Magical Hogwarts

Perdita's eyebrows raised in surprise at Reed's outburst and she blinked. So they were friends and the realisation made her smile slowly. Apparently, Reed was not as trustworthy or menacing as he'd like to think. She laughed. "You too?" Her eyes widened in faux shock. "Good thing I'm not the jealous type," she went on smoothly. Perdita was in a unique situation and she wondered if she was going to twist the knife. After all, Reed was on her turf and he'd just lost his power.

He asked her a question and she laughed, though not unkindly. "Do you think he's one to keep up with invoices?" Perdita asked Reed with a smile and a shrug followed. "As soon as they were ordered, they were out of my hands. He has all sorts of people who deliver for him. I didn't even see the crate." That much was true. "And like I said," Perdy went on patiently. "I haven't seen him." Torrence was a slippery little fucker but he was not as spontaneous as he'd like to think. Besides, he'd been treating her poorly as of late so maybe…

"I can help you find him," Perdita offered brightly, her eyes sparkling in the dim light of her office. "As a spectator, of course," she assured him, showing Reed her palms in a gesture of honesty. "He doesn't stray far. He can be rather unimaginative." Unless where the bedroom was concerned. In short, Perdita just wanted to see her pseudo-boyfriend rattled because goodness knows she thought he deserved it.

Instead, her lips turned into a pout. "Spoilsport," she smiled slowly as she brushed some hair behind her ear. "And I'll make time," she joked. The longer Reed stayed with her, the more sorry she felt for him. She leaned closer.

"Darling boy," Perdita began with a sympathetic smile, her hand resting gently on Reed's knee. "The shells were never here. How daft do you think I am?"

“No.” Reed corrected her, even though he knew that giving a response to such a silly notion was like a landslide. Things were going sideways now, and Reed felt the power shifting. The way Perdita behaved changed, and it seemed she knew she had the lead now, too. She laughed, giving him a believable and plausible answer just a little bit too quickly. Truthful or not, Reed had a tendency not to fully believe such quick responses. Maybe she hadn’t rehearsed it for this specific moment, this exact shipment, but Reed wondered if she’d had it sitting there in the back of her mind just in case someone came knocking.

And in sort of business, someone always did. 

Power shifts happened all the time. Reed knew better than to imagine he’d have control over the conversation all the time. That the upper hand belonged to him. The thing that separated Reed from the pack wasn’t absolute ownership of conversations, but his ability to adapt to changing landscapes. She said she hadn’t seen him, but that she could help find him, and Reed nodded. “That won’t be necessary.” Reed knew how to find Torrence even when the man didn’t want to be found. And now that she’d told him the most important detail, Reed didn't need anything from her.

And yet, he remained. Perdita leaned closer, and Reed held her gaze. He was aware of his hand as it moved, and it brought a smirk to the corner of his lips. In the span of minutes, Perdita had gone from innocent bystanders to coquettish rogue, and Reed would be quick to admit he liked the latter better. Playing games suited her, it reminded him of Slyvie. “Next time, have someone else sign the paperwork, no paper trail.”

Unable to help it, a self-satisfied smile spread across her plump lips at Reed's denial. Perdita raised her eyebrows but said nothing, a clear are you sure about that? on her face. It was silly and it was childish but she didn't appreciate the surprise visit today. She was, however, preoccupied with how the men knew each other. It made sense, she supposed; they were both as bad as each other.

Next came a curious tilt of her head. "Full of secrets, aren't you?" She asked, despite knowing the answer. Her bright eyes scanned his darker ones in the dim light of the office. Perdita thought she was winning but she didn't know the rules of their game. If Reed could find her part time boyfriend with apparent ease, she wanted to be able to do the same. A small part of her, a dim recess of her brain, wanted to just pop out of thin air and surprise Torrence because she knew he was lying to her and if she knew the truth, perhaps she could ditch him completely. It was the healthy thing to do.

"Well," she replied briskly as she removed her hand from Reed's thigh. "Tell him I said hello." Then she paused.

"You shouldn't be telling me that," she chided him playfully with a tut and a shake of her head. It was valuable information, though, it made a lot of sense. "But who said there was going to be a next time?" She smiled at Reed. Her first dabble into illicit affairs hadn't ended the way she'd hoped. But she was rich and bored and single and those three things made her dangerous. She wondered if Reed needed a partner of sorts. Perdita didn't have anything to fill her evenings up with as of late.

Perdita leaned further back in her seat, her arms folded across her chest, her eyes flicking to the door behind his head. "Do you have time for a drink?" She asked. "After all, I think it's about time we really got to know each other. Properly, this time."

He shouldn’t have been giving her any advice—let alone the kinds that would help her get away with crime in the future—but Reed couldn’t help himself. She was an intelligent witch, too pretty for Azkaban, so he figured it wouldn’t hurt to help her a little. And maybe she’d feel indebted later, but he doubted it.

Perdita had removed her hand, and Reed considered what the action meant. Was she closing the door on this conversation, or one they hadn’t yet started? He thought about all the ways she could complicate the situation. Reed wondered if she had a motive to go to Torrence first, to tell the other wizard that Reed was on the way. And Reed immediately decided he wasn’t going to let that happen. He felt the pang of pressure, the urgency to get to Torrence before she could warn him, but none of it showed in his posture. His body language remained the same: steady.

“I’ve got time,” he answered, a wolfish grin flickering on his sharp features. Reed stood up from where he was sitting in front of her desk, purposefully moving closer to her than needed as he snuffed out his cigarette in an ashtray beside her. Pulling back, Reed held his hand out to her. “This time, I will choose the location.” Slyvie had taken Domizio to the Abbey so many years ago, it was his turn. 

He had time, apparently, and Perdita's smile widened. She was honoured. She knew absolutely nothing about Reed, he was still a stranger, but she had the sneaking suspicion that he didn't have much free time. That was a shame, to have a life so planned out in minute detail. She wondered if he had any fun. Proper fun. Like a round of darts at a sticky bar or a game of mini golf. The idea was suddenly hilarious to her but she swallowed her laugh as soon as he encroached into her personal space. Suddenly, it wasn't funny at all.

Her bright eyes tracked his casual movements, the cigarette smoke clearing as he extinguished the butt. Perdita didn't move. She couldn't, even if she wanted to. Her heart rate sped up of its own accord, annoyingly. She could see a tattoo peeking out of the collar of his shirt. Maybe he didn't have any fun but he was fun. Oh dear.

Her eyes dropped down to the hand Reed had offered her and she narrowed them to a borderline glare, still playful. Very slowly, she held out her hand and let him take it, getting to her feet, her heels sinking into the plush office carpet as she lost her height advantage. She paused.

"It's some sort of dungeon, isn't it?" She asked, head tilted as her mind wondered where Reed would choose to drink. It was one of two places. Number one, some backstreet bar with some sort of password or secret knock, probably guarded by trolls. Number two, a glass rooftop with weak, overpriced cocktails but with a stunning view. "Because I only go to those on weekends," she informed him with a smile as she gave his hand a tug and led him back out into the hallway, ready for an adventure.

As Perdita gave him her hand, Reed's voice carried a hint of interest. "Remind me to visit you on a weekend next time," he said. He reached for her hand, and without closing his eyes, apparated them to their destination. Reed was always alert and undeterred by the jolting motion of apparition magic, taking only seconds to steady himself once his feet hit the ground.

They had arrived at the heart of a bustling muggle city, but as with most places, if one looked closely enough, the magic was tucked just underneath. The wizarding bar was located in a dimly lit alleyway, with no sign or indication of its existence other than a small note scribbled on a bit of parchment staked to the wall. Inside, the entrance hall was guarded by the statues of two massive trolls, with rough skin and beady eyes that seemed to follow their every movement.

Down a short flight of stairs, the bar itself was dark and crowded, filled with smoke and the scent of strong drinks. The dim lighting made it difficult to discern faces—which was part of the appeal for certain types—and the air was thick with whispers and the occasional cackle of laughter.

The patrons were an eclectic mix of wizarding folk, some dressed in shabby clothing, others in expensive cloaks, all carrying themselves with an air of danger. At the bar, a hooded figure with glowing eyes served up drinks. Behind him were a collection of strange and rare potions. A sign noting No Refunds floated in the air. A group of wizards huddled in a corner, playing a high stakes game of wizarding poker, with galleons and sickles piled high in the center of the table.

Further in the back, a small group had gathered around a circular table where a game of curse roulette was taking place. The object of the game was to spin a wheel and let the spell land on one of the players, who would then be subjected to a random curse for a predetermined amount of time. The stakes were high, and the players anxiously awaited for their turn with bated breath. The atmosphere was tense, with an underlying sense of danger and excitement. The music was loud, with a band of goblins playing a tune that was both catchy and unsettling.

The air was thick with the scent of sweat, booze, and something darker. The kind of place where the shadows seemed to have a life of their own, and the patrons wore their secrets like a cloak. Reed Stricklander strode through the door with the ease of a man who knew he was welcome, his eyes taking in every detail of the seedy establishment. With a hand possessively resting on the small of Perdita's back, he guided her towards the bar, where the bartender already knew his name and penchant for the forbidden.

"What will you be drinking tonight?" Reed asked her, his voice carrying a hint of ominous promise.

The unsettling feeling of fleeting nausea wasn't down to Reed's form of travel but rather, his choice of destination. Perdita stuck close to him, her pace quick, her eyes darting around. She didn't say anything. In fact, she even managed to refrain from inviting him into said dungeon because she didn't like this. Reed, Domizio, whoever the fuck he was, could not be trusted. Now, she found herself in a foreign city, Merlin knew how far away from home. And she was mad.

"The trolls are a nice touch," came the soft comment, tinged with sarcasm as she almost slipped going down the dimly lit stairs. She let out a grunt of annoyance, both at her tumble and the fact that she seemed to always find herself in these kinds of situations.

Her focus wasn't on Reed, even as the warmth from his hand seared into her skin. His pace was leisurely but she wanted to go slower, her interest piqued at the shrouded games going on in the dark alcoves. She twisted her body away from him, vying for space, only to be forced back to his side as patrons came too close to her. She huffed in annoyance again.  Perdita quickly decided that the music was terrible, the clientele were seedy and Reed was a madman.

She was glad for a modicum of breathing space at the bar and she turned to Reed. "What is less likely to get me killed?" Perdita asked, sweet as pie as she smiled up at him. Dita sat down on a worn bar stool that wobbled under her weight before she turned back to the bartender.

"White wine, please," she ordered. The hooded figure replied "sweet or dry?" in a gruff voice and the fact that he seemed to know the difference between the two thoroughly shook her to her core. It took her a second to process her shock and pick her jaw up off the sticky bar. She shot Reed a look that clearly said seriously?

"Dry, please," Perdita went on, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She was expecting hard liquor and maybe the occasional hi-ball of blood but a glass of wine was placed in front of her and she eyed it with suspicion, her hands folded in her lap before she pulled the base of the glass towards her with trepidation.

"So," Perdita spoke above the noise of the goblin band, her long fingers wrapping themselves loosely around the stem of her wine glass. "Which game are we playing tonight?" She asked Reed, pointing over his shoulder to the poker game, the roulette, and then back to him. "Poker, hex roulette or is-he-going-to-give-me-some-answers? The last one is my favourite." She fixed him with a clear gaze and sipped her wine, surprise clear on her face. "That's not too bad," she mumbled in bedgrudged appreciation.

Though Reed had a myriad of choices for their rendezvous, he had selected Ember, bearing in mind his knowledge of her—her bar, their initial meeting under an alias, and envisioning the kind of places Torrence might bring her. It was a calculated guess that Ember would provide an environment most conducive to his purposes. Reed’s goal was to ensure she had a pleasant evening, perhaps inspiring her to divulge more information by the night’s end. When Perdita faltered on the steps, Reed was instantly there, an arm extended to lend her balance if needed.

They melded into the crowd, a duo of shadows navigating the confined space toward the bar. Years of training had taught Reed how to fit in—or stand out—when needed. Reed retrieved his cigarette case, the metallic tin glinting under dim lanterns as he pulled it from his pocket. His gaze never strayed from Perdita as he selected a cigarette, and she placed her drink order. A whisper of a smile tugged at his eyes when she opted for white wine, a dash of sophistication in this otherwise grimy backdrop.

Reed remained standing, slightly off to the side and just behind Perdita. To keep her attention, he positioned himself as a protective barrier between her and the rest of the patrons. Running the cigarette along his bottom lip, Reed pondered her intentions. He guessed she sought as much insight as she kept secrets, and he found that intriguing. He wondered what questions she wanted to ask. Reed, however, recognized the worth of patience, of playing the long game. “Why limit ourselves to just one?” he suggested, casting a small flame and drawing in a lungful of smoke. He suspected she would be a guarded player, but Reed relished a good challenge.

“Let’s up the stakes,” he offered, exhaling a plume of smoke as he studied her through its hazy veil. “A wager, of sorts. You pick the game; if you win, you earn an answer from me. If you lose, you owe me one.”

No one was looking at her but Perdita felt a dozen sets of eyes upon her. In fact, she glanced over her shoulder to validate her concern but found herself frowning in confusion. She wasn't scared, exactly. Nervous, perhaps. She didn't like playing games when she didn't know the rules and the way Reed encroached in her space, cigarette in hand, made her think that there wasn't even a rulebook involved.

Her bright eyes dropped to his mouth without thought and they lingered, just a second too long, before she looked away, seemingly interested in her glass of wine. It was so stupid, it felt like she was cheating on someone she wasn't even dating and she loathed the fact that Torrence was ruining her evening and he wasn't even near her.

Distracted momentarily by the purplish plume of smoke from his cigarette (and wishing desperately that she wasn't trying her best to quit herself), Perdy let out a laugh. "Oh no," she said with a shake of her head, her sleek bob swaying. "I don't make deals with the Devil. My mother said he looks a lot like you," she smiled again and sipped her wine. She was quiet for a moment. Reed didn't know her but he was tapping into the part of her that liked this - stupid games, danger, excitement, fun - but it wasn't a choice; it was comply or die.

Perdita thought she would get out of this scot-free because she was cocky and Reed was just a man. An outrageously handsome, clever and charismatic one, but a man nonetheless. But Perdita was bored. She had nothing to do. She was wasting away in her home in London with her boring 9-5 and boring dinners and boring friends. If Reed knew that, then she was the gasoline and he was the match.

"Poker," Dita announced with certainty, draining the rest of her wine as she moved to stand up, her chest treacherously close to brushing against his. She placed her hands on her hips momentarily as she gazed at him, her eyes narrowed and head tilted. "Full of secrets, aren't you?" She said, more out loud to herself than to him. She smiled again. "I, however, don't. So even if you win, you're shit out of luck." With that, she breezed past Reed and headed to the table, leaving a whiff of jasmine in her wake.

Reed's lips curved into a confident, enigmatic smile as he observed Perdita's reactions, his gaze unyielding even as she looked away. He relished in the electricity of the moment, recognizing the game he was playing, a game of intrigue and attraction. Her retort about making deals with the Devil earned a low chuckle from him, the tendrils of smoke from his cigarette dancing between them.

"Well, your mother certainly has good taste," he replied, his voice a velvety undertone of amusement. His eyes locked onto hers. There was an undeniable magnetism between them, a spark of something that went beyond the cards they were about to play.

As she declared "Poker" with certainty, Reed's eyebrows raised slightly, impressed by her bold choice. The challenge in her eyes only fueled his desire to engage in this intricate dance of words and wits. Her proximity did not go unnoticed, and he let his fingers graze the back of her chair briefly as she passed by him, leaving a trail of warmth in her wake. He matched her challenging demeanor with his own, a hint of playful mischief in his expression.

Perdita breezed past him, and Reed watched her with fascination. The way she moved, the confidence in her steps—it was alluring, to say the least. The dance had begun, a game of wits and desires, and Reed was eager to play. He followed her to the table, the allure of uncertainty, and perhaps a touch of danger, hanging thick in the air. The soft glow of the room's lighting cast shadows that seemed to flicker like secrets waiting to be revealed.

Reed pulled out Perdita's chair first, a subtle gesture that spoke volumes about his manners and intentions. His fingertips grazed her hand briefly, a fleeting touch. He allowed her to sit before taking up the chair next to hers, positioning himself so that their proximity was impossible to ignore. The others at the table seemed like mere background, their presence fading as the chemistry between Reed and Perdita took center stage.

Nodding to the other players at the table, Reed's gaze settled on Perdita once more, his eyes locking onto hers. The cards were dealt, and the game began, but Reed knew that the true contest was the one they were engaging in beyond the table, a dance of words and glances that held promises and secrets.

"You know," Reed began, his voice thick and low, "they say that poker is as much about the cards as it is about the players. It's a delicate balance between skill and intuition, chance and strategy." His fingers expertly moved his cards with fluid grace, his gaze never leaving Perdita's. The dim light seemed to intensify the connection between them, creating a world of their own within the confines of the room.

"The stakes are high, Perdita," he continued, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "But I have a feeling we're both accustomed to taking risks." His words hung in the air, laden with unspoken meaning. Reed knew that the game they were playing went far beyond the poker chips on the table. It was a dance of seduction, a battle of wits, and neither of them seemed eager to back down.

Shit, Perdita cursed silently as she found herself in the middle of a budding scandal. It was all of her own doing, she knew that. She was waist-deep in metaphorical quicksand now and the more she fought it, the deeper she would sink. There was a fine line between confidence and arrogance and honestly, she thought she could distract Reed enough for him not to press her further. Instead, now she was sitting at a poker table, dozens of sets of eyes on them and she cleared her throat.

It was worth the inevitable fall from grace. She assumed Reed was a man of his word and she hoped he wouldn't decide to lie to her if she won. There was a faint niggle of panic in the back of Perdita's mind and she fretted over what question he'd ask her. She didn't have many secrets (she did) but Reed didn't need the theatrics - he probably had access to her Ministry file.

He spoke and she turned her head to watch him out of the corner of her eye. "Is that so?" Perdy asked softly, a hint of a smile curving the line of her lips. She liked this. The cloak and dagger, the mystery, the thrill of it all.  It was why she couldn't hold down a steady boyfriend because she liked excitement. She got bored easily. She liked the chase and avoiding the reality of her many, many shortcomings.  This sort of thing didn't happen in her everyday life. Intrigue and danger and good old-fashioned peril. She knew she was being played, that she was the underdog, that this would all end badly but who cared? If she kept running, nobody coud catch her.

"I have no idea what you mean," Perdita replied demurely, her eyes leaving him to glance at the dealer and then at her cards. She grew up playing the game. She'd learned from her father at a young age, playing countless hours on the kitchen table, using Smarties as chips to raise and call.. Perdy had fleeced her housemates at Hogwarts quite successfully but the stakes then had been a couple of galleons and promises for the losers to complete her homework. This, however, felt infinitely dicey.

She could smell Reed's aftershave - deep and expensive - and cigarette smoke. She could feel the warmth clinging to his shirtfront.  She shifted on her stool and she was starting to feel warm. Her bright eyes glanced at the other players and none of them were playing the same game as she and Reed were.

Somewhere in the distance, the betting had begun and she crossed her legs at the knee, leaning ever-so into Reed's personal space. Her cards were disappointing - a king of hearts and a nine of spades - as she studied the community cards on the table. She could make a pair with the nine of hearts on the table, the remaining cards were the three and seven of diamonds. Bollocks.

"Raise," Perdita replied when her turn rolled around and she tucked some hair behind her ear, the tell that she was nervous, before she turned to Reed. "I hope Lady Luck fancies you," she smiled.

Reed’s gaze remained fixed on Perdita, a silent challenge flickering in the depths of his icy blue eyes. For a split second, he thought she might reconsider. That the stakes were too high, or that she’d rather not spend her time in the shadowy room with him. She didn’t have to tell him anything, he didn’t have the proper paperwork to force the truth out of her. And yet, amidst the chaos he saw on her features, there was a glimmer of defiance, a spark of resilience that intrigued him.

As she spoke, her words a delicate dance of evasion and allure, Reed couldn’t help but admire the way she navigated these treacherous waters. They had been many things to each other in the past, but they had skipped the friendly part entirely. And knowing their first encounter was built on a lie, neither one of them were to be trusted.

With a slow, deliberate movement, Reed leaned in closer, his breath mingling with hers in the charged air between them. His tattooed fingers trailed along the edge of his cards, his rings glinting in the candle lights. The subtle flex of his hand betrayed the anticipation that coiled beneath his controlled exterior. He couldn’t remember the last time questioning someone had been this much fun.

”Raise,” Perdita’s voice pierced through the silence like a challenge. Reed’s lips curved into a knowing smile. As the game unfolded, Reed’s eyes rarely strayed from Perdita, each glance, each subtle movement a silence exchange of information. He matched her raise with ease, his gaze unwavering as he met her challenge head-on. “Impressive,” he murmured, his voice a low, velvety whisper. Reed had never been a fan of relying on Lady Luck, he preferred to craft his own fate.

His fingers expertly manipulated his chips, his movements fluid and precise as he raised the stakes again. The man beside him folded, another across the table set down his cards and stood up, but Reed only watched her. With every bet, every raise, the stakes climbed higher, mirroring the escalating tension that crackled between Reed and Perdita like a live wire. As the cards were dealt and the community cards revealed, Reed played his hand with calculated precision until it was only the two remaining, and he waited for her to make the next move.

[ooc; i have no idea how to play poker anymore haha]

The mood at the table changed as she cleared her throat. She'd always been a terrible liar. It was all over her face most of the time. Perdita reached up to tuck a wayward lock of hair away from her face and was mildly alarmed to find that she had a light sheen of sweat along her hairline. Very ladylike.

Reed moved but she didn't have to look at him to know exactly where he was because she could feel him. She'd always been able to sense him out and she wondered why, possibly because they both spent the majority of their time in the shadows. Her pale fingers reached around the stem of her wine glass as she drew it towards her to take a drink, effectively draining it. The wine was corked, Perdita realised with dismay, but she wanted another regardless.

His compliment was almost missed but she turned to face him with a smile, deciding against pulling away to give herself more space as he leaned into her orbit. Perdita heard the other players fold around them, a grunt and a slamming of a glass on the playing table followed by the scraping of stools as the other patrons left.  It felt very intimate without them. Reed met her at every move. "Just us?" She asked sweetly, her bright eyes dropping to his lips momentarily before up to meet his gaze again. She didn't just want to win - she wanted to destroy him.

"Two," she addressed the dealer, tossing the playing cards she wanted to burn before two more were offered in their place. She had a pair of nines and she was king high. It wasn't so much a gamble as a suicide mission but she picked up her cards and her heart stutted - she'd been dealt two more nines. Perdita had four of a kind.

The tall witch had to fight every instinct she had not to backflip but she reminded herself that she didn't have the best hand in the game but near enough. Reed had his cards dealt again and she swooped in before he could push her any further. She flicked her last chip in to call, forcing them to wrap the game up.

Across the table Perdita leaned and she spread her cards on show, only to recline in her stool with a smug smirk on her lips and a sparkle in her eye. "Sucker."


[Same! Pretty sure that move wasn't right but alas haha]