up her mother's dry cleaning and she had nothing to wear for one of her work parties but that was nothing, really. Dutifully, she'd been going to therapy as requested by her parents. Her inability to deal with stressful situation and her unwillingness to talk about her feelings had manifested, twisting and turning into some violent time bomb. Not now, though. Sort of.

Sitting at a table near the window in a small cafe, Tabitha thumbed through a book. Her copy of Macbeth was dog-eared and battered. It was old, the spine was cracked, the binding frayed but she'd never been able to bring herself to purchase another one. Her flame red hair was loose, curling as it met the curve of her slender shoulders as she tugged anxiously on the long sleeve of her cable knit jumper, her big chocolate coloured eyes resolutely sticking to her book. If she allowed her thoughts to wander, she'd be looking out of the window every five seconds like a child anticipating the arrival of Santa on Christmas morning.

Speaking of Christmas, Zephir hadn't sent her an invitation, despite mentioning that he wanted to. Surprisingly, Tabitha wasn't upset by his choice. Deep down, she knew she would have politely declined because she'd feel uncomfortable. What if his mother was there? The redhead looked like Charlie and it would undoubtedly cause his mother some pain at seeing the same pair of eyes look back at her. Regardless, she'd done as Zephir had asked her out of some weird feeling of semi-family loyalty. She'd looked out for his younger sister, Hester. Though she'd not spoken to or approached the girl, she dutifully made sure that she was healthy, happy and coping. She seemed to be. She was a smart child.

Seeing Hester about the castle at first had made her murderous. How dare he ask her to watch the girl when he refused to accept Tabby as his half-sister? She was just doing it out of habit now, really. Her displeasure had turned to indifference now.

Be bloody, be bold and resolute, laugh to scorn. The power of man, for none of woman born shall harm Macbeth. In the quiet cafe, she gave a snort of laughter as she read it. Though dead four hundred years, Shakespeare really knew his stuff. Pride did come before a fall, indeed. Once upon a time, she'd read classic literature and poetry just to try and impress Zephir. He was so smart and so focused, she'd once aspired to be just like him…then she realised that they weren't alike and they never would be. That was fine. It had just taken her six months and gallons of tears to realise that. She felt peaceful now.

Seeing a shadow block her light, she looked up sharply. Shit. How long had he been there? Clumsily getting to her feet, she took a step forward and promptly stopped. Tabby was about to hug him before he realised he wasn't really a hugger. Swiftly, she extended a warm hand towards him for him to shake. It made sense. They weren't friends. They were barely acquaintances.

"Hi," she said gently, her other hand adjusting the arm of her glasses as she offered him a small smile. "Thanks for coming. Take a seat," she told him before sitting again. The table between them was comforting, she was using it like a sort of barrier. Zephir King had the power to break her and on a number of occasions, accidental or not, he'd nearly succeeded in doing so. She was interested as to why he'd wanted to see her. She was sure he had something to tell her and that it wasn't because he enjoyed her company. It had been months since they'd seen each other.

"Coffee?" Tabby asked, grabbing her purse and standing. She remembered bits of the night she'd turned up at his place with a concussion and soaking wet but she didn't know if he drank tea or coffee. She pointed towards the counter by way of explaining where she was going. Bloody Hell. He'd just arrived and she was already trying to run away from him.

Zephir walked with purpose, his long, confident strides carrying him quickly through the familiar streets of Hogsmeade. The man wasn’t surprised that not a lot had changed in the village since he’d been in school. Hogsmeade, much like the nearby school, was persistently constant. He hadn’t been to the castle for some time, but at least from afar it remained unchanged. Zephir wondered if Tabitha ever thought about his days in school. Did she go to the same places he had in the village? The man shook his head.

Zephir had dressed for this like he dressed for anything else; with intent. He’d chosen a dusky blue shirt, grey paisley tie and long black overcoat for the mix of casual and smart that it portrayed. He was always a little formal, always a nicely groomed. Today he sported a little shadow along his jaw, but even that was nicely shaped. Everything about his appearance was controlled, shaped, intentional. It was with complete autonomy that Zephir lived his life, and this was reflected in his day-to-day wear.

He found himself outside the place they’d chosen to meet, and as his hand touched the door handle, he caught a glimpse of Tabitha through the front window. Watching her sitting there, reading, tugged at something in Zephir’s chest. Tabitha was a whole person, unique in her talents and desires and preferences. She had become something of a character in Zephir’s life, but when he saw her he was reminded of her existence in a way that letters simply didn’t convey. Pragmatically, it didn’t matter their communication had ebbed and flowed, dependent, he assumed, on how busy they both were. No. In any sort of practical sense, only speaking to her in person gave Zephir a real sense of communicating with her.

The man stepped through the door, making his way straight to where she was sitting. Whatever apprehension the man was feeling was hidden behind casual charm. Zephir smiled as she noticed him. He had expected her to hug him, but took the handshake without his expression faltering at all. “Tabitha,” he greeted, “how have you been?” Last time he’d seen her, she’d tried to throw herself in front of a car, and the memory was still fresh in Zephir’s mind. Needless to say, communication had been fairly stilted since then. Zephir watched the way she moved, still sort of fascinated by her. He made sure to keep his fascination to himself.

“Oh, sure,” he answered as she stood. She still had an air of neuroticism, if such a thing could be perceived, but she certainly didn’t seem as unsteady as she had the last few times he’d seen her. In some ways, she seemed like a different person. He wondered how this affected her view of him, at all. “Maybe a tea?” he corrected as she left. The man shrugged off his coat and hung it over the back of his chair. It wasn’t winter anymore.

Why was it so hard to be normal around him? Then again, Tabitha hadn't really ever been "normal" and it had been such a long while since she'd felt anything like herself. Over the course of the past year, she'd been blown about by life like a thistle in the wind. She wasn't the same. She was damaged goods and she knew that, she just needed to adapt.

Not as all surprised that Zephir reciprocated the handshake, she gave his hand a business-like pump three times. Tabby was left handed and the hand the Healer was holding still contained that horrid scar that she'd refused to let him heal. What was the point? She needed it. It was a reminder of her stupid mistakes and bad decisions and she was desperate not to repeat any of them. She swallowed and she winced, she hoped, secretly. He wasn't hurting her at all. She felt emotional pain. It was like someone was squeezing her heart, tightly. She let go of him quickly, offering another brief smile before sliding her hands into the pockets of her jeans. That was enough physical contact.

Stood in a weird sort of awkward stance, she blinked. Tabitha. No one called her Tabitha, not even her teachers. Unable to help herself, she stared at him. He'd haunted her dreams (nightmares usually) for months now but his eyes still got to her. They had the same set. Even her glasses couldn't disguise them. Apart from that, they had nothing alike. He was so smart, calm, collected. She was bats hit crazy and she'd proved that. She just hoped he didn't think of her as some sort of insane hormonal teenager who was perfectly incapable of sorting out her life.

Tabby fell silent and folded her lips together into a thin line before she shrugged casually. "Fine," she replied. Fine was such a loaded word. It usually stood for freaked out, insecure, neurotic and emotional which made sense. She wasn't sure she wanted to share. "How are you?" She asked softly, her smile now turning into a frown of its own accord. "Still working at St. Mungo's?" She inquired, wondering if he'd maybe splintered and started his own practice. He was capable of such a move, certainly. Once upon a time, she had his schedule memorised. She'd stolen his rota off a desk in the foyer. But she'd cut ties. She had no idea what days he worked or what hours. She'd made a conscious effort to address the sporadic mail to the hospital instead of his home. It was better that way, clearly.

She paused as he spoke, turning around with wide eyes. Tea? "Oh right," she said glumly. The fact that she didn't know how he took it made her somewhat sad. She remembered now. Zephir had kindly dried her clothes and made her a cup of tea, despite the fact that she didn't enjoy the beverage. Her hands were so cold, she just needed something to warm them up. So he drank tea, great.

Tabitha returned a few minutes later with a small white pot and two cups on a tray which she placed on the table between them, her pale fingers sweeping back her fiery red locks as she took a seat. It was clear she was uncomfortable. She held herself stiffly, hands on her lap and her legs uncrossed. Without waiting, she deftly poured him a cup before adding hot water to her own, the water turning an unappealing murky green colour for her own drink. She honestly wanted to order fruit juice or a cola but tea seemed very…adult. She needed him to treat her like a grown up.

Not meeting his eye, she slipped her purse back into her bag. A pot of tea was the least she could do considering each time he had to pick up the pieces in the past. Picking up the cup, she blew on it gently before taking a sip, a grassy sort of smell catching on the steam. "Healer Ingham, my therapist, suggested I start drinking it to help with anxiety. It tastes a bit like licking a battery," she explained as though he'd cared. Upon realising that she'd let slip she was seeing someone about her issues, she turned a bright red colour and hastily drank more of her herbal tea. Tabitha was horribly embarrassed about it, even though there wasn't a stigma attached. She was terrified of her school mates finding out. They'd call her unbalanced, crazy, loopy, disjointed, unfit for society. Her blush deepened and she coughed to clear her throat.


Letting a few seconds of uncomfortable silence wash over them, she parted her lips. Tabby had never been very good at small talk. It was always awkward and always forced and she hated it. "Hester's doing fine," she began in a small voice, figuring that the only reason he wanted to see her was to check on his little sister like he'd asked her to. Placing her cup down, she reached into her bag and extracted a few sheets of parchment, placed in a blue folder, all pristine. Her personal life was a war zone but at least she was tidy. Sliding it across the table towards Zephir, she nodded at it for him to take.

"Those are her grades," she explained, sipping her tea again. "Not a comprehensive list but the majority of her essay and homework scores. I know I probably shouldn't have done it but --" I need you to know that I did what you asked to the best of my ability. Please. "Being Head Girl sometimes had a little bit of sway," she added with a brittle smile before dropping her eyes to the table. She felt like such a colossal disappointment to him, all of the time.

“Of course,” he answered. It had been less than two years since Zephir had become a certified healer. He wondered if he should tell her about his plans for the future. Would she be interested in that sort of thing? Did she want to know? Zephir had asked her to meet him here, so it was difficult to discern how interested she was in their interaction. “I’ve started applying for some grants,” he told her, deciding that he might as well make small talk, of only to silently study her reaction to it. “Government grants. I want to go overseas and study there. Write some research papers.” There were different types of magical medicinal practices, and Zephir wanted to document and compare.

The young healer had allowed her to pay for the drinks. Usually he would have insisted on paying, but Tabitha had reacted badly to things like that before. Maybe she was just as control-focussed as he was, the man mused. The man took his cup and blew lightly across the surface of the liquid before placing it down on the table softly.

Healer Ingham. Sounded familiar. Zephir wondered if she was seeing someone at St. Mungos or somewhere more private. The man knew that she’d seen someone in St. Mungos a while ago – he’d seen her file accidentally. And then you read it intentionally, said a voice in his head. Zephir acknowledged this internal voice, but there was no reason to defend himself against it. He’d needed to know. He nodded, mentally taking note of the man’s name. He planned on doing a little background check, just to make sure he was a certified healer. There had been too many fraudulent ‘cures’ and quacks around recently. These days ‘Therapist’ could mean anything.

“Wow, Tabby,” Zephir answered, raising his eyebrows at the papers she was slipping over to him. Immediately, the man had problems with this. When he’d mentioned Hester to Tabitha, he hadn’t meant for the redhead to collect data on his younger sister. Zephir felt a sense of invasiveness, if only because he knew that his younger sister would relay any of this information to him if asked. The feeling wouldn’t dissuade him from leafing through the notes Tabitha had compiled, of course. He wasn’t sure what to say. “You’ve definitely gone above and beyond,” he complimented with a small smile. “I wasn’t sure you’d want to do anything,” he admitted, “I hope you don’t feel too much responsibility here,” he added, glancing up at her. He hadn’t meant to pressure her into this.

Leaning forward in his seat, the man glanced quickly over the papers again, pulling them towards him with one hand. “I’ve actually come here with intentions,” he told her seriously, “are you still interested in potions?”

"Oh." Tabitha blinked, oddly surprised by Zephir's statement. He was going abroad? For some reason, she'd always thought of him as more of a home bird. Then again, she was wrong about a lot of things. She offered him a small smile. A few months ago, him leaving the country for an extended period of time would have broken her in two. Now rather, she was pleased for him. Excited, almost. Though she couldn't really picture him rowing down the Amazon or climbing through a rainforest. She'd always thought he'd visit and live somewhere modern and clean. Zurich, Montreal, Brussels.

"I hope you get them," she said with a nod, her eyes on her cup again. She so badly wanted to talk to him about his plans, what he wanted to write about but she already knew too much about him and he didn't like her for it. "I'd love to travel," she said wistfully. Potioneering seemed like the best route for that. Maybe she'd get to travel to collect ingredients or get an apprenticeship abroad.

"There's a conference in Lisbon in the summer," she told Zephir casually. "Bertrand Amsel's speaking." Tabby wasn't sure why she'd said that. She longed to go and see him speak. He was elderly but an amazing public speaker, full of passion and wit. She had all of his medical books on her shelf in her bedroom. "Then there's an expedition to Borneo," the redhead commented, relaxing a little. Talking about academic subjects was fine for her. "They're exploring a different strain of dragon pox. It's about time. They're facing an epidemic. Apparently, there is a rare plant that grows there that can lessen the effects." She hadn't once researched it for Zephir or to impress him. She was interested in medicine. She wanted to attend these conferences.

Zephir hadn't responded to her comment about seeing a psychiatrist. She was thankful. She'd not shown herself in the best light and he must be aware that she needed help. She was also thankful that he hadn't been the one to offer it. Things were stilted enough. It was best he didn't know everything. Or that she was on a cocktail of potions to help her function. She was holding it together just fine, thanks very much.

His use of her nickname made her head jerk upwards, her chocolate brown eyes wide. He usually addressed her formally so this was unnerving. "Oh," she said again in a very different tone. Her slim eyebrows came down in a rush to furrow, creasing her pretty facial features. "You're disappointed in me." It wasn't a question. It was clear in her face. Her slender shoulders slumped as she hunched forward, guilt and stupidity smacking her upside the head. She was so stupid. How could she have thought this was what he wanted her to do? Intrude on in his little sister's life? The thought that she might have upset him in anyway made tears prick at the corners of her eyes but she blinked them back valiantly. He didn't need to know that she actively sought his approval and validation. How pathetic.

His compliment…wasn't really a compliment. At least, not to Tabby's ears. Lifting a pale finger, she gently poked at a jasmine leaf that was floating in her cup, ignoring the searing pain of the hot water coming into contact with her sensitive skin. She did it again, liking the sensation as she swirled her fingertip in the hot tea. She didn't thank him. She felt bad enough about it already. She shrugged again carelessly.

"I wasn't going to," she admitted to the Healer softly, swallowing quickly. "I was angry at you," she told him, watching the leaves swirl in her cup. "I thought you were keeping me at arm's length and showering Hester in affection and care and I just --" She blushed. "I don't know. Kind of went in a bit of a downwards spiral. I thought she was so privileged to have someone like you caring so much about her. I was mad at her too," she admitted, having the decency to look ashamed. "But then I remembered that this isn't her fault and she's only eleven," she added with a weak smile as she looked up at him. "She's really nice and so smart and capable. We've not spoken," she was quick to placate him in case he was worried she might capsize everything he'd worked so hard for. "And a favour is a favour. I told you I'd do it."

I've actually come here with intentions.

She didn't think he'd come all the way from London to have an idle chat with her. He leaned across and she leaned away, just a little. Too close. He was too close. His eyes caught her again. To her, they always looked overly bright. Like there were a million and one things going around in his head. His question floored her. Tabitha parted her plump lips to answer before she closed them again. She didn't want to come across as childish and irresponsible. Being honest and telling him that she was unsure would make her look so stupid. He needed to take her seriously.

She nodded, bright red hair curling against the curve of her neck. "Yes," she told him, sounding more confident than she actually felt. He could have written to her, he needn't come all the way up here to tell her that. He probably had business to do in Scotland or something. She smiled again. "Do you have any advice?" Or any openings or any contacts she could write to would be great.

“Malaysian Borneo, not Indonesian Kalimantan, right? I think I’ve read about that. We haven’t always had the best relations with Borneo or Indonesia, and this is one of the first expeditions like this where we’re sending people to work there.” Zephir nodded, impressed and interested at the same time. “I’d love to visit Sarawak,” he added with a slight nod.

“I’m not disappointed,” he replied, shaking his head a little, a small frown appearing in response to her sudden change in demeanour. “I’m just surprised.” He’d asked her to look after his sister in the loosest of senses. Zephir didn’t know how to respond to her next gush of words appropriately. The way that she idolised him, or had idolised him should be cause for concern, but instead he just felt decidedly good. He didn’t know how to behave around her, but he’d known since the first time they’d met that he wanted to make a good impression. Especially after the fantastically horrible first impression. He also felt protective of Hester. Tabitha wasn’t looking at him now, and he wished she would so that he could guess her thoughts more accurately. “It’s okay, Tabby,” he said, using the nickname without realising it.

He was half thankful for the change of topic and half dissatisfied with the resolution of the previous one. Zephir nodded, glad for her assurance. If she’d said no, he still would have talked to her about what he’d come here for. “I don’t know if I’m the best person to give you advice,” he offered with a light smile. Zephir had always been interested in potions, but other than telling her that she should work hard in school, what was he going to say? Nothing everyone wasn’t telling her already, he was sure of that. The healer shifted in his seat, crossing one leg over the other. How should he approach the subject? “I have a lot of contacts,” he started, easing into the conversation with a little backstory. To be honest, he’d already planned this conversation.

“I mentioned that I’m applying for grants. Well I’ve actually begun contributing a lot in my academic field.” Zephir paused for a moment, his dark eyes flicking thoughtfully to his tea. He had milestones to be working on for his paper, and the man had already planned out his next month around it. Soon he would be able to make a proposal to the Hospital board, and if he were lucky, they’d fund him to begin actually working on his project in a practical capacity.

He looked back up at Tabitha. She didn’t need to know that he’d also been working with wealthy, politically involved families. “I have a lot of support from those above me,” he added, “And I know someone who’s looking for a summer intern, potentially leading to further employment and at the very least, a fantastic reference.” He wasn’t talking about the hospital now. He was talking about one of the companies that the hospital relied on for supplying potions and ingredients. It would be amazing on her resume, if she was interested in anything remotely related to potions.

Zephir watched his sister, eyes bright with interest. He wanted to look after her. Serve her as an older family member. He knew that things were strained between them, and he didn’t know how much involvement she wanted him to have in her life, but until she told him, he’d just have to guess. “There would be a chance of working abroad, too, even just for the summer. All dependent on how they assess your abilities and where they’d want to use you. The man you’d be studying and working under is an incredible potioneer.” All she had to do was say the word, and Zephir would be writing all the right letters. “I could put in a good word, if you were interested.”

"Right," Tabitha said with a nod. She wasn't sure how she could pull the plug on this. He was already wary of her. Him finding out that she'd been researching might send him running. But it wasn't to impress him. She'd tried that, numerous times. "Must be exciting. It's a huge deal," she said gently. No. This was for her, for her future. Not her father's. "Me too," she offered weakly. "I'm not much of a beach person but they all do look beautiful," she offered, careful not to meet Zephir's eye. It was fine when they were having a professional conversation but she longed for a personal one.

She wanted to know him. She knew about him on paper and stuff. She knew his height and his weight. His qualifications. Even where he lived but nothing that really mattered. Tabby didn't know how he liked his tea or his favourite colour or if he had any allergies like he did. That was what hurt her the most. There was a sense of longing but she'd reigned everything in, built a wall. Not to keep Zephir from coming in but to stop herself from running to him.

She chewed on her lip. As soon as she's pretty much stalked his little sister, she realised she'd made a mistake. Hester seemed like she was well settled. She'd never spoken to the Ravenclaw, it didn't seem right. Luckily for the girl, Tabitha was not a relation of hers. "Are you?" The redhead asked, adding milk carefully to her cup. She didn't know why, it wasn't like she was going to drink anything. The fact he seemed surprised in turn surprised her. "You know what I'm like," she began carefully, hinting to the fact that she had an encyclopaedia of issues. She was dented, damaged. Her brain didn't function quite like anyone he'd ever met.

Tabby. She felt an odd little squeeze on her heart and she looked up at him swiftly, her chocolate brown eyes wide but soft and warm. It was pointless to get her hopes up but his use of the familiar nickname did take the edge of it a little.

The Gryffindor smiled in spite of herself. "You seem pretty put together to me," she replied. She picked up her spoon and absently stirred her untouched tea, watching the white of the milk connect and collide with the amber liquid, swirling and turning like her thoughts. She didn't want to tell Zephir that he was really the only person she had to go to for advice. Her mum refused to believe she was growing up, her dad was at batshit as she was. She didn't have any brothers or sisters. The only other person she had was her kind and logical grandfather.

Zephir had experience. Tabby didn't think she was naïve but she was lacking certain life skills. She'd had a part time job in the summers in the local shop at home but she doubted that'd count.

Contacts? "Right," she said softly, nodding. Of course he did. He was smart, handsome and charismatic. Why wouldn't people be fawning over him? She listened. None of this surprised her at all. It just, to her at least, seemed to drive a wedge between them. Zephir was infinitely smarter than her. So grounded and settled. He had plans. He had a nice place to live. She watched him absently. Weirdly, she felt proud of him. She didn't really know him but she did know that his family meant a lot to him. She wondered if he was writing a thesis to get published to support his mother. Tabby hoped they'd never meet. She looked too much like Charlie.

"Really?"

The word escaped her before she could control it. Swiftly, the spoon she'd been repetitively stirring her tea with stopped, dropping to hit the side of her cup with a tinkle. She was hearing but she wasn't really listening. She picked up on things; intern, summer, reference. Tabitha's immediate and overwhelming response to the Healer's generous offer was no. Nope. No way. She needed to stop running to him all the time. She was keeping a respectful distance. She hadn't contacted him in months. She'd stopped stalking him in the hospital and watching him east his lunch from behind the water cooler. That had only happened the one time…okay twice but still.

Tabitha fell silent. It was clear on her face that the cogs in her brain were turning. There was a faint crease on her forehead and her eyes seemed to become a little darker with thought. She needed to become independent and quickly but she knew she couldn't do this by herself. She needed an apprenticeship. One that she could climb the ladder and that could open doors. A seventeen year old girl begging for a job didn't hold much cred but Zephir did. But was he doing this because she was his half-sister it because he genuinely wanted to help her? Oh who gave a shit? She needed a piggyback,

"Wow," she whispered, blinking quickly, her pale hands sliding through her contrasting fiery coloured hair. "That's…impossibly kind of you," she told him, meeting his gaze again. She was resisting the urge to hug him. Her hand reached across the table, trying to reach for his hand before she remembered and stopped, retracting her hand and sitting on it. "And you really don't have to," she reminded Zephir. This was almost far too much. He was constantly picking her up time after time. He was giving her so much more than she ever deserved.

"Oh that might be fun," she said casually. "I think I could do with some time away from…stuff," she concluded. It was a loaded statement but she didn't want him to pry. She didn't know if Zephir knew that Tabby had a boyfriend but she didn't think things were going as well lately. Escaping for the summer seemed like a win-win situation. A month or two away, from Britain, suffocating home life and a strained personal relationship? When could she sign up?

"Thank you," Tabitha finally replied on a shaky breath, nodding. "I'd really appreciate it." But shit, what if she failed him? Disappointed him? He was putting his arse on the line for her but no. In her seat, she visibly shook herself. Tabitha was a gifted potioneer, talented way above her peers. Almost as good as their dad. Her dad, rather. Everything just hit her at once. His misplaced kindness, the idea of leaving the safety net of Hogwarts. Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes, a mix of bewilderment and gratitude and she blinked them away as fast as she could. "Why are you going this for me?" She blurted out, forgetting not to look a gift horse in the mouth.