Who: Kevin Entwhistle and Oriel Summerby What: Exchanging war stories, getting drinks When: September 25th. Evening Where: Starting at Memorial Park, and then to a pub. Rating: Low. Status: Complete, closed
Time, frankly, does not heal all wounds. Kevin Entwhistle found himself to be proof negative of the obnoxious adage. Years had passed since that final battle at Hogwarts, and Kevin could still see, could still hear, could still smell the death and pain from the Great Hall that evening. He couldn’t fight; he knew he would be no match for the Death Eaters. But his hope to be helpful to Madam Pomfrey had scarred him almost as deeply as if he’d cast several Killing Curses on his own.
For that reason, Kevin had stayed away from the Memorial Park. It was just too troublesome; he didn’t know quite how he’d react, surrounded by the names and images of those he watched die in the Great Hall. He didn’t think he’d break down fully, but the idea of those names and images closing in on him haunted many dreams in the years since the battle.
But he did want to see Oriel. Something about the kid had gotten under his skin; it might have been the story of learning three languages (two of them non-verbal) before going to Hogwarts, it might have been the righteous indignation and Kevin’s antipathy toward the Prophet, or it might have been cause the kid was cute (though Kevin would be mortified to admit that aloud). So he hung around at the periphery of the Memorial Park, standing at the point furthest from the monuments themselves, with his hands stuffed in his pockets. He shuffled a little nervously - when he didn’t have a notebook in hand, his shyness surfaced in several respects, and he didn’t know how to carry himself. Fall was arriving fast, and Kevin fought off a shudder as a breeze flew through the park, carrying the first dead and brown leaves of the season on its breath.
Oriel was the opposite. For him, Memorial Park was uplifting, a chance to remember. Not that he would ever forget. He still had nightmares, on occasion, about some of the things that had been done to him at the hands of the Carrows and the other Death Eaters who had used the Muggleborn students as if they were just puppets and toys.
But he tried not to let the past overwhelm him as he pushed for the future. And so he had a smile on his face as he went to the park, a long thin scarf knotted around his neck to chase away any early-fall chill, and his hands tucked into the pockets of the skinny jeans that he wore. As he reached the edge of the park, his eyes started to dart around, looking for Kevin - until he spotted him, and then a smile lit up his face.
Pulling a hand from his pocket, Oriel lifted it in a wave, a wave to get Kevin’s attention and one of greeting as well as he crossed the park and made his way over to the other. “Hi,” he said once he was close enough and then he slowed to a stop in front of him. “How was the game?” he recalled the conversation they had had earlier in the week, about how Kevin was planning to watch a football game first.
Tugging one hand out of his jeans to fist-pump the air, Kevin controlled the volume of his voice just enough to holler, “c’mon the Blues!” He grinned widely and answered Oriel’s question more appropriately. “Two-nil. Big win, six-pointer for this part of the season,” he said. And it had been a good win - MCFC needed some early points if they wanted to threaten for Europe that season, and it looked like all was going according to plan.
“Finish your story on the foul-mouthed ferret?” he asked with a smirk. He jerked his head over his left shoulder, signaling that was the direction they should head out of the park.
Oriel gave a laughing smile in response. “Well, good,” he said. He followed football a bit, and liked Fulham, but he didn’t get all worked up about it like some people did. But then, he was a mild mannered sort of individual.
Dipping his head once, he nodded. “I did,” he said, fingers signing along absently. They were always moving, even if signing wasn’t necessary. “I’ll be starting in on my next one tomorrow.” His next article that was - which meant choosing a topic. He hadn’t quite figured that out yet, but he would soon enough. However tonight was not a time for thinking about work... too much.
“Where did you want to go?” he asked curiously.
With a smile, Kevin answered cheerfully. “I have no idea!” At some point during his internship with the Manchester Evening News, Kevin had gotten into a habit of, when bored, just walking through the city and stumbling upon his evening’s activity that way. Inevitably, something would grab his attention and hold it tightly, so he’d taken to using that as a plan whenever he had no concrete destination.
He stopped abruptly and faced Oriel for a moment. “So wait, how do I do this? Should I try and face you when I speak while walking, or is it easier if we don’t try and do both?” he asked. After all, it would be quite rude to carry on a conversation that took Oriel twice as much effort to maintain as it took Kevin.
“Well then let’s just walk.” Oriel was perfectly alright with that. He enjoyed walking and liked stumbling upon new places. He often wondered how many wonderful things were out there that he didn’t know about. So much to explore in the world.
He smiled. “I find it easier to walk without talking.” At least when he had to read lips. But even when signing, he had to look at the person’s hands, after all. “And if you want to say something just get my attention.” He never minded a pat on the arm or anything like that. “Or if you see a place you like,” he added.
And so they set off, out of the park, which was easy enough, to wander about and see what delightful and interesting place they might find.
Fall was not among Kevin’s favorite seasons - it was getting colder and rainier, everything nature had offered over the past year was dying, and the sun set earlier. But it was a great season, even he had to admit, for going for a walk. There was just enough of a breeze and a chill to make you want to walk briskly, but not so much of a chill to make you need many layers. It was that perfect middle ground.
They didn’t encounter any bars or pubs for the first several blocks, but as they approached a series of storefronts on the fifth block they’d walked, Kevin glanced at Oriel to see if any of them had grabbed the younger man’s attention. It didn’t look like they had; Oriel still had a faint smile on his face but nothing appeared to be drawing him closer, so Kevin kept right on walking past those bars.
Besides, walking in silence had a sort of charm to it. It allowed the mind to wander (though not far) and the senses to dominate. Kevin was smelling the ashes of burnt charcoal and leaves, seeing the grass grow pale in the chill, and hearing the dull “click, click” of Oriel’s shoes as he walked. Maybe there was something to this silence gig.
Another corner turned and a new series of storefronts presented themselves. Kevin hadn’t been to all of these, so he quickly scanned the awnings and lights, looking to see if anything struck his fancy. “The Asylum”, definitely not. “Punter’s”, nah. “The Barrel”, maybe. Oh, there was one. “The Hawk ‘n’ Dove”. Looked like an old bar, certainly not built in this last decade or two. Why not, Kevin reasoned. He reached out and squeezed Oriel’s elbow and pointed at the Hawk with his other arm?
“How’s about that one?”
Oriel’s eyes ran over the shopfronts that they passed, looking for restaurants, and when he spotted restaurants, looking for ones that looked good. He was in no hurry, and enjoyed the companionable walking alongside of Kevin, through the streets, with the brisk smell of fall settling on the air.
The touch on his elbow brought him back to the present, and he looked at Kevin, before following his gaze over to the pub. Hawk ‘n’ Dove. Well, he liked the name right off. Oriel’s eyes ran over it and he decided it looked like a nice place.
“That looks good,” he agreed, his attention returning back to Kevin. “Let’s go in.” He went for the door and they stepped through, into the interior. The pub was largely wood based on the inside, wooden tables and booths and a heavy wooden bar. “Table or booth?”
Without hesitation, Kevin chose a booth near the back corner of the pub. He gestured at a nearby waitress, indicating he’d like to grab that booth while it was unoccupied, and she responded with a nod. “Booth,” he answered Oriel succinctly before putting one hand on his shoulder and gently ushering him the first few steps in the direction of the open booth.
It certainly did look like a nice, neighborhoody bar from the inside. Lots of oak and mahogany, well-worn floors, notches in the rail’s surface that had as much character as the folks who drank there must have. Kevin scanned the place, looking at the artwork that had dulled with age to become unremarkable and nearly indistinguishable from the wall. “I like this place,” he offered, smiling tentatively as he sat down.
The waitress who’d given them permission to seize the table joined them after only a moment, and after laying out their napkins, she distributed menus and recited the draughts.
“A black-and-tan, please,” Kevin selected. Could never go wrong with one of those.
“I prefer booths as well,” Oriel smiled as he was guided towards one of the booth. When they reached it, he slid along one of the wooden benches on one side, and sat down. He reached up and unknotted his scarf, unwinding it before he tugged it off, letting it pool on the bench next to him.
He looked up as the waitress approached. Oriel didn’t drink - alcohol - often, but he would have a drink or two now and again. He ordered a cider, with a friendly smile towards her, before he took the menu in hand.
He flipped it open on the table in front of him and started scanning. It was typical pub fare, and the menu had quite a good selection and range. It didn’t take him long to zone in on what he wanted.
“Shepherd’s pie!” Kevin exclaimed, a little louder than he’d meant to. He sheepishly looked around the bar and flushed a bit. “I like shepherd’s pie,” he muttered to Oriel, still red. That’s all he needed for a good night at the pub. Couple black-and-tans and a shepherd’s pie, maybe an order of chips? Kevin was all set. He closed the menu and slid it aside.
Slipping his hooded sweatshirt off (the pub was a little warm, but more of a cozy warm than an uncomfortable warm), Kevin shook a little bit to settle his t-shirt again, then turned back to Oriel.
“Okay, so Quibbler horror story - go,” he prompted with a smile.
Oriel grinned, although he wasn’t sure why Kevin was suddenly flushing. The volume of noise was lost on him, but he was used to not picking up on little things. “Well then you should get shepherd’s pie,” he said with laughter in his bright blue eyes. Oriel was a vegetarian, but he knew that was a personal choice and didn’t begrudge other people their meat.
“I think I’m going to get the veggie wrap.” Which sounded good. A nice tortilla chock full of veggies with some cheese and a garlicky mayo. “And sweet potato fries.” Because he loved those.
“Then I shall get the shepherd’s pie!” Kevin said with a big grin. He liked that he could be kinda silly with Oriel. It let him relax and be himself, rather than having to be professional-seeming all the time. When they’d first started chatting at the coffee shop, he’d expected it to be a friendship based on camaraderie, but Oriel put him at ease somehow.
The veggie wrap? How many ways could this guy be a minority - wizard, Muggleborn wizard, Deaf, vegetarian...
“Vegetarian?” he asked as the waitress arrived with their drinks and he handed over their menus. He relayed his order and then sat back on the bench while Oriel relayed his. “How long?” he asked, then took a long sip of his beer. Ah, beer.
Aside from the Muggleborn thing, Oriel didn’t see himself as a minority. Just as who he was. Of course he hadn’t had much choice in recognizing that Muggleborns were minorities, after the War and how they - he - had been treated.
“I am,” he replied with a little nod. “Always.” His Mother was as well and he had learned it from her. Of course she had always been very healthy and done it right, making sure he had all the nutrients that he needed. Oriel couldn’t even fathom eating meat - he knew he would feel too guilty about the poor animals.
Oriel smiled to the waitress and took the bottle, pulling it close so he could take a sip.
“Hey, to each their own,” Kevin said, taking another long drag from the glass. He could hardly be considered a lightweight, but today hadn’t featured hearty meals full of starches, so in a couple of beers, he’d definitely be feeling it.
He thought back to his time at the MEN for a good writer war story to share. Kevin hadn’t done too much writing in Manchester, but he’d certainly come across his fair share of oddities.
“Okay, here’s one. Biggest reason I’m glad the Prophet isn’t the Times,” he began. Kevin then launched into a lengthy description of being sent out on assignment (at the age of 19!) to the scene of a suspected shooting in a seedier part of Manchester. On arriving there, he had to sort through a large crowd of people, none of whom wanted to go on the record, to try and find out what had or hadn’t happened. Evidently, some nutter had fired a starter pistol in the air, just to see what would happen.
Even though there hadn’t been a story to come of it, Kevin still considered it among his more harrowing experiences as a writer; he had to hang out in an unsafe part of town for a long period of time asking dangerous questions of people who wanted him to go the hell away.
As if on cue, the waitress returned with their food as Kevin finished his story. He pounded the rest of the beer and ordered a second. He tucked in and gestured for Oriel to share. War stories were among the best parts of being a writer.
Oriel leaned forward, more and more as Kevin spoke. His gaze was intent on the other boy’s lips and his eyes widened by fractions as Kevin spun out the story. Oriel was captivated - and a little disturbed, because he could think of just how nerve wracking that must have been for him! It did make Oriel a little bad that the Quibbler didn’t oft cover stories of that nature.
And if they did, he wouldn’t be the one writing them!
He hardly even noticed the arrival of the waitress until plates of steaming food were being set down in front of him. Slightly startled, Oriel looked up, and then smiled and said a soft word of thanks.
He took a sweet potato fry and dipped it in the garlic mayo, nibbling on it as he thought of his own stories. Much less excited/dangerous! But then he smiled and started to tell a story about the day that someone decided to bring in a whole collection of Doxys, which had laid eggs in the printing press. It had taken a lot of creative doing to get the paper out that edition, while the press was being printed. And Oriel had ended with one of the little buggers tangled in his hair - it had to be cut out, and he had spotted a bald patch for a month or so until it started growing back.
Kevin laughed pretty boisterously at that one. Oriel looked like the sort who cared a fair amount about his appearance, and picturing him with a bald spot was pretty tough.
“Lots of hats, huh?” he chuckled, shoveling another couple of forkfuls of shepherd’s pie as he spoke. That probably didn’t help Oriel’s ability to follow him, but...food! “Okay, so my turn, huh?”
Kevin sat back as he scanned through his recollections of Prophet articles. Not as much happened there, it seemed, but probably in large part because of the beat he was assigned. But there was one time...
“Okay, so I’m on assignment in Salem, in the States. The school there, the primary school for the whole east coast of the States, had just changed its Muggleborn status,” Kevin began. He noted that he was only on this assignment because the normal education reporter was AWOL - something about a strange ghost-like bear in Tanzania. But anyway, Kevin didn’t think to check his calendar in advance of the Salem trip, which put him in on, guess when, All Hallow’s Eve. Since he had thought he’d been Portkeying directly into the school grounds, Kevin had kept on his slate grey Prophet robe. Easier to get to the people in charge that way. But nobody had bothered to tell him that the school was under the protection of a Secret-Keeper.
So the Portkey spat him out a couple of streets over, right in a residential neighborhood. And walking down the street in a wizard’s robe on Halloween in Salem? Yeah, Kevin had to fend off quite a few children complimenting his “costume”. He finished the story, polished off the last of the shepherd’s pie and his second beer and contemplated a third.
Oriel reached up to touch his head where the bald spot had been. “A lot of hats,” he agreed. He hadn’t minded terribly... well okay, he had a bit. Even though it was just hair. He liked his hair. Especially having it in all the places where he was supposed to!
Kevin’s story made that laughing look come into his eyes again as he picked up his veggie wrap. “Did you get to the school, eventually?” he asked after he’d taken a bite and chewed - it was quite nice and flavourful. “Or maybe you should have done some trick-or-treating,” he joked as he took some more of his fries.
When he had eaten them, and a few more bites of the wrap, he told a story about a visit to a zoo - a regular Muggle zoo, to do research on monkeys. How he had been let into one of the cages with a zoo worker and how a spider monkey had climbed onto his back and refused to let go.
“It’s often an unpredictable job,” he concluded with a smile.
Saluting, Kevin agreed. “Indeed it is.” He checked his watch: not too late, but late enough that it could no longer accurately be considered early. Glancing down at his empty second glass and then looking across the table at Oriel’s not-quite-empty first glass, Kevin pointed at the cider.
“Going to have a second?” he asked. If Oriel had a second, Kevin would have a third. Otherwise, he was going to call it quits for the night; he was feeling the buzz of the two beers already.
Oriel hadn’t much been paying attention to the state of his glass, which was down nearly to the dredges. He nodded his head. “I think I will,” he decided after a moment. It wasn’t often that he had two drinks in one sitting, but he could splash out now and again.
So when the waitress came by again, he ordered a second cider. And then, in a slightly shy way, asked to see the dessert menu. His meal had been nicely filling, but there was always room for dessert. Oriel unfolded the little dessert menu when it came and eyed the selections. “Are you going to have something?” he asked, glancing up at Kevin.
“Heh, sure,” Kevin laughed and seized the menu, teasingly, from Oriel. Of course, it took him only seconds to find what he was after. Seven simple letters that never failed to stop Kevin in his tracks with cravings.
Tapioca.
Kevin’s eyes lit up and he grinned widely (in part due to his growing feeling of ease and warmth). “Yeah, I’ll get something,” he said, handing the menu back to Oriel.
This little pub was becoming a favorite quickly. Good beer, shepherd’s pie, and now tapioca. Kevin was going to have to make a note of where this place was. A good evening so far, by every measure.
Oriel grinned as Kevin snatched the menu away, and leaned across the table so he could read a bit of it upside down. A bit slower going than reading right side up, but the menu was small, and he managed to get everything.
He wanted something chocolatey. And so when he saw the warm chocolate brownie that came with chocolate sauce drizzled on it, and whipped cream as well, well, he was sold! So when the waitress returned he was quick to order just that.
“I like chocolate a lot,” he told Kevin in unnecessary explanation.
Oh, Oriel’s proximity for those few moments he was sharing a menu with Kevin...it was definitely getting to him. Kevin felt his face heat up and his pulse beat a little bit harder in his neck. He snuck a look or two at Oriel’s face as he read and fought not to smile lustily at Oriel.
Tough fight, and Kevin wasn’t sure he won in the end.
“I can see that,” he smirked. Kevin ordered a third drink to match Oriel’s second and smiled more widely at Oriel as they waited for their desserts and drinks. He began to wonder about the younger guy; would he maybe be receptive if Kevin said he were interested in more than just journalism war stories?
The glasses were exchanged, and Oriel took a drink of his fresh glass of cider, leaving his fingers curled loosely around it even after he had set it down. He felt a little flutter slide through him, something in the way that Kevin looked at him, although he didn’t entirely know what it meant - or maybe he just didn’t believe someone would look at him like that. Or some combination of the two.
“What do you do with yourself when you’re not writing?” he asked, because he had heard much about Kevin’s experience with journalism, but not a lot about his life outside of the paper. What he did for fun, and all of that. He took another sip of his cider.
“Up City!” Kevin bellowed again, wide-eyed and bright-faced. Of course, following a football team was not his only after-work duty, but it was among his favorites. “S’not all, though. I also go out to a club once in a while, go dancing,” he added, moving his arms in an indiscriminately dancey fashion. Which, of course, was about the extent of dancing talent.
Kevin wished he had a more vibrant social life. After work, he usually just went home and crashed. Manchester’s nightlife wasn’t that of London’s. Not to mention he didn’t really have any wizard friends out there; everyone was Muggle. So he could every now and then go out for a drink or two with Jackie and them, but Kevin felt like he’d left many of them behind.
Which caused that laughter to dance in Oriel’s eyes again. “Ah yes, football,” he agreed, because he had not forgotten Kevin’s fondness for the sport and his particular team! “Do you play as well, or just watch?” he asked curiously. Oriel liked to play pick up matches, just for fun, now and again. He wasn’t great at it, but good enough and he enjoyed it.
“Dancing is fun,” he agreed, because he was also a fan. To lose yourself to the music, to let it flow through you... it was a great thing. Oriel’s social life was relatively quiet, but he didn’t mind that. He had his friends, he had his pets, he had the things he liked to do - to go flying, to read, to write, to go for walks.
The waitress came then, with their desserts, and Oriel’s stomach said a happy sort of thank you for leaving room for that! That mound of chocolate, with even more chocolate on top, all nice and warm, with the cool contrast of whipped cream. He eagerly took a bite.
“Used to play. Goalkeeper - I was really good with my hands,” Kevin said, glancing down at his old instruments of the trade. He had been pretty good back in the day, to be honest, but he developed some poor habits for a goaltender, and when the rest of the game sped up and got more intense, he let it go. But what Kevin wouldn’t give for a pick-up game...
The waitress returned with their food, and both boys’ eyes lit up and they dug in wordlessly. Well, wordlessly save for the grunts that escaped them both as they each indulged in their favorite sweets. Kevin tore through his tapioca quickly, then sat back and smiled at Oriel as he worked on his brownie more methodically. He laughed noiselessly.
“Heh, so now what?” he asked when it looked like Oriel had finished.
“I usually played midfielder when I played with friends,” Oriel relayed. And when he was little and still going to Muggle school and would play. Although it was more difficult back then, when he hadn’t the tools to make up for the fact that he couldn’t hear the shouts of his teammates or the whistles. The Wizarding World did make some things much easier.
With slices of his fork, Oriel are the brownie, swirling it through the cream and chocolate sauce, making sure to sop some up with each bite. Soon enough, all that was left was smudges and smears on the plate, and Oriel sat back in his seat. Now he felt very full and satisfied.
Blue eyes lifted to train on Kevin. watching his lips move as they formed the words. Oriel pondered on this for a moment before suggesting, “We could go for a walk?” A nice walk in the evening air, to get rid of some of the heaviness that came with a meal.
Kevin nodded and asked the waitress for their bill. When she arrived, Kevin had a moment of doubt over whether he was supposed to pick up the whole tab or not; after all, this could be construed as a date. But he decided since he hadn’t asked Oriel out under those pretenses, it was a little unfair to assume Oriel would accept Kevin’s generosity.
He paid for his portion of the meal and passed the bill to Oriel, who added his piece. When the tab was settled and the tip paid, Kevin extracted a small, very beaten notebook from his pocket and wrote down the name of the restaurant.
“Things I want to remember,” he said by way of explanation as he stood and returned the notebook and pen to their rightful places within his pockets. “Shall we?”
Oriel never even considered that Kevin might pay for his meal. He didn’t think of it as a date, because his mind didn’t tend to go to those places. Oriel didn’t have much experience in the realm of dating. He pulled out his wallet (not made of leather or any animal product, of course!) and paid for his own portion of the bill and left a tip as well for the waitress.
Sliding from the booth, he took a moment to rope the scarf around his neck again. “Let’s,” he said with a smile before they left the pub behind, stepping out into the cool air of a fall evening. Oriel breathed it in and smiled. “I love fall,” he said, looking at Kevin as they started to walk along at a slow pace.
It was in that precious couple weeks between short-sleeves weather and windbreaker weather. Kevin was much more of a summer person; he didn’t care for being cold, and he didn’t care for the rain. But in those couple of weeks, Kevin liked the briskness without the coat.
“I like it now,” he said, being sure to face Oriel as he spoke. “In a couple weeks, though, not as much.” Kevin stuffed his hands in his pockets, unsure what to do with them. He was entirely prone to fidgeting, and when he recognized a situation he would be restless, he tried to head it off at the pass and give his hands something to do. Like sit in his pockets.
“So...good night so far?” he asked shyly.
“I like it up until Halloween,” Oriel replied, still looking at Kevin, which made the walking rather slow. But he didn’t mind. He liked the month of October especially, as the leaves changed colours on the trees, and as people started putting out pumpkins and decorations. And then Halloween itself. All the adorable children in their adorable costumes, running about, collecting miniature candies. He liked the candy too.
With another smile, this one more on the sweetly shy side, Oriel nodded his head quickly. “I’ve had a good night. A really good night,” he replied. It had been great. A lot of fun. Kevin made for very good company, he had decided. He was easy to be around.
“We should do it again...”
“Yeah?” Kevin asked excitedly. He had certainly wanted to go out with Oriel again, but hadn’t figured out just how he was going to make that clear. “Dinner and a movie,” he suggested with a chuckle, hoping the laugh covered the idea that he did want the next one to be a proper date.
“That sounds perfect,” Oriel bobbed his head in agreement. “I haven’t been to a movie in.. a long time.” And theatres tended to be very good now about having special closed captioning, so he enjoyed going. He was sure there were all sorts of things that he hadn’t seen and wanted to.
“When?” he asked him. Thinking about the free time he had in the next week. He tended to try and do as much of his work as he could during the day, so he had evenings free. “An evening during the week? Or next weekend?”
“Yeah, sounds great,” Kevin said with a grin. “Thursday?” he added, hopefully.
“Thursday,” Oriel confirmed, making a mental note of it, and when he got home, he would jot it down on his calender - not that he was going to forget.
He smiled, and they began to walk then, back the way they had come.