Who: Lottie Sweeting & Ollie Comstock!
What: they just really have a hard time staying in their country of birth
Where: Venice, Italy!
When: recently!
Charlotte was a
fool. It was all she could think about for the past four hours as she wandered the streets of Venice trying to figure out what to do. She was stranded, with no money to get back home to England. And she only had a few hours before she would be sleeping on the street because she didn’t even have the money to get a room for the night.
What was she thinking, following Matteo Basili to
Italy? Lottie prided herself in her quidditch knowledge, including the gossip beyond the pitch. What possessed her to think that she would be any different than any of the other girls he found himself fancying in the moment. Just because she could hold a somewhat decent conversation in Italian? Because she didn’t think that he’d invite her out just because he didn’t manage to get her into bed in New York. Whatever it was, being show the door in the morning---
Lottie pressed her hand to her eyes. She couldn’t dwell on this anymore. What she needed was a plan. Venice. Who did she know in Venice? There was something in the back of her head, she just needed to calm down enough to find it. It took a few minutes but it finally clicked.
Oliver Comstock. He played for Venice for
years. Maybe… it was a long shot even finding his house, and then chances were he wouldn’t even be there. But it was the only thing she had, other than owling
home. The thought of that, of admitting to anyone still in England what had just happened-- well she’d rather spend hours asking anyone who could understand her where she could find Ollie.
After what felt like ages, she had finally tracked down what could reasonably be a quidditch player’s home. Charlotte hesitated at the door for a few moments before finally drawing up the courage to knock. Hopefully, she hadn’t upset Jake to the point that he told his best friend that she was a horrible person. Though, how her day was going it wouldn’t be a surprise if he shut the door in her face.
Ollie
was home, as after Wales’ loss in elimination rounds, he had found himself deeply disinterested in returning to England. What was waiting for him there? It had not been difficult for him to figure out: a disgruntled sister, a professional career he wanted nothing more than to end, and two witches that through physical or spiritual means haunted his very being. No, he had no desire to return to the mess of a life he created for himself in England and thought it quite easy to retreat to Italy where everything always felt easier.
He had just been contemplating a walk through the square with Vero when Ollie heard a knocking coming from below. Peering over the ledge on the second floor, he thought curiously how rare of an occurrence it was for someone on the outside to knock. There were little that knew he was here, even fewer Venetians that cared, and if it were a burglar, would they really knock before entering? His brow furrowed when the knocking started again.
He should answer it, he suppose.
Wand in pocket, Ollie padded down the stairs into the lower level of the house. Opening the heavy wooden door slowly, after giving a wary back up toward Vero perched on the floor above, he really wasn’t sure what to expect.
Lottie Sweeting?
Ollie blinked, and shook his head. Were his eyes were playing tricks on him? What was she doing here?
“Lottie?” he echoed, unsure about the witch before him.
While trying to track Ollie down, it was easy for Charlotte to keep herself composed. She had a goal that needed to be accomplished and crying would not help. Something to focus on other than why she was in Venice helped. But now that she was here, Lottie would have to explain. She open and closed her mouth several times trying to figure out where to start. "I'm sorry for just--- rude just showing up like this but--"
“I am sort of stranded in Venice.” She admitted finally, wringing her hands. Lottie couldn’t remember the last time she had spoken to Ollie herself and it was beyond rude for her to just show up. She was just grateful that he even knew who she was. Maybe Jake had spoke kindly enough of her that he would possibly consider letting her stay the night. But standing here now all she could think about is how they were talking, how Jake had done so much for her and she just turned around and left him. For a prick that probably didn’t even remember her name now, let alone anything else about her.
“I know you don’t know me very well, but Jake, well--” She wiped at her face as the tears she tried so hard to stop started up again. “I was hoping you could help me out. I don’t know anyone else here.”
His eyes widened, and Ollie took in her words at a snail’s pace. Sort of stranded in Venice? Hoping for help? Jake? Closing his eyes briefly, he wondered what he had just stumbled upon at his front door. Did Lottie frequently find herself with no resources in a foreign country? Jake admittedly hadn’t told him much about Lottie Sweeting, but he hadn’t thought…
He didn’t notice her tears until suddenly they were streaming down her face, and in that moment, Ollie felt uncomfortable. A part of him felt pressed to hear her story, and the other, the one that knew how it felt to be drowning in abandonment, wanted to simply step aside and sweep her inside without so much more of an explanation.
Well? Ollie extended his arms out, letting his fingers separate in an open manner.
“Yeah. Yeah-- of course. Come in,” he murmured, looking away from her face. Her tears discomforted him, why, exactly, he didn’t feel like divulging, but for now, all he wished was for her to stop. “There are a lot of rooms upstairs...” Ollie began, meaning that his house had far too many unoccupied rooms to count. “If you need a place to stay...”
Lottie shuffled into the house a bit awkwardly. This had of course been the goal, but she had expected there to be a bit more pleading involved. Wiping away the last of her tears, she glanced around the foyer not wanting to look up to Ollie until she had figured out what to say.
“Thank you,” she murmured looking around the sparse room, letting herself be momentarily distracted by all the wasted space. If this were her place---Charlotte paused blinking away the thought. What a joke. Her life had become a tragic joke when she wasn’t paying attention. And instead of doing what she could to stop it, she just dove head first into it. Leaving herself to beg on the hospitality of others. Of someone she really had no right to asking favors to, but her chest tightened at the thought of explaining.
“I really appreciate it.” Lottie said sincerely looking up to Ollie. “Really. It’s been--- I’ve--- I haven’t been doing very well making life choices recently, and it looks like its all finally caught up to me.” She rubbed her arm self consciously, wondering if he would mind terribly if she disappeared now that he had let her in. She desperately wanted to test the limits of his hot water with a shower and then try to sleep this entire day away. “I promise I will try not to be a nuisance.”
Ollie rubbed the back of his own neck. Didn’t he know that feeling all too well. Nothing was quite worse than looking back on your past, and regretting it.
Letting his hands drop to his sides, he wasn’t aware of Lottie’s gaze until her words sat uncomfortably, and alone, in the air. Stopping right before the stairs, he finally looked down at her. His eyes crawled over her tired face, took in her small stature, and accepted that even though he barely knew this witch and really never had any inclination to get to know her, it would be the right thing to do to let her stay in this house that honestly could do to house a few more inhabitants.
“I know you won’t,” he reassured her, letting his lips press together in thin sympathy. Beckoning her forward up the stairs, the pointed idly up the top where his very large dog waited patiently. “My dog is the size of a winged horse.”
Amused by his own humor, the ends of Ollie’s mouth curled upward as he trudged up the steps.
