|
|
|
last online Mar 28, 2024 15:12:24 GMT -7
|
|
|
Jan 26, 2019 6:28:40 GMT -7
Post by Deleted on Jan 26, 2019 6:28:40 GMT -7
To Oliver's complete and utter surprise, he and Beatrice had parted on good enough terms. She still wanted to see him, and she wasn't disgusted or terrified by his affliction. Perhaps she didn't understand what a danger he had been as a youth, but with the wolfsbane potion and other precautions, Oliver found that he could keep his mind more clearly each month. He wasn't so much a monster or a danger, and he could keep up with friends. Well, he could if he'd had friends to keep up with in the first place.
For this reason, Oliver had made a conscious effort to keep well in touch with Beatrice. Though his potions lessons were becoming more demanding and his status as Head of Slytherin kept him busy, Oliver had made time to write Beatrice letters. They hadn't had the chance to meet up again, but it felt good for Oliver to be speaking to someone regularly rather than holing up in his office. Well, write to someone regularly at least.
The winter festival had come to Hogsmeade, and Oliver has asked in his last letter if Beatrice wanted to join him. For some reason, he was just as nervous as the first time he had asked her to meet. He cherished her letters, each one brightening his day and keeping him on his path to recovering his soul. She drove him onwards, desire flaring in him to complete his life's work and create a cure for lycanthropy.
And so with nerves fluttering inside him, Oliver awaited Beatrice's arrival at the Roasted Knut. He'd already got a bag of their famous nuts and was munching nervously on them, impatient to greet his old friend.
tag: @beatrice
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
last online Mar 28, 2024 15:12:24 GMT -7
|
|
|
Feb 11, 2019 10:13:28 GMT -7
Post by Deleted on Feb 11, 2019 10:13:28 GMT -7
Beatrice was still cautiously optimistic about her rekindled friendship with Oliver. She could understand why he had kept his distance over the years now; his innate fear of accidentally hurting someone he cared about was something she could empathize with. Still, they were closing in on thirty years old; couldn’t he have reached out earlier? She supposed now it didn’t really matter. What was done is done, and she couldn’t change the past. Couldn’t jump back a few years in time and force him to see things differently. He was now a professor at the school though, so that was a huge step forward for him, both professionally and socially. This way he’d have to interact with people, right?
Oliver had asked to meet her outside the Roasted Knut, a shop stall only open during the Winter Festival. It was a pretty funny play on words in Beatrice’s opinion, and she did love nuts roasted over coals. She wore her favorite deep green winter cloak, with her gray scarf wrapped around her neck to keep out the chill. She Apparated from her apartment into the quaint village, and savored the moment of happily organized chaos. Everyone around her seemed happy; she hoped their enthusiasm rubbed off on Oliver as well. She soon spotted that familiar light brown colored hair, and bounded over to him, her cheeks flushed with the cold. “Hope you saved some for me,” she said a bit breathlessly, reaching out and plucking a handful from his bag, munching thoughtfully. They were delicious, just as she had imagined they would be. “Good choice by the way,” she commented, looking around the square appreciatively. “So...where to first?” she asked, hoping he had a good first suggestion. He did teach at the school after all, so he would likely have been around when this was all being set up.
@archibald
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
last online Mar 28, 2024 15:12:24 GMT -7
|
|
|
Feb 16, 2019 4:22:44 GMT -7
Post by Deleted on Feb 16, 2019 4:22:44 GMT -7
Oliver thought it was a clever way to increase tourism in Hogsmeade, hosting this winter festival. The students certainly loved it, and even his fellow professors were found sneaking out of the castle to spend more time at the festival. Perhaps it was infectious cheer, or a different variety of liquor sold. Whatever it was, Oliver felt it too. So he'd written to the person he was closest too, though he was a bit nervous as he had only just rekindled their friendship after years on the outs.
Snacking anxiously on a bag of nuts, Oliver waited for Beatrice to arrive. He could pinpoint exactly why he was nervous- he didn't want her to reject him. The fact that she hadn't initially spoke volumes of her demeanour, but he was still afraid. After all, he had pushed her away for so long. But finally, she bounded up to him and shoved her hand into his bag of nuts. He raised a brow at her, but said nothing. Instead, a grin spread across her face.
Bea's cheeks were flushed with the cold, and Oliver drew his eyes away from her to look around the festival. "Well, there's lots of options here. We could eat until we're sick of nuts, we could overdose on saccharides." He glanced back at her, offering the bag of nuts once more. "But I was wondering... how's your balance?" asked Oliver, looking over towards the ice rink where students and adults alike glided mostly haphazardly across the ice.
tag: @beatrice
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
last online Mar 28, 2024 15:12:24 GMT -7
|
|
|
Apr 19, 2019 10:40:13 GMT -7
Post by Deleted on Apr 19, 2019 10:40:13 GMT -7
Beatrice raised an eyebrow at him. “Saccharides? When did you start using a fancy term for sugar?” she asked him, a teasing note melting in with her question. She reached back in for another handful of the nuts. “These are magical,” she told him, crunching loudly on the legumes before putting her glove back on her hand. She followed his gaze to the ice skaters on the makeshift rink. “Hmm,” she mused, thinking about whether or not she wanted to try her hand at ice skating. She had done it before of course, having grown up in a Muggle family, but she had not given it a go in a couple of years.
“Why not, let’s just hope I don’t break my hip or something,” Beatrice decided, looking back towards Oliver with a ghost of a smile. Tucking her arm in the crook of his elbow, she led them towards the rink and they got their skates. Lacing them up tightly, Beatrice stood back up, wobbling a little bit. “If I fall I’m bringing you down with me,” she said brightly, taking baby steps towards the ice.
@archibald
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
last online Mar 28, 2024 15:12:24 GMT -7
|
|
|
Apr 24, 2019 10:59:46 GMT -7
Post by Deleted on Apr 24, 2019 10:59:46 GMT -7
Oliver shrugged. "I suppose living in West London for so many years made me want to be more posh than I actually am," he said with a smirk. Resisting the strong urge to finish the bag of nuts, Oliver closed the packaging and stuffed them in his pocket. "Is it possible to enchant nuts to make them taste better?" he asked offhandedly, making a mental note to listen carefully to the answer. For future experimentation and reference, of course. Perhaps he could work on a way to make the Wolfsbane potion taste better as a stepping stone, as sugar rendered it completely useless.
Thankfully, Beatrice agreed to his suggestion of ice skating. "Excellent. I think you're a bit young to be breaking your hip, but if you succeed the matron at Hogwarts can always put you right," he added. "Come on then." He offered his elbow and she took it, and they headed off towards the rink. The pair made quick work of lacing up their skates, and were soon on the ice.
Now, Oliver was no ice skating expert. If he were to weight his chances, he would say he was exactly as likely to fall on his face as Beatrice. So when she promised to take him down with her, Oliver found himself not objecting. He moved slowly and awkwardly, trying very very hard to look like he was somewhat comfortable. "Do I look comfortable like this?" asked Oliver, gliding forwards with knees bent and a rigid back. "Because I absolutely am not. He tottered slowly to Beatrice and offered his hand. "How long do you think it will take for one of us to have our hands skated over by those lads over there," asked Oliver, nodding towards a trio of Hogwarts sixth years. "I'd put them in detention for sixteen years, but they hate my class so may still be worth it for them," he added, somewhat randomly.
tag: @beatrice
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
last online Mar 28, 2024 15:12:24 GMT -7
|
|
|
May 24, 2019 9:10:13 GMT -7
Post by Deleted on May 24, 2019 9:10:13 GMT -7
Beatrice made a face at him. “Anyone can break a hip it’s not just the elderly,” she pointed out. It was true after all, and she knew it. She stepped out onto the ice and immediately felt a sense of imbalance. This was not natural; ice was slippery and they were using sharpened blades parallel with their feet to stop them from falling face first onto the surface. It seemed quite absurd to her, but she supposed she should stop overthinking it or that ice will come much closer to her face far faster. She pushed off on one leg, making sure not to go too fast, her arms outstretched to help her balance. She steadied herself enough to glance back at Oliver, and burst out laughing. “Oh yes, very comfortable indeed. I think we should send you to the ice capades after this,” she joked. She latched onto his hand and held it in a vice like grip for fear of falling. “Now if I fall you’re coming down with me, or vice versa,” she told him matter of factly.
Beatrice glanced over at the sixth years who were looking their way. “They’re probably in too much shock that their Potions Professor is conversing with a girl they’re too busy to skate over our fingers,” she reasoned, then shook her head. “I’m sure they don’t hate your class Oliver, you can’t be worse than Severus Snape after all,” she added. Snape, from what she had gleaned from older students who had had him as a professor, highly favored all Slytherins, and treated most people with nasty contempt. Professor Slughorn, who they had just for one year before his second retirement, had been a Slytherin as well, but he was a kind and encouraging man. He had his favorites of course - what teacher didn’t? - but he was fair. “Does anyone show as much promise as you did when you were their age?” she then asked curiously.
@archibald
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
last online Mar 28, 2024 15:12:24 GMT -7
|
|
|
May 30, 2019 14:02:41 GMT -7
Post by Deleted on May 30, 2019 14:02:41 GMT -7
Oliver stared at Beatrice for a moment, contemplating an answer. He licked his lips then spoke. " But we can at least agree that the elderly are much more likely, right?" said Oliver. He didn't know why he was so stuck on the old people thing, or why he felt slightly unsettled and nervous. He hoped that it was just that he was trying to stay balanced on on an inherently frictionless surface. That must be it. To change the topic, Oliver commented on a group of sixth year boys who were watching them. Oliver had latched onto Beatrice, clinging to her hand like his life depended on it. He wasn't going to fool himself into considering she didn't know exactly why he was clinging on so tightly. He really didn't want to fall.
"They're rather more coordinated than us, I'm afraid," Oliver mumbled. He was now able to glide forward very slowly, so long as he stayed close to the wall. "This is bollocks. Do people really think this is fun? My mum and dad never took me ice skating, they knew that true fun lay in at home chemistry kits and Blue Peter reruns," he added. Oliver nearly lost his balance on a lone swathe of air and clung tightly to Beatrice. "Er, Beatrice I think this was not my cleverest idea."
Oliver was grateful for Beatrice's praise. "To be honest, no one I've taught has quite the same talent. It's a bit disappointing. There was one girl who was quite promising, a Greyback. She well... she was interested in the same things as me. Finding a cure. Ending the curse. But things haven't exactly panned out. I feel like I'm just missing one piece of the puzzle..." said Oliver, his mind roving over the possibilities. "And at the prophet... do you feel compelled to add a certain spin to stories? Or do you just get to straight report on Quidditch?" He had never much followed Quidditch, but he had found out one day that Beatrice did the reporting and was curious to see how she wrote.
tag: @beatrice
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
last online Mar 28, 2024 15:12:24 GMT -7
|
|
|
Jun 18, 2019 11:25:41 GMT -7
Post by Deleted on Jun 18, 2019 11:25:41 GMT -7
Beatrice quirked an eyebrow at Oliver with his comment. “I suppose so,” she said slowly, shrugging a little. She squeezed his hand lightly in reassurance; he may be tall and a bit gangly, but she wasn’t going to let him fall in front of his students after all. “My parents took me skating when I went home for Christmas, but I haven’t been in years. Quidditch reporting takes up too much time to try and research which ice rinks are good and which ones are overcrowded,” she told him. Not that this rink was barren, but it was only witches and wizards whose population was quite a bit smaller than the Muggle one.
After a few turns around the rink, Beatrice guided the pair back to the side and off the ice. “There, now nobody can say they saw you fall on your arse,” she said with a grin, letting go of his hand to unlace her skates. She kept listening to him however, mentioning the Greyback girl who excelled at Potions. “Well, Greyback is a name I know, but not the girl. If she’s as interested in finding a cure as you are though, then perhaps she’s not her fathers’ daughter,” she contemplated, standing up. Handing the skates back to the rental, she turned to face Oliver, hands on hips. “Well, Hogwarts professor, to talk about Quidditch reporting we need to warm up a bit. Three Broomsticks time?” she suggested.
@archibald
|
|
|
|