WHO: Louis Bonaccord and Saoirse Mullet
WHAT: Meeting for a Slugclub Brunch
WHERE: Outside a restaurant on a muggle street somewhere out there
WHEN: Last weekish?



Time seemed to move slower in England. Louis stared across the busy London street as he waited, standing against the wall of a much-too-fancy-for-brunch restaurant. He had already been here a week, a week! After a week, he should have been interning with a famous philosopher or traversing to ancient temples to uncover long lost scrolls. A Grand Tour was supposed to enlighten and revive the soul, which it had, but what did it matter when you ended up back home on New Year’s and your parents found it étrange that he had no job offers on the table?

Un pieux mensonge later, he was in England and easing his way into his sister’s flat. Louis had been on four interviews in the past week so that he would not have to be a guest in Therese’s place for long; he had found a man’s shirt and he did not wish to put himself in une situation embarrassante. Each job had been radically different than the rest. Mediwizard, cursebreaker, librarian, animal caretaker, and he would be heading up to the Hebrides Islands for a position as a dragon wrangler. It seemed like the enlightening journey he had partaken in had not prepared him for what all the adults in his life considered ‘the real world.’

Pah.

Tucked snuggly under his arm was a gift for Professor Slughorn, the man whom he was meeting today. Louis had been a member of the former Potions Master’s exclusive Slug Club, and it seemed that his former head of house had some sort of tracking spell on his back. Louis had not been in the country for twenty-four hours before Slughorn had owled him an invitation to brunch, and now here he was because one did not turn down a meeting with Horace Slughorn. The man may rub many and most the wrong way, but there was no denying that his large web of connections was valuable to those who were granted access to it.

His scarf nearly untwisted itself from around his neck with the wind, and Louis pressed harder against the wall, continuing to watch the muggles briskly walk past and zoom by in their vehicles. At what time did brunch become lunch and Slughorn’s lack of appearance be considered late?

Professor Slughorn tended to be late for these kind of get togethers, a habit no doubt due to liking the benefits of a fashionable entrance, which was why Saoirse felt little discomfort in arriving a bit belatedly herself. There wasn’t exactly a point in promptness when the other party historically didn’t keep to it, was there? In the past this kind of behavior irked her, but her former head of house’s tendencies were allowing for this stroll with Howell, so she couldn’t say it bothered her much at this current time.

Saoirse had just been contemplating what fresh stories she could tell her professor when an old face leaning against the side of the building caught her eye. Louis... Bonaccord? Her back straightened as she squinted her eyes for a better look, for it had been a while since she had last seen him, and it could be merely someone who had also been a fellow prefect, Professor Slughorn’s other favorite in their year, and a general academic rival.

Her eyes had not deceived her. Saoirse pushed aside her sudden curiosity at what her former housemate was doing back in English territory to think about what she did remember about him. Louis had, as Slughorn never missed a chance in telling her, been out of the country for quite a while partaking in some rather exciting adventures. But, as it was obvious, he had returned and was apparently invited to brunch.

Because there wasn’t much else she could do now in close proximity of Louis, Saoirse casually unlaced her fingers from Howell’s, took her hand out of his pocket, and moved to clutch her coat closer to her front. While this housemate of hers was not someone she thought completely negatively upon during her sparing reflections of her school years, Saoirse was still unwilling to lend any opening for a personal divulging. Luckily, fatefully, it seemed that Howell caught onto her hesitation, because before she knew it his accompaniment to the restaurant was over, and he murmured in her ear about seeing each other later only before melting back into the crowd completely.

She blinked, taking only a second to adjust to this previously unknown social interaction upon her. Saoirse straightened her back even more, and dropped her hands from her collar. “Hello, Louis.”

As she spoke, her eyes couldn’t help but briefly wander to the package under his arm, no doubt the necessary gift all had to bestow at meetings like this. Fleetingly, she wondered how the undoubtedly rare and exotic present he had would compare to her relatively unimaginative, but nonetheless noteworthy gift of season tickets to every Arrows game.

And then, because she had to ask, “Professor Slughorn hasn’t arrived yet?”

His gaze lifted from a particularly interesting sight of a woman with pink hair spiked in a row on her head, stretching each point about a foot high. Louis’ eyebrows knitted as Saoirse approached, though he failed to recognize the burly bloke that had accompanied her. It wasn’t strange to see her, as Slughorn’s letter had included a riveting retelling of her performance during the Euro Cup that Louis was sure the professor would repeat again today, and Louis had taken it as a not-so-subtle hint that she would be here this morning as well. He did however find it curious that she had arrived with a significant other as he could not recall any of dating history of Saoirse’s, but he would not comment.

“No, and we cannot be seated under the reservation without him,” Louis said with a smirk, “I did not know you could reserve a table for brunch, but I suppose you learn something new every day.”

He smiled at her, looking over at how much she had changed. It was interesting to him when people pointed out how different he seemed after his journey, as the gradual process of adapting to his surroundings and simply growing up had not been something Louis himself had noticed to admit to himself. He wondered if Saoirse found much of a difference between her current self and the Hogwarts life she’d left behind.

“You look well,” he said, free hand digging into his pocket. He grasped onto the small box inside, wondering now if the gift he’d brought for her, as he had assumed Saoirse would be here as well from Slughorn’s letter, would be appropriate now that he knew she was seeing someone. Some boys might take it as something more than it was, “Congratulations on your Ireland team pick.”

“You can when you’re Horace Slughorn,” Saoirse mused, pressing her lips together as she pulled her coat closer to her body. Their former professor’s reputation was well-known, and it would not surprise her if this restaurant usually did no such thing, but made a special exception for them. The owner would conveniently be an old friend, a former student, or a combination of the both; that was usually how it went. They could also probably expect some grand display, or a long interruption by a stranger that turned out to be incredibly famous... there was always a surprise to be had.

Though, she immediately thought, perhaps Louis was the planned surprise, so there might not be any of that this morning.

Saoirse’s brow picked up at his compliment, and in that moment, she realized she had forgotten her manners. “Thank you,” she said earnestly, the strictness in her stance loosening with his surprising display of politeness. Had the months of travel and experience much changed him? It had been over two years... tentatively thinking this to be the case, Saoirse freely tilted her head to get a better full look of him. It had not been horrible to him.

The thought that she should state this came to her, because he had made a point to state so of her, but, Saoirse knew it would fall tightly out of her mouth. So instead, she safely assumed that Louis was just as well updated on her life as he was hers, and therefore felt little awkwardness in her next words.

“Congratulations on your discovery of ancient wizarding origin scrolls in China,” she nodded, her mouth pulling into a unique expression. “I was only relatively envious and loathsome of you during the three weeks Slughorn refused to talk about anything else.”

His lips pursed because he was unable to hide the faint flush that filled his cheeks at the mention of his last expedition. In the early days of his tour it was common for him to regal his family and friends daily with his adventures, but soon Louis found a greater appreciation in keeping his stories and lessons to himself. He still showered his sister and mother with presents, and his father was always keen to hear about the interesting people he’d made acquaintances and friends with, but those stories were not shared lightly. Louis wondered momentarily about how much Professor Slughorn was going to pry, but he supposed that he should have come prepared to speak at great lengths when he accepted the invitation.

“Three weeks?” Louis responded with a shrug, “I was shooting for a month. I must try harder next time.”

China had been his favorite place to stay as the culture was still rich and nearly absorbed in their own history. There were times Louis felt like he was time traveling simply by going down a different street, and the wizards and witches that he had accompanied on the excavation of an ancient burial site had taught him enough to write a whole library’s worth of books.

Write a book! Maybe that is what he will tell Slughorn he was up to, as he was sure that stating he was ‘in between jobs’ would not be satisfactory for the professor. With his thoughts drifting back to China, Louis decided that his gift for Saoirse was not inappropriate; it was a simple leather string bracelet with a wooden bead, it could not be less inappropriate. Louis had thought he’d give it to his sister, or even keep it himself, but at Slughorn’s mention of Saoirse he knew he’d held onto it for a reason.

“This is for you,” Louis pulled out the box and handed it to her, with an air of nonchalance. He pressed his lips together before explaining as he waited for her to open the gift. “It’s a bracelet; the engraving is the Chinese symbol for ‘freedom.’ I spent a lot of time with the monk who made it...I thought of you when I found it; your name means ‘freedom,’ does it not?”

Louis decided he would ignore the slight feeling of discomfort he was experiencing now that he had given her the bracelet, and when a small breeze picked up stepped closer to Saoirse. Surely they would not be standing out here for long, would they? “It is too cold to stay out here.”

Her brow shot up in surprise, and Saoirse was so struck by this turn in the conversation that all she could do was stare fixedly at the box now in her hands. Louis Bonaccord had brought her back a gift from his travels? Something at all had made him think of her? There had been a moment in which he experienced, unprompted, that thought? She couldn’t think of a time in which she had thought of him outside of the purposeful intervening by Professor Slughorn, and for that, an inkling in the back of her mind formed that she might have held their old school rivalry against him unfairly when he had ceased it.

“It does,” she nodded, running her fingertips against the leather. The bracelet was simple, and well-made, and actually something she might wear.

But, as she could not put aside the rising guarded feeling she always had, she couldn’t thank him just yet. Very much looking to discern if this meant something differently than she believed, Saoirse finally picked up her gaze to study Louis’ face. She looked at it intensely, for a few silent seconds, before finally saying, “This was thoughtful of you. Thank you.” Now, perhaps, it would be right to be a bit more conscious of him than she had previously been.

When Louis stepped closer, Saoirse curled her fingers around her gift, and stuffed her hands back into her pockets. They had become cold from being exposed to the elements for too long, and she would admit, the rest of her body was tingling for a warmer setting. Turning her head to glance across the street, Saoirse noticed a café with large windows placed directly across the street from the restaurant.

“We can go and sit over there,” she suggested, propping her elbow out to show Louis where she meant. “Or, attempt to be seated again.” Her shoulders shrugged slightly, having no real preference in the matter.

He smiled lightly, glad that she liked the bracelet, or at least appreciated it. Slughorn would be happy with the gesture as well, he believed, and it would at least show that his manners had remained intact over the past few years. Louis turned his gaze toward the café and nodded, agreeing that it would be easy to spot the professor entering the restaurant from a window seat, and then Slughorn would be allowed to believe he had indeed arrived first.

“The café is a good idea,” he said with a nod. He had brought muggle money, knowing he would have to put on a show of offering to pay before Slughorn insisted that it was a treat, it was a delight to be having brunch with two of his favorite former students. The games of Professor Slughorn had been played too long and too precisely, it seemed like nothing would surprise Louis, even this lateness was typical of the former potions master.

Though, as the pair made sure it was clear to cross the street without any muggle vehicles racing their way, Louis mused that his easy interaction with Saoirse had been a bit of a surprise. Perhaps assimilating back into British society would not be as difficult as he had been finding it to be.