#𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: diagon alley !

[fortnas]

𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽:  diagon alley   !

emotionally, he handles the charmed birthday card about as well as one would expect. after tearing into the envelopes of four bills and two advertisements best classed 'junk mail', the heavy parchment covering on it is a welcome change, a flood of relief that quickly evaporates when he opens it up and it begins to sing - shrilly. he closes it. it doesn't stop. he opens it again - long enough to read that he had george to thank for his new hell, but taking in nothing else of the paragraph written inside - and in one, angry movement, lip curled, tears it into several pieces. when it still doesn't stop its singing, the bin where half of his other letters ended up is where he aims for, though he's so flustered by the noise ( and the attention he's now self conscious of it attracting ) that a number of the sections end up scattered on the cobble. "bollocks-" he huffs, bending down to grab them and taking the slowing footsteps of another as an immediately bad sign, "- i'm picking it up, alright ? give me a bloody second-"

[iustitiias]

𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽  :  diagon alley  !

he should've just taken antigone up on the offer to watch theseus while he popped down to diagon alley. though she always jumped at the chance to accompany him and arturo didn't often tell her no, there was really only so much that he could take. last time, it had been the accidental tipping over of a barrel of beetle eyes - juice and all - that he'd had to pay the apothecary back for. this time- "i can pay the dry cleaning." he'd only taken his eyes off of her for a few seconds. long enough to turn around and grab a handful of napkins to try and stop such a thing from happening, but it'd been PLENTY of time for her to bump into someone else with her fortescue ice cream, and arturo was sheepish as he offered napkins and awkwardly pulled out his wallet to offer a little more, too. "here. you need 'em."

[petriichvrs]

𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽  :  diagon alley, just broadly  !

"hey, you-" no one can say they don't expect this of her, really. ginny has always been a little prone to skipping over passive and heading straight for outright aggression, though... the harmless little old lady she's directing her current ire towards is a bit of a change in character. you'd almost feel sorry for this current victim of ginny's early morning wrath, but, well- "yeah. you with the sneer. you wanna say that again, a bit louder ? no ?" she doesn't make any move to close the distance between them, letting her words be the force ( and what a force they ARE ; her volume rises the minute she catches the others attention proper, no shame about drawing eyes towards her ) that drives the old witch away before she's even finished, leaving ginny to call, "yeah, that's what i thought you miserable old hag-" at her back, a rant she'd have continued had it not been for the sudden realisation that the audience she has drawn includes a familiar face. without even the good grace to be sheepish when she turns to them, ginny returns to a normal, conversational volume with a cheery, "sorry 'bout that. i've become a bit of a controversial figure, lately."

[lifefuls]

𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽  :  owl post office, diagon alley  !

“that’ll be, uh...-” she only glances down at the reader, reading it off automatically, “two hundred galleons?” owl post, she ( already ) feared, was another ill fit. it had only been about a week since astoria had started and she knew that she could be forgiven most training wheel mistakes, but what she COULDN’T do was shake the distinct feeling of time running out that had kicked in around ‘whoopsie daisy’ number four. as always, it wasn’t actually her fault ; this time she blamed the till for her clumsy fingers ( just like how last time she’d blamed the naturally low volume of the phone she was supposed to answer and the time before that sheer number of keys she was forced to keep track of- ). she was trying her best, but at some point there would be no denying that eventually, a genuine lack of interest in making a career from this job was going to lead her down the same road as always. case in point ; two hundred galleons for a rather small parcel was absurd, realised mere seconds after the words left her mouth as she took a second look down at the old style numbers beneath the weighing scales and saw the dot between them, “oh, shit, i’m sorry! i meant two- i really misread that. you really don’t need to bankrupt yourself to send this to-... where were you sending it, again?” 

[iridescnts]

𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽  :  diagon alley, but nowhere specific  !

“i’m sorry, i’m totally in your way-” and there’s not really much that she can do about that, currently, but she still does her absolute best to pull in her limbs and minimise the blockade. the box of assorted donations that tumbled out of her arms when she tripped over an awkward piece of cobble made a bit of a mess, but contessa has almost succeeded in gathering up everything that spilled out - only a few things have managed to evade her ; paintbrushes and little colored stacking cups and a singular race car. “you can just step over me. i really won’t be offended.” 

[sibylliine]

𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙿𝚃  :  here, you can have my scarf. 𝚁𝙴𝚀𝚄𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙴𝙳 𝙱𝚈   :  @rebuildeds / dudley dursley  ! 𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽  :  diagon alley !

"aren't you worried that i'll use it for some magical mischief?" they ask, wiggling their ungloved - and frankly, near frozen solid - fingers in his direction with the kind of crooked smile that says they're only making fun. they're too appreciative of the offer to be too much of a shithead, only in the position of either because they lacked the common sense to dress appropriately for the weather at the start of the day. it'd be easy to poke fun at his expense and they know his nature well enough by now to know he'd fall for it, too - that if they said they could use something that belonged to him to do something wicked, see his future or read his cards all the better, then he'd believe it. it'd be funny, too, at least to them, but there's a time & place. "go on, then. keep me toasty and i'll treat you to a hot firewhiskey, if you'd like."

[woesbegone]

𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙿𝚃  :  maybe when you have a break, could i buy you a cup of coffee? 𝚁𝙴𝚀𝚄𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙴𝙳 𝙱𝚈   :  @hoggleswart / oskar catchlove  ! 𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽  :  the leaky cauldron, diagon alley !

" i bet you ask all the girls that, " though even if he did, there's really no denying that luca is quite charmed by his easy smile & confident way. she's always been a bit of a sucker for a pretty boy ( just ask mikaela - she's been there to pick her up every time it fell apart ) and oskar is exactly that, all wrapped up in a leather jacket. vague memory of seeing him once before - the ministry gala, she'll realise later, skulking around the way certain types of reporters tend to do around the karkaroff family - tries to push to the forefront of her mind, but she ignores it in favor of leaning across the bar and flashing a wry smile right back at him. " lucky for you, i like free coffee and my boss is in an easygoing sort of mood. gimme five ? "

[auguriies]

𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙿𝚃  :  there’s a short supply of kindness in this world.  𝚁𝙴𝚀𝚄𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙴𝙳 𝙱𝚈  :  @rebuildeds​  /  tempest clearwater  ! 𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽  :  broadly diagon alley, i have nowhere specific in mind  !

they suppose tempest knows that better than anyone, lately. catherine’s odd, but they’re not an idiot. though that thought does cross their mind, they don’t put it into words because that would be cruel, and potentially dragging up fairly complicated feelings regarding their sisters recent murder - if they’re anything like gracie, and they have no reason to know otherwise, just mentioning the events of the apothecary could be ruinous. best to keep comments to a minimal. and, granted, these are fairly heavy thoughts to be wrestling with just because they stooped to pick up their broken bag charm. catherine always ends up over complicating stuff, but that’s next level. “well, thank you,” they tell them, earnestly, clasping both hands over tempest’s to try and convey the depth of their gratitude before they take the charm, a porcelain eyeball with a now broken chain, “not many people would’ve stopped me, and this one has sentimental value. it belonged to my grandmother.” 

[rebiirths]

𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙿𝚃  :  i try to pretend like it isn't a thing, you know. 𝚁𝙴𝚀𝚄𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙴𝙳 𝙱𝚈   : @graciieux ! 𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽  :  diagon alley !

for what it's worth, he'd realised that he'd stepped in it before grace spoke up, though he'd been hoping against hope that they might be able to breeze past his typical faux pas. choosing to stop and say hello to her was one thing - he was being polite, making an effort, confronting a familiar face, for once, rather than turning away. choosing to follow that up with a 'you're grace, right ? you dated crabbe-' was another, and the marked effect that it had upon her ( two rapid blinks and a deer in headlights sort of expression, forming in real time across her face where previous there had been a friendly smile ) appropriately chastised him. "i'm sorry," the apology spills from him automatically, coming complete with an awkward shuffle from one foot to the other and a hand desperately combing its way through messy curls. his stomach somersaults, unpleasantly, and though he'd probably have been advised to change the subject, he doesn't manage to resist the urge to add, even more apologetically, "i understand. i'm sure there's so much more to you than... all that, i just- haven't been around much, of late. you know ? how's life been ?"

[monstrovs]

𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙿𝚃  :  are you going to kill me  ? 𝚁𝙴𝚀𝚄𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙴𝙳 𝙱𝚈  :  @sqviidboy​  ! 𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽  :  diagon alley  !

the disparaging look that niko gives him says more than he’s really willing to, honestly. a sort of you? that a slight curl of his lip follows with i don’t even know who you are. it’s a bizarre jump that he can only attribute to true cowardice ; he only pushed his way into the alley behind the leaky cauldron for a smoke, and both hands currently being full doesn’t exactly lend itself to whatever terrifying spectre the boy imagines him. he finishes the action he’d already started - places hand rolled cigarette between his teeth and lights it with muggle zippo, taking a long drag before removing it again to flick away the early ash - before he says anything at all, and even then, it’s only, “the fuck’s wrong with you ?” 

[woesbegone]

Luca does seem to have a knack for finding Damien in a form of distress, one way or another. He tries to laugh, but it doesn't come out right. He shifts so he is facing her, but not quite looking at her. "Yes, well - I couldn't go too long without moping. It was beginning to feel alien."

"have you ever thought of giving it up?" it's not a dig- it just sounds a lot like one. luca's been in worse moods with damien, usually pretty fairly, and right now she's just a little bemused. for once, it's a little funny to her how much everything has CHANGED since 'before' and here he is: still damien. "could be nice. might get you laid a bit more often."

[sibylliine]

"shit, man... i don't know," they have the audacity to look like they're being accosted, too ; their sudden halt looks unnatural and, to boot, they give him a kind of stranger danger, deer in headlights sort of look. they're just tired. maybe a little strung out. being caught up in the most current event of recent months allows them to be both, though they're definitely starting to veer into 'taking advantage' territory. "i'm not much of a reader," bit of a lie, but the easiest one to give if they want a quick exit, "the left ?"

𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: flourish and blotts, interior !! 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: open to all !!

paxton had been away for over two weeks, an escape for a troubled mind in the highlands of scotland, only getting back in the early hours of the morning. it was evident that he hadn't slept, the bags under his eyes growing darker with each step he takes around the book shop - he was searching for a new read, something to keep him from the nightmares that he succumbed to in his slumber. holding two novels in his hands, the obliviator looks to the nearest person before accosting them. "which do you prefer?"

[petriichvrs]

𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽  :  the leaky cauldron, diagon alley  !

it’s ridiculous to be entertaining this. a blind date service ? at this point in time, it seems downright dangerous, and definitely in poor taste. the world outside their door is getting darker & more terriffying by the minute and it’s magazines like witch weekly that are part of the problem, part of the conspiracy to downplay the horrors and make everything seem like everything is alright, and she can’t help herself. she comforts herself with the idea that if it were the daily prophet’s crossword that the person who’d sat here before them had left behind she would’ve dug a dull pencil out of her pocket all the same to idly fill it out, along with the fact that she has no real intention of sending it in. her heart’s not exactly in it - though this is a private struggle that ginny has avoided putting voice to for this long and feels as if she can manage to maintain silence on for, oh, another thirty years at least. “i’ve said i’m six foot two in my bio section,” she announces to her companion, proudly, pressing the worn out tip of her pencil into the printed text of the next part. “i can’t think of anything else to say, and i don’t know where to begin with what i’d want of a ‘romantic partner’-” there’s something mocking about the way that she says the last part, something that gives way to a dark mutter that is meant only for her own ears, “them not being dead is always a plus, i suppose.” 

[blvdgers]

𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽  :  fortescue’s ice cream parlour, diagon alley  !

“i hate to say it-” he gives the impression of really meaning it, too - eyes wide and earnest, lips curved into a sympathetic frown, he gestures helplessly towards where he just came from the back of the ice cream parlour, “but we’re all out of that flavor. sorry for getting your hopes up, but seems somebody cleared us out before you got here.” truth be told, a lot of people were clearing a lot of unused flavors, and henry couldn’t actually find it within himself to be mad about it. fortescue’s did good business during the summer, but the colder months were difficult. gimmick or not, midnight on diagon alley was likely going to tide them over through the holiday season - which was probably why he felt compelled to offer, “freckle & hyde’s just as good. d’you want a sample scoop?”

[bemyhcro]

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓: ❛ i'm not sober enough to talk about this. ❜ 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: leaky cauldron, diagon alley. 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒: closed for dudley dursley ( @rebuildeds )

"and neither am i, yet here we are." after his blunder at the gala with the muggle liaison, the obliviator has been trying to jump into conversation with the other man when possible. to apologise. whilst his new life was mirroring many of the treacherous acts of his father, paxton still had a mind of his own and by god he would admit when he was in the wrong. tapping on the bar nervously, he lifts his lager to his lips before taking another heavy sip. "i don't care how much you try to avoid me, i need to say something to you."

[judvs]

she's lucky. she repeats that like a mantra, all day long; she could be one of the wix rushing around all in a tizzy, desperately trying to track down the perfect gift for their lengthy list of loved ones. it'd be a nightmare. she'd hate it. there's nothing wrong with a shorter list & the only search being for the perfect white elephant present, due in the office sometime next week, but no matter how much she TRIES marietta cannot convince herself of these tiny lies she often tells, most especially to herself. her mood is AWFUL, automatically worsened when she manages to shoulder barge, of all people, a weasley. "godric above, weren't you looking where you're going?"

location: outside of brigg’s brooms in diagon ally, london

open starter, anyone is welcome to reply!

if anyone were to ask him why he was here, ron wouldn’t be able to come up with an answer. he’d likely fumble over his words and his cheeks and ears would tinge red with embarrassment. he had no reason to shop for a new broomstick. it wasn’t like flying was a hobby of his, and he hadn’t played a proper quidditch game in ages. plus, he had his old broom stuffed in his closet at his flat. ron used to have harry’s as well, but he gave that back to his friend after he returned from the dead. still, he had been strolling down diagon ally’s streets, and seeing brigg’s brooms brought back so many memories.

memories as a child, tagging along as charlie, then percy, then fred and george, and finally himself, got to go to diagon ally and pick up school supplies . . . he’d always run straight over to brigg’s brooms, where he was standing now. he’d press his face and palms right up against the glance, his eyes comically wide as he observed the best, fastest new brooms on the market. for the rest of the year, he’d talk about it constantly, until the next visit where he saw the next broom. it’d been a simpler time . . . at least for him . . . until things with voldemort got really serious. now, everything was a mess. he was a mess.

ron was so deep into his thoughts that he didn’t notice that there was another person heading his way until the bumped into his shoulder.