Pop.

Somewhere just on the outskirts of Hogsmeade, the air rippled before Arcturus appeared. He staggered, slightly dazed from the trip. It had been a fair while  since he Apparated over such a long distance - most of the time he only Apparated between St Mungo's and his parents' house. Come to think of it, that was the only reason he ever Apparated until now, because he could honestly and casually confess that he was a terrible broom-user.

Thankfully, he had dressed warmly. If it were not for his coat - the coat he rarely wore even though it actually looked good on him - the cold air would have hit him like a train. He wasn't welcoming the thought of that when he was still dazed.

Nevertheless, Arcturus steadied himself and trudged through the snow towards the High Street, joining the inhabitants as they went about their daily lives. The bustle of the Hogsmeade crowd was a familiar, if distant, memory to him; he remembered his trips whilst he was in Hogwarts, and smiled faintly at the good times he had with his friends here.

Now, the reason why he was here-- ah, yes. Honeydukes was just up ahead. Arcturus had a personal liking for Honeydukes fudge, which he didn't really like to tell anyone. Ever since his sister bought some for him as a Christmas present after he had begged and begged her for it[1], he'd never really stopped liking it. Maybe he'd even pick up some Cauldron Cakes as well.

But his daze from Apparition hadn't worn off one bit. Arcturus still felt a bit fuzzy. He was fairly grateful when he noticed he was approaching the Three Broomsticks, and so veered off the High Street and into the warm, noisy and above all welcoming atmosphere that was the Hogsmeade inn.

Unfortunately, it was crowded as usual. Not an empty table or chair was in sight - the bar was packed, too. Arcturus headed over and got himself a Butterbeer fairly quickly. He leaned against the wall to drink in peace, staying alert; his gaze never made any contact, constantly sweeping the room for any sign of someone leaving their table. He was in no hurry, but a table or a chair would be better than a wall.

1.	22 December 1990

Remember remember the 5th of November, Gunpowder Treason and Plot. The movie was a classic, the story one of his favorites, and the mask he wore almost as appealing as that of Guy Fawkes. But the graphic novel…oh how he loved it, and flipping through it’s pages now Nightingale didn’t realize how much space he hogged. He’d made his way through the butterbeer rather quickly, and opted to put his feet up in the chair next to him. He was so engulfed in his muggle world pleasure that he hadn’t noticed the poor soul against the wall, at least not on first glance. Though there was that prickling cold feeling that swept over the room when he knew something was…off.

Standing alone he wouldn’t have thought him strange, this man of black and white, but in the crowded room he seemed to stick out like a red flower among thorns. Gale took a second glance, and pulled his wrap around his shoulders. The air outside was very cold, and though the warmth of the room was nice—he felt a shiver chase his spine as he offered up the chair with a smile.

“I’m sorry.” With his hair back in a long braid between his shoulders, the French style fit him well, and though the black leather patch covered one eye he perched silver rim glasses on the end of his nose as he read. The very image of a grandmother truly, Gale didn’t look his age at all.

“Please. Take a seat.” With a glance about the room again, he realized that it was much fuller than before. How long had he been here? His bones ached, and his legs were asleep now. There was this strange pain as well…oh…yeah, hunger. Pushing his glasses back on the bridge of his nose he realized he wouldn’t have much interest in his book anymore.

It took about thirty seconds for Arcturus to realise he was being spoken to. Not that it was his fault - the inn was noisy - but  he near missed the words of the man with the white hair sitting nearby. He was going to ask him if he didn't mind, but since the man himself was actually now offering the chair to him, Arcturus got the point. No need for words that couldn't be heard, actions were just fine. Nevertheless, he replied with a short "Cheers".

He sat down, glad to rest himself. The fuzzy edges of his world eventually vanished; the warmth of the Butterbeer settled his head until he was well and relaxed. When there was about half left of it, he set the tankard down with a thunk on the table and focused on his surroundings.

The man he was sharing a table with had a striking appearance; Arcturus was not sure as to how he managed to miss seeing him with the white hair and eyepatch. Oh, wait, no, his nose was buried in a book. The healer leaned back in an attempt to see the cover, and then raised his eyebrows momentarily at it before returning to his normal posture. He'd never seen the cover before, neither had he ever heard of the title. Maybe some obscure publication.

Arcturus wasn't going to bother him. He knew all too well how it felt like to be interrupted from a book, and this fellow seemed to be engrossed with whatever it was. So he peacefully nursed the warm tankard, keeping his hands around it to bring some life back to his fingers.

Distracted from his book he noticed the other man, and how he seemed to cling to his drink. His fingers looked red almost as if they were cold, and Gale turned a concerned look up to the other just in time to see his interest in the novel.

“Are you alright? If you don’t’ mind my asking.” His face looked flush as if he were, and when Gale pulled his glasses from his nose while rubbing the bridge of his nose. He needed to eat, but the crowded room was growing smaller by the moment. With the book closed now, he propped his feet up in the chair next to him, and took a drink of his own now cold butterbeer.

“It’s gotten late.” His legs ached, his shoulders hurt, and though he seemed weary Gale still smiled, “Cheers.” He said with a lift of his glass, returning the man’s earlier wish.

Gale slipped the book over to the other gentleman, and leaned forward to rest his chin on the top of his hand, “It’s a graphic novel, of gunpowder treason and plot. A Muggle so far fetched in his ideas of freedom forever that he made an attempt to blow up parliament in a Guy Fawks mask, just as the old Englishman had once done to demonstrate his disdain for the abuse of government power. And my name is Gale, I’m a Professor at Hogwarts, Charms and once thought my life was to be in politics just the same.” He extended his hand to the man, cold little pale thing that it was.

Arcturus looked back at Gale. "Oh, I...just Apparated here from London, so I was a bit fuzzy. I'm all right now." He gave Gale a quick smile to reassure the man of the point. Yes, his fingers were cold, that was his fault for not bringing his gloves and having to shove his hands into his pockets when he was outside.

He watched Gale sit back and shut his book, making his comments. Arcturus nodded in acknowledgement of his glass-lifting. Gale didn't seem hostile or aggressive in any way, but Arcturus was not ready to just be as straightforward as he usually was to strangers...because it felt a bit ungrateful after Gale let him share his table, and it was too cold for him at the moment.

The healer raised his eyebrows as the white-haired man slipped his book over to him and launched into what appeared to be a summary of the book - and added his introduction at the end of it. When he was finished, Arcturus stared at him as he continued to digest the bunch of words that just flew straight at him.

Eventually he blinked. "Uhh...I'm Hollingbury, a healer from St Mungo's." He took Gale's hand and shook it, noting the coolness of it against his Butterbeer-warmed palm. "I...don't usually know anything much about Muggles, let alone know what a graphic novel is, but it sounds...interesting." He wasn't sure if he wanted to go any further with this, nor did he even know where the direction of the conversation was going. "I assume you have interest in Muggles, much?"

Gale winced at the thought of apparition, but tried to show his sympathy. “I hate doing that, there is something so strange about not having your feet on the ground no?” He curled his own hands in the brush them along his pants as he took up his own butterbeer and tried to finish it.

“Oh. A healer. How nice. I’ve seen a good deal of those in my day.” He smirked and sat back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest as he propped his feet on the next available surface, “Do you have a specialty  Mr. Hollingbury?” He waited for the man’s answer, though his eyes could not help but find the man’s hair fascinating. What was it that made it two shades like that? A birthmark that has grown out perhaps?

“I do have a great deal of interest in Muggles, actually. I’m not so ashamed to admit it either. I’m more curious about their world. I grew up in it, like most of us, and maybe I’m one of the few that has in fact looked back.” The thought of the man being a healer couldn’t stop him from wondering, thinking of a way to ask without giving away. But did this man know a thing or two about the eyes? With only one, you had a tendency to want to protect the remaining, but even now the man’s face blurred when he moved too fast.

Arcturus nodded in agreement at Gale's statement on Apparition, taking a draught of Butterbeer and not looking at the man. He found it difficult to stare directly at people for too long; generally he just stared past their ear and they never asked.

"Me? I'm on the Potion and Plant Poisoning floor, but I can do a couple of basics in other areas if I'm needed to." He put the tankard back down and caught Gale staring at his hair. No big deal. People stared at his hair all the time, he knew how odd it looked and he wouldn't change it even if he were offered two sacks of Galleons.

The healer nodded as he listened, his expression not giving away anything. "So you were a Muggleborn? No surprises there then. My mother's Muggleborn, she tells us all the weird things Muggles get up to most of the time." Weird to him. He'd never had that life to begin with anyway.

"Oh? Is that so?" He asked the man when told of what floor it was he worked. Thankful it wasn't one he was often treated on. Gale was often treated for his anxiety, PTSD, and the other various aches and pains that came with being a veteran. Yet he'd never been poisoned--or so he thought.

Sitting back in his chair, Gale pulled his knees to his chest to listen, and when he wrapped his shawl over his feet to fight the cold. "I am a muggle born. I suppose. And I guess I don't find the things they do very weird. Neither my mother nor my father, or any of my brothers and sisters were invited to Hogwarts. I'm actually from France, but out caravan was on the English border when I turned 9. I was born on the Winter Solstice, and that is what we believe gave me my coloring. Were you as well?" Gale pressed his cheek against the top of his knee ready to listen to Hollingbury's story if he wished to share.

Arcturus nodded in reply. "Came straight from Hogwarts to work in St Mungo's. Not interested in the Ministry or its politics."

He drank from his tankard again - this time to avoid letting Gale see the brief scowl on his face. He had plenty of issues with the Ministry itself, but he saw it as a necessary lesser evil. But he was running out of Butterbeer to hide behind, so he straightened out his face and let it remain blank when he lowered the tankard.

"I am a muggleborn. I suppose. And I guess I don't find the things they do very weird. Neither my mother nor my father, or any of my brothers and sisters were invited to Hogwarts. I'm actually from France, but our caravan was on the English border when I turned 9. I was born on the Winter Solstice, and that is what we believe gave me my coloring. Were you as well?"

Arcturus opened his mouth to answer, but his mind immediately rewound the topic. He paused and then closed his mouth again and looked away.

"Just a dyeing accident," he said curtly. "You'd probably know how Hogwarts students are like, experimenting when they think no one's watching."

"After the battle I went right into the thick of politics. My boyfriend was really into it, but when he was killed I felt it was the only way I could stay close to him. Found out a few things that I didn't like, and just moved on from there. I guess you can stay I'm still into them, but now I just try to offer the world their future." He smiled over the top of his knees, that sort of grin that lit up his whole face when he thought of his students.

"I'm a Professor at Hogwarts. Charms. And I praise the maker every day for it. Wasn't sure I had any reason left to live a few years ago until I put in for it. It's my first year, and I really like it. I feel at home...needed...welcomed, respected. I always wanted a family. Imagined myself a father of many by the time I was 30. Like my father. But now I have a good three hundred plus children." He pulled his butter beer closer to him curling his entire body around it as if clinging to the warmth.

"What about you? Ever want children?"

He heard this distantly, maybe with just an ear. It wasn't that he was being indifferent, it was that he just didn't find them details necessary to his everyday life. Gale was after all a stranger; he'd be hard-pressed to care outside of hospital matters.

"Good to know you enjoy teaching." Arcturus smiled, if briefly. "I enjoyed Charms, it was my favourite subject besides Potions. Always had the most amount of fun in that class.

"As for children? I don't know, I haven't thought that far yet." He was being truthful. "I don't have a girlfriend, and I'm not in a rush to find one. It's not on the top of my life priorities right now, so I don't see any reason to invest energy into looking into something I don't think I need at the moment."

He made no comment on the politics part. Thanks to his father's work he knew that plenty of people liked playing the politics game in the Ministry (his father excluded; Mordecai had had enough of politics even though he'd play the game politely), but it was not his cup of tea and therefore not worth his time on commenting. He was thankful enough that St Mungo's had no politcs whatsoever, for now.

"I try to keep it fun." He pouted a little looking down into his book. His last class didn't go as well, the students fought amongst each other like animals and it broke him. That very class was the biggest reason he had taken to the pub to begin with. He needed away from Hogwarts to clear his head, and it wasn't like him to get so angry. But they just didn't understand, and took it all for granted.

"But it's my first year. You know?" Gale ran his fingers over the surface of the book letting his thoughts travel back to the school, and how the hour was getting late anyway. Arcturus' conversation seemed to be a bit one sided. He didn't seem concerned or as curious of the man who shared his table, but that was alright. He wasn't going to be the one to carry the conversation any further and settled back into his chair.

He wanted children, but Arc didn't ask. So he didn't reply. Wasn't going to offer that information to just anyone, and especially a stranger if they didn't wish to hear it. So Gale just blushed a little, bit his lip, and went back to his reading.

Arcturus smiled despite the situation of being with a stranger at Gale's frustration with his teaching. "You'll do well, I'm sure. Kids can be outright disobedient, but that's where the challenge comes in, isn't it? If anything, it's admirable you took up the job, since you have to deal with hormonal teenagers and rebelling kids everywhere."

He looked into his near-empty tankard and absently remarked, "I don't think I could ever do it. I like kids, though. It's fun to inspire younger generations, just like I was once inspired by so many people."

After a moment's thinking he added, "Though my hair inspires kids in a different way...like being creative with the things they call me when they can't remember my name in the hospital. Having a long name doesn't much help when I don't let people call me by my personal nickname."

It felt a bit easy to talk to Gale, somehow. Arcturus was getting used to his presence, and frankly he did enjoy the company of people who didn't put him on the spot to talk to them.

He smiled and listened to the man, enjoying the way he seemed to speak so pleasantly. He had a very beautiful mouth, and nicely defined lips. It was easy to dream of more. However, his words spoke the real truth.

"I never thought I'd enjoy it so much. I really really love my job, and I'll do anything to keep it. I feel safe, and secure. I enjoy reaching out, and shaping the future if you will. But, it's just this one particular group in my 4th years. I have detention with them tonight. At the beginning of a class I gave them an apple with a worm inside. Told them it was poison, but all it really does is turn your hair pink. But that was a test. I had so many pink haired students after that hour that it shocked me. What if it had truly been poison? They didn't know." He sighed realizing he was rambling, but it felt good to vent.


"I knew it would be hard, but I didn't know it would be this hard."

Arcturus smiled. "I think that's because you told them 'no', and that gives them more reason to disobey you. A forbidden object, a forbidden place - it makes it all so much exciting to do it than not do it. Poison or no, that's how they are." He shook his head wistfully, remembering his experiences with children. "If only they would understand that adults really do care about them, but once upon a time we probably didn't care about those annoying adults either."

He finished his cold Butterbeer. "To think of it, sometimes we sometimes love doing something that we aren't usually expected to do, or something that society in general has a stigma against. Forbidden romances, forbidden meetings...I can understand the appeal of it. I'll even go so far as to say I've forayed into forbidden things myself, but not recently and not many."

Arcturus sometimes had the opinion that he needed to live more and be less a stickler for the rules. A risk or two. He hadn't had a thrill in a long time...he just couldn't figure out what would give him that thrill he was suddenly craving now. Honeydukes fudge didn't count.