[june mp] familiar souls [fflur]

They had tea once or twice a week now. Quick meetings, conversations about the day’s events, the first fumblings of a friendship. But that was all they’d done, until she asked if he wanted to go watch the big charity quidditch event with her.
 
“You mean you were planning to go?” Robin asked, surprised. He’d done a little research into her career, after all.
 
It had felt weird to go searching through old magazines, stalkerish and intrusive, even though the information was available to anybody and it would be stuff a friend would have known. They were friends now, that meant knowing who she was. She was catching up on a program she probably wasn’t interested in, possibly just to make fun of him, but he thought he owed her a little effort too. When he started to find things, though, the feeling of trespassing someplace she wouldn’t have wanted him got impossible to talk himself out of. Even though the tale of Fflur Blevins’ shameful exile from professional sport was a matter of public record, it felt like he’d uncovered a secret he hadn’t been trusted with.
 
He wouldn’t have trusted anyone with it if it had been him, anyway.
 
But she didn’t think exactly the way he would. That was his confusion. He had a whole host of things he avoided because of bad memories, and it baffled him that she was still willing to say the word “quidditch,” much less watch a bunch of young, as-of-yet undisgraced professionals play it. Maybe that was what being passionate about something was like. He liked a lot of things, but not so loyally as to keep liking them if they were tied to such a large-scale embarrassment. Thinking about it that way, about the size of the scandal, made him wonder if she was insulted that he hadn’t known. He’d have had to care about her an almost negative amount not to notice she’d been in the middle of a public spectacle. At the time he’d been pretty out of too, but she of all people would know that wasn’t really an excuse.
 
He thought it best just not to bring it up at this point. Talk around the subject. Limit his references, like the last dumb thing he’d said without thinking, to a minimum.
 
“I mean, of course I’ll go, obviously,” he said quickly, realizing he hadn’t really answered to that effect. “They haven’t got any discounts for former league members, have they? You’re paying if they do.”
 
So on the day of the match, he was waiting under a lamppost in Hogsmeade. Meeting directly in Gravesend would have been much smarter, he realized too late, because having to apparate from Hogsmeade to there would raise the question of whether to do it side-along like people who touched each other without it feeling like a boundary crossed, or separately together like a couple of awkward idiots. The fact that he was so uncomfortable around her for it to even be a question worth worrying about disconcerted him. This was a friendship, a tenuous one at that. He knew the feeling well enough to recognize it as a symptom of attraction.
 
At the first sign of it he should have cut things off. Situations like these could end in all manner of disasters, had a worrying potential to send him into some dark state it was a struggle to claw out of. But he wasn’t known for doing the smart thing. Instead he was leaning against this Hogsmeade lamppost, grinning as he saw her cross the street towards him.
 
“Ready for some unparalleled entertainment?” he asked cheerfully.

There had been no need to contain her surprise (as there as none) when she found out that the rumor that she was going to be asked to be a "quidditch alumna" chaser for the charity match turned out to be false. Like anyone in their right mind would ask Fflur Blevins to represent the League in any way. Then there had been the possibility that she could referee the match, considering that she was now the actual Flying Professor at Hogwarts and the match was for Hogwarts. But of course, that had turned out to not be true, either, as Madame Hooch had agreed to make her appearance as the most beloved quidditch referee of all time.

Without the requirement to be a part of the match, Fflur really had no reason to go. Watching quidditch was painful, especially when it involved players from her former league, not to mention a handful of players she had played with, both in school and professionally. Then add in all the new, much younger, and maybe more talented players to watch and it was probably one of the worst ideas for a way to spend the afternoon.

But then came the memo, circulated around the school to all the professors, letting them know that it was "highly encouraged" (read: mandatory) that everyone attend to show their "unwavering support for Hogwarts". Fflur had appealed the decision, offering to stay back to prepare for the arrival of all the players after the game, but it had been no use. So if she had to go to the match, she at least didn't want to be miserable by herself.

Fflur had winced at Robin's disbelief that she would want to go to the quidditch match. At least it wasn’t a more obvious disbelief that she wanted the pair of them to go together. They were friends now, after all, and it seemed like a logical choice to invite him considering they had, at one point, quidditch in common. Still, he had agreed to go, even after she told him that it was for charity and they would both still have to pay for the tickets.

There had been an early morning portkey for professors and their guests to get to Gravesend, but that seemed like more trouble than it was worth. Waking up early, having to be social with the other staff, having to include Robin in being social with them, the extra hours of loitering before the match started. Instead, she took the opportunity to walk into Hogsmeade, smoking as she went, wearing nondescript robes over an old Gryffindor sweater and clearly not showing support for any player.

She smiled as she spotted Robin, leaning against a lamppost like he was the most effortlessly cool person. Rolling her eyes at his question, Fflur shrugged. She hadn't told him the circumstances for her attending the match, not really wanting to draw attention to her reasons to not want to go in the first place. "So ready. I thought this day would never come," she returned his grin with another shrug before motioning towards the Three Broomsticks just up the lane.

"I figured we can just floo from there?" She had never been a big proponent of cross-country apparation, much preferring flying to any other alternative. But even floo travel was a better option than apparating. She waited for him to move before she followed suit. "Nice show this week," she offered with a slight nod, finishing her cigarette before stepping into the pub. She had been listening to his show pretty regularly now, not that she minded. She would have listened to it sooner if she had known it existed. "It's not Poirot, but it was nice," she added, grinning as she nudged him with her elbow.

The stadium was set up to receive plenty of spectators by floo; Fflur arrived first quickly followed by Robin and they joined the rest of the crowd that had chosen to arrive mere minutes before the match was due to start. "I think we're over there," Fflur pointed towards her right after studying her ticket. She sighed as they pushed through to their seats, settling in and keeping a very conscious space between them, doing her best not to scowl as she watched the players fly in front of her.

Fflur replied with sarcasm in kind. That was a lot of the way they spoke, deadpan jokes and exaggerations. Sort of carefree, but sort of careful also. An allergy to vulnerability was an affliction they had in common. But she did smile. Robin shifted against the lamppost, pleased. “Nice shirt,” he said, gesturing vaguely at her chest. “I should have thought of that. Hate to miss an opportunity to pretend my house still matters these days. Maybe I should teach too.” He grinned. The idea was laughable.
 
She suggested traveling by floo, and he nodded vigorously. “Yeah, probably,” he said, pretending like the idea had crossed his mind. Problem solving wasn’t his strong suit. As he started off down the street he hooked his thumbs in his pockets, watching her take a last drag and stub out her smoke. “Oh yeah?” he said, pushing back lightly against her elbow and smiling teasingly back. “I don’t know what that means, but it sounds like faint praise.”
 
He arrived after her into the crowd at Gravesend and they joined the flood of people up into the stands. “Right on time, it looks like,” he said, unnecessarily. Sometimes he said things just to fill space, just to talk, in a fidgety way almost. Like someone else might tap their foot or bite their nails. “Lot of people. You think it’s the fundraising, or people want to see the match? Because personally, like, for me the fun of it was always having a team to support, but this is just players from all over and Hogwarts gets the proceeds either way, so who cares who wins, really? Unless you just root for whichever team your favorite player’s on. These people are supposed to be pretty popular, yeah?” He glanced over at her. “Or, I guess, if you just like to see the game played well.” Biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from continuing, he followed her up toward their seats. She was much more effective at clearing a path than he would have been. Something about her had always been authoritative.
 
They took their seats in the middle of the box. The players were warming up, flying circuits for the growing crowd. As he squinted at them, Robin caught a familiar name on the back of one set of robes. “Wow,” he said, “Roxy’s still playing? Good for her.” He craned his neck to see if he could identify anyone else they’d been at school with, but most of them were moving too quickly.
 
Then he looked over to Fflur after a couple seconds, realizing with an uncomfortable flop in his stomach what a stupid thing it had been to say, but the issue wasn’t in the open between them enough to directly apologize. Instead he sat there silently for a few moments, watching her watch the circling teams with a slightly glazed look in her eyes.
 
“Nobody’s got a wand to your head,” he said more quietly. “We don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.” He nudged her arm with his. “Seriously, we’ll do something else.”

Fflur merely rolled her eyes as Robin rambled on, wondering aloud if the quidditch all-stars were popular. She surely didn’t care who won, anyway, and she certainly wasn’t rooting for her favorite player. Nodding, she agreed that people just wanted to see a good match. Hogwarts needed to be the star player here, but she had a feeling that these younger players would just want to show off.

"Bellamy, too,” Fflur muttered, picking out the beater’s silhouette as he flew by, her eyes flicking towards the other Griffins beater across the pitch. Roxy had been under Fflur’s captaincy but Harlan had been the Ravenclaw captain the same years as her and she could still clearly remember the look on his face after Gryffindor had won the Quidditch Cup their final year. The thought was enough to make her smile, though it was a fleeting thing as her scowl returned momentarily as another player flew by.

Roxy had been one of those she had kept in touch with after school, had been there at the beginning of her descent into drinking and partying, and had somehow managed to keep hold of her own career despite doing the same things. Just one more reminder that Fflur had failed spectacularly.

She could feel him watching her, which was a welcome distraction from the proceedings in front of them. She didn’t want to seem overeager by returning his look, much preferring the offhanded aloofness she could offer him. Now she only needed to seem interested in being here and they were bound to have a lovely morning.

But she forgot her plans to be calm, cool, and collected as he touched her arm and she turned her head towards him, one eyebrow raised. "I'm being a good professor,” she replied quickly, though after a beat she added more quietly, “I have to be here.” It had to be obvious, anyway, especially now that the match was starting and she couldn’t bear to look. Maybe one of the star Seekers could just catch the snitch as soon as possible in a wild attempt to show off for everyone and they could leave without her having to break yet another commitment.

“Or maybe,” she started again, still looking at Robin but now adding a slight smile, “You could fake an illness. We can get out of here so I can take care of you.” Her eyes widened slightly as she realized that her words could be taken in a much more intimate way than she meant; while she wouldn’t normally care, for some reason trying to come on to Robin seemed like one of the most childish and embarrassing things she could do.

“Good for him too, then,” said Robin vaguely.
 
Despite her obvious misery, Fflur insisted that she needed to stay. He wanted to tell her that was stupid, but the vulnerable smallness of her voice made him hold his tongue. So this was why they were here. She was involved in some kind of struggle to prove herself, and there was no room yet for doing what she wanted. He pressed his lips together. It was something he wanted to relate to, but he would never have to be virtuous enough for parents.
 
“Do they like you?” he asked. “The other staff, I mean. Do you ever talk?” He was curious suddenly what it was like for her living at Hogwarts, whether she felt she belonged there yet or whether she ever would. She probably wouldn’t want to talk about it, at least not here. But it had been worth a try. “Let me know if there’s someone I need to spill tea on in the Three Broomsticks or anything,” he said. Giving an opportunity to complain was probably the better way to have phrased it, less than an honest worry.
 
Play had begun while he wasn’t paying attention. He figured he ought to watch a little, but Fflur then proposed a plan, eyes starting to light up a little mischievously. Instantly distracted again, Robin laughed. “Why’s it got to be me?” he replied, one corner of his mouth curling into a grin. “It’d be a much better reason for you to leave if you weren’t well yourself, honestly.” But he thought then how little she probably wanted to make a scene. The entire reason she was here was to look like the person Hogwarts wanted her to be. Illness shouldn’t have been a strike against her record, but if you made yourself sick enough people started to blame you for it even when you didn’t. “Though if you want to look selfless and all,” he added, “I guess I could take one for the team.”
 
The most obvious route would be to make himself vomit somehow, but he’d have preferred not to. The sensation made him anxious, brought up too much—it reminded him of bad nights, his worst one most of all. Not to mention it wasn’t the most dignified way to impress a woman and for whatever reason, he cared. “Think I could get away with just pretending to faint?” he offered instead. “Or you could knock me out for real while no one’s looking. Really, as long as I don’t get taken to St. Mungo’s I don’t care.”

“Not really, no.” Fflur grimaced and looked away. The rest of the professors at the school were fine, but she had only been at the school for a couple of months. Just flat out barging in to the teacher’s lounge and acting like she belonged would never have been appreciated, and the out-of-school occasions that professors had always seemed to involve some form of social drinking. It had taken every ounce of her will to not attend and be a part of the group, not wanting to delve into the details of her life.

But spilling tea on the entire staff of Hogwarts seemed like a mighty fine idea. “How about just anyone with a Hogwarts robe,” she suggested. “As long as it’s an accident, of course.” She continued, almost adding as an afterthought: “And no one knows that we’re friends. That would be terrible for everyone.” She smiled again, happy to get that brief serious bit of conversation out of the way.

“Well, a Hogwarts professor falling ill is a much bigger issue, I’d like to think.” She puffed out her chest like she was proud of her distinction, though she knew that whole reason was a bunch of malarkey. Mostly she didn’t want to have to exert any more effort in this situation than she already had. Fflur continued grinning as Robin gave in and she nodded enthusiastically. “Selfless is my middle name.”

She watched him think, leaning in the slightest bit so they could continue scheming with their voices lowered. “Y’know, as enjoyable as stunning you seems,” she paused to smirk, one eyebrow raised, “I don’t want anyone to think that I’m taking advantage of you.” She shrugged, almost waiting for him to faint immediately. “Or,” she continued, “We could just leave. I already saw a handful of professors so they know I’ve been here. That could be the mature thing to do.” She laughed, well aware that was usually her last option.

Fflur shifted in her seat, glancing up to look at the match that she had been successfully ignoring, despite the collective cheers and groans of the crowd. But watching some unknown chaser fly the quaffle down the field and take an attempt on goal was enough to wipe any trace of doubt from her mind that leaving was the best decision she could make. She turned back to Robin and said a bit more loudly than necessary, “You look so pale.”

She reached up and placed the back of her hand on his forehead, ignoring the shock of butterflies in her stomach as she touched him, following months of carefully avoiding doing just that. “Yes,” she continued in the same unnecessarily loud voice, after she remembered what she was doing, “Burning up.” She nodded as she withdrew her hand. “We should get you home.”

“Might find a cheaper method of petty revenge, in that case,” said Robin with a soft laugh. “Sounds miserable, I’m sorry.” He was kicking himself for asking something so stupid instead of trying to cheer her up and awkwardly chewed on his lip. “At least you can leave whenever you like,” he said. “It’s not as if they have to be your friends.”
 
The prospect of pulling off a ridiculous scheme seemed to improve her mood more than anything else, though, and Robin had no problem with that. “If you’ve been expecting maturity out of me,” he said, “well, maybe it’s best we end this right now.” With anyone else it would have been a warning, but now it was just a joke. And that felt really, really good.
 
She put a hand to his head and told him very conspicuously that he looked terrible. “Oh, come on, Fflur,” he grumbled, feigning annoyance. He brushed aside her hand but replaced it with his own, first across his forehead and then both cheeks, and then was quiet for a few moments in a sheepish sort of way. “It’s not that bad,” he said. “I don’t want you to leave on my account.” Careful to look as exhausted and in pain as he possibly could, he squinted into the sun as one of the keepers was struck by a bludger and the other team scored. Cheers and shouts went up throughout the stadium and he winced.
 
Lifting a hand to massage his temple, Robin sighed dramatically. “Alright, you’re right, I shouldn’t have come.” He looked to her, trying to keep a straight face as he pretended she’d be devastated to miss this. “Are you sure? Fine. I guess we can go.” Pulling up a memory of the sort of sudden headaches one got when ill enough and trying to stand, he got up slowly and paused, screwing his eyes shut and swaying a little. “Sorry,” he said. “D’you mind—?“ Reaching out for Fflur’s arm, he leaned against her as they edged out of their seats toward the aisle.
 
“You’re a terrible actress,” he whispered in her ear, highly amused.

“Oh come on, Robin,” she mimicked his retort, matching his annoyance. It was hard not to smile, to try to look seriously concerned for his wellbeing, and honestly, she would be surprised if the situation looked all that realistic. She pursed her lips in a disappointed fashion as he felt his own face, scolding herself that she hadn’t thought to also feel his cheeks those moments before. “It’s terrible,” she protested, sighing dramatically at the thought of having to leave to see that he get to feeling better.

She followed his gaze as he looked back at the quidditch match, only slightly grimacing as a bludger made contact with a Keeper. She hadn’t been keeping track of the goings on in the match, and now she was almost sad that she wasn’t. So much for All-Stars and their magnificent dodging skills. Maybe seeing a few more bludger hits would be enough to convince her to stay.

But she was drawn back to their currently unfolding plan of deceit as Robin spoke up again. She turned back to him as he was massaging his temples, nodding along as if it was obvious that she had been right. “The match would be much more enjoyable if you didn’t die right next to me,” she insisted, standing up before either of them could have the chance to change their minds about leaving.

Robin was way ahead of her. Before she could offer a hand to help him stand up, he had grabbed on to her arm; she did her best to simultaneously not break out into a grin and ruin the whole plan while also helping him stay upright. “Of course not,” she said, managing to stay focused on the task at hand. They weren’t really the ‘lean on each other’ types of people, but desperate times, and all that.

Fflur smirked and rolled her eyes as he pointed out just how horrible she was. “And you have a face for radio,” she muttered casually as she helped him drape his arm across her shoulders. Of course, she was only trying to help him maintain his balance. And of course, his face was much too nice for radio, but that was a point for another time, if ever. She helped him out of the stands and back down towards the row of fireplaces where they had entered, but then she stopped, having not gotten any farther in their planning.

“Where to?” She hoped it would come off as a question of ‘home’ or ‘hospital’ with the right amount of concern in her voice, just in case anyone was listening. But really it was a question of ‘now what?’. “I’m only familiar with bars in Gravesend, and the Three Broomsticks is sort of out since you’re supposed to be ill. Never mind that I haven’t been in England in years so..” her voice trailed off as she ran out of suggestions and excuses.

“We ugly people do need somewhere to turn, y’know,” he replied easily, pleased that she was the sort to keep witty replies handy. It was so much more fun to talk to those people. “Good thinking, though, really—I’m already pale as death, no need to put any work in there.” He wasn't sure he was succeeding at not looking entertained as they wound their way down, but hopefully nobody was really paying attention.
 
They reached the ground floor, mostly empty apart from a security guard and a couple stragglers coming from the bathrooms. Robin figured he could relax his hold on Fflur now. He stood up straight, stretching out his back, but kept a hand at her shoulder just in case he had to look like he was dying again at a moment’s notice.
 
“Well, it depends on how paranoid we are,” he said. “I could take you somewhere for lunch, or do we want to really commit and stay home the rest of the day in case someone asks about it?” He shrugged. “I don’t know that there’s much to do over at mine.” All the food he kept was the sort of thing you could eat straight from the box, all he did at home was read or listen to music or talk to the dog. He didn’t do a lot of entertaining. At least, not in the seemly sense.
 
Then he realized, rather stupidly, that she had no real obligation to stick around. He were probably only here because she’d needed someone to come here with, not because she’d actually wanted them to spend the day together. “Or you could just do your own thing, if you want,” he said. “I mean, mission’s already accomplished, yeah? You’re free.”

Fflur decided not to say anything about Robin's lingering hand on her shoulder and she tried her best not to focus on it too much. She refocused on his face, rolling her eyes as he started with his own suggestions. "Pretty paranoid, I'd imagine," she replied with a slight shrug, distracting herself from that flutter of excitement she got when he mentioned going back to his place. She wasn't sure what her problem was, really. They were friends now, or at the very least friendly acquaintances, and having lunch together or having tea at someone's house wasn't some sort of novel idea. But thankfully, she was already smiling or it might have been too obvious just how okay she would be with that plan.

“I mean, you were already looking forward to spending the afternoon with me, and I wouldn’t want to take that away from you,” she smiled as she shrugged, though she was careful not to exaggerate her movements and cause his hand to slip from her shoulder. “Plus, giving up the ruse now might just ruin another of my careers, and you really don’t want that on your conscience, do you?” Never mind that if she somehow ended up by herself in the nearly empty school castle, the chances were very high that she would get herself into some sort of drinking situation. Still, she was talking lightly, not wanting to make this a serious sort of interaction between them by any means.

She shrugged again. “I could use some tea and literally anything that isn’t quidditch,” she paused, taking a minute to look at anything that wasn’t Robin, not wanting some inkling of emotion on her face to betray her. “That alright?” She raised her brows as she looked back and asked, taking a tentative step towards the fireplace that could get them out of there.

“True,” Robin laughed. “Can’t have that.” Sarcasm aside, she was sort of right. As little as he cared about making plans in the first place, he always got disappointed to an irrational degree when expectations he did have fell through. Not enough that he’d demand she keep hanging out with him if she didn’t want to, but enough to ruin his day. And her other point was valid too. He didn’t want to cause any conflict for her at work if he could help it. “I mean, you could do just about anything and Hogwarts’ll still have made worse hiring decisions than you,” he said. “But best not to risk it. My place it is, then?”
 
Glancing back to make sure nobody was staring, he followed her into the fireplace and soon they’d arrived in his wood-paneled living room.
 
It was safe to stop leaning on her now. He gave her a sharp pat on the back as he pulled his hand away, then immediately felt like an idiot and looked around the room in an effort to move past it. “Well, this is my humble abode,” said Robin, stepping out of the fireplace and gesturing around. “I’d—“ He was cut off as the dog came galloping in from the hall and barked happily at them. “Guests, Bert!” he said, leaning down to vigorously rub the dog’s sides. “Er, guest. But still shh. I’m sorry—“ He turned to Fflur as Bertie began nosing around her legs. “Usually he’s got better manners than I do, but he gets excited sometimes.”
 
He straightened up and led her into the kitchen, Bert trailing after them. “Anyway, I’d give you a tour, but there’s not much to see, I figure.” That and he was pretty sure there were dirty clothes all over his floor. “I’ve got tea in that cabinet there, take your pick,” he said, filling the kettle and lighting the stove with a flick of his wand. “Sorry I’ve got so much of it.” He liked options and he liked having a cup of something at all times to keep his hands busy.
 
Robin looked at the kitchen table for a second, then hurriedly shuffled the newspapers and old dishes off to make room for more than one person to sit. “We can—I dunno, play cards? Or…” He wasn’t very good at this. He was feeling a tremendous pressure at this moment to be engaging and fun, and inviting her back to his house just felt like inviting her to observe how boring he’d gotten

A small part of her had been expecting a cool and completely intimidating house to match its owner but what she was greeted with was something relatively normal. It was a bit of a relief that he wasn’t an overly neat person but she wasn’t sure why it was making her slightly uneasy that it was, for lack of a better word, so homey. Suddenly it felt like she was intruding, despite the fact that she had been to the homes of people she was much less acquainted with.

The sharp pat on her back brought her out of her thoughts and forced her forward and it only took a few seconds of Robin talking for Fflur to forget that she had been feeling uncomfortable at all. But even that was interrupted by the dog — the dog! — greeting them merrily. He had never mentioned owning one, at least not that she could remember, though they weren’t really at that point in their friendship to swap so many personal details, she supposed. She had never really been capable of taking care of herself, let alone another living, breathing thing. But none of that mattered now as she knelt down to scratch the dog behind his ears, unable to keep a goofy grin off of her face. “He has more manners than you, but that’s not too grand an accomplishment, is it?”

Fflur straightened up, not bothering to stop smiling as she followed Robin into the kitchen. She nodded and shrugged. “It’s already nicer than mine. A bedroom and an office. Real spectacular.” Nodding, she looked into the cabinet he was motioning toward, raising her eyebrows at just how much tea she was looking at. ‘So much’ was a bit of an understatement. She had never had a preference for one sort of tea over another, as long as it wasn’t too sweet. Blindly grabbing at a box of bags, she turned to grab two mugs and set them next to the stove before putting a bag in each.

She took advantage of the cleared table to take a seat as the water boiled, propping her arms up on the table and resting her chin in her hands as she watched him move about the kitchen. “I mean, we don’t have to do anything. Doing nothing is better than that quidditch match.” Never mind that she had become a bit of a bore after losing her favorite vice and she didn’t have any real suggestions of her own. “Thanks, by the way,” he added casually, referring back to their earlier deception. “Don’t think I had mentioned that yet.” She shrugged like it was a common occurrence for her to ask people to feign illnesses to get her out of things.

“Music?” she said after a few more seconds of silence, stalling for time as she attempted to think of anything at all to make herself sounds interesting.

“Fflur, Bertie; Bertie, Fflur,” said Robin, gesturing to each in turn as Bert’s happy tail thumped on the floor. “Be nice; let’s all be friends here.” He laughed heartily at Fflur’s  observation. “Such cheek!” he exclaimed, putting on a disapprovingly stuffy accent and punctuating it with a much lower-class gesture.
 
She compared his lodgings to her own as they moved into the kitchen, and he grimaced sympathetically. “More than the students get, I guess,” he said. “Still nice to have room, though. Though not as if me and Bert really need it. Was sharing the place when I moved in, but he’s long gone. Got married or something years ago. We didn’t talk much—Well, I’m sure I talked a lot; he didn’t really.” Robin winced and looked over to watch her select their tea. He could feel this situation getting him keyed-up and jittery. “Good choice.”
 
Somehow, mercifully, he managed to fill his kettle without spilling anything. “Are you allowed to live outside of school?” he asked as he pulled out his wand to start the range. “Always room in the village. You’d have to walk up during the day, of course, but, well—“ He grinned to himself. “As it is you’ve got to walk down in the evening to talk to me.”
 
He’d been hoping she might have some suggestion for how they’d occupy themselves, but no such luck. “Oh, ‘course we haven’t got to do anything,” he said. “We could lay on the floor and contemplate the human condition for all I care, just, y’know—on the off chance you wanted to be entertained...” He glanced back at Fflur, who now had the dog’s head in her lap. “Bert might be a better bet if that’s what you’re after, though,” he said with a light laugh. “He’s a proper ladies’ man. Bit fickle, though—not my fault if he breaks your heart.” Water heating satisfactorily, he turned around and leaned back against the counter. “No, no need,” he said, laughing again when she tried to thank him. “Improved the day immensely, if I’m being honest.”
 
Lounging back casually, he jumped when she suggested he start some music and clipped his elbow on the edge of the tile counter. “Oh, yeah, definitely,” he said, waiting to scowl and shake out his arm until he’d darted over to the sitting room. Turning on the radio would be a gamble, so he started to flick through his crates of records in search of a favorite. “Not sure if I’ve got anything to your taste.” He chose an older rock album and slipped it out of its sleeve, carefully positioning it on the gramophone. The pulsing bass and languid guitar were sort of sexy, but also the sort of thing you might get stoned with your friends to, so she could take it however she would.
 
He was unable to resist swaying to the music on his walk back, and laughed as Fflur eyed him. “Do you dance?” he asked, wiggling his shoulders playfully. “I, personally, embrace all forms of public humiliation.”

Bert was great company, sitting next to her and staring expectantly until she paid attention to him. She scratched him behind his ears absentmindedly, trying not to lose focus from her actual conversation. “We can, but..” Fflur trailed off and shrugged her shoulders, not sure of the best way to phrase her reason for not living in the village. Gambling debt? Lack of funds? Poor money management? “Not sure which is the worse option here, walking up to the school or walking down to see you.” She smiled, completely sure that walking to school was the lesser decision.

She nodded along with Robin’s suggestion, almost being fine with the laying and contemplating idea but distracted with the heart breaking comment. It’d make sense for Bert to break her heart, considering his owner had done the same, however unknowingly. Of course, that had been years and years ago and Fflur was completely over it by now, but all the same. She was happy that he wasn’t looking back at her.

It wasn’t often that Fflur improved anyone’s day and she was tempted to ask Robin to repeat himself but she didn’t want to give him any chance to reconsider what he had said. Thankfully he took her up on her music suggestion instead, pleased that she could buy herself a few more minutes without having to be interesting. She watched him walk to the other room, clearing her throat after she realized she had been staring for a few seconds too many. She stood up quickly as the kettle started to whistle, moving to tend to the tea while offering an “I’m sure it’ll be perfect.” Not that she was sure he couldn’t possibly have a bad taste in music, or anything like that.

She leaned back against the counter. “Is that what we’re calling dancing now?” She raised her dark eyebrows as she looked at him with mild disbelief. “You are most certainly embracing humiliation,” she added with a nod and a grin. Still, she couldn’t help but keep nodding her head, her chin moving with the beat of the song. “Good choice.” She didn’t specify if she was referring to the song or the dancing, unsure herself which she liked more.

Fflur wasn’t really one for sober humiliation, but she was finding it hard to come up with a reason not to join. “But like most things, I’m a better dancer than you.” Of course, she wasn’t a good dancer in anybody’s book, especially without the help of alcohol, but her mouth was far ahead of her much more practical brain full of excuses. She stood up, imitating the sway of his shoulders with her own. She exaggerated her nods and took a couple slow steps forward, unable to keep the laugh from escaping from her lips. “So much better,” she reiterated, adding her hands into her movements.

Robin just grinned in response and threw in a couple of finger snaps. This sort of nonsense was really his groove. He’d always been comfortable with stupidity: looking like an idiot, saying dumb things, sacrificing himself for the joke. Had he been more comfortable with putting himself in a position for personal rejection, on the other hand, he might have reached out for her and pulled her in. It had been a long time since he’d danced with a woman in an old-fashioned romantic sort of way. Or had he ever? He didn’t really remember. But it didn’t matter, because he was going to maintain the impersonality of everything he did unless she did something to dismantle it first. It was armor. He didn’t take it off unless safety was guaranteed.
 
“You’re not wrong,” he chuckled, slowing his own body unconsciously as he watched her get up and dance. “You’ve got moves.” It was sarcasm, of course. Neither of them had anything that a reasonable person could call “moves.” But it was entrancing all the same. Maybe because it made him feel curiously buoyant that she was no longer worrying about dignity in front of him. Maybe because of her slim waist swaying to that smoky melody he’d always thought was sexy.
 
He quickly shimmied past her back to the counter, where she’d set their tea steeping. “Thanks, by the way,” he called as he chose the more faded of the mugs and cupped it in his hands. As he leaned back against the counter again he took a long sip, burying his face in his cup and trying not to flinch at the burning on his tongue. This was so different from when they spoke on neutral ground for some reason. Dancing, not to mention the guarded intimacy of mutual embarrassment, felt much stupider.
 
The song ended and changed to the next, which was significantly louder with more hard chords and clashing cymbals. Robin was so jarred that he laughed. Looking back to Fflur over his tea, he was somehow relieved to see her grinning too.
 
“I feel like you smile more than I remember,” he said—as usual—without thinking.