Magical Hogwarts

roath park, cardiff // wednesday, 15 december 2004

"Remind me whose idea this was," Honey whined, as if it hadn't been hers... but else were they going to do? It was eight in the morning and fucking freezing; Honey had expected it to be positively balmy, this far south, but the temperature must have dropped ten degrees once they were out on the lake. The dumb chairs didn't let them sit close (for warmth and absolutely nothing else, of course) but most importantly: it was eight in the morning. Honey had slept maybe three hours (for work reasons) before catching her portkey down and it had to be this morning because the shop was open in the afternoon and she had so many owl orders (and otherwise) to see to.

But it was easier to think about all of that, all the work she could be doing, when it was eight in the bloody morning because it was unlikely she'd be working if she were home, anyway.

She made another noise of disgust, trying to distract Grace from the feet she was sliding off her pedals. She sipped at her mocha - not as good as an in-café mocha because she couldn't just eat the whipped cream right off the top because of the takeaway lid but it was still good, even with the tipple of energy draught she'd added - which she supposed was one nice thing about the morning. Well, two, because she would do literally anything to spend time with Grace, including suggesting this stupid paddle boat shaped like a swan (and then not letting Grace call her bluff on it).

"Do you think I can--?" she leaned forward to look across Grace. Unsurprisingly, they were the only ones out on the lake and they were far enough away from the shore that they were essentially alone. "Hold this." She passed her coffee off to Grace then conjured a nice wooly afghan, big enough for the both of them. She spread it across their laps, making a point to invade Grace's space to make sure it reached the far side of her.

She took her drink back and stuck her mocha-less hand under the blanket. "You'll be back in Inverness when I get back from Spain?" She didn't tell her when that would be, exactly, because Grace knew. It was the second of January, like it was every year: Honey took exactly eight days off from work and that was her plan again for this year. And she didn't want to have to come to Cardiff again; it was bad enough she was already spending too much time in London.

Grace had a substantial backbone - when it came to anyone who wasn't Beatrix Honey Flume.

There truthfully wasn't much that the redhead couldn't talk her into doing (or, less commonly, not doing), and today was no exception. While Grace personally thought the idea of a swan paddle-boat ride (during which Honey would do absolutely none of the pedaling, she knew) on the Roath Park Lake at eight in the morning was absolutely daft... it was hardly a substantial 'ask', and thus she'd hardly required any real convincing. In any case, she'd never pass up an opportunity for time with her best friend.

They were only about a quarter of the way across the lake when the first complaint was voiced. Grace slid her friend a knowing look, but said nothing aloud. She didn't mind the chill, for the most part... but she also rarely turned down an opportunity for a warm drink on a chilly day. It was a bit too early for an Irish coffee (she had some boundaries), so she'd gone with a simple black light-roast drip instead.

"Do you think I can--?"

Grace raised an eyebrow (there were a lot of ways that sentence could end, knowing Honey) and accepted her friend's drink temporarily, taking a sip of her own while she awaited clarification - and was not entirely disappointed when an oversized wooly afghan materialized on their laps.

"You'll be back in Inverness when I get back from Spain?"

Grace nodded, passing Honey's coffee back to her.
"Far as I know, yeah."

Every now and then, the odd short-term job would crop up; depending on where it was, Grace sometimes indulged. She wouldn't be surprised, however, if there were more assignments on her home turf in the coming weeks, what with the steadily-increasing activity of this Dark Widow character. Grace had friends - though more like acquaintances or contacts, as she counted precious few as true 'friends' - in the Ministry: it was no secret that the DMAC was getting progressively more overrun and fatigued. As much as she typically did not enjoy working with others, these infrequent collaborations sometimes proved an exception simply due to the circumstances; either that, or they proved her point further that it was better to work solo.

"Any change to the usual itinerary this year?" she joked.
Grace didn't expect an affirmative in the slightest, as the Flumes were unflappably predictable for this particular trip: same timeframe, same duration, same places, same people. She used to envy it when they were young, for a time, but once she'd done more traveling of her own that had waned considerably.

Grace confirmed she would be in Inverness, and Honey smiled. “Good.” She didn’t add that she was tired of all the traveling, because traveling for her meant traveling to London almost exclusively for Charlie reasons and Honey needed to creep up on the subject of her boyfriend with Grace (and, hopefully, with some grace). “You can come to mine,” she said; the snuggling in blankets was implied. “Inside,” she added, with an involuntary shudder.

Honey shook her head. “Ach, no.” No changes to her usual itinerary, except– “Well, maybe.” She was staring at the lid of her cup, picking at a hanging piece of plastic near the little hole that let the steam out. “Might do something for New Year’s,” she said tentatively, casually adding after a beat: “With Charlie.” Might do, but more like was definitely doing, they just hadn’t decided where to go, yet. Honey had decided to leave that up to him, so long as it wasn’t London.

“But that’s not new,” she said with a soft smirk, still picking at her coffee lid with her nail and watching intently. She was talking–and thinking–about Paris, when both she and Grace had spent New Year’s with Charlie– except they ditched him to snog each other instead.

But anyway: “I’ve no invited him to Majorca,” she said, finally tilting her chin toward her best friend. “But I was thinking I might.” She needed to explain why it made sense, get ahead of it before Grace could tell her it was a bad idea. “He’ll have to meet my parents at some point and it’s less weird than some standalone thing just to meet them.” There was a silent but implied right? hanging on the end of that; she wanted Grace’s opinion even though she was pretty sure she knew what it was. And when Grace proved her right, Honey figured she would argue with her and just convince herself to invite Charlie for Christmas, anyway.

“Well, maybe.”

Grace’s eyebrows shot up – that would be an unexpected deviation from tradition.

“Might do something for New Year’s… with Charlie.”

“Ah.”
Grace pressed her mouth into a thin line, as she often did when Honey brought up her boyfriend. She was trying to be a less bitter better friend, though, so she belatedly tried to hide it by taking a sip of her coffee.

“I’ve no invited him to Majorca… But I was thinking I might.”

Fuck.
Grace nearly choked on her drink, but recovered enough to utter a noncommittal “Mmm” – which Honey doubtless recognized by now as her characteristic noise of choice for acknowledgment without encouragement (especially because it was used in reference to Charlie about ninety-eight percent of the time).

Uncomfortably, she was also trying to suppress a flare of… jealousy, she supposed it was, likely with an unhealthy splash of possessiveness. The Flumes had most generously issued Grace a standing invitation for the better part of the past twenty years, and she’d ended up accompanying them at least half as many times – though much less frequently since the witches’ respective work schedules picked up in intensity, as well as post-War. But, at least to Grace’s knowledge, Honey hadn’t ever invited anyone else – even when Grace couldn’t go. It felt strange, like the end of an era.
And, realistically, it was. Grace had long-since accepted that Honey was actually serious about Charlie: definitely more than she’d been about any of her prior partners, by far, and she seemed happy. Grace wasn’t an idiot; she could see that.

Ah, she wanted to also use the trip as an opportunity for him to meet her parents. Grace slid her best friend a sideways glance – and found her looking back expectantly. Merlin and Morgana…

“I… see what you mean,” she began, though it pained her slightly. Grace set her tongue between her teeth, choosing her next words more carefully than she might have otherwise; she was never one to mince words, but she was attempting to be more supportive. Like a good best friend.
“What if— I’m not saying it will, mind,” she prefaced, waving her free hand vaguely. She wasn’t awful enough to wish for an event that would make Honey upset. “But what if it goes poorly?”
She paused for only a second, then continued. “Would you un-invite him, then stay on with your family? Leave with him? Have him stay through the end of the trip anyway?” Grace raised her eyebrows pointedly and took a sip of her coffee. “Could be bloody awkward all the way around. Just a consideration.”

Mmm, Grace said, and Honey knew what that meant. She narrowed her eyes before launching into the explanation of her thinking, how it made sense to meet her parents at the holiday when they would be distracted. Fergie and Edith would be there, too, and they would pose an extra distraction if the proposal worked out– and if it didn’t, Fergie would be distraction enough when he showed up alone. So really, there was no better opportunity.

But still, she wanted Grace’s opinion. Grace had the most background information out of anyone, how Honey’s parents and boyfriends and all of those things went together, and she seemed to remember some details about Honey that even she had forgotten about herself. But she also wanted Grace’s opinion to match up with her own, wanted Grace to reassure her that it was a good idea. That was too much to hope for, apparently– Grace started with a ‘what if’ and Honey pursed her lips; here she goes.

What if it went poorly? It wasn’t clear if Grace meant this visit or everything, though she thought she knew which one Grace would prefer– and that was starting to get really fucking annoying. Honey stared out over the bow of the boat, looking at the lake, her mouth in a hard line.

Grace was going through the logistics of the trip, as if that was the important thing here. If things went poorly, would she uninvite Charlie and stay with her family? Would Honey leave with him? Have him stay? What the fuck did Grace think would ‘go poorly’ enough that it could only be improved if Charlie fucked off? She didn’t ask, didn’t want an answer.

And she didn’t provide any answers of her own, either, because they were stupid fucking questions. Besides, did Grace really think she hadn’t thought about it going poorly? All of it?  It wasn’t some sort of whim. Not just Christmas, but the whole thing. Grace really didn’t grasp that she and Charlie were dating, that sometimes Honey couldn’t believe herself, thinking it was a good idea to be dating Charlie, of all people. And on top of all of that, they had been dating for– fuck, it had been seven months now, which officially made it her longest relationship.

And it had been so easy, too. Easier than this conversation, by a long shot.

“What if it doesn’t go poorly?” She asked, blinking before turning her head to look at Grace again. It would be a stretch to suggest her mum was going to love him, but at the very least, what if her mum didn’t need to pull Honey aside after Christmas dinner to tell her everything that was wrong with him? It wasn’t like they were buying a house and getting married tomorrow– that was Fergie’s thing. But Charlie was funny, and he made a good bacon sandwich, and most of the time his being a prick was just part of his public image, or whatever. Honey had really started noticing it after that pregnancy scare–after their initial argument, and she had never told Grace about either–never mind that she had been the one to suggest they be exclusive, and not just because she liked shagging him (which she did). There was obviously something else there.

And Grace was really good at making Honey feel like she couldn’t talk about her boyfriend without upsetting her, so that was fun. “Just a consideration,” she said, a bit of bite at the edges of her tone.