Magical Hogwarts

She at least had had the sense this time not to storm to Hogwarts.

More than a year had passed since their last proper fight. Right about time, Nerys thought dryly to herself as she sat stiffly in the Three Broomsticks, awaiting her sister. The last months of friendship--or so she had thought it was--had been too good to be true. The dark red lipstick that normally coated her lips perfectly was uneven this morning, a result of her pursed lips. The longer Nerys sat, the more her heart raced, the adrenaline already pumping through her blood in anticipation of the confrontation.

As much as Nerys had hoped to deal with this maturely, she knew in the back of her mind that the calm lines she had rehearsed overnight were unlikely to ever actually be said. The evening alone at home ought to have given her time to get over the shock, or somehow get used to the idea, but she just couldn't. It seemed neither she nor her sister could learn. Were they simply not meant to be friends? It at least appeared that Fflur didn't care. No matter how hard Nerys tried to maintain their relationship, her sister seemed, almost intentionally, to ruin it.

So, Nerys had made the decision to not immediately confront Fflur. It would be her last attempt to be the bigger person. This was the last time she was going to try. She hadn't stormed into Fflur's home or place of work--obviously, that approach hadn't been successful in the past. She would give her sister the chance to explain herself--not that Nerys could think of a single explanation that would make Fflur's choices excusable.

At last, the former quidditch star walked through the door. The sounds of the May Day celebration leaked in through the door before it swung shut behind her sister, a jarring contrast to the tension surrounding her own stiff posture. Nerys closed her eyes as Fflur saw her and waved casually, willing herself to remain calm. Fflur didn't know, then. It was hard enough to have kept their weekly date; Nerys couldn't bring herself to wave back in that same casual way. Even the task of watching her approach was unmanageable.

She heard Fflur slide into the seat opposite her and opened her eyes in time to see Fflur settling in. "Good morning." The formality and tension in her voice were obvious as she greeted her sister. "So, how are things?"

So much for a day off. Fflur Blevins didn’t have to work that day, but she was no less busy. It was her own fault, of course, but she didn’t want to lay blame on herself. She hadn’t meant to spend the night at the castle — it was such a rare occurrence these days, anyway — but she had finally started making friends with other teachers at the school, a symptom of Robin being in New York. She’d had a late night, but she hadn’t been drinking, she reminded herself as if it was some sort of grand accomplishment now that she had broken her sobriety. So she had slept in, waking with a start as she remembered today was a Nerys day and she still needed to fees the dog and she couldn’t very well excuse herself early from their standing breakfast date to hurry off to Robin’s house. It’d be easier to be late. Fflur’d be quick enough though. By now, she was an expert and putting herself together enough to look presentable in a limited amount of time.

With the dog and her own appearance tended to, Fflur hurried the last hundred yards to the Three Bromsticks; a glance at the clock outside the post office told her she had two minutes to spare. She caught her reflection in the window of the pub and even in its dullness she could make out her dark roots, which had grown out enough she could be properly wearing two-tone hair. Hopefully Nerys wouldn’t notice — or wouldn’t care too much when she did.

She pushed open the door to the pub with a smile on her face. It was better to be spending the last bits of morning with her sister than having to participate in any May Day festivities. She didn’t want to be social, but she didn’t want to be alone, either. Fflur and Nerys — it sounded so strange to say their names together in the same breath, like they belonged together again — were friends now. There was no other word for it. It was trying at times, of course, but Fflur expected that all of her sister’s friends had some difficulty dealing with her. Friends or not, though, she wasn’t going to be telling the younger witch about her relapse — no, ‘relapse’ was too harsh of a word — her return to drinking. She’d have to ease her into that information, if ever.

Nerys was already there, of course, but Fflur hid her bemusement at being late despite being a whole minute early behind a soft smile and a wave. She slid into the seat opposite her sister and offered a “Mornin’,” in return, her smile fading a bit as she took in the expression looking back at her. “Alright, thanks,” she replied again, though she leaned in with a furrowed brow. “Are—“ she started again in Welsh, as if her next question would be any less serious in their other shared language— “Are Mum and Dad alright? You sound so…blech.“ She couldn’t think of a better word, nor a better reason why Nerys would sound like it. She tried not to take offense that if anything had happened and she was finding out through Nerys — that was a problem for a different time.

The sight of Fflur's smile slipping was a sign that her frosty tone hadn't gone unnoticed. The sensible part of Nerys wanted to handle this conversation maturely, but the other part -- that is, the one that had always been outvoted in a desire to be the better person, the better sister -- was begging to have its turn.

"Mum and dad're fine," Nerys replied. "Everyone's fine." She let the words hang in the air, fiddling with the card on the table that showed the breakfast specials. The Welsh witch stared at the menu, seeing but struggling to comprehend the words upon it. Nerys blinked forcefully and implored herself to focus, delaying her next words, wondering if Fflur would break the silence first. The specials included a firewhisky sour with egg white; maybe she would order it just to spite her sister. But, no, she had Niall that afternoon. She had to be responsible.

"Are you eating?" Nerys asked abruptly as she spotted the elderly barkeeper hobbling over to check on a few customers. She pushed the miniature menu card across the scarred, wooden table toward her sister, probably more forcefully than was strictly necessary. It was hard to keep the tension out of her body, though, and the top edge tore slightly as it made its way over the bumps in the table's surface. Catching his eye, Nerys nodded to encourage him over. "Decide quick, he's coming."

Switching back to English, Nerys ordered herself a tea, not looking at her sister to find out whether she was ready. A surprisingly nice cup with a dark blue trim appeared on the table before her. She watched silently as the barkeeper made boiling water spout out of the tip of his wand. As he shuffled away, Nerys reached over and poured a few teaspoons of cream into her cup. Her long fingers around the cup, Nerys let the near-painful heat soak into her palms. Taking one, last, slow inhale through her nose, Nerys spoke again, never breaking eye contact with the swirling, steeping tea in front of her.

"Can you guess who I saw yesterday?"

Fflur visibly relaxed when Nerys said Mum and Dad were fine; she exhaled when she said everyone was fine, too. Still, that would have helped explain her mood, so Fflur was no closer to figuring out what-- must have been that time of the month. “Oookay.” She didn’t push her any farther, watching her look at the menu instead of back at her. Fflur had been to the pub enough to not need to look over her options, but she almost grabbed a menu just to have something to do, since it looked like conversation was off the table.

“What?” She was more caught off guard that they were still speaking Welsh--even if she had started it--than by Nerys’s question. She pulled the menu toward her without looking at it and without answering; she had been planning to eat, but being asked if that was her plan made her a little uneasy. Decide quick, she said, and Fflur rolled her eyes. So she was in a hurry, on top of being hormonal; it all made for a very fun lunch. She considered getting a big meal simply so Nerys felt obligated to stay while she ate, but-- she ordered only tea when that was all her sister ordered. Best not to overstay her welcome, not when they were still tentatively friends.

She watched Nerys fix her tea, avoiding Fflur’s eye. This was classic mad-at-Fflur behavior, but Fflur hadn’t done anything to deserve it. Nothing Nerys could know about, anyway. There was no way she knew about the drinking. Fflur had been careful; minus that first time, she hadn’t had any drinks in public. She decided to let Nerys come out with it, whatever it was.

“Are you asking me or the tea?” Nerys still wasn’t looking at her. Fflur rolled her eyes one more time, crossing her arms across her chest as she leaned back. “Who?” She wasn’t about to play guessing games with her. They were too old for that (and when was the last time they’d had fun together?).

At Fflur's words, a cloud of resentment began to build out of the feelings of panic and sadness. Fflur was going to be annoyed with her, when she was working so hard to have a calm chat? Nerys looked up and caught Fflur's eyes for a moment, before quickly looking away. At the table behind her sister, a portly man was hunched over his plate of beans, the candlelight flickering and reflecting off of his bald spot. He might not be able to understand what Nerys said next, but he might pick up on the tone if she wasn't careful to keep her volume in check.

"Your boyfriend," Nerys finally replied in her best attempt at 'easygoing,' keeping her eyes on their neighbour's shining bald spot, trying to focus on the light. Keeping her voice even was a challenge, and the words came out more choked than she would have liked. Part of Nerys wanted to watch Fflur's face fill with embarrassment and regret, to hear her apologize profusely and promise never to see him again and beg for Nerys' forgiveness. The other part wanted to march out without even giving Fflur the chance to (try to) explain. Her battling instincts kept her rooted to the spot, even as her emotions continued to build, weighing on her chest with an uncomfortable pressure.

"God, Fflur," she finally muttered, the words barely coming out evenly as she felt tears beginning to gather in her eyes. "It was so embarrassing, acting like I knew what he was going on about. Even--" she hesitated for a moment over her ex-boyfriend's name, "Even Robin thought you'd have the decency to tell me."

Her boyfriend. Fflur opened her mouth to say something, but closed it a second later as she reconsidered. She wanted to ask who told, but Nerys had already said Robin had, which she couldn’t exactly be mad about because she hadn’t mentioned she just.. wasn’t telling Nerys anything. (But it would have been nice if he had read her mind and kept his mouth shut.) The Blevinses were rebuilding their relationship and Nerys was recently divorced and there was a little part of her that was still convinced Nerys couldn’t accept Fflur being happy about anything; she had always been able to do better whenever Fflur showed some semblance of success.

“It’s—“ new, she wanted to say, but Nerys had always been able to tell when she was lying, which was infuriating in and of itself. It wasn’t new; it had been months. Fflur spent most nights at his house, was taking care of the bloody dog while he was in New York. But he had dated her sister, eons ago-- Fflur didn’t think it was weird (it had been over a decade ago and they had all been kids), she knew Nerys had different standards. Expectations. Fflur was doing well coming up with reasons for not telling Nerys before now (not that she wanted to tell her now, but needs must).

Nerys cut her off--not that she knew what she was going to say, what excuse she was going to come up with--with a God, Fflur. She looked at her, properly, her eyes narrowing. She knew that look, that Nerys-was-trying-not-to-cry look, gaze averted.

She was so embarrassed; Fflur would have scoffed if she didn’t think it would send Nerys straight to tears and without that, this was just a tense chat, nothing more, to the casual listener, considering they were still going on in Welsh. She thought she might apologize--for not telling her, not for dating Robin--because she had been caught out and she knew she shouldn’t have kept it from her for so long, and she didn’t want whatever progress they had made to evaporate just like that but--

But that. Even Robin. “Listen to yourself,” she said, her hands curling into fists under the table as she leaned forward across it. “Even Robin,” she repeated. “You’ve clearly got a high opinion of him.” She leaned back and scoffed, finally. “You don’t know him anymore.” Fflur thought he was every bit as cool as she did fifteen years ago, but that was beside the point; he--and Fflur, up until a few weeks ago--were busy improving themselves and shit. That should have been Nerys’s main concern, anyway.

Nerys blinked furiously as she waited for Fflur’s excuses to form, pointlessly trying to force the tears back from whence they came. Her sister was supposed to be the one getting emotional, asking for Nerys’ forgiveness for once again ruining their relationship by putting her own needs first.

But Fflur’s next words didn’t sound tearful at all. Nerys turned to look at her, stunned that Fflur seemed to be getting angry at her. “You know that’s not what I meant—” she interjected, but Fflur just scoffed and kept going. Nerys felt her hands trembling as another wave of adrenaline coursed through her veins. Not wanting the sound of the teacup rattling to betray her level of upset, Nerys placed clenched hands on her lap instead, pressing her fingernails into her palms to try to stop the movement that betrayed her lack of control. Despite these efforts, Nerys could do nothing to keep the trembling out of her jaw.

“And what’s that supposed to mean? You think because you’ve been sleeping with him for a few weeks you know him better than I did?” Nerys glared across the table at her sister, annoyed that Fflur had managed to redirect her down a tangential path where they might be able to determine that somehow, Fflur had a right to behave in the way that she did.

“That’s not even the point,” she added, leaning forward and gripping the edge of the table with one hand instead, knuckles turning white: “This is exactly why I can’t trust you, when you do shit like this. All you care about is yourself.” Though she could hear her speech becoming more agitated, there was little she could do to slow herself down when her thoughts still seemed to be catching up with her mouth.

What was that supposed to mean? Fflur thought she had been pretty fucking clear, but she would be happy to repeat herself. Except Nerys thought it had been a few weeks– not the eight-and-change months it had actually been. But more importantly: Fflur did know him better. “Yes,” she said, not correcting any assumptions Nerys had already made. She narrowed her gaze at her sister, easily returning her glare.

But that wasn’t even the point. Fflur leaned in, matching Nerys’s body language. It took everything not to laugh–Fflur doing shit like this (and it was always so cute when Nerys swore)–because what was Nerys even getting at? She was pretty sure this was the first time they had found themselves in this particular scenario. But wow, that was rich, telling her she only cared about herself.

“Oh, fuck off,” she said, waving her hand between them, almost feeling nostalgic that they were having a hushed argument, trying not to be overheard by their parents (though in this case Fflur was less keeping-her-voice-down and more speaking-in-Welsh). “You’re mad because I care about Robin,” she helpfully pointed out. And she really did care. She wasn’t just shagging him. They had built this up to be… something. Something more than [/i]that[/i], anyway.

Fflur opened her mouth to say that she had liked him first, before Nerys even knew he existed, but thought of something else before she got there: “Don’t tell me you’d be okay with it if I had told you in August.” As if she could have made her intentions clear before sleeping with him and everything between her and Nerys would have been just fine.

Nerys scoffed in return at Fflur’s weak defense: as far as Nerys was concerned, Fflur’s ’fuck off’ translated roughly to, ‘I have nothing to say in my defense.’ Nerys was considering pointing this out, but Fflur’s next comment stopped her short.

She cared about him? Nerys had tried to ignore those clues in Robin’s voice when he had started rambling about Fflur—those signs that there was a level of intimacy between them that reached beyond that of a casual hook-up—but Fflur’s statement was unambiguous. Nerys tried to recall the last time Fflur had declared she cared about anyone, and came up blank. This was bigger than she had bargained on. Which, of course, made it even more of a betrayal that Fflur had kept it from her.

Her bewilderment only increased at Fflur’s admission that this had been going on much longer than Nerys had thought. The news slowed her down enough for Fflur to get another jab in before Nerys could formulate a proper response. Nerys’ eyes darted over to the barkeeper, who was hobbling his way back toward them again. Perhaps he had picked up on the hostile tone of their conversation, even if they were speaking Welsh. They had hardly been keeping their voices down.

“Well, we’ll never know, will we, since you didn’t ask,” Nerys hissed quickly, regretting that she had commented on the timeline a moment before. Now she looked like an idiot, playing catch-up to what Fflur knew, when she had been trying to catch Fflur out. Nerys sat up straight as the barkeeper reached their table, trying to assume a casual posture.

”More tea?” he offered in an overly casual voice, pulling out his wand. Nerys hoped this was only to refill their cups, and not the first step toward jinxing them out of the pub.

“I guess not,” Fflur scoffed, rolling her eyes. There was only the slimmest chance that Nerys was actually mad about Fflur not telling her about Robin. Nerys thought it had been ‘a few weeks’-- by that login, Nerys would want to know about any number of shags. They’d need more than tea once a week to cover Fflur’s time in Paris–where she regarded men as an easy way to forget about things–and somehow she didn’t think that was what Nerys wanted at all.

She leaned back, rubbing her forehead with the pads of her fingers. It was like Nerys thought she had some sort of decades-old claim on him, as if Robin wasn’t a full grown man making his own decisions. Fflur wasn’t doing this to spite her sister– and maybe if Nerys cared, she might have been able to see that.

They were interrupted for tea, and Fflur shook her head. she weighed her options: leaving and drinking at home (Robin’s) or staying and drinking at the pub. It wasn’t like Nerys’s opinion of her could get any worse; she was clearly not a fan of the decisions she had made (Robin) while sober. She blinked, then resumed staring at her sister. “Vodka soda.” She turned her head to look at the barkeep. “No soda.” She looked at Nerys again.

Fflur raised her eyebrows expectantly as she asked (again in Welsh): “Want me to ask if they have apple juice? Since you’re acting like a child.”

Nerys’ eyes widened at Fflur’s order. Was this Fflur’s idea of a joke? Suggesting Nerys was driving her to drink? The expression on Fflur’s face, the way she was staring at Nerys while she ordered—it gave Nerys the impression she was being dared to intervene. Nerys suddenly remembered her rather-cruel instinct to order the firewhisky sour when Fflur arrived. Now the idea made her feel a little sick.

“Be ddiawl, Fflur?” she responded angrily, not bothering to keep her voice down. The anger and hurt she was already feeling were now mixing with the first touches of fear. As bad of a joke as it was, it had to be a joke, right? Nerys shook her head at the uncertain barkeep, hoping to convey not only that she did not want anything, but that he also should not bring Fflur’s shot.

Apparently the message was not received. He was back a moment later, glass in hand. The moment he set it down, Nerys snatched at it, sliding it across the rough table surface toward herself. A bit sloshed out over the top in the process.

“You cannot seriously be planning to drink that,” Nerys hissed, vaguely aware that the customers at the nearby tables had gone rather quiet, but not knowing what she could do about that now. 

Fflur reached for her drink, but Nerys got there first. “Well not now that you’ve touched it,” she spat, though she was still willing to drink it if only Nerys would give it back. Fflur exhaled sharply through her nose, lips pursed, blinking slowly as if to gather her strength for what was to come. There were really only two options left to her: 1) continue this “conversation” or 2) leave. She knew which was the easier option, even though she was nearly certain that Nerys would follow her out of the pub.

She slid out of the booth and stood up, ignoring the click in either knee and resisting the urge to look at Nerys before she turned to walk away. Once outside, Fflur shoved her hands into her pockets, pulling out her lighter and pack of cigarettes; it took a few tries to light–her hands were shaking–and she narrowly missed stepping in a puddle, but she managed. She was walking toward Robin’s house, she realized–rather than the school–and she couldn’t be certain that she wasn’t doing so because of the possibility that Nerys would follow, give her the chance to rub it in just that little bit more.

It was amazing that not fifteen minutes ago, she had been marveling at the fact of her and Nerys being friends, or at least friends-adjacent.

She heard the door behind her and while it wasn’t unexpected, could Nerys not let Fflur have anything just for herself? She couldn’t even let Fflur storm off without trying to get the last word in. She waved her cigarette-holding hand in a shooing motion. “Go away, Nerys,” she added, without turning her head, still speaking Welsh on the (very slight) chance it wasn’t her sister following her.