who ? Max Davies and James Potter. when ? Tuesday 24th October, after work. where ? Hogsmeade Bakehouse. what ? Bread. warnings/rating ? SFW. status ? Completed in gdocs.
The inside of the bakehouse was hotter than Max had expected, even in the chill of the October evening. Once it was clear the historian's talk about the restoration of the bakehouse was winding down, Max took a step outside, loosening his tie and pulling it free from his collar. He bent to tuck it carefully into the University of Cambridge gym bag he'd taken to work that morning, forgetting that he'd decided to go to the bread-making tutorial rather than the cricket grounds. Standing back up, he glanced around, spotting someone looking curiously at the smoke which billowed from the chimney. "You've missed the bread-making, I'm afraid," Max offered, though with no tone of real apology. It wasn't his fault if someone hadn't been able to remember the time the event started. "But if you hang around another ten minutes I'm sure there'll be plenty of people looking to share their results." He gave a small smile. "Though, if they're anything like mine, I can't promise they'll be much good to eat." Still, Max had enjoyed himself, even if he had been too hot, and even if his bread was barely edible.
It took a moment, but Max did eventually recognise that he was talking to one of the Potters. James, presumably, since he looked so young. Max assumed he didn't want attention drawn to the fact Max knew who he was, since he knew little else about him except that he'd died and come back. "I'm Max Davies," he said instead, since at least that seemed to even them up somewhat.
--
James most definitely had not been looking for an opportunity to make bread. Instead, he really had just gotten drawn in by the sight of smoke. James was really quite sure it was because he was tired. The past few weeks, since he'd agreed to go on Strictly, had been... busy. James, unlike most other people doing this, didn't even have a job to make things even harder for him. Nonetheless, on his way home from the practice with Sizane, James had honestly just stopped to stare at a line of smoke because it looked calming. He really did need Lily to massage him, James felt.
"James," he offered shaking the other man's hand. "Potter," James added. "So you... bake bread?" James asked. "Like for... fun?" Presumably it wasn't professional because then the bread should be... well, not described as not 'much good to eat'. "What sort of bread? What do you do with the bread? It seems weird to just offer it to random people on the street." And if you were to do so, wouldn't it make more sense to offer it to the homeless. Unless James looked homeless, which he assumed he didn't, because he was still wearing his very nice dancing trousers that Sizane had made him purchase.
--
Even though he already knew that, Max still smiled as he shook hands with James. It was, he hoped, the best way not to make things awkward. "Not usually," Max admitted. "This is the first time I've ever made bread, which is why I'm not sure it will be any good. That and we're using historical techniques that have probably been improved on in the intervening two hundred years." The point of the exercise wasn't, as far as Max was concerned, to make good bread. "The Hogsmeade Historical Society restored this building," Max explained, gesturing to the bakehouse. "And I guess they thought having a class of people use it would be a good way to celebrate."
Max frowned slightly at being told to just offer it to random people on the street. Perhaps it did, but he still assumed that once they all took their bread out of the oven there'd be a general sharing and testing, and that it wouldn't be hard for James to involve himself in that, if he wanted. "I don't know what kind of bread, more specifically than 'wheat'," he answered. "I'll probably taste mine and then, if it's not inedible, take it home." Siobhan and Higgs would, if the bread wasn't awful, be willing to try it, he felt sure. Roger, too. "It's not a regular thing," he added. "Though, I'm sure somewhere offers bread-making lessons."
--
James hadn't even known that there was a Hogsmeade Historical Society, much less that it baked bread. He did know that there was one in Godric's Hollow, though, but they'd never asked James about bread and only about whether he'd want to give a talk (which he definitely had not wanted to do). "That seems like a pretty good idea," he decided. "I'm glad they were restoring this rather than public toilets or something." That'd definitely be harder to 'purpose'.
"I can't say I've ever had a lot of interest in bread-making," James commented honestly, shrugging one shoulder. "One of my parents' house elves, Jupiter, she used to make excellent bread," James said and then frowned. "I wonder what happened to her. Do you know what happens to house elves when you die?" James asked. There was no reason why Max should know but he still might and James really hadn't thought about it earlier. Perhaps he should find out, hopefully all the house elves had gone to work somewhere else (like Hogwarts, there had always seemed to be hundreds of them in Hogwarts).
--
"It was an interesting talk," Max said. "I could probably have enjoyed that just as well without learning to make bread, but I didn't mind having something to do with my hands while I was being taught about how names were drawn randomly to assign people to days in the bakehouse." Max raised an eyebrow before saying, "I'm sure there are historians who specialise in public toilets and sewage, but I do imagine they'd have a harder time drawing an audience." Max was certainly less interested in that than he was in the history of food.
As it happened, Max actually was in a position to know at least a little about house-elves and what happened to them. "They usually pass to the next of kin," he said. "Unless the next of kin is a muggle, in which case they'll pass to the nearest magical relation." It was very rare for there to be no magical relations, as muggleborns didn't tend to have house-elves. "Most will want to stay with the house, if they can, though of course that's not always possible."
--
"Well, as long as it's interesting," James commented. "I don't imagine I'd find bread-making particularly interesting," he admitted. James knew others would, and clearly Max had, but personally he wasn't sure what the appeal of food history really was. "Yeah, I've heard of a few public toilets in London being made into pubs, but I suppose that's not quite 'restoration'." Honestly, though, James wasn't sure if that was better or worse.
Right, Max's explanation made sense, because James did know that after his parents had passed, the house elves had stayed at the Potter mansion. Given, of course, he hadn't checked in on that, because before James had died it had sort of just ran on its own and since he'd Returned... "They were in the house before I died," James said with frown. "Which was quite a while ago," he added shaking his head and then giving Max a look. "Davies," he repeated. "Like Exmoor Davies?" Because James' family might not have been as involved with the purebloods but James still knew which families had been.
--
"It's not very everyone," Max agreed, reminding himself that he didn't need to feel judged or ashamed for being interested in things that others weren't, and that he didn't need to defend his own interest. There were people who liked him because of, or in spite of, his being interested in history, and he couldn't expect to please everyone. "I've heard of at least one public toilet being turned into a flat," Max said. "But I suppose it depends how old the public toilets are whether they merit restoration? I'm not sure they had public toilets in the 18th century." They could have, Max actually had no idea.
Max nodded, feeling a little uncertain how much he should admit to knowing about James. The truth was he didn't know much, certainly not what had happened to the Potter's house-elves. They hadn't gone to Harry, because Harry had gone to live with muggles. Beyond that, Max really couldn't say. "I doubt they'll have been idle all this time," Max said, because he did know that house-elves didn't really stand for idleness. They'd have wanted to work somewhere. "You might find they technically belong to Harry, but are on loan to Hogwarts, or another household. Though I would have thought someone would have told Harry, if that were the case." Or they might not. "I know a lot of lawyers," Max offered. "I could probably find out for you. Or at least put you in touch with the right people to find out for yourself." He nodded at James's question. "That's right. My father still lives there - Maximilian?" To think that James might know, or have known, his dad made him feel uneasy.
--
"A flat!" James exclaimed, shaking his head. "Honestly, they'll rent out anything in London," he observed. James had always known London wasn't cheap but in the time he'd been dead it had somehow changed from 'not cheap' to 'impossibly expensive'. James was just glad that he didn't need to live in London. No magical folk really needed to live in London, though obviously plenty still did. "No, I have to admit, I have no knowledge about the public toilet history, though this conversation is making me curious." Which was not something James had expected to find curious, but now that he was admitting how he didn't know, James kind of wanted to know. "Don't really have public toilets in the magical world, I suppose everyone can just apparate home." That certainly made sense, but James did wonder if there was some sort of a history of public loos even there.
Max's words made sense, and James felt a little bad for not having inquired earlier (or well, still, since asking Max, a random stranger in the street, was not the same as finding out). The ease with which Max referred to Harry made James a touch uncomfortable, but he easily shrugged it off, reminding himself that everyone did know who Harry was and how James was related to him, this wasn't new. "Are you a lawyer, then?" James asked, not sure why else someone would know a lot of lawyers. "Or a criminal? You don't really look like a criminal. White collar crime, maybe?" James would put his money on Max being a lawyer, though. "Don't think I ever knew your dad very well," James shrugged. He did know, or rather had known, who Maximilian was, but there had been too many years between them for James to really know him well. "Em's my cousin, though! Twice removed, I think? So I suppose that makes you my... something?" James really wasn't very good at pureblood family trees but he did know that the Potters and Yaxleys were related.
--
Max laughed at the assertion that they'd rent out anything in London. It definitely wasn't untrue. "And Paris," he added, since he'd heard equally horrific stories from there, if not as regularly. "I suppose if anywhere in the magical world was going to have public toilets, it would be Hogsmeade," he mused. "Children underage can't apparate, and probably wouldn't be able to walk back to school in time." There were, in fact, almost certainly public toilets in the waiting rooms of Hogsmeade Station. "But that hasn't changed, so I imagine they keep them refurbished to some degree, rather than them falling into enough disrepair to need total restoration."
With a nod, Max confirmed he was a lawyer, but not in time to stop James launching into commentary of how Max didn't look like a criminal. "Thank you, I think," he said, looking a little puzzled. It was probably good not to look like a criminal, even if there was some doubt about whether he looked as if he could commit corporate crime. "I work with Piper Clifford Allen," he said, assuming the firm was old enough for James to recognise, assuming he was likely to recognise any law firm. He gave a small nod, relieved that James didn't know his father well, but not entirely put at ease by it. He still felt he had to be careful in what he said, even if it was incredibly unlikely James would think to pass any of it on to his father. He recognised that it wasn't very rational. "Em?" he asked, mentally going through lists of his aunts and cousins before he gave a start. Emmanuela. He'd never heard anyone refer to his mother as Em. She hadn't, as far as he knew, seen much of her family after Max was born. "I'm sorry," he said, realising James had used the present tense. "She died. 24 years ago." It wasn't the most comfortable thing to have to tell someone, but Max could hardly leave a cousin, even twice removed, in the dark.
--
James hadn't actually seen any public toilets in Hogsmeade, though he assumed there ought to be some at the train station, that'd make sense. Evidently, during his school years, he had never needed a public toilet in Hogsmeade, though he imagined that Max was right in that they were constantly maintained and thus didn't need restoration.
"You're welcome," James said with a smile before nodding at the mention of Piper Clifford Allen. "I think it was just Piper Clifford when I, you know," there James waved his hand very much implying his death. "Good job, Allen, I guess," he added with a grin which disappeared when Max said that Emmanuela had died twenty-four years ago. "Shit, I'm sorry, what happened?" James asked before shaking his head. "You don't have to answer that." He couldn't tell how old Max was, but he didn't really look so much older that he wouldn't have been a kid when it happened. "She was nine years older than me," James explained. "I used to play with her younger sister, Esme?" James offered. "She died in the first war." Not terribly long before James himself had died.
--
Max had forgotten that Allen hadn't always been a partner, though he did think he'd been vaguely aware of it at some point. "I'll be sure to pass on your congratulations if I ever have cause to meet with him," Max said, not entirely seriously. Allen had been in the job so long now Max doubted he'd appreciate the well wishes, even from someone as famous as James Potter.
James's question made Max pause. He felt, in a way, like James was entitled to an answer, though certainly not the true answer. He wondered if, perhaps, this was one of those things he should feel more comfortable being honest about, but he couldn't really see how it would benefit anyone. Siobhan knew, and even then Max hadn't ever told her. He didn't know who had, some pureblood who'd known the family history, he assumed. Still, not answering, even when James gave him the option not to answer, felt in some way suspicious, as if it admitted that there was something not to talk about. "I was too young to really understand what was happening," he said, which wasn't untrue. He'd only been eight, certainly not of an age to understand depression or suicide or why his mother would choose to leave them. "I vaguely remember the name Esme," he said, sure he'd seen it on a family tree or in a family album at some point. "Not much more than that, I'm afraid, and we're not really still in touch with any of the Yaxleys.
--
James truly hadn't intended to make Max uncomfortable, so he gave a small nod at the answer Max did offer. "I lost my parents a few years ago," he offered and then paused. "Well, I suppose technically quite a lot of years ago, but to me it's still only a few years. Dragon pox," he explained with a small shrug. Comparing notes on dead parents with basically a stranger probably wasn't what either of them had expected to be doing on a Tuesday evening.
"Oh, she was lovely," James smiled, Esme had been one of his favourite far-removed cousins. "A bit of a black sheep of the family, I guess." She had, after all, joined the Order. "It's funny, really, well, a weird kind of funny, how many of the so-called pureblood families are related," James commented. They were all, some degree of cousin, but James didn't think many actually kept up with who those cousins really were these days. Especially now, after the war, James felt there were a lot less inter-marriage going on.
--
Max's instinctive reaction to James' comment was to feel more awkward, because sharing feelings was definitely not something he was very good at. After a moment, though, he was able to recognise that James likely meant well, was offering some kind of shared experience, rather than trying to unburden his own feelings onto Max. "I'm sorry," he said. He knew that nothing he could do would make James feel any better about it, but he also knew from his own experience that James likely didn't expect to be made to feel better about it.
Though he hadn't known his aunt, Max smiled at the description of her as lovely, and raised an eyebrow at the addition that she'd been a black sheep. He'd thought his mother was lovely too, of course, but she had done what her parents had expected of her, at least in the beginning. "It makes for an interesting historical study," Max said, somewhat teasing in that what he'd gathered so far didn't make him think James was likely to find a historical study very interesting. "I'm sure there are all sorts of people I'm technically related to and have no idea about, especially through my wife." He did know his own family connections relatively well, but Siobhan's were as numerous, if not more so, and Max hadn't ever sat down and tried to learn them all.
--
James gave Max a smile in response to his 'sorry' because whilst yes, it was sad, it was also just life and James felt he'd coped reasonably well with his parents' death. Seeing how Max's had been so long ago, it didn't seem particularly appropriate to talk more about it. Not when they literally didn't know each other. So instead James gave a small laugh when Max mentioned a historical study. "Yes, but probably less exciting than one about public toilets," he teased.
"Ah, yes, I inherited relatives through marriage, too," James nodded. "Not very nice ones, to be honest," he admitted. Lily's parents had been lovely, but they were dead, too, and her sister was... well, less than great. James still felt angry every time he thought about the fact that she had been the one to raise Harry. What a fucking joke. "Do you need to get back to your bread?" James asked glancing past Max. "I feel like I've held you up for ages already."
--
Max laughed too, the briefly awkward moment lifting in a way that meant he probably wouldn't be left thinking about this all evening, for which he was grateful. "Well, if you find any studies on public toilets, let me know," he said. "Or if you write one." It didn't seem likely, but then you could never really tell.
Apart from Roger, the relatives Max had inherited through Siobhan were probably nicer than the ones he'd inherited through his father. "I've been luckier, in that regard," he admitted. Higgs' relatives, too, were excellent, though Max wasn't about to mention that. Glancing back into the bakehouse, where people were indeed starting to pull their bread out of the oven, Max gave a sigh. "Yes, I should go and see whether I've made anything edible. It was nice to meet you, distant cousin."