Abusing Fuzzy Time They neither of them had Head of House duties, which was fortunate. He suspected, if they had, that Sophie would not have been drinking quite so much wine, which, upon reflection, might have been a good thing. It also meant that the heads of house stood up, and ushered all the students out of the hall, leaving just the few other staff to sort themselves out. Or each other.
“Professor O’Malley,” he asked her seriously, keeping his voice quiet to avoid embarrassing her, “Did you just slur your words?” She’d only had a couple of glasses, hadn’t she? But, he supposed, she had been pregnant last year, so probably not drinking… And she was terribly small. And, thanks to the conversation they’d had over the feast, he knew she was not much older than his own daughter, which - whilst it made her drinking alcohol perfectly legal - made it rather concerning, and he felt a fatherly sense of protection towards her, along with rather a lot of guilt and just… general ickiness that he was somehow responsible for getting someone his daughter’s age drunk. “Look at me and say, as clearly as you can, O’Malley Household,” he requested.
As far as she was concerned, this was the best Opening Feast ever.
Sophie had seen a lot of them in her day, but this was the best one. That was thanks to her good buddy, the librarian. Him and his wonderful, magnificent wine. It’d been awhile since she’d had much of anything alcoholic, and a good helping of red wine had gotten her a little tipsier than was really appropriate for a school function.
It had been an extra long time since she’d been tipsy this early in the day, but hey, it was all good. Tarquin here was a real pal.. They’d had such a good chat during the feast. There was always plenty to talk about when one had kids - for Sophie in particular, it was What Did Stanley Get Into This Week? - and she’d been happy to discover that he was in fact the parent of one of her former schoolmates. He had two out three of the last names of Henrietta Boxton-Fox-Reynolds, who’d been a few years behind her, so it wasn’t a huge stretch to guess a relation, since they weren’t exactly common names.
But now he was talking about slurring words and asking her to say stuff, and though she made a valiant effort, Sophie could not seem to get it quite right.
“I’m escorting you home,” he informed her. He was not, for the most part, a very authoritative person, and his tone was still soft and gentle now, conveying more concern than anything else, but it was most definitely a statement, not a suggestion or a request, “Don’t want you tumbling out of the wrong fireplace. Come on,” he stood, keeping an eye on her but not reaching out. He didn’t want to be overly familiar, especially in front of the other staff members.
Despite several declarations along the way that doing so was unnecessary, he walked her back to her office, taking a pinch of floo powder and tossing it into the fireplace.
“Please excuse me,” he requested, before touching her. Her protestations that it was unnecessary made him feel all the more embarrassed, as if he was intruding upon her person against her will, but the more times she said it, the more convinced he was that he was right. Feeling a little bit awkward - wishing she knew that he was married, gay, felt parental towards her, any of these - he placed one hand around her waist, and put the other to pull her head against his chest so that there was no risk of her banging it. He stepped them into the fire and said clearly, “O’Malley Household.”
“You really didn’t have to do this,” she insisted for approximately the eighth time. As she stepped out of her fireplace post-Floo, however, she stumbled slightly. “Damn kids, leaving things around,” she mumbled, although the nearest toy was not anywhere near her feet. Sophie looked up at her guest. “Well, thanks again,” she grinned sheepishly. “Since you’re here, want anything? Tea?”
Tarquin kept his arm firmly around Sophie as they came out of the fireplace, which was lucky as she stumbled slightly. That wasn’t that unusual after a floo trip, and he let her go once she seemed to have her balance back. She seemed generally on the alright side of things, it really was just that wizarding transportation didn’t mix well with alcohol.
“You’re a tea person?” he asked, his curiosity piqued, although he doubted he could stay, and it really was too late for the caffeinated variety and he didn’t really care for any of the others.
“I’m English,” she said by way of answer, laughing slightly. “C’mon, kitchen’s this way.” In a little clearer mind, she might’ve realized he hadn’t actually answered that he wanted any, or else perhaps she might’ve thought about the fact that he probably had someone waiting for him at home and didn’t want to stick around. But instead of either of those thoughts, she simply started leading toward the location of tea.
English. Hm. Interesting. He would not have guessed from her accent.
“I-I shouldn’t really-” he began, as she started going towards the kitchen to make him the cup of tea that he hadn’t actually accepted, and stopping abruptly as he noticed a tall, dark-haired man in the doorway. Presumably Mr. O’Malley. Tarquin had absolutely nothing to feel guilty about but was one of those exceptionally skilled individuals who managed to feel it regardless of the circumstances. He flushed rather red, which he knew would not help impressions, wondering whether Sophie’s husband had seen him with his arms rather intimately around her.
“I-I thought it best to escort your wife home,” he said stiffly. “To make sure she got back safely. And thank you for the offer of tea, but I should really get back to my husband before he starts to wonder where I am,” he added, giving a much more pointed emphasis to those words than he ordinarily would have done.
Sophie stopped walking and turned back over her shoulder when she realized Tarquin was addressing someone other than her. “Oh! Hi, honey!” she beamed, swishing a bit quicker than she ought to over to embrace him. “Don’t run off quite yet,” she directed to the librarian good-naturedly, keeping one arm fondly around her husband. “Ryan, this is Tarquin. He works at Sonora. Do you remember that girl Henny in Aladren? I think she was around Sally’s age. He’s her dad!” To the older wizard, she introduced, “This is my husband, Ryan.”
“Nice to meet you,” Tarquin replied awkwardly. “But yes. Anyway…. A-another time for tea. Perhaps. It’s late and... caffeine and such. And my husband. I should be going.” For the first time, Sophie actually glanced at a clock, and-... oh, wow. She sighed, finally accepting the farewell, and gestured in the direction of the Floo powder container.