Who: Georgi Draganov and Mel Yaxley What: Making new friends, discovering things in common. When: Sunday, 17 December, 1999. Where: Macmillan Park Warnings: With these two, how could it be anything but tame.
Georgi had been spending a lot of time on the grounds of Macmillan Park since his arrival in Scotland. Between training, after-training drills with Kal and Lex, and his regular visits to Ernie, he spent more time there than he did anywhere else; it felt safe there, like he belonged and had a right to be there, and that felt good.
The first snowflakes in what looked like a healthy snowfall were just starting to come down as he left Ernie's shed early Sunday afternoon with his broom in hand. He pulled his greatcoat more closely around him and pulled his fur hat down over his ears, smiling up at the gray sky out of the lingering contentment from his visit with his friend, and was just about to mount his broom and take to the sky for when he saw a half-familiar figure in the distance.
He'd met Lex's brother a few times in passing, enough to know him by sight and enough to greet him with a lifted hand and a smile when he was close enough. "Hi," he called. "It's Georgi. From Bulgaria."
Mel, of course, could figure out who most of the people on the grounds were by process of elimination, but Georgi was new and it took him a moment to recognise Georgi. When he did, his face lit up with pleasure. "Hullo, Georgi! I'm Mel--a lot of people have trouble telling me from my cousin Fraser who lives here at a distance--and I'm glad to see you. How are you doing?" Mel also had a broom in hand, and looked like he might be about to go up.
Georgi grinned back, pleased to be remembered and that Mel was glad to see him. He still wasn't used to that level of friendliness from the owners' family, but between Ernie and Lex he was learning to expect it at least from the younger generation. "I'm well, thank you," he answered politely. "I remember, you're Lex's brother. I was visiting with your other cousin Ernie." He tipped his head back toward the shed, as if he needed an explanation for being where he was. "I like your family," he added, with another, shyer smile. "They are all very kind to me. Are you flying?"
Mel knew the polite answer to that. "I was going to, for a bit. Would you care to join me?" The offer was sincere, even if it was socially obligatory; he preferred to fly in tandem, a legacy of his time as a beater and his occasional jaunts with Montrose and Fraser even now.
"Yes, if you want me," Georgi answered, just as polite, though his expression gave away his pleasure at the invitation. "Thank you." He settled his broom at hip height and swung a leg over, settling comfortably in as he pushed off to hover. "What broom do you fly?" he inquired. British brooms were a new fascination of his, after getting to explore his coach's collection and inspect his teammates' during training.
"Comet 290," Mel answered. It wasn't the Quidditch-standard Nimbus, but a respectable broom nonetheless. He might have justified the purchase of a Nimbus based on the fact that he was occasionally playing with Montrose, and the Comet had been a gift from his uncle (a sore point now), but since he was no longer scrimmaging, he was keeping what he had. It was perfectly suitable for his needs. "I don't know much about Bulgarian brooms, really, or anything about Bulgaria--I'm shockingly ignorant, in fact--but I'd love to hear about yours as well." Mel offered Georgi the broom he was carrying so Georgi could get a closer look at it.
Georgi slid closer, peering down at the Comet in interest. He'd spent enough time familiarizing himself with Merc's collection of brooms that he could pick out some of the characteristics of modern British broom design that set them apart from the old-style manufacturers of the Continent. The grip was slightly further back, the handle generally a little longer, the head more angular, the tail more sharply sleek. He could see why British brooms were the international gold standard and why so many national teams were riding Firebolts and Nimbuses these days.
He pulled back to show his own slim-lined broom, patting the handle fondly. "My broom is not Bulgarian, but by Grauni Szardos -- you know her? She and her daughters are most famous broom makers in East Europe. They are Romani. Gypsies," he clarified. "She is custom made for me." It sounded a little like bragging, he thought, so he quickly added to soften it, "My family has known her for many years, that's why."
He'd heard of Szardos; her name was known even in Britain. Georgi's comment seemed less like bragging to Mel than the acknowledgement of the system of connections people like him and Georgi lived within. "When your family knows everyone, many things become possible. And of course if you're going to play professionally, you should be outfitted as well as possible. For a Beater, trusting your broom is important. It's not just speed and manoeuvring it, it's also the ability to control when your center of balance is affected by batting the bludger." He nodded sagely.
"Yes," Georgi agreed, shaking his head in affirmation. "That's how I think, too. We know each other very well, me and my broom. Your British brooms are very good, but I am keeping her." He tilted his head at Mel. "Did you play Beater, too? Were you on Magpies?"
"I played Beater at school, but I never went pro. I'm the only son and the oldest." Mel shrugged and let Georgi fill in the rest from the slight hunch of his shoulder and the downturn of his mouth. "Lex was the one with the real gifts anyroad. I had Jupiter's job instead. Administration, contracts, that kind of thing. Now I'm at the Ministry. I do the schedules. Predicting for weather and, as best we can, where Muggles will go. I'm working on our share of the Euro Cup matches for next year now."
"Ah," Georgi answered, enlightened in more ways than one about the older man's situation. He brushed some accumulating snowflakes off his broom handle and pushed off, waiting for Mel to join him in the air before urging his broom forward, setting an easy pace that would still allow conversation. "Then you have a very important job. I'm hoping it goes well for you."
He looked out over the grounds, quiet and serene under the light fall of snow in a way that made him feel calm and hopeful. "I also am oldest child of my parents," he added after a pensive moment. "And only son, too." That still felt like a lie, even if it was also true: Miro, the shameful Squib, was still his younger brother, but his parents and their whole society would no longer claim him as their son. All hopes for the Draganov family line now lay on Georgi's broad shoulders, something he supposed Mel knew all about, too. "So, yeah, I know what it is, family name and family business and so," he said, slanting a sideways look at Mel. "Then are you married?"
Mel followed Georgi's lead and they went aloft, not too quickly since they were carrying on conversation. "No," Mel admitted, and it was a relief that he didn't have to explain the trouble that meant to someone who'd just get it on his own. "The war made things complicated. This war and the last war. There was a girl my uncle--my father's brother--had an eye on for me, but we didn't care for each other and now my uncle is in prison. You?" Because of course there was a girl somewhere for Georgi, whether he liked her or, as seemed likely to Mel under the circumstances, he wasn't keen on her and was having a last chance getaway.
Georgi nodded solemnly before remembering to shake his head instead for 'no'. "No. But…" He hesitated; he hadn't told anyone here, even the people he liked most like Coach and his beautiful wife and Lex and Kal and Roger and Ernie, that he'd come here in order to put off marriage. "I am supposed to marry a woman called Nadezhda Nenova. Our mothers have decided it years ago, and…" He shrugged and ducked his head, only keeping the surroundings and Mel in his peripheral vision while he gazed down at the ground skimming by beneath them. "She's my cousin, also my best friend. We will marry in the summer when I go home from here, I think." He'd never said the words aloud in English before, and he wasn't able to get any kind of anticipation or excitement out of them even if he tried. All the idea gave him was a low, sinking feeling in his stomach.
Georgi sounded possibly less enthusiastic about his arranged marriage than Harmonia Carrow had been about the idea of marrying Mel. Which would have been less odd, Mel thought, if he hadn't described her as his best friend. "I wish you good fortune, then," Mel said, which covered all the options. "I am sure she's a lovely woman, though I know from personal experience marriages arranged by our family aren't always what we hope for, even if we like the woman and she likes us." He left that open to Georgi as a sort of invitation, if Georgi wanted to take it up.
"Thank you," Georgi replied by rote. He bit his lip, flying on in silence for a moment and considering just dropping the subject. But it was quiet and peaceful enough here, and Mel was sympathetic enough, that he added, "She is in love with my cousin Alexei, and he loves her too. But his father was Muggleborn, so." He shrugged eloquently; in the world his family and Nadezhda's lived in, that said it all, really.
"Ohhhhhh," Mel said, and that encapsulated a world of understanding. "I'm sorry, Georgi."
There was a long beat of flying, with a little snow drifting past them at speed, and Mel added tentatively, "I know girls who would be suitable. Maybe they're not for me, and not all are pureblooded, but no recent Muggles in their line. I could introduce you around."
He glanced over at Mel, a little startled by the offer. "Oh," he said, and actually considered the idea for a minute. If by the end of his time in Scotland he could bring home another woman his parents would like, then Nadezhda and Alexei would have more time to wait out her parents' disapproval… and it might not be so bad if he married someone he hadn't spent his whole life with, whom it might be easier to love like he'd never been able to bring himself to love Nadiya.
He smiled at Mel, who was just as kind as the rest of his family, if this short acquaintance was any indication. "If you are wanting to," he answered. "Thank you, it's very kind of you." He sat up again, feeling a little less low at the thought that maybe he had more options than he'd considered. "Your family has been very good to me since I came here. I'm grateful."
"I'm pleased we can make things easier for you," Mel replied, because he was, and smiled back. "You've come a long way to help Montrose out, and I know you've got your reasons--" which encompassed both the money and the family issues "--but I'm grateful for that. And also you don't come with the prejudices of the war, which was complicated for our family. I have relatives by blood and marriage on both sides, and family both in the pure blood and with Muggle ancestry. So I am glad to offer you friendship."
"Thank you," Georgi said again. If they'd been on solid ground he would've offered his hand for an appreciative handshake; as it was, a look of deepest gratitude would have to do.
He was quiet for another moment of flying; he wasn't about to ask about the war even though Mel had brought it up, since he'd found very few people really wanted to talk about it. Ernie certainly didn't, and he never wanted to pry, and he still felt like he didn't know the right questions to ask. So instead he said, earnestly, "If one day you're wanting to meet a Bulgarian girl your family will like, Mel, come to visit me in my country. I have many cousins from good families, very nice girls."
The thought of looking abroad for a bride--maybe even living abroad--hadn't really occurred to Mel. And certainly Georgi seemed a pleasant and hardworking young man, of exactly the sort people like him were supposed to want as kin-by-marriage. (And they wouldn't care as much about the war, which could only help Mel's case.) "That's a very kind offer," Mel answered with a smile that Georgi could clearly hear in his voice. "I may have to take you up on it sometime next year."