dailydoseofem-blog1

[dailydoseofem-blog1]

henrysayre:

His back pressed against the wall when he shifted, eyebrows furrowing together while he took a moment to drink in their surroundings. It was dark. He could see Emerson’s face but there wasn’t much else of note in the small space they were sharing. A few empty bottles, wooden boxes, and the knowledge that the storeroom was barely big enough to hold the two of them. It was almost exhilarating in a way.

“Then I am happy it is just you and me,” He murmured. There was little reason to keep quiet since the sounds of the people back in the bar would have drowned his voice out. It simply felt right to keep his voice down. The murmuring seemed fit for the small space.

“I don’t think I want to know,” Henry shook his head. His gaze settled on Emerson’s and he gave her a small smile.

“Tempting idea,” Henry’s ears went red. His eyes traveled from her eyes to her lips then back again. They were close enough that all he would need to do was lean in and press his lips over hers. He simply didn’t have the nerve to do anything past brushing his nose against hers, his teeth digging into his lower lip when their eyes met again.

It happened between breaths; one minute she was speaking, and the next she was far more aware of just how close she and Henry were. They were practically on top of one another- the room was small- but the moment he shifted forward and their noses were bumping together, all of Emerson’s thoughts went into overdrive.

Was he silently asking her to make the decision for them? All it would take was the smallest move forward, and their lips would be touching. How she’d ached for that for so many years- she’d dreamed of kissing Henry more times than she could count, and now the moment finally seemed within reach.

She was prevented by making the move by the overwhelming flood of other thoughts. Simple thoughts, all along the lines of ‘he smells amazing right now’, ‘his eyes are so beautiful’, and more surprising thoughts such as just how badly she wanted to grip his shirt and pull him closer, maybe even press her body against his.

But first, she felt like she needed to say something.

The words were sticking in her throat, she could feel it. Emerson had learned to control her stutter over the years, but it tended to overwhelm her in moments when emotions were running high. She took a deep breath and pictured the words in her mind as if she were writing them on parchment- her comfort zone. A technique she’d used so often, over the years.

“I’ve been known to have a good idea or two, in my time,” she said, on an exhale in the form of a breathy laugh. She didn’t break eye contact with him- couldn’t if she wanted to. And that’s when she felt emboldened enough to add: 

“Maybe it was more of a suggestion, than an idea.”

[dailydoseofem-blog1]

knockturnburke

Though a jolt of surprise passed through him at the sight of Emerson standing casually by his side, propped up on a stool to be measured as he had, he wondered only moments later why he had been surprised at all. Of all the women in his life, those he knew well and those he avoided out of fear of their scathing glares and razor sharp, perfectly manicured talons, Emerson was the least traditional when it came to being a ‘pureblood lady’. If he thought about it long and hard enough, he would not be able to recall a time when she ever wore a dress or giggled like a simpering school girl. Those were just two of the reasons why her presence was tolerable to him.

“Yes, fancy that” he responded, his lips twitching as he turned back to the mirror. “I sure hope it hasn’t ruined your day” he half joked, playing with the cuff of his sleeve and deciding that it was far too tight to his wrist.

Clothes shopping had never been an exercise that he enjoyed, and though he had been fitted for suits and dress robes in the past, he had never gone under his own steam before. His mother’s influence and his fiancee’s apparent sway over him had changed him, from a man who did only what he wanted and what would benefit him, to one that sometimes, occasionally, thought of others before himself. It was a slightly disconcerting thought to have while standing in the middle of Twilfitt and Tatting and as a result, he quickly turned back to Emerson.

“At the risk of sounding like a cliche, do you come here often?”

Emerson stifled a laugh, covering up her rather un-ladylike snort with a cough. She did that more often than she’d care to admit- that is, laughing to cover up the fact that she felt awkward.

“I do come here often, actually,” she admitted, “They make the best-fitting suits in all of London. Oh, listen to me. I sound like a walking advertisement.” 

Her gaze shifted between Octavius and the tape still taking her measurements, trying to decide which was better to focus on while they spoke. She settled on watching the measuring tape.

“Everyone knows dresses have never been my thing,” she added, trying to be blasé about it, “This is usually the time I come for fittings, too. I’m surprised we’ve not run into each other here sooner.”

She wondered what he could be here for. Emerson tried to not to judge a book by its cover, but Octavius Burke had never struck her as a man that worried about a sharp suit and tie. And that wasn’t a bad thing- she knew some men who worked alongside her at the Daily Prophet whose personalities were built on one simple thing- looking good in a suit- and they were some of the most dreadfully boring people she’d ever had the displeasure of meeting.

Then again, perhaps she was generalizing.

[dailydoseofem-blog1]

henrysayre

“I don’t need to,” Henry shook his head. “I’ve read your work enough times now to know whatever you put out is fine.”

“They do,” He grinned. “But they’ve calmed down on my being a reckless father so I must admit I appreciate whoever is in charge of slandering my name the last couple of months. I think I was up to six children before they decided that was more than enough. Would’ve been more accurate with eight though— I’d have enough for my own quidditch team.”

Her ears went red and he had to look away, certain his ears matched the shade of hers. He hadn’t been aiming to make things awkward yet he somehow always managed to do so. It was a skill he had that he could neither perfect or get rid of.

“Lunch together,” He nodded and dug his teeth into his lower lip. “That sounds brilliant, Em. I’ll pay,” He added and looked back up at her. “You know this area better than I do though is there a cafe or restaurant to your liking?”

It surprised her, how fast Henry agreed to it. She wasn’t sure why- maybe it was because they’d not done this yet, this whole back-and-forth, the whole intricate tango that seemed to occur around dating. Nonetheless, she was pleased. Emerson huffed out a soft laugh and smiled at him, her cheeks flushed pink.

“What, here in Diagon Alley?” she asked him, mildly amused, “Which you’ve come to many times?” She shouldn’t tease, but she could never help it when it came to Henry.

“There’s my usual cafe just down the street, if you’d like. You can be a gentleman and hold the umbrella while we walk.” She gestured to the small window that allowed her a small view into the outside world; the sky was overcast and grey, and gentle droplets of rain were drumming against the glass. Emerson found herself reminiscing on days like this at Hogwarts, when she and Henry would spend hours in quiet nooks and hallways to charm pieces of parchment into lopsided birds, or tried to break their record for how many Bertie Botts’ Beans the one could throw into the other’s mouth. 

Emerson found herself smiling to herself, at the thought. Sometimes it was good to think about how far they’d come, over the years.

“Let’s get going, shall we?”

[dailydoseofem-blog1]

henrysayre

There was a comfort that came from being close to her, the feeling of electricity that sparked from simple touches. He was drawn to her and a little uncertain of how to navigate. Being fickle was a trait of his but it had never once come about with Emerson. Friends since childhood that only separated when they started their careers. The familiarity was something he thrived on. The thought of losing it — of losing her — was unthinkable. It was what left him so cautious over the weeks. Close, yet not enough to open up to her and admit he had similar feelings to hers.

I need you safe. Perhaps it was not best choice of words to stop her but she had frozen. He knew her too well to assume she would opt for remaining safe instead of running head one into whatever was going on outside. It was something that could push her to the front page.

“Hide,” Henry repeated and nodded, fingers threading through hers. He squeezed hers in return, allowing her to take the lead until the arrived at a small storeroom and shut the door behind them. He released his grip on her hand and turned to face her, looking away from her while he caught his breath. They were rather close due to limited space and the lighting was limited. It wasn’t the best location but it had to count as better than being stuck in the middle of the growing crowd that was intent on taking shelter in the bar.

“Imagine if we had a third person in here…” He exhaled and allowed his gaze to settle on hers, taking her hand once their eyes met.

The room was dark, and far, far too small. But she couldn’t bring herself to mind it. Even though her heart was racing and her mind was yelling at her to get out there, see what was going on, be the first on the scene- all of this was drowned out by Henry’s comforting presence. Emerson squeezed his hand again, finding her solace in that small gesture.

“It’d be too much of a tight squeeze if we had anyone else in here,” she murmured. She wasn’t sure why, but the atmosphere of the room seemed to call for soft voices- like a library, or a bedroom in the middle of the night. 

Emerson’s gaze flickered, shifting between the man in front of her and the door. 

“I’m not sure what’s going on,” she said, “But hopefully...we’re safe in here until it blows over."

She knew they’d be safe as long as they were together. There was little doubt in her mind about that. That thought alone was enough to loosen some of the tension in her shoulders.

“Now all we do is wait,” the beginnings of a smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she met Henry’s eyes again, “This sort of feels like we’re just...sneaking around. Like teenagers hiding in a broom cupboard to snog.”

Emerson nudged him playfully, and she hoped her attempt to lighten the mood would work. She tried to ignore how her voice had hitched on the word snog.

[dailydoseofem-blog1]

Slow to start, quick to burn.

Those were the words that came to mind when she thought of her and Henry. It’d taken years, so many years, for them to get to this point- and now, every touch, every glance, set Emerson’s soul alight in the best way, made her heart beat in her chest so hard she was sure her ribs would crack.

Nothing had really happened yet, and Henry hadn’t outright addressed any feelings for her, but there had been a definite shift from just best friends to something a little more. The lingering touches, the way he seemed to always want to be even closer to her than normal. Like now, for instance- his chin was on her shoulder while he read the notes she’d jotted down during the course of their evening. She hoped he didn’t notice how pink her ears were, as his proximity made her feel warm in a pleasant, comfortable sort of way.

Emerson huffed out a soft laugh in response to his comment about the lack of sacrificial beast. She had an equally witty reply on the tip of her tongue- and that’s when it happened.

The chaos started with the sound of breaking glass. 

It was as if that was the cue for the panic that ensued afterwards; Emerson had no idea what exactly had gone wrong, what sent the people around them into hysteria, but there was something inside of her that needed to find out. She was already halfway out of her seat when she realized Henry was saying something.

The voice inside of her that was egging her towards the chaos was swiftly drowned out by Henry’s words. He needed her safe. She found herself nodding in agreement; she didn’t want him getting hurt, either.

“We could hide,” Emerson said, grabbing his hand as she led him away from their booth. She wasn’t sure where she was taking him, just that it was further into the bar and away from the threat of danger. 

She was trying not to let her nerves get the better of her, to remain calm, but the tight grip she had on Henry’s hand said otherwise.

Bonfire Heart // Saxley

The Hopping Pot - Carkitt Market

14 February 1979

@dailydoseofem

Henry was hardly a romantic but even he could admit there was something magical about the idea of spending Valentine’s evening with Emerson. The grew closer over the weeks that passed and Henry was getting used to the routine of spending his downtime with her.

The differences in how he acted were subtle at first. Occasional glances to her lips when she spoke, the grin that seemed to linger, and a need to occasionally brush his fingers against hers when in close proximity were among the few that appeared nearly a month after their lunch date. He was patient while she wrote about the atmosphere that accompanied the outdoor market’s festivities, occasionally tossing in his own suggestions as a way of getting Emerson to stop looking so serious about the notes she jotted down. The two settled in a booth at the pub once she finished. He leaned over Emerson to get a peek at what she wrote, chin resting on her shoulder while he read. A low chuckle escaped when he finished and he cast her a sideways glance.

“You’re missing the overabundance of pink and red and the lack of sacrificial magical beast,” He murmured. “I would have expected —“ The rest of his thought hung in the air. It was interrupted by the sound of shattering glass, a bright light flickering next door, and the panic that spread mere seconds after he spoke. Instinctively, Henry wrapped his arm around Emerson’s middle and tugged her closer to him, head tilting in the direction of the noise from outside. It was enough to cause people to begin to flood indoors.

“I need you safe,” He grimaced and shifted away from her, the hand around Emerson slipping back to his side since he wouldn’t force her to stay. Henry tried to remain calm but his eyes would give away just how alarmed he was by the sudden intrusion on their night. “Surely your well-being is more important than your career?” A low groan followed after when he discovered just how many people were scrambling inside. “We aren’t going to make it out of here if they keep pushing in.”

[dailydoseofem-blog1]

henrysayre

“It’s the off season,” Henry scoffed, a small smile remaining at her expression. It was certainly a well deserved look. “So you never know.” He already had the cane to deal with. Losing the rest of his skills could be right around the corner.

“I assure you it wasn’t rubbish,” He sighed. “You write too well for any of your work to be classified as such.” His eyes rested on her lips when he spoke, traveling upward after a few seconds.

“To be fair, they either announce I have another alleged child or make a comment about me quitting quidditch every time I visit here,” Henry laughed and shook his head. “They’ll be going with the latter since I doubt my cane went unnoticed upon entering but that’s —“ It certainly was why he had shown up in the first place. The news involved the physical therapists from the league and St. Mungo’s being uncertain of how to handle his injury. Looking Emerson over left him not liking the idea of tossing his worries at her.

“Perhaps we both need a distraction is all,” He bit his lip and looked away from her, uncertain if he liked his phrasing. “Or a break.” Henry added and glanced back at her.

“You haven’t even read the draft, Henry.” She brushed his words off with a  laugh, an attempt to cover up the fact that she was blushing. Any compliment from him tended to have that effect on her, lately.

“The papers certainly do love their scandals, especially when it comes to you,” Emerson agreed, sympathetically. Her gaze shifted to his cane, and is it did she found the beginnings of concern furrowing her brow. She wanted to ask him about his injury, to find out how he was feeling about it currently, and if there were any updates-

Her thoughts were interrupted by Henry’s next words, and she felt her ears grow warm. A distraction. In her mind, that word held with it so many implications. She did her best to not seem too flustered when she replied, a challenge in and of itself.

“A distra-- a break sounds like the best idea, right about now,” she nodded and cleared her throat, glancing towards the clock, “We should get some lunch.” 

There was a pause, before she clarified, “Together. We should get lunch together.”

Why couldn’t asking men out on lunch dates just be easy?

[dailydoseofem-blog1]

henrysayre :

Showing up at the Daily Prophet’s headquarters with a cane and a somewhat cheery expression took bravery Henry wasn’t aware he had. Of course, he was only there so he could bother his favorite writer, but he couldn’t help but feel as though setting foot on the premises was asking for rumors about his condition to spread. They became the least of his concerns once he found Emerson’s office, promptly settling in on the chair in front of her desk and lounging with his arms behind his head. The cane stood upright, leaned against the arm of his chair.

He remained quiet while she worked, a muffled chuckle escaping at the paper plane. It amazed him that the staff could work with the letters breezing through the hallways of the building. An eyebrow rose up when she finally addressed him and a low chuckle followed when he sat up to catch the paper, hand swiftly capturing the ball with his fist. Henry looked down at his hand then glanced back over at Emerson.

“Ah, so my reflexes still work. Perhaps there is hope for me after all,” He chuckled softly. “A shame you got rid of this one though, Em. I was willing to bet this was the one to get published.”

Emerson pulled a face in response to that, an immature facade of a scrunched up nose and stuck-out tongue that she’d never let anyone but Henry see.

“Of course your reflexes still work. Was there ever any doubt?” She scoffed. 

“It’s rubbish, it was a rubbish draft,” she pointed to the paper in his hands before running her own hands through her hair in a show of frustration, “I’m supposed to get it approved by tonight, but I’ve no inspiration for this piece.”

She sighed and scooted her chair back enough to give herself space to kick her feet up onto the desk, crossing her ankles delicately. Now that she was in a more comfortable position, she met Henry’s gaze and narrowed her eyes at him playfully.

“You barely ever find the courage to just waltz into my office,” she knew full well how negative Henry’s view of the press was, “So either something is terribly wrong, or you just want something from me.”

Her tone was only mildly flirtatious. It was something she was finding the courage to do more often, now that her all her cards were on the table with him.

[dailydoseofem-blog1]

If there was one thing Emerson could take pride in, it was how great she could look in a fitted suit. While she wasn’t exactly the best at doing her hair, or her makeup, that didn’t mean she didn’t take care when it came to her appearance. She put in just as much effort as any other woman her age- it just so happened that she looked best in a power suit, as opposed to a lacy dress. Dresses left her feeling exposed- the pantsuits she wore offered her comfort and femininity unique to her.

She’d arranged an appointment with her usual tailor at Twilfitt and Tatting a week prior, as she’d begun to grow bored of the suits she’d been wearing to work every day. She needed a few more splashes of colour in her wardrobe, she’d decided, to break through the drudgery of browns and neutral tones that was her office space. 

Emerson stepped up onto the stool she was ushered towards, almost immediately lifting her arms from her sides to allow the tape to measure her; a routine she’d long since grown used to. It was during this that she heard a familiar voice to the side of her, and she almost startled when she turned her head to face the source. 

“Octavius?” Emerson hardly ever ran into anyone she knew during her appointments, here- she was always careful to get fitted during the store’s quieter hours. She didn’t know what the appropriate response was, in this scenario, and so she settled for an awkward smile in his direction. It took her a minute before she realized she was probably expected to say something.

“Fancy, uh, running into you here.”

Location: Twilfitt and Tatting Date: February 1st, 1979 With: @dailydoseofem

With the wedding on a few short months away, Octavius had finally bitten the bullet and booked himself in to be properly fitted for a suit for the big day. Most of the suits he currently own were well worn and often on him around the store and his home, and he knew that Ava, and his mother would be displeased if he rocked up to his wedding in one of them. Aside from that, he actually found himself wanting to make an effort on the day. Ava had poured so much of her time and energy into the entire day that it would have seemed a little insulting of him to not make some sort of effort.

Standing on top of a small stall, he watched as a tape measure move by itself around him and pointed out several fabrics that he would like to see to the sales assistant. The man was humble and polite, and ran around at Octavius’s requests. Octavius watched and cringed every so often as the tape measure wrapped around his legs and arms. Once the measurements had been taken and written down, the man informed Octavius that he would get a suit for him to try and in the fabrics requested to see which he preferred, before they adjusted them to fit. Octavius nodded to the man in return and watched him scurry away as another sales assistant ushered a customer to the stool next to his.

He glanced over at the person beside him, before doing a double take and raising his eyebrow in question at the sight of the all too familiar other customer. “Emerson?”

[dailydoseofem-blog1]

Date: 17 January 1979

Location: Emerson’s office, The Daily Prophet Headquarters

( @henrysayre )

One of the defining features of Emerson’s office, she felt- other than what a tiny and cramped space it was- was the constant flurry of activity. Letters were constantly flitting in and out, charmed to find their way as if guided by their own personal winds. It was a veritable menagerie of paper birds, and something she’d long since grown used to. Her office wasn’t exactly much- but she had a desk, a typewriter, one couch for visitors (currently occupied) and a window that looked out on Diagon Alley. So she supposed she was lucky, considering what she was stuck writing for the newspaper. Deciding which letters to answer in an anonymous advice segment wasn’t exactly the most glamorous. But, Emerson decided, there were worse things.

It was just then that one of the letters fell off its course and veered towards her. She barely even flinched as it bounced off the side of her head before settling in its respective pile. 

Emerson heaved a sigh and leaned back in her seat upon completing the draft she’d been working on, flexing her fingers to get rid of the cramps. She stared at the page almost accusatorily; editing it had consumed most of her morning, and it still felt fruitless. 

In the next moment, she’d ripped the page from the typewriter, taken one last look at it, and crumpled it up into a ball.

"Hey, Henry,” she said, lobbing the paper towards him, “Think fast.”