WHO: Valkyrie Avery & Ian Travers. WHAT: Catching up while buzzed. WHEN: BACKDATED to early last week. WHERE: A wine bar. WARNINGS: None.
"This is a nice place," Val commented for about the fifth time that evening, as she poured herself yet another glass of wine. She giggled slightly, though not entirely sure what she was giggling at. Everything just seemed to be more mellow and relaxed than she was used to (but perhaps that was because she was also drinking more than she was used to, and would definitely have to Side-Along with someone to get home).
Val glanced at Ian, giving him the sweetest of smiles, before clinking her glass against his. "Thanks for the recommendation, Iannnnnnnn," she spoke, elongating his name and then letting out a very unladylike snort. She took a sip from her wine (a rosé this time) and savoured the flavour before letting the liquid wash down her throat.
"Sooooo," she started again, reaching for the bowl of peanuts between them. "How's work?"
Ian’s immediate response was a frustrated groan. “Work,” he proclaimed, a little too loudly, “is absolute bullshit.” Under normal circumstances, he would’ve tamped down on his frustrations and come up with a more polite answer. But he was several glasses of wine into the evening and restraint was for the sober. “I should’ve resigned ages ago, but…”
His shoulders rose and fell in a shrug as he took another swig of his wine (a red rather than rosé.) “I thought I could help in some way if there were still, you know. Non-Death Eaters in the DMLE.”
The response was another snort, but this time it was intentional. Val gave Ian a knowing stare, as though expecting him to retract that statement and define it more appropriately, but… well, Ian was never for the Death Eaters, either. And understandably so.
She nodded after a moment — careful to be slow with her nods, as she certainly wasn't going to make herself dizzy from that simple motion — and exhaled loudly. "People suck," she proclaimed loudly, raising her drink in the air.
"Do you think people treat you differently because of your family?" Val asked, referring to his father and his ties, specifically.
Ian met Val’s eyes in a level gaze. “People have always treated me differently because of my family. There was a lot of ‘the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree’ rubbish growing up. That’s why I joined the DMLE.”
There was a beat. “But I’m sure you must’ve experienced something similar because of Dante.”
Val resisted the urge to scoff-slash-laugh bitterly, and instead met Ian's gaze with her own. She didn't react like how she may have under different circumstances. Maybe she was just tired of everything in the past few weeks, but what more could she do now?
She instead shrugged, and let her gaze wander to her glass. "Yeah, well, those sort of prejudices don't really go away, do they?" Her expression hardened some, and she stiffened, her thumb tracing over the stem of the wineglass.
“I have never understood it,” Ian replied with a solemn shake of his head. “We aren’t responsible for what they did ages ago. Not that it wasn’t horrific.” His father had done terrible things. Joining the DMLE was his way of atoning for Ignatius’ crimes, but now that the DMLE was under Death Eater control, he was only supporting an organization he hated.
He took another sip of his wine before he continued, “But it isn’t as if we’re going to go get a stupid Dark Mark on our arm.”
"Right!" Val exclaimed with full enthusiasm this time, though the enthusiasm was also heavily laced with contempt. "First of all, besides it being extremely ugly," Val paused, just enough to wrinkle her nose and make sure Ian knew how ugly she thought it was, "I also would never be subject to something like that, anyway? And besides, what can I possibly do about it from my position, if people I know are Death Eaters? I just — I don't know."
She shrugged, and slumped over, grabbing a peanut again. "It's just a whole lot of bullshit. You know?"
“It’s such bullshit,” Ian agreed, popping a peanut into his mouth. “What are any of us supposed to do? Hey, there,” he began, affecting a comically deep voice, “we know you’ve sworn your allegiance to an absolute creep who loves to torture people for fun, but we would really appreciate it if you decided to, you know, leave it all behind.”
His words were punctuated with an eyeroll. “As if that would work.”
Val snorted loudly at the fake voice and followed it up with a high-pitched giggle. Once she settled down, she affectionately punched at his arm and grinned. "Clearly we should try that with our dads," she stated, tilting her head to one side, with an amused expression. "Can't imagine how that wouldn't blow up in our faces."
… even though she figured Gerald might try to reason with her, as opposed to whatever it is that Ignatius would have done with Ian.
“We’d hear a lot about how they’re doing it for us,” Ian replied, with an emphatic gesture of his hand. “The Death Eaters are murdering for the youths.”
As much as Val wanted to laugh at that particular comment, she was instead reminded of Dante. In a weird sort of way, it equated to him not being able to promise the same to his own son, and she felt a bit gutted. Her expression changed, and she forced a smile instead, hiding her lips behind her glass.
"They can't really up and leave, can they? They've sort of committed to it for life," Val finally stated, a sort of sharpness to her voice, veering on slight agitation, as well.
“Do you think they would even try?” Ian asked, fixing Val with a flat look as he reached for another peanut. “Perhaps your family would. I don’t think my father would ever even think of reconsidering it.” His words were delivered in the too-casual way of someone pretending they didn’t care about what they were saying, but Ian had a terrible pokerface.
“I do wish they would stop, though,” he admitted. “Things are dangerous now.”
Val met his gaze and though she was tempted to respond with what she had discussed with her father and brother, she couldn't phrase it appropriately. Instead, she smiled, suddenly resigned to the fact that it was never going to happen how she wanted or imagined it would.
"Dangerous indeed," Val replied, her voice dropping, her eyes falling to her drink. Her stomach did a flop, as her thoughts were filled with the events of the past month or so. "It really sucks."
“It does,” Ian exhaled, rolling his shoulders back slowly. He was silent for a moment, fingers tracing around the edge of his glass, wondering if he should bring up Keats. Ian hadn’t believed someone like the middle Avery child could ever be a Death Eater, but there was no denying it now.
“How are you doing?” he asked, his voice quiet. “After, you know. Everything that’s happened.”
Val felt herself stiffen up, and maybe even sober just a little at the implication of 'everything'. She didn't respond right away and instead settled for staring at her drink, as though it held the answer to everything.
She exhaled loudly and pursed her lips, tilting her head to one side. She raised one hand to muss over her hair and finally glanced at Ian. "It's been tough. I've had to do a lot of reevaluation," she admitted, with the trace of a frown. "And no matter what, it's not going to bring him back. It's not going to change anything."
Ian nodded grimly in agreement. “No, I guess it won’t.” It wasn’t right. Nothing about the past few months was right. “I wish there was something we could do.” He paused, briefly, to polish off the rest of his wine. “I hate feeling useless.”
"Yeah," Val replied, a resolute tone to her voice. She finally raised her glass again and downed the liquid content in a single gulp, setting the glass back down on a coaster. "But nights like this helps," she smiled at Ian, giving him the briefest of nods. "So thank you for that."
A flash of a rueful smile crossed Ian’s face. “Any time, Val.”