Charming is a Victorian Era Harry Potter roleplay set primarily in the village of Hogsmeade, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and the non-canon village of Irvingly. Characters of all classes, both magical and muggle — and even non-human! — are welcome.

With a member driven story line, monthly games and events, and a friendly and drama-free community focused on quality over quantity, the only thing you can be sure of is fun!
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    10.17 Election 1887 campaign ledgers are up!
    10.16 Kayte's changed her (Charming) face!
    10.10 Congrats to September's PW winners Olive and Miri!
    10.03 An update on the Hogwarts ban...
    10.01 It's now October~
    09.30 The AC Approaches
    09.24 We have new Wenches!
    09.24 A wild election deadline appears!
    09.14 Witch Weekly needs more Wenches!
    09.10 Hags have hired!
    09.05 Hags are Hiring & Update your CML Entries
    09.04 Congratulations to Lynn and Bree for winning August's PW!
    The Seer and the Scholar
    Private Thread 
    1st February, 1887

    “You’re getting far too big for this you know?” Cassie said emphatically to her son, knowing full well that the happy toddler in her arms would have no idea of what she really meant. He was beginning to understand her sometimes but Cassie held the secret belief that he was selectively deaf when he wished to be and she carefully lowered him to the ground.

    He preferred to walk now anyway - or at least that was what she told herself as she navigated Diagon Alley with her son's hand held tight and the package she had been struggling with now under her free arm. The lunchtime rush at the pub must be petering out by now so she didn't feel too awful taking Theo inside with her. It was her only way back to Irvingly after all, though now she was inside the warmth that spread through her skin made her long to remain. Her son would be cold - it wouldn't be terrible to let him warm up by the fire would it?

    Ordering hot chocolates she took a seat, pulling Theo onto her lap as she waited.

    "There you are love, nice and warm," she said sweetly, rubbing her nose against Theo's and making him laugh. It would have been an idyllic moment were it not for the fact she looked up and sitting opposite her, without her noticing his presence till now when it was far too awkward to move, was a man she had hoped to avoid for...well, forever really.



    @Micajah Vablatsky
    @Cassius Lestrange
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    Micajah was only passing through the Leaky Cauldron; he had to go to the library. It was only the familiar face of the most legendary seer in his lifetime that caught his attention - as a scholar, he was obligated to be interested, but he also knew her far better than was decent.

    (He'd seen her naked. That's where we're going with this.)

    Micajah drifted over. He had no real intention of loitering - he had research to do, after all - but it would probably be helpful to reestablish contact with such a noteworthy seer. Especially if the contact was sexual.

    He glanced at the child and smiled brightly at the boy. He had to be one of Miss Trelawney's half-brothers; the boy looked tremendously like her.

    "Miss Trelawney," Micajah said cheerfully, "It's been a very long time."
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    The downfall of her determination to distance herself from Mr Vablatsky forevermore was of course the fact that he was so very nice. She liked him and it was really her fault all of this had come about – or possibly her mother’s for setting her such a dreadful example as to when and where it was acceptable to relinquish one’s virtue.

    “Has it really?” She asked with a nervous smile. “Surely it’s been no more than a year or two?” She said as she clutched her nineteen month old to her, hoping against hope that he didn’t notice that Theo had remarkably similar eyes to his own. She stroked Theo’s hair as her son looked up at the stranger inquisitively, eyes wide with interest as they always were whenever be beheld someone or something new.

    Could Theo know somehow? Instinctively was it engraved on his heart?
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    The real question was 'when had they had sex?' and Micajah took a moment to think of the answer. It really was a shame that they'd stopped seeing each other after that. In school, he used to consider Miss Trelawney to be one of his friends, and now she was more elusive than anything. 

    "Two and a half, almost," Micajah said once he'd placed it in time. The boy had to be Freya's youngest; he was so small.

    "How have you been? Are you still working in Irvingly?"

    He didn't need the Sight to find her if he wanted to; he could have at any time. He just hadn't, for an amalgam of reasons. For one, he was a busy and easily distracted academic. For another - what if, after all that, she didn't want to see him?
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    Thus far he didn’t seem to be showing any signs of connecting the dots between the last time they had seen each other and the physical result of that night that she held in her arms so tightly, which was a blessing. And there was no hint that any member of his family – who Cassie knew to be significantly more gifted with the Sight than Micajah himself was – had learned the truth and spilled the beans.

    On the other hand it was curious that she had bumped into his father so very recently…

    “Yes, at Chance L’Amour still,” had he ever known that was where she worked actually? Oh well, he knew now and perhaps he would visit like his father had? It wasn’t so very far after all.

    “I seem to have settled in Irvingly without really meaning to, but I do like it enormously. It’s nice not to be so…well…you know how it is when you have gifts. But the muggles don’t care a jot,” she said with a wry smile. “And you? I read your last book.”

    And based on that she had been slightly worried for his sanity.
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    je suis garbage!

    Micajah, already bright to see her, brightened further and beamed at Cassandra Trelawney. "The centaur one?" he said - but what other book could it be? "That one was rather difficult to research - I had to spend a great deal of time as an owl." For months afterwards, he'd found himself behaving as if he was an owl - something that had, luckily, mostly passed.

    (He still cocked his head more often than a person ought to.)

    "It's good," he added, "That the muggles don't bother you. I know you don't like that."
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    The very fact that he had remembered even that small amount about her caused Cassie’s insides to do a deeply unsettling impression of a flutter of butterflies that were migrating from her stomach to her heart. Treacherous heart. Didn’t know what was good for it. And Micajah Vablatsky most certainly wasn’t, even if the man himself was kind and courteous, she would inevitably end up hurt.

    “No,” she said slowly, before her face broke out into the sort of fond smile she had given him years ago when things had been less complex. “Did you just say you spent time as an owl?” She shouldn’t say it. Should. Not. Say. It. “Sounds a hoot.”

    She was worse than her mother.
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    If she was someone else, Micajah would not have found that statement amusing. Instead, he couldn't help but grin at Cassandra, because she was attractive and endearing and talented, and he could tolerate horrible puns from her.

    "Haven't heard that one before," he said dryly.
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    “I’m sorry,” chuckling to herself at his response Cassie wasn’t sure whether to cry or run when Theo reached out chubby little hands towards Micajah and eagerly made noises. He was curiously fascinated with strangers at the moment – that’s all it was, she told herself forcibly. It was just interest, not instinct. She tried to ignore it instead.

    “Let me buy you a drink to make up for my terrible jokes?” She asked. “I can’t promise I won’t tell more though.”
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    Micajah blinked curiously at the child. He was not spectacularly familiar with children, but Cassandra's half-brother was quite pretty - he had big eyes and looked very much like her. He made a face at the toddler, sticking his tongue out in the hopes that it would make him laugh.

    "You have a deal," Micajah said, "And I'll let you have the terrible jokes. What's his name?"
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    Until this moment Cassie had not realised that things could be heart-wrenchingly wonderful and painfully awkward at the same time – and she had once foretold the future of a young man who had turned out to be married to his long-lost half-sister and inadvertently described the children they would produce. This was, she decided, probably her punishment for never telling him he had a son in the first place.

    “Theodore,” she said simply, heart-breaking as she watched Micajah interact so seamlessly with her child and she would have swapped almost anything in the world to be able to add ’he’s your son’  to the end of that. “Theo.”
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