InsaneJournal

September 1st was an important day in the Wizarding UK because the children departed for Hogwarts. There was always a flurry of activity in the weeks before, and the last day of August was typically maddeningly busy for the businesses of Diagon Alley. The day when the students got on the Hogwarts Express was almost always predictably a slow day.

As a result, Dorothea had plenty of time to think that day. She had played out a thousand different scenarios about how the approaching evening would go in her head since she and Margot had agreed on a cooking lesson the night before. It would be their substitute for the Hogwarts welcome feast, they’d said. More importantly, Dottie was inviting Margot to her flat for the first time ever. They were co-workers and therefore knew one another decently well. She considered Margot a work friend…a person that she didn’t really see when she went home except for in her thoughts. A few times there had been a dinner out after work, usually with other people tagging along, but this was…well, different.

If she was being perfectly honest, Dottie was nervous. Incredibly nervous. She didn’t often have guests at her flat, and she especially didn’t make a habit of inviting over pretty brunettes that she felt more than just friendly towards. She was usually very good about hiding her feelings, but in most situations where she was around Margot they either weren’t alone or were in a semi-public setting. It changed things to be truly alone together. She was afraid that she would make a fool out of herself somehow. She might’ve been brought up in a posh home, but she had always been clumsy.

Still, she had bought everything on a list that they had compiled for their adventure in cooking, and she had made sure that her flat was spotless…or as close to spotless as it could get with two pets. Her mother had encouraged her time and time again to get a House Elf, but Dottie didn’t mind doing the cleaning spells on her own and taking a little time to put in the effort when spells failed. Her mother didn’t understand why she insisted upon doing “servant’s work,” but she liked feeling productive. It was just one small way that she actually felt like she had control over her life.

After making sure all the cages were clean, all the animals had plenty of food and water to last them the night, the drawer was counted down, and the doors were locked, Dottie went to the back of the store and entered the part where Margot worked. She was quiet as she went up the stairs and took a deep breath, pulling a smile to her lips and trying to convince herself that she was not nervous. Since Margot had never been to her flat before Dottie was in charge of travel. That way Margot would be sure to bypass the protective wards. Spotting her familiar figure, Dottie’s stomach did a little flip-flop. “Hi!” she greeted cheerfully, “We’re all closed up downstairs whenever you’re ready.” She made a small gesture towards the stairs and fidgeted slightly, though she kept that unerringly bright grin on her lips.

--

The idea to give Dottie cooking lessons had started off as a simple gesture, but had somehow spiraled into something rather unexpected- and, suddenly, Margot was planning a small feast for the very next day. She'd never been to Dottie's house before- never even saw her outside of work except for the occasional Menagerie-employee social gathering. But now it would be just the two of them, and Margot was… more nervous than she wanted to admit.

So, instead, she channeled this nervousness into her work that day. With the students back at school, the first of September was often a much-needed reprieve from the weeks preceding- a time to get the shop and the offices back into some semblance of order. Margot's day, then, had been rather astoundingly productive- and the hours went by much faster than she had anticipated. When Dottie came upstairs, Margot turned from her work- filling up water containers for a few of the cages that night- and offered her coworker a smile.

"Oh, fantastic! Let me just-" She glanced back to the task, topping and sealing off the water container, then giving the cage's contents- young Kneazle kittens- a few playful scritches behind their ears- before summoning her bag and tucking her wand away. Her work uniform, as such, was a simple pair of trousers, trainers, and a Menagerie shirt- nothing fancy, but nothing that got in the way of her work. (Robes were traditional, but sometimes cumbersome, after all.) It might have been said that Margot could use a shower- at least, there was Kneazle and Crup hair on her trousers and, though she washed her hands regularly throughout the day to avoid cross-contamination, her hair was in a messy ponytail and she didn't wear any makeup.

"There." Margot hooked her thumbs in the pockets of her trousers. "Ready when you are."

--

While Margot finished her task, Dottie stood by and watched with probably a little too much interest. She could admire the other woman, right? There was nothing wrong with that. One might have expected that Dottie would find the less-than-perfect state of Margot less attractive, given her upbringing, but it was actually the opposite. She liked that Margot wasn’t all made up. Perhaps it was just perception, but it seemed to her that Margot wasn’t hiding behind a mask like so many people did…like Dottie did. She had on make-up and her hair was lightly curled. She wore trousers and a nice blouse with a robe draped around her shoulders, and she felt like she was weighed down by layers of deception.

Brightening her smile when Margot announced she was ready, Dottie made sure that her bag was secure around her shoulders as she stepped forward, “I will warn you that Humphrey may try to lick you to death. He quite enjoys company regardless of if he’s met them before or not.”

She felt a flush rising to her cheeks as she came forward even though this was entirely innocent. They’d agreed apparition was the easiest way to travel earlier that afternoon, but it required physical contact and that made Dottie’s heart race a little more than it likely should have. She’s just your co-worker for Salazar’s sake, Dot. The inward chastisement gave her the courage she needed to reach out and take a firm hold around Margot’s arm. She made sure that Margot was ready, and then whisked them both away to her pristine living room. The sound of their arrival made Humphrey come running just as Dottie knew he would, the sound of his nails scampering against the wood floors letting her know how close he was. Yips and excited whines followed as he ran in, sliding a little around the hall corner, and he immediately wriggled around in front of them. Dottie bent down and he greeted her as was typical, as though he hadn’t seen her in years, “Were you good for Mr. Wyatt?” She asked even though of course the dog couldn’t answer her back.

She looked up at Margot with a grin, “I have an elderly neighbor who takes him out along with his dog a few times throughout the day. Humphrey is a little in love with Lola even though she’s like…twice his size.” Humphrey turned his attention to Margot as Dottie stood up, jumping a little in front of the newcomer as if she didn’t know he was there. Now that she was home, she hung her purse on a hook by the door and slipped the robes off of her shoulders, neatly placing them across the back of a chair, “Please, make yourself at home.”

--

Margot may have been more open about herself- or at least about her preferences- than Dottie was, but that didn't mean that Margot didn't keep things hidden. But she was altogether too accustomed to crushes on girls who would never return those affections, so she told herself that the touch to her arm meant nothing more than the necessary proximity for apparating. Being out didn't mean that Margot had forgotten how to delude herself.

But all of that was (momentarily) forgotten when they arrived at Dottie's flat, and they were greeted by an enthusiastic four-legged welcoming committee. (Really, that was Margot's favorite kind.) Where other people might have been concerned or curious about the state of the flat, Margot was just curious about its other occupants- and when Humphrey jumped for her attention, Margot followed Dottie's example and bent down to introduce herself. She held her hands out to him, letting him smell her- but if he was offended by the remnants of Menagerie, Humphrey's desire to be petted clearly overrode that offense. Margot scratched behind his ears, and pet him all down his back even to the curl of his tail, all while Humphrey wiggled and barked, appreciatively. "He's got a lot of love to give," Margot replied, simply, "I can see that, already. Don't you, Humphrey?" This last directed to the dog, of course, who barked in reply. "Lola is a lucky girl!" Another bark, to which Margot just laughed and finally stood back up again.

She retrieved her wand from her bag, poking it through her ponytail, then set her bag down on a chair. Make yourself at home felt almost odd, since Dottie's flat was (aside from the presence of pets) just about as far removed from Margot's tiny cottage as could be imagined- but Margot didn't dare say as much aloud. "Looks like a nice place," she offered, instead. "So- are you hungry?"

--

The smells of other animals had long-since ceased to bother her pets too much. They had grown accustomed to the various smells that Dottie carried home on a day to day basis. The only one that ever seemed particularly bothered by it was Butterscotch, and that was only when he was in a grumpy mood anyway. She smiled as Margot greeted her hyper companion, and it was nice to see that they got along and were becoming acquainted. She knew that eventually Butterscotch would make himself known, but he was probably napping in her bed which was undoubtedly where Humphrey had come from as well. They got along surprisingly well, really.

She looked around her flat when Margot said it was nice, a small smile on her lips, “I got it right after I left Hogwarts. It’s nice to have some space away from family. Somewhere that’s mine.” When Margot asked if she was hungry, she nodded and turned back towards the kitchen that so often went unused, washing her hands in the sink since she had pet Humphrey, “I’m getting that way. I’m sure by the time we finish cooking I’ll be properly hungry. Do we need to do anything in particular to prepare?”

--

Margot followed Dottie toward the kitchen, washing her hands in turn, as well. "I got my own place around the same time, too. My parents helped, but-" she shrugged, "it's still mine. Well, mine and Pandora's and Copernicus' and Archimedes', anyway." And whoever else happened to be taking up semi-permanent residence at the time. Sometimes her cottage belonged more to her animals than to Margot herself- but she never complained.

"We shouldn't need anything else," Margot added, moving to the fridge to start pulling out ingredients- Dottie had said to make herself at home, after all. "At least, so long as you're not wearing anything that you'll mind getting a bit mussed. Cooking may not always be a clean sport."

--

Dottie couldn’t exactly claim she’d gotten this place on her own either, so she nodded, “My inheritance had a lot to do with me being able to get this place. Mother still tries to tell me how to run things, but I mostly do what I want.” She still had to make nice and pretend that she was taking her parents advice into consideration. They really wanted her to find someone to marry now. She wouldn’t be young and beautiful for forever, she’d been reminded, but Dottie couldn’t bring herself to date anyone that her parents approved of. She shoved that thought to the back of her mind, “Pets have a way of walking around like they own the place, don’t they? I swear Butterscotch thinks my bed is his and that he just lets me sleep in it.”

When Margot mentioned that cooking might be messy, Dottie looked down at her attire and paused a moment. The items she had put on that morning were a little nicer – and a little more expensive – than some of the other attire she owned, “You know…I didn’t think about that. Let me put on something else. It shouldn’t take me but just a moment.” She turned and went back to her bedroom. Butterscotch was sprawled out on the bed as she’d thought, but she didn’t bother him because he was sleeping so deeply he was snoring gently. Instead, she quietly opened her closet and fished out a well-worn Slytherin green v-neck shirt and a pair of soft, black knit trousers that she never wore outside of the house. In fact, if her mother knew she owned them she’d probably burn them. She was more comfortable that way anyhow, and she deposited her other clothes in her laundry basket before heading back out into the kitchen, “This is better, I think. So what’s first?”

--

Margot just laughed a bit. "Mercifully, our parents know better than to tell us how to run things." As was habit, she referred not always to herself, but to us- that is, herself and Norah. Even though they didn't live together and had followed rather disparate paths. "Not that they don't give great advice, when we need it, but we can generally keep most of the meddling at bay."

Despite having not yet met Butterscotch, Margot had no doubt that he was possessed of the same better-than-you attitude that most cats came with- and she grinned at Dottie's description. "Butterscotch seems like he may be the very epitome of Cat."

While Dottie was changing, Margot found her way around the kitchen a bit more, retrieving other ingredients and the necessary bowls, utensils, and pans- such that, when Dottie returned, the countertops were all but covered. "Welcome back," Margot chimed, nodding in silent appreciation for Dottie's more casual outfit. "Quiche first? It'll be the easiest. I'll cook the bacon, if you can get the cheese, eggs, and cream mixed together?" If Dottie needed more specific instructions than that, Margot could give them- but she didn't really carry a book of recipes around with her. She just knew it by rote.

--

“You’re lucky,” Dottie told her with a small smile, “I love my parents, but they want me to be a certain way…and do things their way. My own plans are often considered inferior.” If they knew the truth of her it was likely she would be disowned on the spot. She had thought about telling them the truth…coming clean and just living her life however she wanted. It had terrified her. As much as she disliked what they wanted from her and disagreed privately with their views, she still loved her family.

When Margot commented on Butterscotch, she grinned broadly, “Oh, he certainly is. He’s a mammoth of a cat too. He outweighs Humphrey by nearly a stone, but they’re best friends. Well, Butterscotch tolerates Humphrey very well.” She even caught the cat grooming the dog from time to time.

Upon returning from changing, the counters were suddenly packed with ingredients and kitchen tools. She didn’t really mind the clutter, and she joined Margot, nodding in agreement that they could start with the quiche. It appeared that a least where the eggs were concerned Margot had only gotten out what they would need, so she took a deep breath and stepped up to the counter, taking what she thought was an appropriate sized bowl, “Cracking eggs is one thing I actually do know how to do.” She tapped one egg on the edge of the bowl and neatly cracked it, managing to prevent any shell from getting in, and she tossed the shell before grabbing another egg, “My parents have a House Elf, and I wasn’t really supposed to be in the kitchen with her when I was growing up, but I snuck in there sometimes anyway. Most things I do know about cooking, I learned from Clementine.” The Elf hadn’t really liked to let Dottie help, and it had taken her a long time to realize that it was because she got in trouble when Dottie was discovered in the kitchen. It was something she’d felt immensely guilty about later on. She finished cracking the eggs and whisked them a little, “Do you have measurements for the cream and the cheese?”

--

Margot had sliced the bacon up into smaller pieces, then dropping them into the already warmed pan to sizzle up as Dottie worked. As Dottie mentioned her parents, however, Margot's face clearly betrayed her thoughts- a deep frown, and a more ardent poking at the bacon cooking in front of her, as if it had somehow offended her. "Your plans are anything but inferior. That's a load of old dragon dung, you know that, right?" The words came out before Margot could reel them back in, and she apologized- however belatedly. "Sorry. Never mind." But it is.

Instead, she looked over and watched as Dottie whisked up the eggs. "A cup and a half of the cream, and... as much cheese as you think is necessary." Margot smiled just a bit. "Officially, probably not more than a handful or so, but I always put a bit more in."

--

She hadn’t really expected Margot to have such a strong reaction to her comments about her parents, but as the other woman came to her defense – reminding her that her choices were valid and important – she couldn’t help but feel a little bit grateful. Perhaps she shouldn’t have. If she was a proper Pureblood daughter like her parents wanted her to be, she would tell Margot that it wasn’t her place. In fact, she wouldn’t have invited her here into her home in the first place because she wasn’t part of the social circle that it was acceptable for her to socialize within. Instead, she nodded and swallowed past a small lump that had formed in her throat, “You don’t have to apologize. You’re right. My family’s expectations of me are…difficult to live up to.”

She measured out the desired amount of cream before she forgot how much Margot had suggested, making sure that the measurement was as precise as she could make it. She smiled at the mention of putting in as much cheese as she deemed necessary, although that could be dangerous. She loved dairy even if she wasn’t supposed to eat as much of it as she really did. Still, she was prepared to put in a healthy helping of cheese. She wasn’t going to abide by any kind of diet tonight, “I think it’s probably even better if it’s extra cheesy. It just means more calcium, right? We’ll just focus on the technically healthy part of it and ignore the rest.”

--

Familial expectations were something almost entirely foreign for Margot. Not that her parents didn't care about her or what she did with her life, of course, but they'd always been so supportive that it was hard to imagine them disapproving of anything short of illegal activity. But families were different, and it wasn't her place. Stop talking, Margot. The Selwyns aren't Bones.

Instead, the more innocent subject of cheese. Easy, right? "I like the way you think," Margot offered. "I can't think of a single reason why we ought not get as much calcium as the pie crust will willingly allow."

The bacon was done, and Margot plucked the pieces out of the frying pan with a pair of tongs, setting them to let the grease drip out on a nearby paper towel. While a traditional quiche may have called for a crust to be made by hand, this was meant to be easy- so a frozen crust was the next stop. "When you've got that all mixed up, I'll add the bacon, and we can just pour the whole thing into the crust."

--

It wasn't as uncomfortable to talk about her family situation as Dottie might have thought it would be. She wasn't so open about it most of the time, but since they were in the comfort of her own home and Margot was a co-worker that was unlikely to ever tell her family any of her reservations, she found herself getting a little loose lipped. Perhaps that wasn't really advisable. It still might not be entirely safe...and yet, Dottie trusted Margot more than she trusted most people.

"I decided yesterday when we were setting this up that whatever we end up eating tonight just doesn't count towards any diet. It's a cheat night. A night to do - I mean, eat - whatever I want." She flushed faintly at the slight slip up, hoping that Margot wouldn't read too much into it.

She finished mixing the cream and the eggs together and then added a generous amount of cheese to the mixture, making sure that it was mixed well without stirring it too vigorously. She wasn't sure if that made any difference, but she didn't want to ruin anything by being a little too enthusiastic. She passed the mixture to Margot then, letting her add the bacon, "What about the oven temperature?" Surely that was something that mattered. She idly thought to herself, and then added out loud, "I'll have to write down all of these steps so I can do it later. It's not that complicated, just like you promised, but I don't quite trust myself to not forget something important if I try to replicate this on my own."

--

"Diet?" Margot asked, quirking an eyebrow as she glanced Dottie once-over. She couldn't imagine why the other girl would feel the need to diet, since she was gorgeous, but she kept that particular comment to herself.

"Step ahead of you there," she replied, when Dottie asked about the oven. A quick glance noted that the temperature was already set. "And, don't worry, I'll write down every little thing for you. You can have your very own Margot Bones Cookbook." She was, perhaps, being slightly sarcastic- not that she wouldn't help out, of course, but her tips and techniques were hardly anything revolutionary or professional. As an afterthought, she added, "And- trust yourself, Dottie. You're better than you think."

--

As the brunette simply and curiously clung to her mention of a diet, Dottie nodded softly and shrugged, “I keep a food journal, usually. It helps me keep track of what I’m eating.” She didn’t mention that she had started the practice with encouragement from her mother her first year of Hogwarts. The food there wasn’t as healthy as what she ate at home. It had been a habit that she’d never really broken, documenting her meals and snacks.

Her cheeks flushed faintly pink when Margot pointed out that the oven was already on and presumably heated. She did take note about the temperature though, and smiled when Margot reassured her that she would ensure she had the recipes, “Even if that cookbook isn’t incredibly lengthy, I’m sure the recipes within will be delicious.” The encouragement to trust herself took her a little bit off guard, and she was sure that she stared a moment too long, still and barely breathing with her lips slightly parted. Dottie wasn’t really used to such encouragements, and she certainly hadn’t been intentionally fishing for compliments with her statement. Although she had friends and family who loved her - and they were supportive...as long as she was complying with their views - she didn’t often receive such freely given reassurements. Her cheeks heated a little more, but she cleared her throat, “Thank you...I’ll try to keep that in mind.” She paused a long moment before she added, “You’re very kind, Margot. I appreciate this - the lesson and the company - a lot.”

--

A food journal? Margot had never heard of such a thing- but the idea alone sounded almost ridiculous. Still, she didn't want to openly offend Dottie- especially not in her own home. So, instead, she just offered, "That's... interesting."

Once the quiche was in the oven, it was easy enough to move on, and Margot was somewhat relieved that her own cheeks didn't seem to be flushing quite the way Dottie's were. "I couldn't very well let you starve, you know," she replied, smiling. "I'd miss seeing you every day, besides."

--

She could tell by the way that Margot paused over her statement that interesting might not necessarily be a good thing. She fidgeted a little, but she knew that it might sound like an odd practice. She’d known many friends who had done it in an endeavor to lose weight. It held them accountable. You couldn’t ignore what you’d eaten and pretend it didn’t count if it was documented. She shrugged her thin shoulders, “It’s habit.”

The admission that Margot would miss seeing Dottie if she was gone came unexpectedly, and Dottie lifted her gaze almost hopefully. She wasn’t going to read too much into it. Of course, Margot didn’t really keep her preferences a secret like Dottie did, but that did not mean that missing her at work equaled anything more than a friendly sentiment. “Eating take away isn’t starving,” Dottie pointed out with a grin, pulling in an even, deep breath, “I always thought it was a little bit of a shame that we don’t get to see one another more than sometimes in passing…but I suppose we are there to work, not to socialize.”

--

"It may not be starving, no, but I won't take any chances." Of course, it wasn't really up to Margot, one way or the other, but she rather enjoyed having the temporary excuse. And- "Work? I thought I was there just to play with kittens and puppies." She snapped her fingers, as if to express disappointment at this news. A pause, then, "I'm sure we can find more reasons to see one another, other than in passing. There are more meals to be taught, after all."

--

Laughing when Margot expressed her disappointment that she was at the Menagerie for more than the cuddles of small animals, Dottie grinned, “I think that is somewhere in my job description. I have the easier side of it on sales. I just adopt them out and sell supplies and the rest of the time I get to just tend to playing with and caring for the remaining animals.” It was sometimes a messy job. Particularly, she often ended up with fur all over her robes or the odd feather stuck in some fold of clothing. Sometimes it went beyond that if an animal was a little nervous, but that was rare and always promptly cleaned up, “I’d like that. I obviously could use the cooking lessons, and I’m always willing to have an excuse to broaden my social horizons.”

--

"I did the sales side for a while, before that summer we were both there," Margot admitted, "but I think the magizoology side of it fits me better. I wasn't much of a saleswoman. Plus, I just wanted to take them all home myself, even still. And mum and dad never liked that much." A pause, "Well, I still want to do that, but at least on my side of things, sometimes I can at least for a little bit." When the animals were sick or needed more round-the-clock care, Margot was nearly always the first one to volunteer for such shifts.

"Social horizons?" Margot quirked an eyebrow at that choice of words, even if it had been an unintentional one. "How so?"

--

Dottie found herself nodding, remembering that first summer that they’d worked at the Menagerie together. It was the first time Dottie had worked period, but she’d gotten the job to prove a point to her parents: she did not want to be a socialite and a trophy wife. She hadn’t really paid too much attention to Margot before that. Even though they were close in age and she recognized her from school, she hadn’t bothered to get to know her, “I actually like the sales part. Sometimes it can be a little frustrating, but I can put some of the skills I learned growing up to good use. I’m good at the whole sales pitch thing.” She smiled a little, “I’ve tried really hard to not get attached, but it’s hard sometimes. If I had a bigger place I’d probably have more pets.”

When Margot pressed about her comment about social horizons, Dottie realized she had just stuck her foot in her mouth in a big way. It was unintentional, thankfully Margot didn’t seem to have completely realized what Dottie meant which was a good thing. The fact of the matter was that Dottie didn’t spend a whole lot of her time socializing with those outside of Pureblood circles. She realized that this was a bad thing, particularly because she didn’t really agree with them and because if the truth of her came out she was unlikely to have very many friends left. She reminded herself not to panic, and smoothly answered, “Making new friends…or rather, spending time with friends outside of normal settings, I suppose.” That was also the truth. It wasn’t a lie even if it hadn’t been her original thought on the matter, “We’ve always been friendly, but…I don’t know why we’ve never spent time together outside of work, really.” That was a lie…at least a small one. It was because remaining just friends with Margot would be exceedingly difficult if she ever learned that the brunette might return her feelings, and sometimes it was safer to just remain oblivious.

--

"That's more than half the reason I have a place with land of my own," Margot admitted. "Granted, I've just got the three- as permanent residents, anyway- but at least the option is open." An option that would almost certainly be taken advantage of, one way or another, sooner or later. No matter how her sister protested that she needed more human companionship.

"A fair idea," she offered, nodding consideringly as she leaned back against the kitchen counter. "Norah is on my case a bit to get me out and about more than I have been, so, maybe we can help keep one another honest." Because honesty was really what Margot was selling, here? Hardly. Well, at least not completely- but Dottie didn't need to know that. Margot, herself, was so well-entrenched in her preposterous crush that there was no sense in avoiding it anymore. Better, perhaps, just to revel in every torturous moment.

--

“Maybe you can have a sanctuary of some kind,” Dottie suggested, though of course Margot’s land and home was hers to do with what she wanted. It seemed like it might suit, and maybe she eventually would, but she might not want to dedicate so much time to something like that at this point in her life, “When I moved in, I just had Butterscotch, but then I’ve had him since school. I’m lucky that he and Humphrey get along so well since they spend their days together in the flat, even if Humphrey gets to go out a few times. Butterscotch doesn’t even like it outside.” She’d tried to get the cat to go out a few times thinking the sunshine might be good for him, but he had hunkered on the ground and scowled at her until she brought him inside again.

The suggestion that she might get to spend more time with Margot wasn’t something that she had any designs on rejecting. It seemed like a stroke of dumb luck that Norah was encouraging her twin to get out more, and Dottie would take any excuse she could get. Bouncing on her toes a little, Dottie smiled brightly, “I’d like that. I like you. I mean,” she amended quickly, “I’ve always thought we had some things in common, and I’ve enjoyed the few times we have hung out.” Clearing her throat, she hedged, “Do we need to be doing anything else for food preparation?”

--

"The thought has certainly occurred to me, a time or two before. After I've a few more years of apprenticeship, perhaps." There were precious few magizoologists about- a strange thing, really, but many of the best ones weren't at all interested in tutoring newcomers to the field. So Margot knew that she had to learn from her mentors while the opportunity presented itself.

I like you. Margot knew, of course, that Dottie didn't mean anything by her choice of words. It was a simple phrase, one that was no doubt offered innocently. If she was going to spend this time with Dottie, she needed to not read into every little potential double-meaning. But, still, she couldn't bring herself to return the words, so she just answered the question instead. "What else were you wanting, with dinner? We've time enough to make something more, I think, before the quiche is done."

--

“You would be good at it, I think,” Dottie knew that she cared a lot about the animals at the shop so it stood to reason that she would run a sanctuary with equal compassion. Of course, something like that wouldn’t be done alone. She would likely need to employ other people and think hard about whether or not she wanted to have people coming and going on her property - how big she might make such an endeavor - but the payoff would likely be very personally rewarding.

When the question came about what else she might like to eat, her mind turned to the ingredients that were left, and what she had in her refrigerator. “Well…we could do a salad. Or a fruit salad. I have a lot of fresh fruit and I know how to make a pretty good honey-vanilla yogurt topping for it. That might go good with the quiche?”

--

"Look at you!" Margot grinned, seeming altogether more impressed than might have otherwise been expected. "Fresh fruit, a honey-vanilla yogurt topping! You sound like a regular professional chef." Of course, that might have been a bit excessive on the praise, but Margot didn't care. "I think that sounds fantastic- but only if you promise to give me the recipe, afterward!" It was a playful sort of turnabout, of course, but Margot rather liked the idea of encouraging Dottie, even for something as simple as this.

--

The praise was laid on a little bit thick, and Dottie appreciated the vote of encouragement although she knew a simple yogurt drizzle wasn’t anything overly special. She didn’t think that Margot was making fun of her though. She seemed sincere, that brilliant smile of hers causing Dottie’s heart to stutter erratically in her chest, “It’s a simple recipe that involves only measuring and absolutely no heat application. That’s the kind of cooking I’m most familiar with,” she grinned, and nodded decisively, “I can definitely share the recipe. I’m sure the three ingredients will be easy enough to remember.”

She set about gathering her own supplies now, stepping around Margot, accidentally brushing shoulders with her as she moved in the small space. She opened the refrigerator and inside it was all neatly organized and pristine. More than half of what she had in the refrigerator was either fresh fruit or fresh raw vegetables. She gathered up strawberries, a banana, an orange, grapes, blueberries, and pre-sliced melon of various kinds that was already in a tupperware and set it all out on the counter. Then she grabbed a significantly large tub of plain yogurt and shut the fridge before she shuffled over to grab the vanilla and honey out of a cabinet. She retrieved two clean bowls, one larger and one small, and a few knives, but that was all she thought they would need.

“The fruit has already all been washed. I always do that when I first bring it into the house. It saves time, I think, rather than washing small portions each time I feel like eating any of it.” She picked up one of the knives and grabbed the orange, slicing it right down the middle with practiced precision and then set the halves it aside, smiling, “I typically just squeeze the juice over the whole mix. But there are more oranges if you actually want to eat one. Otherwise, we can just throw as much in here as we feel like eating. The strawberries still need to be sliced.” She began to peel the banana, and then cut it right down the middle and kept the pieces together as she held it over the bowl and continued to slice small chunks into the larger bowl, “I started doing the yogurt thing a while back. I have a bit of a sweet tooth.”

--

Margot watched with interest as Dottie moved about her kitchen, seemingly more at ease now than she had been previously. The recipe would be easy enough to remember, yes, but she was still curious to see it all come together here and now. As Dottie began to slice the banana, Margot reached for a handful of the strawberries and another knife, starting to get the smaller fruit cut into more manageable pieces. Each strawberry was quartered, the good pieces into a pile and the stems and greens charmed away to the trash in turn. Margot popped a few pieces into her mouth along the way, just because she could, but the rest made it into the bowl that Dottie had started.

"I don't trust anyone who says they don't like sweets," she offered, simply. "They're damned liars. Who needs that kind of negativity, anyway?"

--

Dottie grinned, nodding along with Margot’s assessment of people who claimed to not like sweets, “Exactly. I mean, I don’t let myself indulge in baked goods that often, but it’s delicious. If I could live off of nothing but cake and ice cream, I definitely would.” Of course, that didn’t really fit into her plan. It would make her gain weight like crazy…maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Maybe she should just eat cake. It was ingrained in her to need to be a certain way, to fit into a certain size…to be desirable for her future husband. The thought made her want to gag. She’d rather have a wife.

After finishing the banana, Dottie went on to cut some of the grapes into halves. She mixed up what fruit they had accumulated, and then threw in a few blueberries, “Do you like cantaloupe and honeydew melon? I’m more of a honeydew girl myself, at least if I’m eating it plain, but I like the cantaloupe with the topping too.” She cracked the lid on the yogurt, giving the remainder of the tub a few stirs to get rid of any separation, “It’s so easy. Two cups of yogurt, two tablespoons of honey, and a half a teaspoon of vanilla extract. I’ve heard some people also use vanilla bean seeds, but I don’t generally get into all of that.”

--

With a sister and father as Healers, Margot knew well enough the reasons that one couldn't live on cake and ice cream alone, no matter how tempting the idea might have been. "It's a balance, maybe," she offered, instead. "You can have fruit and healthy- more or less- homemade things, and then sweets afterward. I just don't fancy the idea of abstaining from anything that makes you feel good." Which… was perhaps more direct than Margot should have admitted aloud, but she waved this off with a renewed interest in the fruit salad that Dottie was making.

"I love cantaloupe. Honeydew melon is good, too- but I used to eat cantaloupe slices all the time when I was a kid. It was one of my favorite summertime snacks." The honey and vanilla was added to the yogurt, and Margot leaned over, only barely resisting sticking her finger into the new sweet topping to give it a taste. Instead, she just inhaled deeply- with now a mixture of the aromas of both cool yogurt and the warm quiche to enjoy. "It looks fantastic."

--

Margot suggested a balance, and Dottie smiled, liking that idea enough that she bobbed her head in agreement. She didn’t allow herself enough leeway usually. She didn’t admit that, but it was the truth. As a child, her brother had been allowed sweets more often than she was. She couldn’t let herself get pudgy, her mother reminded her, and it was an unfortunate truth that boys burned off such things faster than girls did. The mention of things that make you feel good made Dottie blush, reminded less of food and more of…other things. Recent discoveries…it was wholly inappropriate. She waved it off, clearing her throat, “That’s a good policy for life, I think.” It didn’t mean she followed it all the time, but she did whenever she could.

She nodded, storing away that little piece of information. A favorite summertime snack. She stirred together the three ingredients until they were well, blended, the honey thinned out and mingling with the yogurt and vanilla. It was still sticky, but less-so than before. She smiled as Margot praised it, simple as it was, “I make it all the time. I go through a lot of yogurt and fruit.” She checked the fruit bowl again, stirring it once more and making sure that they added plenty of the melon as well to fill out the mixture. She then took the halved orange and squeezed it over the top of the fruit, both halves of it trickling the juice over the rest of the fruit. A little of the juice lingered at the tips of her fingers, but she tossed the halves and absently cleared away the juice from a few of her fingers with her tongue as she picked up the topping again and carefully drizzled it over the fruit. She scraped the bottom of the bowl to ensure she got as much of it out as she could. As she put the bowl down, Dottie sucked a little of the topping off of her thumb, “Oh, that’s good,” she sighed happily and smiled as she picked up the spoon and extended it to Margot, “Want a taste?”

--

No matter how interested Margot had been in Dottie's techniques, she lost all train of coherent and decent thought when the other girl started licking her fingers clean. It was a completely innocuous gesture, but it sent Margot's mind somewhere wholly inappropriate, and she was struck silent for several moments before she realized that a. she was staring, and b. Dottie was talking to her.

"Do I- what?" she blinked, slowly coming back to the present moment and trying desperately to remember what Dottie had just asked her. A taste. Of... oh, hell. "I- um. Yes. Of course I do."

--

It didn’t go past her notice that Margot seemed to be staring at her a little, as though she wasn’t entirely present in the moment, lost in some thought that Dottie had no hope of guessing. She didn’t intend to interrupt that thought, and realized that maybe Margot had drifted out a little further than she’d originally thought because she didn’t seem to know what she’d been offered for a moment. When she agreed, Dottie brightened, wondering if maybe she’d done too much and Margot had gotten bored...or if it was something else.

She handed over the spoon anyway, clearing away the bowl and the dirty knives to the sink where they began to wash themselves, clinking gently before rinsing and going into the drying rack, “There are some options for whatever we might like to drink. Water is an option, of course. I’ve also got tea, milk, pumpkin juice, and orange juice. If we wanted to go a little beyond that, there’s some champagne. We could make mimosas. Or have wine. I probably have a few other things if none of that appeals.”

--

Margot took the offered spoon, trying the fruity-sweets that Dottie had just mixed up, and couldn't help her smile at the taste. It really was good- certainly worthy of the playful confidence Margot had summoned up beforehand. "Perfect," she replied, simply. "I'll definitely need this recipe."

Though it was likely an extraordinarily bad idea, Margot didn't hesitate in her answer of, "Wine, please. Mimosas sound good, but they're a brunch sort of thing, yeah?" Which didn't mean, per se, that they could only be consumed at that time- but they certainly tasted better with pancakes and bacon and… Right, she was going to stop that train of thought before it derailed once more. "The quiche is just about done, so how else can I help?"

--

She beamed at the praise for the sweet yogurt topping, glad that Margot liked it. She would write down the simple recipe, but she doubted Margot would need that to remember it. All of the ingredients were right in the name.

Shrugging at the mention of mimosas being more suited for brunch, Dottie added, “The menu for tonight is sort of like brunch, but I think wine will go good with it too. A white, maybe,” she thought about what wines she had on hand, and considered the one she would probably serve. She grabbed two wine glasses from a cabinet, and when Margot asked how else she could help, Dottie wasn’t entirely sure. She pondered for a moment, “We should have plenty of food. We could go ahead and put out the plates and silverware?” She plucked a bottle of wine - chilled - out of the fridge, and got out the cork screw, fetching the necessary silverware at the same time since they were all in the drawer together. The wine would be semi-sweet, and she thought that would go well. Not too overwhelming with the sweetness of the fruit. “The plates are in that cabinet,” she said, pointing, and then she began to open the bottle of wine, gently easing the cork from the top once she had it up far enough. Pouring a little into one of the glasses, she offered it out to Margot, “Try and see if you like it. If not, we can open another one!”

--

As directed, Margot retrieved the plates and sent them over to the table with a simple charm. She took a peek into the oven, checking on the quiche, but shut the door just afterward- another minute and it should be perfect.

Taking the offered glass of wine, she admitted, "I'm not terribly picky about wine, really. I'm sure that makes me... uncultured, but," a shrug. At least it meant she didn't need a ten Galleon bottle of wine to satisfy her palate. With an easy sip of the wine, Margot smiled, nodding her approval. "Your taste is admirable," she added, playfully.

--

She knew that the wine was a good one, but it didn’t mean that it would suit everyone. She didn’t really anticipate Margot to be a wine connoisseur, but she didn’t want her to suffer through drinking something she didn’t like the taste of. She shrugged when the brunette said it probably made her uncultured to not care about the quality of her wine, “I love wine, but it’s not something I’m terribly concerned about either. I just pick what I like the taste of. My mother thinks it’s a good family bonding exercise for us to go to wine tastings together.”

Grinning, Dottie took the glass back and finished pouring for both her own glass and the rest of Margot’s. She sent the glasses to the table, as well as the bottle, and the bowl of fruit with a serving spoon and the silverware. The table was all set except for the quiche which would be done momentarily. “The quiche smells so good. I’m really glad we decided to do that tonight.”

--

"I am, too." Margot smiled- it was the truth, of course. Yes, she had a crush, but that didn't mean she was incapable of putting such silly things aside and just enjoying time with Dottie as a friend. "Now, shoo-" she playfully shooed Dottie away, wine glasses in hand, toward the table. "I'll bring the quiche out here in just a minute."

--

Anyone else in her family might have been affronted by being told to shoo in her own home, but Dottie just smiled. She had told Margot to make herself at home, hadn’t she? This was just two friends spending time together. It didn’t mean anything more, but she was going to enjoy every second of it anyway. There were a lot of things she could’ve said - a number of them flirtatious - but she settled on a grin, and teasingly offered, “I’ll put a minute on the clock.” Maybe they could do this more often. Maybe if they had enough dinners Dottie would have the courage to tell Margot more about herself. It wasn’t enough - wasn’t what she wanted - but this she could have.