The Bear and Barnacle

It was Dora's insistence that returns them to Margate with such a specific deadline. She's not going to miss spending Valentine's Day with Val, but not in the way most people would expect, unless they saw the two children last year, dressed in black and passing out black paper hearts labeled "Death".

She doesn't know when they got in, having fallen asleep draped over Iago's shoulder on the train from France and barely stirring as Iago hefted her and their backpacks, Teddy securely fastened to Dora's. She slept on through the car ride and even through Iago and Jack's hushed exchange at the door of the latter's house.

But she wakes up hot, and tangled with Val and his wings. Probably deafening Val with her squeal of joy, she latched onto him, heedless at first of the unseasonable heat.

Breakfast at the very full Harkness-Grayweir house on Valentine's Day was filled with Jack's pancakes and Dora rambling, and rambling, and rambling at length about all the places they visited, the lack of being arrested or put into a brothel in Morocco, the sisters they met in the Alps but the lack of goats to chase there, and the weeks spent in Venice where Dora talked Paulo the gondolier into letting her steer, resulting-- unsurprisingly-- in a fall into a canal and a subsequent-- potentially unrelated-- illness.

She's still babbling when Zel is volunteered to take Val and her-- both matching and dressed in black, Dora with fake black wings-- out into the sweltering heat of Margate to pass out their "anti-valentines"-- upgraded to include "agony", "putrescence", "sorrow", and "loneliness" this year-- to the unsuspecting populace. And she only stops talking when her voice gives out.

With a sigh, Albus regards the surprisingly crowded shore. Well, it's not surprising with the current weather, but it is surprising for the time of year, as is the heat itself. It's entirely too hot for any of his robes, so he has instead resorted to wearing the tie-die t-shirt and khaki shorts he had bought on a whim shortly after arriving.

Trudging through the sand and rocks along the shore, he continues his hunt for shells and interesting stones, adding them as he finds them to the large canvas bag slung over his shoulder. He hasn't a care in the world, and though part of him itches to solve the mysteries of this place, he can push that urge down and just enjoy it for now. He smiles as Fawkes lands nearby, regarding him (and all the other people) with a tilted head, before rising again to the sky to continue making lazy circles over their heads, much to the delight of a small group of children.

All in all, retirement is going well.

Now this is the way it should be, Dynast be damned. This is his weather, his heat, even if it's not his normal locale. Val told him of the darkness last year, the heavy rain, and now this. Balance in Her world, he supposes, and he expects this means next their will be blankets of snow. Or perhaps an eruption of flowers everywhere.

But now it's his and he's going to glory in it. So he's changed out of his normal yellow trench coat and trousers and heavy boots. Instead he's wearing a yellow Hawaiian print shirt, tan shorts, and leather sandals, his long red hair caught on a summer wind, as he walks down the beach front road.

Rodolphus normally paid about as much attention to the weather as he did to the state of his fingernails. But now, finished with the young man snatched because of his resemblance to Harry Potter (he had dark hair and green eyes. Close enough), he realised it was stifling in the little shack on the beach he’d appropriated for his own. There weren’t any windows and the only door was shut and sealed so he wouldn’t be interrupted. Of course, there was a silencing charm on the place. It wouldn’t do for the screams of his victims to be heard. He surveyed the blood-soaked room, extremely pleased with himself. But Merlin it was hot! Normally, dismembering didn’t work up nearly this much of a sweat. He ran his arm across his forehead, leaving a red smear behind. He decided to go for a swim, just as soon as he put the crowning touch on the afternoon. Rodolphus picked up the skull at set it almost reverently on the shelf he’d prepared. It was the first of many he planned to decorate the shack with, and his only regret was that it wasn't the real thing. Rodolphus smiled into the green eyes he’d preserved in the skull, settling a pair of glasses procured for the occasion precariously on the face. It was hard to balance them properly as there wasn't any nose. “Don’t worry Harry,” he crooned, patting the bony, bloody cheek. “You won’t be alone for long.” Bugger all but this heat was murder! Rodolphus opened the door, squinting into the blazing sun. It was lower than he’d expected. He’d spent more time with Harry than he’d realised. He also realised that it was far hotter than it ought to be for January. Not his problem. He’d earned a respite and the water would cool him off as well as wash away all the blood. Amazing how far the stuff sprayed. Rodolphus stripped down and headed for the surf. He'd tidy up later. Maybe.

At sunrise on the morning of the fifteenth, those who turn on the television or radio for the morning news are greeted first by the cheery chatter of weather reporters saying that it is unexpectedly warm already. Those who are already awake, making deliveries or readying classrooms or heading home from a long night of work, shrug off their coats and look at one another amazed.

As the sun climbs the sky, astonishment prevails. At noon, the snow is all melted. The beach is bright and balmy.

It's about thirty degrees Celsius, ninety Fahrenheit -- hot summer weather, though the length of the days doesn't change.

And it doesn't get cold again.

Make a post to tell us how your character responds to, copes with, or makes use of a month of summer in January. The tag is "heat wave." We will refrain from pointing out that this would be a great opportunity to post pictures of everyone in swimwear, because we're just that classy. Have fun!