July 10th, 1891 — Muggle London

Ostensibly he'd invited Cash Lestrange to come and spend part of the afternoon with him because it was his birthday, and this was what people did on their birthdays — fun activities with their friends. In reality, that was only half the reason. Last year his birthday hadn't fallen on a weekend, and so he'd only had to spend the morning and evening with his family. He was finding the prospect of a full twenty-four hours of Mama, in full Celebration Mood, a bit daunting. Really, this was a reprieve from the Greengrass home as much as it was an outing for its own sake.

"You'll have to help me come up with a cover story," he told Lestrange with a wry smile as they loitered outside the building, waiting for the doors to open. "If my family asks what I've been up to this afternoon I can't say I went to a Muggle seance." For one thing, Verity would make it all about her somehow — he didn't think her marriage prospects hinged quite so much on his own reputation as she seemed to think, but he could already hear how she would frame the argument about it. Even Noble would probably think it was strange — or at the very least, a strange thing to decide to spend money on, even if the tickets were only a pittance and Ford only went to one every few months. It had been ages since he'd been to a seance, actually, since the season was so busy. He refused to feel guilty about this one — but that didn't mean he wanted to defend the decision once he got back home.

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Cassius Lestrange

  

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Cash was happy to spend his Saturday with Ford — he was always looking for things to occupy his free time with, and a muggle seance seemed better than most of his usual alternatives. (Certainly it was better than attending an event for the season — or, worse, writing letters to the women as Lucius had told him to.) Besides that, he'd never been to a seance, and he was curious, so this promised to be interesting.

Also, it was Ford's birthday.

"You're not in Excalibur's are you? Sometimes I claim I was there," Cash said with a wry smile. He might claim it more often than he actually went to the young gentlemen's club, actually — it wasn't really his scene. "But I suppose the middle of the afternoon is an odd time to go to the club." He would need his own cover story, too — if anyone cared to ask, this was far too muggle for the Lestranges.

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"No, I'm not," Ford replied. He was momentarily shocked to hear that Lestrange kept a membership at two clubs, when even one had seemed an unnecessary extravagance in his mind when he'd renewed back in January. He knew Lestrange was rich, of course, because if one knew anything about the Lestrange family it was that they were rich and powerful and had been forever, but sometimes when he was just interacting with Cash one-on-one he almost forgot.

Even for people with more money than they knew what to do with, two club memberships seemed excessive — did he really spend time at each of them often enough to justify the expense? Ford had a rather dim view of the atmosphere at gentlemen's clubs, but as he considered it he realized perhaps it was unearned. They were meant to be places where men could interact with each other away from the typical pressures of society events, and they certainly were that. Besides, if he hadn't been at Black's he wouldn't have become friends with Lestrange — or met Macnair — so it was hardly as though he could complain that the company was lacking.

"Maybe we could claim there was some sort of luncheon for club members," he pondered. The suggestion of something to do with the club was a good one, because none of Ford's family would know anything about it and therefore couldn't be suspicious. That, and it would seem as though he was doing something useful for them all instead of just wiling away his afternoon focused only on his own enjoyment. "That's probably more believable on my end then something to do with Quidditch, anyway," he joked.

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"Oh, they won't believe that you spent your birthday traipsing around Chudley?" Cash joked, with a quirk of his eyebrow. He wouldn't believe that if he heard it, and not just because he would have had to leverage Ford there in the first place. "The luncheon thing won't work for me, my father would know." To the extent that Lucius cared what he did in his afternoons which, again, Cash was unsure of — and he certainly wasn't going to ask to try and figure it out, as that would have been suspicious.

"What did you tell them when we were in Derry?" he asked, a little curious.

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"Oh," Ford said, a little surprised by the question though he supposed he shouldn't have been; it was a logical enough thing to ask. "Just that I was seeing a friend and would be out late. But I don't think that'll work anymore. I've been vague too often and now they're all curious," he said with a slight chuckle. Ford didn't actually lie to his family often (maybe ever?) but between the ordeal with Billy Darrow in the spring, his ongoing visits with Cash's dementor, and everything with Macnair he'd certainly been doing quite a bit of strategic omissions and dodging questions. Particularly from Mama, who either didn't notice or didn't care when he made some subtle indication that he didn't really want to talk about something.

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   Cassius Lestrange

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Cash laughed at Ford's comment. "And what have you been up to?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow. He'd managed to restrain most of his questions re: the Valerian Macnair thing, but it was fairly obvious that Ford was up to something. Maybe even multiple somethings. Cash had to admit he was curious.

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This was maybe a question Ford should be hesitant to answer, or at least the sort of question he ought to think through before he answered. He was already in a good mood, though, and Lestrange was laughing, so it was hard to feel as cautious about this as he should. "Oh, this and that," he joked lightly, and for a second he intended to leave it at that. He probably should have, because it wasn't as though this was any of Lestrange's business and he'd just had a whole conversation with Macnair not a week ago about being careful and not letting anyone catch on to what they were doing. On the other hand: he was happy, and he wanted to tell someone about it, and it wasn't as though he could mention it to anyone else.

"I've been sort of seeing somebody," he admitted in a rush, biting back a smile as he waited to see Cash's reaction.

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Cash raised his eyebrows, but grinned, because the rush with which Ford announced it made it clear he was excited. "That's great," he said. There was a part of his mind that was whirring — was Ford seeing a man or a woman? He remembered the night on the boat, the sentence he'd started and scratched out in his journal — if he'd finished it, it would have read I think I could have kissed him. So — he thought Ford was seeing a man. He couldn't verbalize exactly why — the same reasons that he couldn't verbalize why kissing Theo had felt safe in February — but he did.

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As soon as Cash responded, Ford's face opened into a wide smile. He hadn't been expecting him to react poorly to the news, but it was a gratifying response all the same. It felt validating to have told someone else, and for their first reaction to have been encouraging. He couldn't have expected anything so pleasant if he'd told Noble instead, he was sure.

"It is," he agreed. "I haven't told anyone else," he admitted, with the unspoken implication being that he hoped Lestrange wouldn't want to mention it to anyone either. Particularly not anyone in his family.

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Cash grinned. It felt good, perhaps better than it should, to know that he knew something about Ford that no one else knew. Even if there was a twinge of weirdness involved, it was good to have some affirmation that Cash wasn't the only person giving up secrets in their friendship. "Well, thanks for telling me," he said brightly, "And you can always just tell your family you were with a friend. It's not as much of a thing when it's the middle of the day, I imagine."

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Ford laughed. "You've clearly never been interrogated by my mother," he joked. "She means well, but she never runs out of questions. The night that — well, nevermind," he said, realizing after he'd started that he had no way to talk about what had happened with Cash in April, particularly not in near-public.

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Cash wasn't used to good-natured interrogations from family members he mostly liked, (did anyone in the Lestrange family 'mean well?') so he just grinned at Ford. And the night that — could mean a lot, so Cash shrugged at it. "Your mother's a regular Ministry lawyer, hm?" he teased, "Just tell them I made you come to London for a drink."

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"You don't know the half of it," he agreed with a grin, although this was probably a little uncharitable to poor Mama. "But I can start with that. Anyway — I think they're opening the doors," he pointed out, with a gesture towards the doors of the seance building.

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