5 May 1923
Early afternoon
Gigglewarts, Hogsmeade
Morgan had been in Hogsmeade – in this shop – a lot longer than she wanted to admit. The plan had been simple: Brooks had a detention to do with Deputy Blackwood, so he’d be arriving later than her. She’d fill her time with planning out what toys to get Blobby and Blippy, and then he’d help her to make the final decision.
There may or may not have been discussion of getting something to prank Deputy Blackwood with as well, but that was the least important bit.
In the end, Morgan had already left the shop once to get something to eat, and returned. And still, anytime the bell at the door rang, she looked in hopes to see her best friend. But it was never him.
On the plus side, she didn’t think she’d need his help with toys for the babies. The enchanted rubber duck she had found would be perfect for Blippy: it quacked in different accents depending on who was holding it. Why was it perfect? She wasn’t sure. But it would drive their dad nuts. For Blobby she was thinking the self-stacking blocks would be great… she could see him now getting them stacked just right for him to look away for a moment and return to them completely rearranged. It’d drive the boy insane but also she’d get a kick out of it.
But now she was to the point of needing her best friend with her; the Deputy was a particularly easy ‘get’, but they had to have the right tools. She picked up one of the whoopee cushions that was ‘banned in three common rooms’ according to the sign, and as she turned it over, a shadow fell over her.
Morgan perked up, ready to lay into Brooks for taking forever, but scowled when it wasn’t him.
“Barlowe, right?” the older boy said. She’d heard the tone in his voice before.
She didn’t answer.
“Both of ‘em,” he continued, not needing her participation in the conversation. “Must be cozy, having mummy and daddy running half the castle.”
Morgan set down the whoopee cushion she’d been holding. “Something like that,” she said evenly, refusing to acknowledge that Julia was, in fact, not her mother.
He laughed, though it was the kind that had an audience in mind. She felt eyes on them.
“Must make it real easy. Never have to worry about detentions, never have to worry about marks. Just bat your eyes at daddy in the corridor and –”
“You should be careful,” Morgan responded, still refusing to look back at the boy. She picked up another object – a ball of sorts – and was looking closely at the pattern as if truly interested. “I’m not actually known for batting my eyes at anyone.”
The bell jingled again.
“No,” the boy said, agreeing. He leaned against the shelf, clearly not planning on leaving anytime soon. “You’re known for other things. Half the school talkin’ about your family all its… complications.” He said the word ‘complications’ like it tasted very interesting. “New mum, new siblings, what is it now – two babies? Three? Losing count must be difficult.”
Morgan said nothing. She set the ball down. Looked at the blocks in her hands.
“Though I suppose it’s easier when you’ve already lost the one that actually mattered.”
Morgan went still. She closed her eyes momentarily, her rage bubbling up now. But she’d been trying to work on that. After a second, she opened her eyes and carefully set her finds down on a stack of joke books.
“I’d stop there,” she said quietly, her voice tight with restraint. “If I were you.” She balled her hands into fists at her sides. He wasn’t going to stop there. In fact, his face read amusement. Almost as if daring her to lash out.
The detention had gone from annoying to downright evil. Very on brand for Professor Blackwood. Brooks had scrubbed every filthy oven in the Applied Magic classroom until his hands were raw. Apparently Deputy Blackwood believed that character was built one blister at a time.
By the time he finally stepped into Hogsmeade, the day was already coming to an end. He felt guilty. Mysty had probably been waiting ages.
His pace picked up as Gigglewarts came into view. He pushed through the door, the bell ringing as he entered. "New mum, new siblings, what is it now – two babies? Three? Losing count must be difficult....Though I suppose it's easier when you've already lost the one that actually mattered."
Brooks stopped. His smile disappeared. Taking in the scene, his guard immediately went up. He didn't know the whole conversation and he didn’t need to.
Morgan stood still, her fists clenched at her sides. The older boy, Robert, leaned up against the display, wearing the sort of grin Brooks had seen a hundred times back in Boston. The grin of someone who enjoyed seeing other people in pain.
For a heartbeat Brooks simply watched. Assessing the scene. After years of working with his father in the bar back home, he had a good feel for when shit was about to go down.
His jaw tightened. This wasn’t going to end with him backing away. Without a word, he crossed the shop. “I’d stop there, If I were you.”
Coming to a stop next to Mysty, his hand found hers on instinct. Their fingers wrapping around each other. He gave her hand a squeeze before his eyes found Robert’s. Cocking his head to one side, Brooks took in the bully. Older. Taller. Smellier. A real troll this one.
”Now Robbie, I can call you Robbie right?’ He shot him a playful look, he wasn’t looking for an answer. ”Yes, Swell! So, I see you here, talking to my girl and I get the real feeling that she would like you to back the feck up.”
His mouth was saying things before his brain could catch up. Some would call this a character flaw, Brooks would disagree. He gave her hand another squeeze before gently guiding her a single step behind him. Not because she couldn't fight her own battles, but because this one was his now.
And Robbie’s face was turning a violent shade of red, which was probably going to be a problem.
"You're standing in my spot." Brooks said out of nowhere, catching the bully off guard. His face morphing from angry to confused in a blink. "...What?" Robbie sputtered.
Brooks smiled, as if what he was saying was obvious. "Where you're standing, that’s my spot. I was meeting her here." Brooks shrugged, as though that explained everything.
A few nearby students snorted. Finding the entire back and forth hilarious. Brooks couldn’t help but agree. Robbie on the other hand looked more angry by the second. "And who're you supposed to be? Pampered princess this one, first her dad, then another mom shows up to make her life easy in the castle. Now you’re here fighting her battles?
Brooks blinked. Once. Twice. Then a laugh escaped him before he could stop it. Short, clipped, disbelieving.
He looked over his shoulder at Morgan, rolling his eyes at the stupidity that stood before them. "...Pampered princess?"
Another chuckle escaped through his nose. "Jesus Christ..." He rubbed a hand over his face. "That's what you've gone with?" He looked genuinely impressed at the kid’s audacity.
"I've heard some spectacularly stupid things in my life...but that's makin' a strong case for first place. Wow, you really have no f’ecking idea what you're talking about, do you? I was trying to save ya by steppin in, but it’s your funeral. Have att’im beautiful. I’ll be here to help clean up the mess.”
The bell had rung a while ago, but Morgan hadn’t clocked it. Not until the familiar presence of her best friend appeared did she realize he had even finally arrived. Incredibly late. She didn’t fight the contact of his hand, in fact she gripped it. Tightly. Like he was a lifeline.
He was.
She kept her mouth shut, listening as Brooks spoke to the older boy, her eyes locked on his stupid face. She registered “my girl” somewhere in the back of her brain; that was something she’d bring up to him later. Maybe.
Right now, though, there was Robert.
Morgan wasn’t going to let go of Rook’s hand. It was the only thing keeping her present, keeping her from going somewhere she couldn’t come back from easily. She could feel the pure rage, knew it well, but underneath it was something quieter and worse she wasn’t going to let the older boy see.
Everything else that was said, Morgan didn’t hear. She didn’t even really register him moving in front of her slightly. All she knew was that he was there and she had his hand and that was going to make it all okay again.
Rook said something – she heard the word ‘beautiful’ – but she didn’t know what to do with it. She filed that away too, with the words ‘my girl’ from earlier.
Then it was quiet and Morgan just studied Robert for a long moment. He was still red, still wearing that stupid grin, and still waiting.
“You don’t get to say that,” she said. Her voice came out quieter than she intended. She realized she couldn’t say anything clever. “You don’t get to say anything about her.”
That was it; that was all she could say.
Morgan continued glaring at him, her jaw set, her hand gripping Rook’s like it was her lifeline. She wasn’t going to cry. She absolutely was not going to cry in front of this boy.
Robert opened his mouth.
“Don’t,” she said.
Robert never got the chance to say anything. He wouldn’t allow the idiot to spew any more negativity towards Mysty. Brooks took one slow step forward, not enough to shove him, but just enough that the older boy had to decide if he wanted to keep standing where he was.
Brooks fingers tightened around Morgan's. He wouldn’t be letting go unless he needed to throw hands. And he would, if it came to that. She was holding on tightly, it felt good. Right.
Jaw tightening, Brooks kept his eyes on Robert. "She told you not to speak, I suggest you take her advice. For once in your pathetic life, be smart and walk the fuck away.”
He remained calm. Talking in a tone that left no room for questions. The shop had gone completely quiet, waiting for something to happen. Robert looked around for someone to laugh, someone to be on his side. He found nobody.
Brooks held his stare. Not wavering for a second. "If you've got even half a brain...you'll listen." He took another step towards Robert, this time walking right into his space, forcing him to step back or touch. Finally realizing his bullying was done for the day, he took a small step back.
Brooks looked over the older boy. Robert had him by a couple inches, but Brooks was more muscular. "My da owned a pub. I met a lot of idiots who thought they were funny after runnin' their mouths." His gaze found Robert’s eyes once again. "They usually weren't."
The crowd around them was growing wrestless, the shopkeeper realizing something was amiss. Nothing changed in Brooks' posture, even with a worker coming closer. He had done nothing wrong, there were witnesses. ”I’m giving you one last chance to leave on your own. Wait any longer and the opportunity will pass… Take it.”
Finally realizing that he wouldn’t win this battle, Robert gave Brooks an angry look, then turned his eyes on Morgan. The look of disgust lasted no more than two seconds before Brooks moved in closer, all niceties gone. Dropping Mysty’s hand he advanced on the boy, finger up, pointing right at his face. ”You don’t get to look at her. You don’t get to speak to her. You don’t get to breathe the same air as her. Out! Now!”
The bell over the door jingled, signaling Robert’s exit. Moving back to Mysty, Brooks took her hand in his again, weaving their fingers together. He doesn’t immediately talk, looking her over to make sure there are no hairs out of place, no marks, no injuries.
He tucks some hair behind her ear, adrenaline causing his heart to beat harder. The crowd dispersed, the noise in the shop coming back as if nothing ever happened. He moved in, needing to be close. Needing her. ”... You alright, Myst?”
Morgan stayed silent. She felt uncomfortable. She didn’t want to be there. Who knew the joke shop would feel like that; like she didn’t belong. She didn’t even want to get the toys for the babies anymore.
She watched Robert leave without a word. She stood very still, even for a few minutes after he was gone, after Brooks took her hand again. She wasn’t okay. Not in the least bit. Everyone around them had returned to their normal activities chatting and laughing. But Morgan felt… something.
His hand felt more reassuring this time, less like something she needed to survive, and more like the presence that would help her mend whatever it was the bully had fractured.
And then he tucked her hair behind her ear.
That was the thing that did it.
It hadn’t been Robert and his stupid grin, not the mum comment that was still sitting in her chest like a stone, not the rage she’d been holding by the edges for the last few minutes. It was his hand, gentle, tucking her hair back like it was the most natural thing in the world, and then his voice, quiet and close:
“...You alright, Myst?”
The armor didn’t shatter. It just developed a crack. Right down the middle. She could feel it.
“Yeah,” she said. Her voice came out slightly rougher than she intended. She cleared her throat and smiled. “Yeah, I’m fine.” A lie. He’d know.
She looked down at their joined hands for a second, then back up at him.
“You’re very late,” she said. “For the record.” Her voice was tight, though she was pathetically attempting her usual joking banter.
It didn’t work, and it wasn’t what she meant to say. But it was safer than the other things. The things she didn’t have words for yet.
Morgan stood there for another second and then just stepped closer. Not wrapping her arms around him, not saying what she felt she needed, just closing the distance because that was where she felt safest. And she needed to feel safe.
Brooks looked at her for a long moment. At fifteen, his brain wasn’t sure what to make of the girl standing in front of him. She was very pretty, that much he knew. Funny, strong, brave and the best friend he didn’t know he needed. In Boston, he had friends, but no one like Mysty. He shared things with her beyond the surface level shit.
It was weird, but he liked it.
She said she was fine, but he knew better. She wasn’t fine. He knew deep down, like how he knew the rain was coming just by the smell in the air.
His thumb absentmindedly brushed across the back of the hand still tucked in his. He didn't even realize he was doing it. Not realizing what he was doing until it was done, Brooks pulled her into his arms.
Thinking back, he couldn’t remember hugging any of his friends in Boston. Granted, most were brutish boys that ran the streets, but still… Hugging Mysty was… nice. Warm. She… fit.
"No." He said, ”You’re not fine.” The word came out soft. Not accusing or arguing. Just acknowledging the fact that she wasn’t, in fact, fine, but that was ok. He didn’t let her go, keeping her tight in his arms. Rubbing his hand up and down her back in a soothing motion. Not sure why? It just felt like the right thing to do.
He let the silence sit between them for a moment, giving her every opportunity to pull away, punch him in the arm or tell him off for getting too close.
She didn't.
A crooked smile found its way onto his face, realizing just how much he liked having her in his arms. Her hair smelled like her shampoo, something girly. Maybe fruity? He wasn’t sure, but mixed in was something purely Mysty. The smell of fresh rain and a summer storm. Maybe a little David tossed in for spice. Made him smile a little wider.
Giving her another squeeze he sighed. "And that's alright, Myst. You don’t have to pretend with me.” He whispered in her ear.
For a second they simply stood there, the noise outside their bubble a hum in his ear. As another shopper bumped into them, their bubble popped and sound came rushing back. Pulling away from her, begrudgingly, Brooks looked at his best friend.
Really looked. He'd seen her angry, laughing so hard she’d nearly fallen to the ground, her ability to launch roasted potatoes across the great hall with terrifying accuracy was a thing of beauty, but right now she looked almost fragile. And he hated it.
Tucking a hair behind her ear Brooks sighed, wanting to take away her pain and return her sassy smile back to her face. Seeing her upset gutted him.
All emotions a 15 year old boy had no idea how to process.
"I'm sorry I was late." He scratched the back of his neck with his free hand, looking genuinely guilty. "I tried to get here quicker."
A sheepish grin tugged at one corner of his mouth. "Turns out Deputy Blackwood believes burnt-on food sludge builds character. I think I have enough character to last the rest of the school year.
He glanced down at his hands. They were still pink from scrubbing, rougher and more calloused then before.
Taking her hand once again, he gave her another gentle squeeze. "...Wish I'd been here sooner."
The words slipped out before he could stop them. He blinked. Well… That had all been a lot more serious than he'd intended.
Clearing his throat, Brooks looked around the shop until his eyes landed on the shelf she'd been browsing before he'd walked in. His face lit up with exaggerated forced happiness
.
"Right." He pointed dramatically at the enchanted rubber duck. "Business." Another point at the one that spoke in accents when you held it. "Blobby and Blippy. " With a grin beginning to return, he looked back at her. "Now... which one of those little gremlins deserves the duck that insults people in a Scottish accent?"
Morgan had been hoping Rook would do what he did; she remembered melting down when she was a firstie and Benji (then her crush, now her brother) comforting her. She knew she had a tough exterior, and most of it was because she’d rather not deal with the serious stuff and just take everything in stride. But he wrapped his arms around her in a hug and she closed her eyes, letting out a big breath.
Peppermint, cedar, rain-soaked wool… those were things she had begun to find comfort in because that’s what Brooks smelt like. She loved it.
“No. You’re not fine.”
She wouldn’t argue. But she wouldn’t say it. Fine? She could be fine. But she couldn’t be not fine. Morgan didn’t want to do that to anyone around her. She let him hold on and she stayed there and it was warm. Right. The kind of thing she didn’t want to need, but realized now that she did need it.
She wouldn’t think about that right now.
Rook squeezed her and she couldn’t help but to let a small smile cross her lips at the feeling. And then he pulled back after someone bumped into them, bringing her back to where they were. She frowned a bit initially until he tucked a hair behind her ear again. She loved it when he did that, even if she didn’t know why.
He apologized again and Morgan smirked a little bit as he rubbed the back of his neck, kind of awkwardly. “You’re forgiven,” she said, but her voice was still slightly tighter than usual, but a bit steadier. “Barely.”
Morgan looked down at his hands, obviously a bit calloused. She hadn’t noticed before when she was upset, but now when he took her hand she could feel it. She didn’t say anything about it though.
“Wish I’d been here sooner.”
Morgan heard that and agreed. She filed it away, though, next to ‘my girl’ and ‘beautiful’, in the drawer that was getting very full and would need to be dealt with eventually.
“Right. Business. Blobby and Blippy. Now... which one of those little gremlins deserves the duck that insults people in a Scottish accent?”
Thankfully, the duck became the focus of the conversation and while Morgan was still trying to figure out what she was even thinking, she couldn’t help but to glance at Rook a bit longer than she usually did.
The smile that came was smaller than her usual one. Less performative, more actual Morgan. He may not have seen this before.
“Blippy,” she said, without hesitation. “Blippy gets the duck. He’s going to terrorize everyone with it and dad’s going to blame me and it’ll be completely worth it.” She picked it up and turned it over in her hands.
“Blobby gets the blocks. So he can know what it feels like when things don’t stay where you put them.” Morgan picked them up and tilted her head to the side slightly when she looked at Rook again. “Deeply educational. Don’t you think?”
“Blippy gets the duck… It’ll be completely worth it.” She was back to herself, mostly. An undercurrent of something still clouding her mood. He didn’t like it. Robert would pay in the end, if Brooks had anything to say about it.
And he did.
He watched as she turned the duck over in her hands, explaining why Blippy deserved to be an absolute menace to society. He couldn’t help the smile that spread over his face. Reaching over, he gave the duck a small squeeze, and was rewarded with a truly heinous response.
"Ye absolute numpty!" Came out in the deepest Scottish voice he had ever heard. The accent was so thick, it was hard to make out the words. Brooks chuckled and looked at Morgan. ”Worth ever knut.”
While Morgan began inspecting the blocks, Brooks picked up a small pocket sized dragon. Cute, accurate depiction with leather scales with an iridescent sheen. Reading the tag, Brooks grunted. ”Sneezes tiny puffs of colored smoke and occasionally lets out a dramatic roar.” Just as he said it, the palm sized dragon roared far louder than its size should allow.
”Well, ok then. Wait… nevermind, it hiccups sparks if you lie while holding it.” Thinking, then smirking, Brooks turned to Morgan with a knowing look on his face, dragon still in hand. ”I want nothing more than to snog Robert.” he said, with mock honesty in his tone. The small dragon immediately hiccuped and sent sparks shooting towards a display of plush nifflers.
”Well… that’s inconvenient.” he said, and promptly put the dragon back on the shelf.
“Blobby gets the blocks… Deeply educational. Don’t you think?” Brooks turned to her, giving her his full attention. Blocks that would rearrange themselves after he built something. That would have driven Brooks mental as a child.
”Educational. Cruel…” He said, crossing his arms while giving her a slow nod. ”Hilarious. Aye. thats a quality gift right there.”
Noticing another toy on the bottom shelf, just below the blocks caught his eye. Some sort of construction equipment. As he brought it up to inspect the grin on his face grew ten-fold. ”A crane that rolls around knocking over the blocks. Destroying what they create. That’s damn brilliant. It’s good to teach disappointment at a young age. Set them up for school later.”
Turning towards Morgan, he notices that she was smiling. Not her usual grin, a new one. This one was quieter
He found himself smiling back before he realized he was doing it. He hadn’t seen that smile before, but he liked it. Realized rather quickly that he liked all her smiles, especially the new ones. It was like unraveling a mystery. Which fit…
Brooks scratched the back of his neck, suddenly a little red in the face, before gesturing dramatically toward the rest of the shop. "Right then. Myst, we have successfully fond presents your you siblings will love and the parents will hate."
His expression grew mock-serious. "Now comes the important question..."
His blue eyes sparkled with mischief. "...How much trouble can we buy for the Headmaster and Deputy with whatever money we've got left?"
Morgan examined the blocks until she heard the word ‘snog’.
Her eyes widened and she looked up, her eyes falling on his mouth. That’s where snogging happened. She hadn’t meant to look there, but she did. When she realized it, she bit her lip and then looked down at the blocks in her hands.
She could feel her face doing something warm and involuntary that she was going to be furious about later. The dragon hiccupped sparks at the display and she used the small chaos of its cover, very focused on the blocks in her hands, absolutely not thinking about anything.
“Put it back,” she said, which he was already doing, and she was grateful for something to say.
She kept her eyes on the blocks.
The crane caught his attention next and she was grateful that he was distracted, so he could hopefully not notice how red her face was. She really hoped the red would go away.
Then he turned towards her.
She could feel his eyes on her before she saw his eyes on her. She glanced up and caught him already smiling, slightly red around the ears, scratching the back of his neck.
Into the drawer, with all of the other things she’d filed away in the past few minutes. ‘My girl’, ‘beautiful’, the hug that felt better than it should. And the blushing. She was going to need a bigger drawer.
"Right then. Myst, we have successfully found presents your siblings will love and the parents will hate."
“Successfully,” she agreed, when he gestured at their haul. The new smile was there, quieter than usual, and she wasn’t doing anything about it. “Dad’s going to be furious.”
Morgan then looked up at him, tilting her head slightly to the side at the mention of the deputy. Her face no longer felt warm. She thought.
She smiled and looked at the items she was purchasing. “I think maybe 2 galleons,” she said. “Any ideas?”
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