Absit Omen RPG

Quincy hadn't even bothered to ask around and find out who else was going to Jules' party. All she needed to know was that fellow-student Elixa would be there, and she was happy. Elixa's never-ending smile and her sometimes child-like humour kept Quincy sane from the insufferable know-it-all Healers (and patients) she had to deal with on a daily basis.

"Oooh ooh ohh! Hang onnnnnn!" the familiar voice sing-song voice echoed across the hall just as Quincy had knocked on the door. Quincy turned on her heel, a grin on her face as Elixa commented on the gifts.

"Never mind these," Quincy warned as she turned back to the door, "We're late!" That meant they were in trouble. Jules had specifically stated '7pm Promtly', and they were at the door a good three minutes after. Jules was known for her intolerance of people's bad timing.

"Hello ladies! Thanks for coming," the door opened and Jules was there. Though there was a welcoming smile on her face, there was a hint of slight annoyance that suggested she wanted to berate the ladies for their untimely entrance.

"Happy birthday!" Quincy exclaimed along with Elixa, almost in unison, almost as though the pair had rehearsed. Quincy held up the two gifts. "Flowers, for the beautiful woman, and a joke box for the inner child!" Quincy was more used to buying children's birthday presents, for friends of her kids. She wasn't entirely sure what an early-thirties woman wanted these days. She made a mental note to enlist the help of her cousin Charlotte next time. She knew a thing or two about gift-buying.

Quincy reciprocated the cheek-kissing and then made her way into the apartment, handing her jacket to the house-elf. "Plum wine would be wonderful, if you have any?"

Quincy had left the kids with Eddie for the night. She complained that he worked so much in his elevated position now that she looked after the kids a lot of the time single-handedly, and it wasn't often she was able to escape for a night and just go out. She didn't like putting onto her parents all of the time, and much as though Charlotte would claim that she would love to look after the sprogs, Quincy knew that melted chocolate and smeared finger prints weren't Charlotte's style.

Instead, Quincy bit the bullet and told Eddie that he would just have to not work one night, as she was going out. Then Jules' dinner party plans were made, and that was it; the perfect escape from her motherly duties.

Quincy had almost finished doing her rounds in the hospital. It was normal practice for students to spend a few months in each department before finalising their choice and stepping into a few months of intense training in the chosen subject. Her last month had been spent in Potions and Plant Poisoning. She still had another two months to go there before making her final decision, and up until this point Spell Damage had been the main contender, quite swiftly knocking the others off their brooms. But Potions and Plant Poisoning was so fascinating! The young witch feared her decision wasn't going to be as easy as she'd thought.

Arriving in front of the door, Quincy smoothed out her simple black dress with the palm of her hand, and took a deep breath. It felt strange turning up to a dinner party on her own, but then she supposed that's what happens when one is single. With an elegantly presented bouquet of flowers and a box of varying tricks and trinkets from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes balanced precariously in one arm, Quincy gave a soft knock at the door.

Stirring the long spoon through her hot chocolate, Quincy sighed heavily. It was the third time in less than a minute she'd audibly huffed. The elderly couple sat two tables down from her were on the verge of asking if she was ok, for not only was she exhaling air with an alarming amount of gusto, she occasionally picked up a napkin and dabbed at the corner of her eyes. Being polite, however, they decided to let her get on with whatever personal turmoil had her sticking her forefinger in the whipped cream and licking it off miserably. For that, she was grateful.

Yesterday she had waved her eldest child off to Hogwarts for the second time. She had assumed that the second time would be much easier than the first, but it had actually been ten times harder. She had grown accustomed to having Noah round the house over the summer. Eddie even took more time off work (which was difficult as he was now Head Auror), and they had been spending more time as a family. Her family. Her perfectly imperfect little family.

"Chocate!" Quincy was disturbed from drowning in her sorrows by the screech. "Mummy! Chocate! Me chocate!" Squidgy little fingers were stretched out up to Quincy, the little hand pulsing closed and then open again, demanding a chocolate treat. Quincy smiled down at her youngest child. Not so much a baby anymore, but a toddling toddler. Her vocabulary wasn't quite fluent yet, but she did screech haphazard words that could be formed into sentences by filling in the gaps.

Quincy took the bar of chocolate, unwrapped it and broke off the third square. The pudgy hand grabbed the square and the girl squealed with delight, melted chocolate framing the corners of her mouth. Little Brooke had been created out of a love-hate relationship, and born into absolute turmoil. But she was perfect, like all of the Pratt children. She had seemed to inherit her father's looks when she was small, with blonde messy hair. But, as time went by, she had darkened like Natasha. The soft, brown hair fell into perfectly formed waves around her baby face, and her cheeks were coloured by the late summer sun.

Quincy sniffed once more and dabbed the corners of her eyes with her napkin. She was so emotional - how in [/I]Hogsmeade[/I] was she going to cope when her other three children flew the nest and went to Hogwarts? She'd be a wreck!

From looking back through my accounts, it looks like I joined at the end of January 2009! I came from the dark ages: Wizarding World, the various Hogwarts Magics and then SR.

Up until about a year and a half ago I had been RPing pretty much solidly since I was 13 (half of my life ha) then the last year has been pretty brutal, so I lost all desire to RP.

BUT I've found it again, and I'm back!

Met some fantastic people, especially Mel and Tasha who I have met up with IRL. It's amazing just how loved a place like this can make you feel. Yes, it has it's fair share of drama sometime, but what family doesn't?

Quincy's eyes flitted up to the clock again. Four thirty-four. She would try not to be hard on the youngster. After all, it was his last day at home before school started. He was entitled to have fun. She felt her tense shoulders start to loosen up. Yes, he was a boy - it was only right and natural that he was out- getting muddied up to the eyeballs?!

The witch couldn't help but let her jaw drop slightly as she saw the state her son had returned home in.

“The cow wouldn’t let me out of the field. Kept groanin’ at me and cows are bloomin’ scary when they groan!”

It took a few seconds for Quincy to even be able to think about what she might say to her son. In those seconds her mouth closed and opened repeatedly, unsure of whether to laugh at the situation or ground him for the next three sets of school holidays.

"Noah!" She finally barked at him, standing up from her chair, hands out with her palms facing up as though inviting him to explain himself. "What on earth have you been up to?! You realise your dad is coming round in a couple of hours? You still have packing to do, and Grandma and Grandpa are coming after dinner!" What Quincy's mother, Jocelyn would say about the state of her grandson, she didn't even want to consider.

Pointing down the hallway with one stern hand, she pursed her lips. "Go upstairs, change your clothes and for goodness sake, have a wash! We can't have you smelling of-" her nostrils flared as a very pungent smell filtered through them. Her nose wrinkled as she looked down at his once-red shoes. "-cow dung?! Oh Noah, really? Take them off! Take them off now! I have only just washed this floor!"

Quincy sat at the kitchen table, patiently watching the cottage stable-like door, and not so patiently drumming her fingertips on the pine table top. The kitchen was clean and tidy - a rarity in the Pratt household - and only the gentle hissing of a juicy joint of meat cooking in the oven could be heard alongside the witch's finger-drumming.

Eddie was coming over tonight for a family meal. Their eldest child, Noah, was off to start his Hogwarts education the next morning, and both parents thought it would be nice for him to spend time with his family. As a family. True, Quincy and Eddie were divorced, and true they bickered more than flobberworms flobbered, but deep down they both knew there would always be an affection for one another. They were tied to each other by their four children, and a bond like that is not one which is broken easily, no matter the history.

Eddie wasn't due for a couple of hours yet, but Quincy had given Noah strict instructions to be back by no later than four-thirty. He still had packing to do, and she didn't want him having a late night. His excitement at going to school already meant that for the last eight days he had been taking progressively longer to get to sleep, and - just like his father - Noah was a grumpy so-and-so if he didn't get enough sleep.

Quincy cast her eyes up to the clock. The big hand had just ticked over to thirty-one minutes past four.

Quincy, being the kind of witch who noticed many things around her, saw Eddie stiffen considerably at her question. A small smirk came to her lips, amused that he would be so secretive. His short, sharp "no" in response forced his ex-wife's eyebrow to rise slightly as she carried on stirring the gravy. Eddie clearly realised that his tone and mannerisms had been more revealing than the one word he had uttered, and backtracked, saying he had tickets for Noah and himself to go and watch quidditch.

"Of course," Quincy responded smiling. She wasn't going to push the subject of whatever it was making Eddie uneasy, but she had the distinct feeling he was uneasy for her rather than for him. Whatever he was hiding was something he thought she might not deal with well, and she was pretty sure she knew what it was. She bit her lower lip to stop herself from laughing as Eddie asked her about work.

Straightening her face as much as she could, she shook her head. "They had no need to ask - I told them everything that happened, and they were very understanding." She turned the flame down on the hob and set the potatoes to mashing. "Though they did request that the next time you decide to kidnap me, if you would please give them some indication as to when you may be returning me?" She grinned as she called for the boys from the kitchen door for dinner.

Quincy raised an eyebrow at her growing girl as she exclaimed her disgust at the thought of having to eat newts legs and snails. "Natasha, what have we said about being grateful for anything that we're given?" The little girl scuffed her toe along the floor sheepishly.

"Yumm?" she tried, an attempt to retify the situation.

Quincy chuckled and gently flicked the tip of Natasha's nose with her forefinger. "Don't worry, I'm not going to feed you newts legs and snails. Your father is just trying to wind you up." The little girl cast a scowl in her father's direction, but her attention was quickly directed to whatever was bubbling in the pot.

Quincy watched Natasha stretch up onto her tippy-toes in an attempt to see what was in the pan. "It's sausages and mashed potato with gravy." Quincy rested a hand gently on Natasha's warm head as the girl grinned, upon hearing one of her favourite dinners was coming her way. "Why don't you go and tell your brothers to come and sit at the table?"

Natasha didn't need telling twice, and ran off up the stairs, her little feet pounding each one with the strength of a hippogriff, and screaming like a banshee about dinner being ready.

Quincy flicked her wand at the ladle to stir the gravy. "So, anything new going on?"

Quincy heard the unmistakable sound of Eddie letting himself in the back door, and the familiar sound of Natasha dropping whatever she was doing at the time (today, tidying her toys) and jumping into his arms like he was Father Christmas himself. The witch smiled to herself as she set the last pan to boiling on the stove.

“I’ll just go home all alone and sit and eat a lettuce leaf.”

"Ignore him," she advised the little girl who was now giggling uncontrollably, "He always threatened to eat lettuce, and I've not once seen him come close to eating anything green yet. At least nothing that hasn't come out of his nose." Natasha squealed in delight at the thought of her own respectable, dignified (ahem) father picking his nose and eating the produce.

“Y’alrigh’ luv?”

Quincy smiled and nodded. "I'm fine, Eddie. And I see you've landed just on tea-time - spectacular timing, as always." She threw him a knowing look, eyebrow raised and a smirk lightening her features. "I take it I'm setting the table for six tonight again?" It was only two night previously they'd had a dysfunctional family dinner. They were becoming more and more frequent, and much as though she would hate to admit it too often, Quincy liked the fact that Eddie was coming round to spend quality time together as a family. Though they were divorced and living apart, they were still - and would always be - a family.

Things were just starting to get back to normal. After giving birth to her daughter then facing potential death at the hands of a madman, and being hidden away for what seemed like a lifetime, Quincy felt like she was getting her life back. Being able to see her family again was a dream that she thought she had never wanted so much in her life as she did when she finally broke free of the prison that was keeping her and her brood safe.

Now, the little family of Pratts were back at the cottage, and Quincy felt like her old self. It was odd, having a not-so-new-anymore baby but introducing her to a new way of life. The poor thing had barely even sniffed the outside air whilst they were living in the shack, but Quincy made it a regular part of the family routine to take the kids to the park for as much fresh air as they could handle. Plus it helped them all to sleep on a night.

Eddie's visits were becoming more and more frequent, and Quincy often found that he would invite himself round just upon tea-time, especially if he suspected some home-cooked wonder would be waiting. Quincy hadn't the heart to turn him away, so - as happened so very often - she would smile and say "The kids would love it if their dad would stay and eat with them." And, as happened every time this took place, Eddie would already be helping himself to a drink and setting himself a place at the table.

It was good for the kids to have him around after the events of the last few months, and Quincy wasn't about to ruin anything that was good in their life.

"Natasha, can you pick up your toys please? Mummy needs to set the table for dinner." The little girl wandered around the kitchen and laid her hands upon various toys of pink and purple, fluff and faff. "Good girl."

Ha! yes. I'm in. Giving Pax his hair potions and lotions last year made my characters feel all warm and gooey inside. 'Cept Rita, obviously 

The kids were restless. They were driving Quincy up the wall. Much as though she loved her kids more than anything in the world, she couldn't wait to ship them off to her parents for a couple of days when they got out of the shack. It had occurred to the witch a couple of times (dark, dark times) that they might never actually make it out. MacDuff might never get caught, and Eddie might force them to live in the little hovel for the rest of their long, dreary days. Shaking those thoughts away was difficult, but she clinged onto the hope that one day she would be able to go shopping down Diagon Alley again, go for a drink at Signature and see her oldest son safely into the clutches of Salazar Slytherin (please Merlin).

Quincy was sitting at the kitchen table, idly swishing her wand to-and-fro and watching dishes dunk themselves in hot soapy water, a scrubbing brush attacking them vigorously, before being placed on the draining board ready for the eagerly dancing tea-towel. The young mother had one elbow resting on the table, her chin perched on the edge of her hand and a worn expression on her face. This was the highlight of her day. Long gone were the days of getting dressed up with Charlotte or Sam ready for a night out, or shopping with Tilly for clothes and music. Now, the most she could hope to look forward to was the baby sleeping through the night and her other three children not permanently maiming each other.

Quincy sighed, her wandwork becoming a little messy as she did so, forcing a bowl into the water a little more haphazardly than she had intended. The water made a loud 'sploosh' and the result was a large puddle on the floor. She paused momentarily as though collecting her thoughts, but as she went to reverse her puddle-making, there was a loud knock at the door.

Immediately, Quincy's instincts kicked in and she aimed her wand at the door. Eddie was upstairs playing with the kids before bed, and she hesitated looking from the door to the ceiling then back to the door. Should she call Eddie down? He was an auror afterall, and could defend himself much better than she. But she was a strong witch, and she didn't want to be petty. It was unusual, though - the only visitor that ever came was Eddie, and he was already here. Quincy sucked in a deep breath and held it for a moment before exhaling and making her way cautiously to the door, her wand held out in front of her.

She reached the inner door, the 'real door' in her opinion. A charm had been put on the shack, so that she would be able to hear if anyone knocked on the outside door. Quincy cast one last glance up the stairs before opening the front door and shuffling her way along the corridor that got more run-down, dirty and dismal as it got closer to the outside world. It was all a trick, just in case the security charms failed for whatever reason. The shack was - from the outside - exactly what it said on the tin; a run-down, cobweb-ridden, falling apart horrible little wooden shed. Anybody who knew anything about Quincy St.James would know that she would never consent to living in somewhere like that.

Quincy reached the wooden door at the other end of the corridor, and without hesitating she threw the latch off and opened the door, ready to cast a spell if she needed to. Her eyes widened as she realised who was there. "Archer!" Without even thinking about what she was doing, she moved outside and threw her arms around the big man. She and Archer had never been particularly close, but Quincy couldn't have been happier to see a familiar face that wasn't one of her children or her estranged ex-husband. "You have no idea how pleased I am to see you!" The sincerity in her voice was apparent as she squeezed her arms around him as far as she could. Nearly one month had passed, and she had not seen a single soul from the outside world.

A collaboration of two minds

The robes hung loosely from the young lad’s shoulders like a trophy, a sign of pure, unyielding excellence. They hung, dictating to the world that was Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry that the scruffy blond haired Slytherin was a master, a master at Quidditch and soon to be a master with girls. A pair of scruffy boots appeared as the young wizard purposefully strode from the entrance to the Slytherin changing rooms.

“Nice to see you catch the snitch for once, Pratt.” A voice came from his left accompanied by a shrill giggling from several very annoying girls. A pale brow furrowed as the Slytherin seeker scowled in the direction of the voice. Four girls decorated in emerald and silver scarves were heading towards the castle, attempting to act as though they were paying no heed to the arrogance of the Slytherin victors that were now congregating outside of the changing area trying to catch the attention of anyone and everyone.

“Enjoy the view, did ye St.James?” Loud jeers erupted from Edward Pratt’s Slytherin teammates, which served to further inflate his already grossly enlarged ego. “Come back ‘ere,” he jibed jabbing a thumb behind him towards the changing rooms, a boyish grin plastered across his face, “and I’ll give ye your own private demonstration.” The three female companions’ eyes widened as they exchanged animated whispers with each other, though Quincy St.James was careful not to give credence to anything he or his troll-like friends were saying.

Quincy heaved a dramatic sigh at the child’s-play. “Come on, girls,” she said loudly, an obnoxiously bored lilt tinting her words, “Let’s go see Marren and his friends. It’s so hard to get a decent conversation around here.” The girls giggled once more as they followed the fifth year girl, one of them chancing a glance back at the boys and being greeted by several crude gestures from the lads surrounding the blond Pratt.

With folded arms, the young seeker yelled after his best friend, “Oi!”

Quincy rolled her eyes but carried on walking away – if he wanted her attention, he was going to have to come up with something better than that.

“Found yer knickers in me bed this mornin’.” A blond eyebrow cocked arrogantly as he leaned against the wall and confidently shoved his hands into his trouser pockets.

Quincy stopped suddenly, and half-turned towards him with a smirk playing on her lips. “Then put them back after you’ve finished experimenting.”

The already pale skin of the Slytherin boy turned ashen as his teammates’ jeers turned on him and the girls’ ear splitting cackles resumed. “Piss off!” It wasn’t clear whether the harsh directive was aimed at the jeering teammates or the cackling witches before him, but upon realisation that their presence was less than wanted, each student filtered away eventually leaving Quincy and Eddie alone.

Quincy had turned to face him fully now, and it was her turn to look smug with her arms folded defiantly across her chest. “What do you want, Eddie?” Her head was tilted slightly to one side and she tapped her foot impatiently.

“Riches beyond your imagination, luv.” He grinned, the previous embarrassment quickly forgotten. “So, ye saw me amazin’ catch then?”

Quincy pursed her lips slightly to the side. “I’ve seen better.” She shrugged as though it wasn’t anything important, just something to casually converse about, and not the young lad’s talent in question. “But it was a catch.”

Ed winked, “Like me.”

It was less of a question and more of a statement. “Just like you Eddie, yes.” Quincy rolled her eyes. There was no point in even trying to argue with him, as he was infuriatingly good at turning insults into back-handed compliments.

Letting out a sigh as though it was the biggest favour that could be bestowed upon a young witch, Ed’s hands freed themselves from his pockets before he opened his arms invitingly to her. “Well, go on then. I know yer dyin’ to.”

Quincy blinked as a moment of silence passed, the air around them extremely still. “Dying to what?”

“Snog me.”

A laugh escaped Quincy’s throat as she shook her head in mild disbelief and turned to walk away, acting as though it was the funniest thing she’d heard all day.

Ed’s face dropped. “No no no!” Quickly he made a move to catch up to her, reaching out a hand to grab her arm and impede any further movement. “ ‘Andled that wrong, didn’t I?” When Quincy didn’t respond, he continued, “I meant to say – well, yer fit, ‘ent ye? And I’m not gaspin’ fer any female attention, right? So we kinda...yer know – we mesh, don’t we?”

Quincy blinked; a common occurrence when Eddie was talking his usual nonsense.

“So...well, I were thinkin’...” Nerves finally got the better of him, and the young Mister Pratt took a deep – much needed – inhalation of oxygen before his next words escaped in a jumbled mass of syllables. “Willyegooutwithme?” He paused. “Please?”

A corner of Quincy’s mouth turned up into a half-smile as he eyed her nervously, awaiting the crushing blow. “It depends. Where did you have in mind?”

“...Madam...Puddifoot’s?” The name was spoken with reserved question due to a lack of experience regarding the romantic establishments of Hogsmeade.

“Fine.” She shrugged again, as though it was an everyday request, and one that didn’t require too much attention. “But I don’t want any of your half-witted friends turning up.”

Mildly perturbed, Eddie scowled. “Fine. Don’t want none of yours there either. I’d rather put a candle out with me eyeball than have to look at them all night.” With caution, Eddie slowly snaked an arm around Quincy’s waist. “So...yer like my girlfriend, then?”

Quincy looked down at the hand that had cleverly wandered its way towards her midriff. “I don’t like labels, unless they’re on my clothes.” Tearing her eyes away from the hand that she had – so far – made no move to extricate from her waist, she looked up at him and flashed him grin. “But if that’s what you want to tell people, I suppose I’m okay with that.”

As soon as she saw Eddie's reaction, she could have kicked herself. Why had she brought up something that was still so raw, something that had cut him up from the inside out and hadn't even had a chance to start healing yet? Quincy felt stupid and tactless, and she swallowed in an attempt to regain composure and stop the flames in her cheeks from engulfing her whole body. Of course he didn't want to be reminded of his parents' death everytime he saw their daughter. But Quincy hadn't thought of that. She had just assumed he would be ecstatic at being able to have two kids named after his parents - afterall, Charlie was the spitting double of Eddie's dad for whom he was named.

Quincy nodded, trying to seem understanding though Eddie was facing away from her. After a moment that seemed like a lifetime of silence, Eddie's hand came up to rest on top of Quincy's. She looked down, eyes slightly widened as he gave a gentle squeeze before letting his hand fall back down to the baby like a magnet. Her hand throbbed where he had touched it, as though all the blood had surged to that place, the memory of a familiar touch rekindling the blood flow to the surface of her skin.

Then, the auror seemed to do a complete u-turn. He began explaining to the sleeping baby how she was conceived, and how Eddie's mum and dad had walked in on them just after. Quincy gave a short, breathy laugh, not sure whether it was a laugh of nostalgia or relief that he didn't hate her for what she had suggested. Eddie turned his head and looked up at Quincy, and she saw something in his eyes that she hadn't seen before - insecurity. Doubt. The hesitance in his voice shocked Quincy, as Eddie had always been the one who was sure of everything. Pushing aside her surprise, she smiled earnestly and nodded. "I don't think anything would have made your mum happier."

Breathing a silent sigh of relief, Quincy wrapped her arms around his shoulders and leaned over, watching the baby over his right shoulder with her chin resting gently in the hollow between his neck and right shoulder. "They would have adored her, you know." She smiled as the baby stirred softly again, and fell back into her deep sleep unaware of the fact she now had a name. "And just so you know - she's not the only reason I'm still talking to you." She turned her head and let her lips brush the skin of his neck tenderly. Breathing peacefully, her lips hovering dangerously close to his warm skin, she closed her eyes. "I don't want you to ever think that."

Eddie looked momentarily confused as he looked down at the sleeping baby in his arms, waiting for more of an explanation from Quincy. She waited patiently, and sure enough the realisation dawned on him that the newest addition to their family was still referred to as ‘Baby Pratt’. The little girl’s lips puckered slightly as she stirred very gently, then carried on with her slumber. It was a slumber that Quincy was jealous of, having not had much of a decent night’s sleep for a while now. Eddie, she assumed, would have been far worse off than herself in the sleep department.

Quincy scowled slightly as Eddie began poisoning their little girl against her, assuring the little angel that he wouldn’t let the healer-in-training name her anything embarrassing or silly. The young mother was about to object, but decided against it, letting her mouth fall closed again and a small pout form on her lips. Her expression softened, however as he carried on, explaining to the baby how much he loved her and that he would do anything for her. That much was obvious; if Edward Pratt was anything he was an enthusiastic father.

Eddie stated that he would like some tea, serving as a reminder to Quincy that the pot was whistling furiously for attention on the stove. She let out a small “Oh,” as she darted to the stove with her wand and expertly reduced the flame. The pot went quiet instantly, and the billowing steam from the top became little more than a trickle. She poured some water into each of the cups, and stirred in the sugar. Suddenly, she stopped mid-stir as his previous comment played on her mind. She half turned towards him, her expression that of someone who has just concocted a brilliant plan. She began stirring furiously again, a half-smile playing on her lips. Discarding the spoon into the sink, she carried the two cups over to the table and put one down in front of Eddie, the other next to him.

“Brooke,” She said simply, as though the answer had just been staring them in the face the whole time, as though it was obvious, and any other ideas were just juvenile and wanting. Quincy was stood beside Eddie, looking down at the button nose and perfect lips, big eyes with their sweeping dark eyelashes and the dark hair of their little girl. She put her hand gently on his shoulder and gave a supportive rub. “We should call her Brooke.”