#eudora ferguson

[arts-butthound]

Letters to Ominis

Summary: The trio have graduated Hogwarts and life has set each of them to the wind on their own. However, Eudora and Ominis continue to write to each other after the summer...

Word count: 5k+

Tags: Ominis x F!Hufflepuff student, fluff, they like each other but don’t know that the other likes them back.

part 2

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September 27th, 1893

To Mr. Ominis Gaunt-Archivist Extraordinaire,

It has only been a few short months since we last saw each other and I have thought of you every moment I’ve had that was truly mine. I often think about the three of us in France together, taking in the sunset as the waves crash against the shore. Of your encouraging promises to write me-and I do expect you to keep your word.

Despite the valley still smelling of summer, the school year has started, as has my aid to Professor Howin. 1st years eagerly line up to pet the puffskeins, 2nd years attempt to hide pretty shinies from nifflers, and 3rd years are being promised that by mid term-they will have learned to approach hippogriffs. I’m sure Highwing and Nocturne will be on their best behavior when the time comes.

It’s only been a few weeks and the halls are alive again as they ever were. Our poor grounds keeper is already discretely drinking away his mourning for his freshly mopped floors. Despite all the life around me, the halls feel awfully empty without all my friends here. It is as if I still see you, Sebastian, and myself running through the halls or hiding from Peeves. I’m so very grateful for the two of you. You made what I feared would be a very lonely school life into something of I could have never expected. Imagine going from telling cattle your deepest darkest desires for all of fifteen years, to suddenly being thrust into the care of people so wildly enthusiastic for your company. If it weren’t for Poppy, in her last year, I should expire of lonely nostalgia in the absence of you all, you and Sebastian especially.

A second year Gryffindor seems to have formed an attachment to me. I think he may have some very weighty things on his young mind and I only hope to be a comfort to him.

I argue with the keeper’s portraits constantly. Apparently preserving the thought processes of hundreds of years ago has its drawbacks. In my staying to study the repository “again, for the third year” has me in the running to become the new Isidora, and a threat to their precious secrets. There are many times I begin to understand her frustration, though not her means. My theories are often shot down, and there are days where they keep me from the repository completely. I’ve begun to find Silencio to be a very handy spell to have on hand. Deek, the house elf, has very kindly continued in helping me try to uncover what exactly this magic is and why it is so dangerous.

I hope your training in the Ministry is going well and that they are treating you well. And that you’re eating enough...and sleeping enough, though that shouldn’t be so hard for you. I expect to hear of all the terribly wicked gossip that comes across your desk. Withholding what is too historically salacious, of course. Far be it from me to get you into trouble, for that has always been Sebastian’s chief delight.

I have written him but I suppose his studies keep him busy, for I have not heard word back from him yet. Professor Hecat appropriately caught me sulking about it and assured me that it is most common for an Unspeakable to be out of contact for periods of time. I hope Sebastian is well and taking care of himself. I fear his obsessive tendencies, even being that they are an aid in his new career.

Please write back to me soon, Ominis, for my world is darker for lack of your company,

Your friend,

Eudora

 October 4th, 1893

To Miss Eudora Ferguson- animal care-taker extraordinaire,  

I fear I have little to tell concerning salacious history, for I am too lowly to have such things cross my desk as of yet. In years to come, I shall remember to share all I can.

My work is straight forward enough and my days repeating. I wake up, I eat a small something, leave my rented room and spend all day as courier to officiate documents before they are filed away. I come home well after dark, eat another small something I picked up on the way home, and sleep. It isn’t much, but it is honest work. Without the influence of my family, it is wholly my own doing. Tossing around the Gaunt name does not hold as much water as it did with Professor Black, I’m at no loss to say. Honestly, if people learn of my family name, they have a tendency to become distant. I will show them, given time, that I am nothing like the rest of the House of Gaunt. Fret not, pet, for I care for myself as best as I am able.

For as much comfort as you were to Sebastian and I during our time at Hogwarts, I am sure you will be nothing but a heavenly reprieve for your new young friend. As for the portraits, I’m afraid I have no mind to give advice on such things. Those who made up their minds centuries ago aren’t likely to change their minds when only their portraits remain- for there is no mind to change anymore. Keep at it with your persistent determination and I’m sure you will make a discovery eventually. If silencio is your one comfort with them, then let it be so.

I have not heard from Sebastian myself, though the two of us perhaps don’t reach out with letters to each other such as you do. Try not to worry. I’m sure his head is firmly glued to his desk and surrounded by towers of books, if that is indeed how Unspeakables operate. I’m sure the loss of Anne last year has only kicked his obsessive tendencies into a higher power. He will come up for air eventually and we will hear from him. You and I are all the family he has left after all.

Take pride in your efforts but do try not to stretch yourself so thin. I’d hate to receive news that you’d caught fever again.

Yours affectionately,

O. G

October 13th 1893

My dearest Ominis,

You are right, I shouldn’t worry about Sebastian as I do. However, making sense of things rarely allows the heart to change and I will continue to worry about him, more than likely, until I hear from him.

I received the rare letter from my mother yesterday, voicing a great many concerns that I have heard time and again. It seems to vex her that I am still in contact with you and Sebastian without any understanding of marital intentions. She worries that my reputation will be forever sullied and that I shall be labeled as a loose woman that only rakes will seek out but never respect. To her, it was bad enough that we were friends when I had just come of age to be in society, “running around as a young boy with skinned knees and muddy clothes” as she said. But now she fears that I am to lose much more than my dignity on the subject now that I am a young woman of marrying age. She so rarely seems to be in contact just to lend her maternal warmth and good wishes it seems. It’s times like this where it is revealed how oppressive the muggle world can be, how closed off from even each other they are. It is almost the 20th century, yet still men and women cannot be simple friends without something sordid going on in the background. The wizarding world is very different in that way.

You and Sebastian have always been protectors of my dignity and image and have never once been uncouth towards me. No matter how often I tell her that, she refuses to believe it. I can never seem to find the words that would soothe her misgivings. I even told her when you headed off Garreth Weasley in fifth year for persuading me steal for him (though I left that part out.) How he couldn’t be in the same room with you for two weeks without watching your every move in terror. Nothing helps, I’m afraid.  She’s says that she trusts me, but her every other action and fear would suggest otherwise.

Professor Onai and I both got a letter from Natty recently. She seems to be taking Auror training with all the brass she brings to any ambition of hers, though she does admit to soreness and an odd sense of paranoia. She did also mention that her trainers warned all their trainees about that. Professor Onai got that same crease in the middle of her brow that she gets whenever she’s worried, but a cup of hot tea and stories of the old days seemed to calm her.

A small brown cat seems to have taken a liking to me recently. He follows me around the school as a duckling might its mother, crying insistently until I pick him up. He’s quite the scarf and I have thus decided to name him as such. He has also learned where my living quarters are in the castle and will yowl at the door until I allow him in. He’s quite the talkative little man. He settles on the rug in front of the fire place and will join me in bed once I settle in. I must say, I’ve grown quite fond of him in this short time.

Opal the mooncalf gave birth again, this time to twins. Her husband seems quite pleased.

Are you excited for Halloween? I love it when the castle is cluttered with carved pumpkins and leaves fall, crunching pleasantly underfoot. I fondly recall you cursing each jack-o-lantern that dared to trip you in the halls. I spent the evening in Hogsmeade at The Three Broomsticks, crouched over a hot butterbeer, perhaps two days ago. I had come there with Poppy, but she seemed thusly entertained by a young musician and left me alone at the table. Miss Sirona and I could only eye each other with all too knowing grins. I’m sure it won’t be a lasting distraction, but it was good to see Poppy continue to work to connect with more people. Poppy and I walked home as fat snowflakes fell on top of us. I daresay that I was ready for another hot butterbeer by the time I got back to my chamber.

Do keep warm,

Eudora.

October 20th 1893

My dear Eudora,

Damned pumpkins. The Ministry building was flooded with them, too! As if the floor-ways weren’t crowded enough as is. You’ll be very entertained to read that I nearly twisted my ankle several times tripping over the wretched things, or toppled over them after being pushed into them. I shall be more than happy to see them disappear after Halloween.

Are you still insisting on referring to breeding pairs of animals as husband and wife? Truly, the sorting hat knew what it was doing by putting you into Hufflepuff. Your sentimentality knows no bounds. I don’t think mooncalves even mate for life, if given the chance. Opal and Stanley only stay that affectionate because they are the only breeding adults you seem fond enough of to keep. I can easily imagine you marrying your childhood toys together when it suited you. A precious imagining, indeed.

I’m sorry the letter from your mother wasn’t kinder. At least you know she worries out of love for you. It’s hard to understand how she ever married a wizard, with all her fretting of magic. But out of a strange union came you, so at least she did one careless, beautiful thing in her life. Let her not worry you about other’s perspective of you. Friendship between the sexes has been a long time occurrence in the wizarding world. I’m more than happy to say that I haven’t heard from any in my family since we graduated. I would have it no other way.

You’ll be comforted to know that an old clerk woman in my department seems to have taken a liking to me. She’s ancient and smells of mothballs. I’d dare say, when those odorous things came on the market, she filled every foot of her home with them. She’s even kindly placed a handful in my palm sometimes, when she’s feeling sentimental. Tells me I remind her of her son, and that he would always get holes in his suits from the little devils. Sometimes she sends me home with a portion of a homemade meal. She’s not a fantastic cook, but then neither am I, so I remain appreciative.

Thinking of you often,

O.G.

October 28th 1893,

Dearest Ominis,

‘One beautiful and careless thing in her life.’  I can’t tell if you’re trying to flatter my mother or me. Do be careful sir. A man could cause terrible things to stir within a woman, sounding as you do. The women of London would have no idea what would become of them, should you begin to skulk about their dance parlors. Secret dancer that you are, it is truly a shame you have no taste for conversation, or new company. Whether or not you talk to people, you’ll find that they find you handsome, if not intimidating…much like a certain Mr. Darcy that I know of.

Peeves seems to have set his sights on me. The other day, whilst I was doing my laundry, all my freshly cleaned undergarments had disappeared. A moment later, I could hear his howling laughter down the hall.  They appeared two days later, hung amongst the bells in the bell tower. If you imagine my embarrassment at retrieving them, then you have only imagined a third of it. Professor Weasley found out at threatened to banish Peeves from the castle…to which he threatened to set the castle on fire. Again. To which Professor Weasley threatened to summon the Bloody Baron. Peeves conceded and sulked away. At least I got my underwear back, I suppose. I will have to be more watchful in the future, should I become a regular target of his.

I have learned a new great joy in life and it is challenging Professor Black as an equal rather than as a student. I caught him berating another ‘lesser’ student since last I wrote. The poor child had been being tormented by a pack of thoughtless pure-blood students, and Professor Black thought he could degrade this poor child further. I stood up to him, put my arm around the child, and told him that if he felt so important sticking his nose up at children, perhaps it would make him bigger still to use that same tilt at a adult able to match him. I decided to berate him back, in the most respectful manner of course. It took the wind clear out of his sails, and he scurried back to his dark little office. I don’t know how often I should use this against him, as I do recall his power over my station here at the school. But I also know my own cards that I can deal against him.

I’ve formed a theory on ancient magic recently, though I’ve yet to be anywhere close to proving it. It was ancient several hundred years ago. Perhaps what makes it ancient is that it is older than human magic? With the things I’ve been able to do with it, how I saw it used in the pensieves; much of it seems to have similarities with modern magic, but with an extra something. With Deek helping me…perhaps it’s just me over thinking., but what if this ancient magic, and what elves are able to do with their own magic are somehow related? How then some humans are able to see it, I haven’t the slightest. My theory is too new and may very well be totally wrong. The portraits are of no help and still cling to their fear of understanding what it is. I don’t understand how one of the keepers could see it, wield it for such powerful good, and yet be so averse to understand why or what it is. One needs to understand why a thing is dangerous, what about it must be avoided. We understand dark magic for a reason, why not the same for ancient magic? We praise and swear by Merlin, and more than likely, he would know what this magic is-or at least been keen to know.

That young Gryffindor boy continues to impress all his teachers, and infuriate them. He has quite an intellect and thirst for knowledge. I dare to say that he would rival even Sebastian’s own pursuits. He’s quite an angry young man, I must say, but there is grief in his anger too. To distract him from his thoughts, I’ve sent him on small hunts through the castle that-to my pride- sometimes take him a few days to find his goal. By the time he is a 6th year, I dare say he will have an unflappable mental map of the entire school. Professor Weasley has taken to kindness towards him as well and he rewards her with high marks in her class. I hope that Hogwarts brings some comfort to him as it did me.

How is your work going? Are you adjusting to London well? I pray that your mothball madam is keeping you well fed. You give me so few details on your life there that I feel I must prompt you.

Are you well?

Eudora.

November 5th 1893,

Eudora,

I can scarcely believe I allowed you to read that book to me and that I even remember as to what you’re referencing. If I remind you of that Mr. Darcy, I should consider that a mark against my character. He was a rather formidable foil to Elizabeth until he pulled his head from his ass, and I should pray that I am not near so needlessly difficult.

I have always praised your character. Flattery or no, it is the truth, for you are very careless.

I beg you not antagonize, nor impassion Professor Black. Spineless as he is, witless as he is, he is still a powerful man. Whether or not you think your victory in the recent goblin rebellion will give you a better standing in wizard society, pure-blood families will always have the power to quash that what threatens them! They always have and I don’t see that changing in the near future. I could not bear to know that you were one of those wonde Don’t make me live to see you disappear. Don’t ask me to bear that. Take caution.

If Peeves were tangible, I should strangle the lout for his lack of propriety and decorum. Making an acquaintance with the Bloody Baron should suffice to keep Peeves at bay. Peeves is terrified of the Baron. He’s not so terrible, once he allows you passed the persona; the man is prideful and hot tempered, but during my time in Slytherin house, I had a handful or two good conversations with him.  If you are seen in his company, I’m sure Peeves will never pull such a stunt against you again!

Your theory has merit, though I don’t know how you could prove such a thing, or how well the rest of wizarding society would take it. Especially with ancient magic being such a closely kept secret. It is a shame that Sebastian is still missing from our company, for he would likely be of great help to you. Keep the thought in your pocket, perhaps strings of it will lead you elsewhere.

As for life in London…my dear, you crave the words of a novelist I fear, for which I am not. The streets are crowded and I’ve had to take to being rather cunning on how I use my wand to navigate. The air is more dense and unpleasant to anything I have ever before breathed. While crossing a road, a carriage nearly ran me over two weeks passed. Were it not for a kind civilian, I would have been trampled. The carriage owner and driver were never identified, to my knowledge. It is quite loud. I sit here struggling of what else there is to say. It is fairly monotonous, my work is not exciting. But it is simple and it is earned and I work every day to shed my coworkers preconceptions of my family name. Those who know of the Gaunts have whispered to those who previously did not.

You were always the adventurer, Eudora, and will no doubt collect more stories in your life than I will. I feel I have had more than my fair share as it is.

Adventure safely,

O.G.

PS: Don’t phrase it as mothball madam, I beg of you. The implications are horrendous.

November 18th 1893,

Truly, Ominis

If you believe Mr. Darcy needlessly difficult, you did not understand him or his world view. Irritating, or painful though his actions were to Elizabeth, they were meant as a kindness to those he cherished. Damn the rest of the world. I believe I recall you damning the rest of the school to help Sebastian and me out of our blunders…if only to chide us yourself later.

You could have told me about the carriage incident weeks ago, you realize? Who would have informed me if something happened to you, especially with you so nonplussed to speak about your life there? Do you tell anyone of Sebastian or me so that we can help, or worse- be notified, if something happens? Especially with your wand hidden as it must be, I can’t imagine that makes navigating any easier. I’m very glad you weren’t hurt. I should be torn asunder were something to happen that took you away from me, Ominis. You are important in my life and I would see it that you never be parted from me it.

You have such a way with words. I feel as if I know London intimately thanks to your description, truly! Should I ever visit the city on my own, I know I shall be familiar with all your favorite haunts. At least I know to pack perfumed handkerchiefs as a precautionary measure.

The winter holidays are fast upon us and I can scarcely believe it. Before I notice it, a new year will be upon us. Students are beginning to make holiday plans, whether they are staying at the castle or going home to their families. It’s a little early, but still students titter. I suppose I’ll be expected to go home to mother. I can leave Scarf and the other animals in Deek’s gentle care. Mother will be wanting to bring me to winter community dances and introduce me to fine and well established farm hands in efforts to begin to find me a suitable husband. Of course, he will be a muggle. Either she fails to realize that his being introduced to my being a witch will be imperative, or she is still trying to close me off from my father’s inheritance. The only reason I’d want to go home is to steal away with my favorite cow and come back to Hogwarts, which is now more of a home than my mother’s farm, and I do miss Kilt the cow a great deal. Of my two choices, staying at the castle comes easiest, though not most preferred. I’m told that Natsai will be coming to the castle for the holidays to visit with her mother, so I suppose I won’t totally be without company (as Poppy plans to go home to her grandmother.) I had thought, at the beginning of the school year, that you, Sebastian, and I might reunite for the holidays. But that doesn’t seem likely.

I also had hopes that one of us would have heard from Sebastian by now and I am sore for his company. I continue to send letters to him but they remain un-responded to. Whatever research and training he’s doing better be well worth the chiding he will get when he does finally appear! In the dark of night, when I think of it, my mind gives such sharp pains to the thought of losing contact with him permanently. Where could he be, do you think, that should keep him from us this long? Four months is such a dreadfully long time. I have tried to persuade Professor Hecate to tell me something of the work of an unspeakable, that way I might understand what stops him from writing. She is a wall as she ever was.

I hope you’re keeping warm as it gets colder at night. Scarf is growing into quite a large cat and has been enjoying a whole side of the bed to himself…of course, that is until I settle down into the covers and he climbs on top of me to sleep, tucking his face under my chin as he does.  He’s very warm.

I still go to the undercroft sometimes, when I’m feeling lonely. I miss dearly our late night talks there, or when you and Sebastian were kind enough to let me share my favorite books with you. Always after curfew or Sebastian would set to complaining. It still smells musty and sometimes I think I smell you. Perhaps I am overly nostalgic. Perhaps that, due to my late arrival to the school, I wasn’t quite ready to leave when everyone else was. A part of me still feels that we should all be here. But I think I just miss you.

Goodness me, would you listen to the sap I’ve devolved into! This is probably why I shouldn’t write to you late at night, when all my thoughts go to wondering without supervision. I do apologize sincerely. I seem to have taken my self-reflection out on you. Perhaps I won’t send this letter and rewrite it tomorrow when I have my senses returned to me. If I do send this to you, please don’t think ill of me. I’m sure my next letter will be much less…whatever this was, and I will return to telling you of witty adventures and theories.

Have patience with me,

Eudora.

December 2nd, 1893

My most sincere Eudora,

Blasted bird. I apologize for the lateness of my letter, it would seem the owl became either horribly turned around or forgot where it was supposed to go. I only just received you letter this evening as I was walking home from work.

Please think nothing of your wondering mind, for it does not offend me. In fact I must thank you for sending your last letter unaltered. Your heart was always truthful and holding back your thoughts did only make you ill of soul and body, if I recall. If you feel lonely, tell me so. Should you feel joyous, allow me to share it. If your righteous anger burns, tell me to whom I should hurl my vitriol towards. You need never fear honesty between the two of us.

Should it please you to hear it, I also miss our reading hours in the undercroft, whether your choice of book was terribly romantic or deviously adventurous. I come back to my room and it is quiet and without the familial warmth I found in Sebastian, Anne, and even you. You had such a way of reading that one felt they were truly in the story. For what it is worth, I am glad that the undercroft remains a comfort to you. I do not know how long it will be left empty once you have quit Hogwarts for good. Of course, there will always be new members of the Gaunt family to fill it, but I regret that it may never be the safe haven we knew it as again.

I too regret that you did not join Hogwarts sooner, for it robbed us all of time with each other. I can picture all three of us who were of Slytherin house cherishing and caring for our lone Hufflepuff. Had you been able to know Anne, you would have loved her as Sebastian and I did, (I seem to find myself mournfully nostalgic as well, these days.) I do so hate the thought of you being such a lonely little girl, for it strikes a familiar cord in me that was a lonely little boy and I would wish that on no one. Should we have all been together longer, there would have been many more memories for you to hold during the summers back home-though, I imagine that the Figs may have tried to wrestle you into their care at some point or another, with how fond the professor was of you. I like to imagine you would not have felt the need to carry an entire goblin rebellion solely upon yourself, had you more connections to rest back upon. Perhaps it’s just the time of year, my dear, that makes us think of our time passed or stolen.

Perhaps it is impertinent to suggest this, even selfish of me, but it does occur to me nonetheless. Should you want to leave the confines of Hogwarts and its valley, yet not go home to your mother, you are free to come to me. I have only the single room with little furnishings, but you are welcome to all I have. I should be glad of your warm company and perhaps a visit would chase the melancholy from both of us. Of course, I realize you are also close with Miss Onai, and should you prefer to stay in her company this season-it would gladden me greatly to know you are comforted in her friendship.

You shall always have my patience without asking for it. No matter what you could possibly do, I shall always think of you kindly. Your name is a bell hung in my soul; should you but ring, I would

Your friend, always,

O.G

December 10th 1893

Ominis,

My coming to see you is a brilliant idea and I’m glad you thought of it. I will buy my tickets. I will see you on the twenty second and I will stay with you through new years . Let the two of us chase away each others sorrows, as to start fresh in the new year! There are things about this season that cause me to think of things I’d rather not-and you have always been wonderfully distracting.

Don’t blame the owl too harshly. I can’t imagine flying in December is always easy for them.  

Yours eagerly,

Eudora.

[latestinbollywood]

Bobbie Faye Ferguson Wiki, Biography, Cause of Death, Age, Husband, Son, Career, Net Worth & More

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Bobbie Faye Ferguson passed away at the age of 78 on 25 June 2022. She died because of natural causes. Her funeral was held on 20 August 2022 in Los Angeles, California. 

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Bobbie Faye Ferguson was an American actress. She was known as the mother of The Conners actor Jay R. Ferguson. She was the teacher of history at McClellan High School.  She served as a teacher of speech and debate at the Skyline High Schools. She was the founding member and acting teacher at the KD Studio.  She worked for the Department of Homeland Security in Los Angeles. She played her role as a NASA consultant in th 2000 film Space Cowboys.

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Bobbie Faye Ferguson was born on 10 October 1943. She was born in Memphis, Tennessee, United States. She was raised by her parents in Eudora, Arkansas. She lived in Sherman Oaks, California. Her religion is not known.  Birth Name Bobbie Faye Ferguson Nick Name Bobbie Profession American Actress Date of  Birth 10 October 1943 Birth Place Memphis, Tennessee, United States Residence Sherman Oaks, California Gender Female Religion Not Known

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[seanhtaylor]

The Greatest Library in Heaven?!

You've just died and gone to Reader Heaven. As your eternal reward, you are given a library of every book written by any 25 authors (including those they only wrote in their imaginations) to read, re-read, and master forever and ever amen -- but no other books. Whom do you choose?

Me?

1. Kurt Vonnegut

2. Ray Bradbury

3. Zora Neale Hurston

4. Walter Mosely

5. Flannery O'Connor

6. H. Rider Haggard

7. Edgar Rice Burroughs

8. Ernest Hemingway

9. Bobby Nash

10. Derrick Ferguson

11. Barry Reese

12. Eudora Welty

13. Raymond Chandler

14. Dashiell Hammett

15. Robert Heinlein

16. William Shakespeare

17. C.S. Lewis

18. Shusaku Endo

19. Ed McBain

20. Ursula K. Le Guin

21. Langston Hughes

22. Annie Dillard

23. Donald Westlake

24. Lawrence Block

25. Christa Faust

[campaignoutsider]

Shut Up: Ring Lardner Explained

Shut Up: Ring Lardner Explained

From the first time I read a Ring Lardner short story (“Haircut,” I believe, like a billion other American high schoolers), I’ve been a huge fan of his work. So much so that back in the ’70s and ’80s I set out to collect original editions of all his books, haunting used bookstores from New York to California and multiple stops in between. (That was, of course, pre-Amazon, pre-eBay,…

[arts-butthound]

A Day in London

Summary: Eudora arrives in London and settles in with her old friend.

Word count: 4.5k

Tags: Ominis x F!Hufflepuff student, fluff, SFW, stubborn idiots.

Part 2 to Letters to Ominis. Part 1 here  though it’s not necessary to understand whats going on

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It had been six months since she’d last seen Ominis Gaunt, the longest period of time in years. During her summers away from Hogwarts, it was only a measly two months. Two months of knowing that he and Sebastian were in that wretched cottage in Feldcroft, technically old enough to care for themselves without Solomon. Two months of writing to them from her own lonely little cottage a country away, with only her mother and the farm animals. But six months? It was excessive and empty.

Eudora spent her time on the train thinking of how she was to conduct herself around him. What could she say? Certainly not what she felt. Not what she’d spent those six months gagging down since their summer in France. It was stupid, and she knew it, to answer that damned letter before she had the sense to think it through. Sending off her answer not even a full hour after his letter had been received. She only had the sense to kick herself for her recklessness a full two days after her own letter had been sent.

She loved him.

In the way a woman loves a man.

The way poetry loves the ear.

She loved him. It was incandescent and warm, and she could almost pinpoint every moment that had lead up to this. But the cataclysm of it had been France, with the summer sunset in his hair and that easy smile he wore as he listened to her and Sebastian make asses of themselves. At first she had told herself it was purely an aesthetic admiration- no one could say he wasn’t handsome. It was a small infatuation that would pass. But it did not. Not with the way she fantasized about being tucked into the safety of his chest, or imagined the things he could whisper to her in secret, or how she hung on his every letter.

Eudora hated loving him because it proved her mother right about boys and girls being friends. Nothing stung more than that. With each letter, Eudora held back writing down her longing for him. However, sometimes, something of that longing would sneak onto the page. She’d either have to cross it outor play it off as friendly teasing. Sometimes it seemed as if Ominis, too, might be more than complimenting her, but she could not read his own crossed out lines and such a thing felt like wishful thinking.

So she risked all-propriety, self-respect, and both their reputations- to visit a man she told herself that she was content to stay friends with. Now she was to spend a little more than a week with him, pretending all was as it had always been.

At least she was no stranger to keeping her true thoughts to herself. Eudora would survive, if only just.

The train station was abuzz with a noise so loud that Eudora could feel it through her shoes and in her finger tips. People jostled around her en mass. Shrieking breaks. Steam being let off. People called the names of those they wished to find-drowned out in all the others calling in the same way. Yellow and grey bricks. Endless panels of glass and sky above her. And she stood there, completely overwhelmed by it all. It seemed life threatened to constantly grow bigger with each new experience, for never before had she been in, let alone seen, such a swell of people in one place before. She’d thought the same of Hogwarts in those first days, but the castle had expanses of empty, quiet places, where noise dissipated into a gentle and unintelligible humming. There was time and room to adjust to the newness of it all.

King’s Cross station was not the castle, and there was no room to adjust before stepping into the crowds. They jostled, bumped into, and pushed aside anything and everything. She was all but swallowed by it, her red hair being the only thing that set her apart from the crowds. But Eudora would not be frozen. She was four years removed from the little girl who had only known the farm and the expanse of empty fields. With a stiff upper lip, she marched into the crowds, very grateful that she did not have a large bag to struggle with in all this.

‘Accio Ominis’ she thought to herself, peering over hundreds of heads to the best of her ability. Just as she began to lose hope in finding just one person like this, she spotted him- there against a wall in a brown suit, with eyes closed and fingers tapping against his arm idly. Suddenly, she was pushing forward with as much vigor as the rest of the crowd.

“Ominis!” she cried out, waving in spite of knowing that he wouldn’t see it. His head bobbed up, ear searching for her origin. He looked nearly the same, despite their time apart, with his hair ever combed back, being well dressed, and a little narrow for a man-though much more broad than he’d been as a boy. But the sight of him glowed anew, for it felt as if it had been an eternity since she’d last been near him. She struggled to free herself from the flow of people, launching herself at him as her arms curled around his middle. The warmth of him, the sound of his joy, the smell of him-this train station, in all its chaos, could not take that from her. “Happy Christmas!”

“Happy Christmas.” Ominis laughed, hugging her back in kind. He reached behind him, searching the wall before finding a long wooden cane. “I hope your journey wasn’t too taxing.”

“Perish the thought! It was rather dull, I’m sure you’re happy to hear…Is that how you’ve been hiding your wand?”

“Oh this? Yes.” He pulled at the handle of the cane, releasing it from its wooden sheath and revealing only a small part of his old friend. “It’s…the best way I can describe it is muffled, but it gets the job done around the non magic folk.” He sheathed his wand again and offered her his right arm. “Where’s your bag? Allow me to take it.”

“Very kind of you,” Eudora sounded as a cat who had gotten the cream, “but unnecessary. I may have allowed myself the small luxury of an enchantment. My little reticule here?” she spun the beaded green bag around on her fingers, “It can fit anything I should have need of and scarcely be any heavier! I saw it in Gladrags over in Hogsmeade and thought it rather apt for my trip here.”

“Very useful, indeed. I hope it didn’t cost you too much?”

“Oh, nothing too terrible. An expense, surely, but I’ve some savings.”

“Shall we, then?”

“Let’s! I’m quite eager to see how you’ve been living-if you’ve been honest with me.” She nudged him while taking his arm, causing the both of them to sway as they entered back into the flow of bodies.

“It’s not impressive, as I believe I’ve told you.”

“Oh please, you act as if you’re the only one living in a single room.”

“How modest, from a woman living in a castle.” He said as he led them out of the train station.

Eudora had never been to a city before, only ever having known the countryside and various villages. Ornate buildings blocked out large swaths of the sky, carriages commanded the road ways, and people flowed up and down the sidewalks as blood in veins. The air tasted foul, just as Ominis had said, and the sky was a murky gray. Mud, or what she thought was mud, caked the streets, and there was the pungent inescapable smell of urine.  It would appear that Ominis’ natural pessimism was well earned yet again. For all that could be beautiful about the city, there was soot and ash. She paid special attention to pick up her skirts when crossing the street.

She had expected much more, to be frank.

If there was one thing that she couldn’t disparage was that she looked the part. In planning for the trip, there had been a quiet anxiety of looking too much like some dull little country girl amongst the distinguished and elegant ladies of the city. That traitorous little voice inside her head thought-that if he could see- she would want to look like a woman that a man would be proud to be seen with. Of course, she also reasoned that she should look respectable in respected society-as a matter of not embarrassing herself first and foremost. She wore her hair up and bundled under a small brimmed hat and decorative pins, a pinstripe skirt and dark blue coat. Amongst the women of the city now, she hoped she pulled it off. Being on Ominis’ arm, like this? She felt like a proper lady.

As they walked to his apartment building, they spoke of grand mischief, gossip, and what could not be properly explained in letters. They spoke of Sebastian, predicting what he was doing at that moment, betting on what he could possibly be studying now (Ominis became rather quiet and dark here, a sinking feeling apparently deep in his belly before he made a hopeful guess.) They hoped their friend was taking care of himself.

 It was an old, tall building; brick built with fading yellow stone-stained black by soot, and took up a whole corner of the street. Nothing about it struck one as lovely, but it was a place reserved for wizarding kind, a safe haven in the bustle of a grand muggle city. That much had to be appreciated. As unassuming as it was on the outside, inside was as if everything that could possibly exist was hammered onto the walls. A flying book smacked into Ominis’ face as soon as the main doors closed behind them, Eudora held her mouth shut to refrain from laughing. From behind closed doors, bursts of light, sound, smoke came from the spaces underneath. Wands held out in the open, waving away notices, childish pranks, or lifting objects to higher floors. People talking comfortably in doorways.

Ominis lived on the third floor, down the hall to the left. It was hard to make locks that wizards couldn’t just alohamora themselves past, but as locks were needed-locks they had. He produced a small glowing key from an inner coat pocket and stuck it in the door, letting them in.

He hadn’t been being modest when he said it was a humble room. As Eudora walked inside she noted the following; a bed, neatly made, a desk stacked with books and piles of papers, a wash basin and jug, a small couch by the window, a small bin by the door, a dresser, and a narrow fireplace. There was little color and the window bled the place of what was left by letting in the December light. But it smelled of wood ash and what could only be distinctly Ominis. Eudora put her hands to her hips and nodded resolutely. “It’s not near as bad as you made it sound. I’d say it just needs a woman’s touch. With your permission, I could make this right more comfortable for you in just two days. Then you shouldn’t need to be so bashful about it.” His soft laughter caught her attention and she turned to face him. Ominis had not moved from the doorway, indeed leaning into the doorjamb. Blind eyes gazing into the room. “What’s so funny?”

“Eudora Ferguson-ever in need to fix things.”  He said.

“What? I can and do leave well-enough alone, often! I don’t have to fix things.”

“Yes, you do. You just can’t help yourself. You’re quite the busy-body.”

“Name three instances where I couldn’t not fix something. I’ll wait.”

And then he smirked. Cracking his shoulders, walking towards her, Ominis began to count. “You compulsively fixed a race war for a world you had only just been introduced to, you went along with Sebastian’s antics to fix Anne, you patched and darned holes in your friends clothes whenever they had need of it-which was often. It was Hogwarts after all. You fixed a good deal of poacher activities in the valley, you regularly made yourself available as a teachers assistant, you worked tirelessly to keep your mother’s anxieties low, you visit the grave of Professor Fig to keep it tidy because there is no one left of his family to maintain it, you know many cures for animals ailments and injuries, you helped fix up Mr. Sallow’s cottage when Sebastian took possession of it-”

“I said three, you ass.” Eudora snarked as he came to stand right in front of her. He was filling out more into a man by the day it seemed. There was the start of a mustache growing on his lip, his suit made him look older-more distinguished, and his hair was just a bit longer. There were a myriad of small changes that should go unnoticed in him, that she should not take note of, as his friend. She readjusted her glasses that had slipped from her nose.

“It’s good to have you here, Eudora. I so dearly missed mocking you.”

“The cruelties I suffer for your amusement, sir. I should say I am abused.”

“However shall you regain your dignity?”

As she was about to cleverly retort back, the floor began to violently shake beneath her-the paper on the desk began to scatter, and a terribly loud rumbling shook her skull. “Ominis?” but her voice was drowned out by the noise. The entire room began to shake, a high pitch screeching stung through the air. She tumbled into Ominis’ side, sending him back a few paces against a bed post. She couldn’t bear it, the sound- the sound! Her fingers clawed into his shirt. Turning her head, outside the window was a train being trailed by a fat smoke stack.

It took another minute or two for the train to fully pass and the sound to follow it. “Is it that late already?” Ominis mused. “Terribly sorry, pet. Suppose I forgot to warn you about that. Alright there?” He gave her back a friendly pat.

She was wide-eyed. Stunned. “Ominis…you were right. London is terribly loud.”

“And because of that, my rent is practically theft. It should only happen once more today, closer to dinner.”

“That’s going to happen again?”

“Twice a day. Luckily, I’m normally only home for the dinner train. You do get used to it-after a time.”

Chuffed, Eudora glared out the window. “I think they should pay you to take this place. That was horrid.” Her senses were suddenly returned to her hands-to the soreness in her knuckles and the fabric bunched up in her palms…She was still clutching Ominis’ shirt. Worse-she was still tucked tightly into him. Her cheeks flushed an angry red and she immediately let go, taking an appropriate three steps away. “Sorry. I do believe I’ve wrinkled your shirt.” She said with a calmness of voice that she absolutely did not feel. That wouldn’t do! Friends did not cling to each other as a cow frightened by a storm! Not as adults! She mentally chastised herself-how woefully inappropriate!

Ominis’ hand rubbed at the creases on his ribs thoughtfully. “Pay it no mind…I hardly noticed.” He said. Of course he’d be a gentleman about such a breach of personal space. She was very glad for his being blind at that moment, for the red had not left her face yet. “Shall we get you settled in then? I’m sure you’re tired from your journey.”

“Yes, of course.” Eudora smacked at imagined wrinkles in her skirt. “I’d suppose I’m to sleep on the couch over there?” She’d slept in grass and in hay bales. A couch seemed just as well.

“Absolutely not, Eudora. What kind of host would I be if I put you on the couch? You’ll take the bed, I’ll sleep on the couch.” Ominis, to make his point, went over and sat down, resting elbows on knees and leaning over himself.

Eudora stuck her hands on her hips. “I can’t kick you out of your own bed, Ominis. That just feels-”

“I insist.”

She watched him for a moment, sitting there with his own brand of calm cockiness. Stubborn as he ever was. Even when it was her doing the arguing, he was infamously difficult to persuade once he’d made up his mind. Eudora bitterly sighed. “Thank you.” She groused, tossing her reticule onto the mattress. “But if that’s the way it’s going to be, you’re getting your Christmas present early.”

It always felt nice to surprise him-the taken aback look that dropped from his brow and into his shoulders. “A Christmas present?” Ominis echoed back, sitting straighter. He looked a little embarrassed. “That wasn’t necessary, I didn’t get you anything.”

“Nonsense.” Eudora walked to the bed and began to fiddle with her reticule’s strings. “You invited me to a whole new city to visit my dear dear friend. That’s more than a gift. Now- Accio quilt!” There was a rustling from her bag. It warped as a massive blanket stretched and pulled its way out of an impossibly small hole- the fabric of the reticule moving as did the sea water.

She was quite proud of herself, looking with finality at her work-now in its proper home. She’d spent an uneven two months on it, scrounging for and hand sewing each patch into it’s perfect place. Many a night she had gone to bed with tired fingers and exhausted wrists-the impression of a needle stuck on both her pointer finger and thumb. To accomplish this, she’d become quite the pest over at Gladrags- haggling for particularly colored scraps of fabric. Eudora ran her hands along the quilt to flatten it against the mattress and then excitedly grabbed Ominis’ hand and dragged him to the bed. “Happy Christmas, dearest!”

Ominis ran his hand over the length and the breadth of the blanket, his fingers tracing over the fine stitching and occasional points of embroidery. “This feels luxuriant, Eudora!” he breathed. He couldn’t see the design proper and some people would ask why go to the trouble of designing such a thing if that were the case. Eudora had painstakingly sorted through scraps for just the right shapes-creating sunburst patches, though not uniform, of greens, golds, blues, and grays. But, just because he was blind, didn’t mean he had no need of nicely made things. “Thank you.” Ominis turned to her with a smile.

“Think nothing of it. I figured you’d need something to keep you warm at night. Can’t have you getting sick, now.” Eudora sat on the bed, quite pleased with herself. “I figured that all my friends would need gifts that were more…utilitarian this year, seeing as so many of you are only poor trainees. I even made and sent Sebastian a robe-seeing as he’s more than likely falling asleep sitting up at a desk. Not that he’s written a thank you or anything.” It had been amazing that she’d been able to perform her duties to Professor Howin, or sleep at all, with how busy with gifts she’d been. Each friend received something handmade and useful.

For the rest of the day, they settled in and spoke at length about anything and everything, sitting on the floor side by side as if they were still children. As if the two had never been separated. The warm glow of each other’s company wrapped around the room as the hours ticked on passed. Gentle touches to brutal shoving turned to laughter. It was easy and comfortable and, to Eudora, she felt that rare sense of belonging, in every sense of the word. There was the achingly faint memory of her solitary existence on the moorlands, wandering with the cattle as they grazed and never seeing another soul day after day. The little girl looked into her future, to a small room where she sat with another person, close as she ever imagined two spirits could be to each other, and she was comforted. Eudora watched Ominis speak and felt everything right within the world of her own being.

By dinner time, Eudora was prepared for the evening train. As the floor began to rattle, Ominis placed his long hands over her ears-fingers reaching into the edges of her hair- as the train was spotted and passed by the window. It left soot on the glass, and she began to wonder if it was not the December light that left the room feeling bereft of life, but the hindrance itself of light’s efforts. She mentioned this to her friend, but he argued the pointlessness of cleaning the glass. It wasn’t as if he would notice the difference either way. It was too cold to open the shutters and clean the panes if they were only to be dirtied the following day.

Ominis thought to go scrounge something to eat in the ground-floor kitchen, but Eudora would have none of it. Why be crowded by others when the company here was pleasant enough for the evening. Instead-she gave him instructions. “Go to the nearest bakery and get us a loaf of bread. By the time you get back, I’ll have started dinner!” And so he obeyed, much to the chagrin of the bakery staff. When he got back, the hall to his room was filled with a heady aroma, and inside Eudora had set to work. Having brought with her a small cauldron, she’d put it over the fire and begun on making her own chicken and herb soup, something he’d not had in a whole year. Eating it brought back memories of the undercroft for him-Eudora eager to either provide for or show off to her boys, a quiet intimate dinner in place of the loud clattering of the great hall, Sebastian asking her to make the soup again for his sister. Eudora talking about how the kitchen elves had showed her how to make her recipe that much better.

It was nostalgic and safe, and with fresh made bread, utterly delicious.

The two of them said goodnight, come bedtime, and went to sleep separately.

It was in the middle of the night when Eudora blearily woke to a chill creeping up her neck. She half expected to open her eyes and see the foggy outlines of her room at Hogwarts, the roaring fireplace having died passed embers.  She was right about the fireplace at least, for she could no longer see even a faint glow coming from the other side of the room.  She shimmied down further into the covers, pulling her legs into a tight ball and absently rubbing her toes. Nearly returned to sleep, her eye peeped open and looked toward the shape of Ominis on the couch.

Granted, she couldn’t see him any clearer than she could see the fireplace. But the fuzzy outlines of him looked smaller than usual-more round. Squinting didn’t do a thing to clear the image. Eudora felt around the nearby desk top and caught the rim of her glasses before putting them on her nose. Ominis was clearly in as tight a ball as he could muster, his new quilt wrapped on all sides of him and up his shoulders. His face, even in sleep, scrunched with discomfort. She wasn’t sure if it was just the fogging of cold glass on a warm face, but at points she thought she saw his breath.

With a mournful sigh, Eudora slipped from the covers (closing them behind her to preserve their heat) and padded over to Ominis. The floor sucked any and all heat from her toes. At the foot of the couch, she crouched down and began to poke him in the nose. “Ominis.” She whispered. “Ominis, wake up.”

“Mm? Wh’d?” he batted her hand away from his face. “Wh’d you want?” his voice husky and blurred around its own edges.

“It’s cold.”

“It’s December. Of course it’s cold. Goodnight.”

“No, Ominis!” Eudora shook his shoulder, rousing him again. “It’s cold and you’re freezing over here. Get in the bed.”

He opened his eyes only to glare at her quizzically. “No? You’re in the bed. That would be highly inappropriate.”

“Oh, for God’s sake! I think my womanly reputation is safe from prying eyes, you daffy fool. It’s not as if anyone but the two of us will ever know. You get sick far too easily to suffer this cold. Take this wretched quilt with you and get. In. The. Bed!”

He stared at her. Sniffled. “No.” And turned sharply to his other side. Well, that would just not do. Not at all. Eudora stood over him as an avenging angel, shoulders set back as she pushed her glasses back up onto the bridge of her nose. With a strong tug, Eudora whisked the quilt out from under Ominis- something she would consider as one of her more impressive feats- before scurrying back across the room and into the covers. She heard Ominis growl as he shot up and watched him with matched venom as he stalked towards her.

Grabbing two fistfuls of the blanket, Ominis began to yank it back towards him. “It’s improper!”

“I’ll take the hit if it keeps you from the hospital!” She pulled the blanket back towards her.

“We’re not children, anymore, Eudora!” His feet slid across the floor with effort.

“Get in the damn bed, Ominis!”

“It’s too late for these sorts of childish antics!”

“I agree! So stop fighting me!”

“Eudora!”

“Ominis!”

It was when his teeth began to chatter, despite his trying to hide it, that she knew she’d won. The quilt went slack and she smirked. Ominis slithered under the sheets, disgruntled and keeping as far from her as the mattress would allow. “Stop it. I can hear your mirth from here.” He groused.

“I can’t believe you thought such a silly plan would work in December. The quilt is nice, but it’s not magic. What were you going to do if I hadn’t made you a quilt?” Eudora smoothed the massive thing over the rest of the blankets before laying back down.

“I suppose I would have taken some from the bed. We would have both suffered in the name of morality.”

“It’s hilarious to me that you think I’d allow that.”

Ominis grumbled and turned over on his side.

Eudora pulled her glasses from her face and tapped him on the shoulder, still smirking. “Be a dear and put these back on the desktop, won’t you?” Ominis snatched them from her hand, refusing to say another word. In the dim light that crept through the window, she thought she could see red tingeing the tips of his ears. She chuckled, “Good night, Ominis.”

“Shut it.”

The morning found the two differently. The two turned towards each other with hands overlapping and legs intertwined. Ominis woke first, the smell of her long hair all around him, the sound of her soft breathing catching his own. He wanted to shoot out of bed, wanted to quench the burning in his face, because she felt lovely. Instead, he slowly untangled himself from her and got up to reignite the fireplace.

Eudora woke to the sound of wood thudding against a metal grate, Ominis’ strong back to her. The morning sunlight dancing across his pale skin.