Post by grey xavier slater on Jul 28, 2024 13:58:50 GMT -7
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July 14, 2029
There was too much omitted from his life to continue trying to date muggle girls. From the very top, he had to lie about his job, which was thankfully easy enough because switching Quidditch with football and saying he was a small-time reporter for a local paper in Manchester. That gave him just enough freedom to bullshit his way through initial text conversations and first dates, but it started to fall flat the longer he talked to them. And it wasn’t because he truly disliked any of them; he just felt like he was lying too much. Even with as great of a hidden identity as it was, they would eventually ask to see an article he had written, and then it all collapsed. Creating such a thing on his own wouldn’t be that difficult to do. Hell, he could even find a paper in Manchester and submit pieces to make it seem more real than it actually was. Smaller newspapers were always looking for op-ed writers or guests for the sports section. He could easily do it.
One of his colleagues had questioned him why he didn’t just go the Blishwick route. Grey had posed his answer something to the tune of the magical community being like one big cauldron of incest. It wasn’t actually, at least not to the non-pureblood families. He had just grown tired of knowing everything about everyone and vice-versa. As nerve-wracking as it had been at Hogwarts, at least he had managed to pull it off in the end. Now that he’d been out of the game for so long, it was tough. After joking about being married to his job too many times, he was starting to think it was actually true.
After a so-so coffee date with a nice muggle girl, Grey had shambled back in the direction of Diagon Alley. He needed a pint before deciding if there would be a second date or not. He was already leaning on no, only because she didn’t seem to be fully interested and he felt the same way about her. It was best to just move on and try his luck elsewhere. Luckily, the Leaky Cauldron was virtually empty, a quiet Saturday afternoon. Planting himself at the bar, he made his order and dragged a loose copy of the morning’s edition of the paper over to him. The back pages were damp from condensation on the bar top. Lovely. Flipping through it, he found the article he’d submitted the afternoon before. Right where it always was. It was too bad he couldn’t show that off to anyone outside of the magical community.
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