15th October, 1895 — The Three Broomsticks

"Apologies for the delay," Alfie said cheerily as he joined Gemma in the snug of the bar, pleased to note that he had not spilled a drop of either of their drinks when he'd been obliged to maneuver through the pub like he was following the erratic path of bludgers once again. (Why were there so many people here? it was Wednesday for goodness sake!) Triumphant, he took his seat opposite her and grinned sheepishly; he had gotten here twenty minutes before her and guarded this spot like a feral dog, but she didn't need to know that. The little bit of privacy was well worth the effort and he was pleased to see that no one had taken his absence as a cue to push their way in.

"It's standing room only out there and...well, I'd have to crouch down to hear you," he joked, taking a sip of his drink and smacking his lips with pleasure. Leaning forward on his elbow, drink carefully poised for another taste, he became more sincere: "How are you? It's been ages and, well, I know it's been a terrible few months."

Gemma Simpson | Daffodil Grimstone

  

Alfie's invitation to the Broomsticks had been a delightful surprise. Things between them had been a little distant over the last couple years, but mostly because she was gone most of the time. A few letters here and there, but she thought that now she was going to be here for a little while, she wouldn't mind catching up and reconnecting a little. It was a little awkward and she didn't want it to be, those feelings that never quite went away, but she could lock it all up for now and just enjoy his company.

The crowded pup was nice and warm and she waited in the booth while Alfie went to get the drinks, humming to herself quietly as she watched the people around them for amusement. People watching was always one of her favorite things to do, especially when abroad. Gem had learned so many different customs and cultures across her travels, mostly from observing whatever was going on around her. It helped when she worked with people form around the world as well. It was one of her favorite parts of her job.

Gem wrapped her fingers around the warm cider gratefully, inhaling the spices fondly. She stuck her tongue out at him for the height joke. "It's not my fault you're the size of a mountain." She shot back playfully. "I'm alright. Been trying to keep busy." Professor Skeeter's house was almost all cleaned out and she was finding herself wondering what to do next. "How about you? How's work and everything going?" She didn't know what else he'd been up to over the years outside of the superficial things.

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Alfie smiled, blushed and immediately felt like a boy of fourteen with a crush. His palms had not felt this sweaty a moment ago, he was sure, or else he would have dropped the blood drinks! Surreptitiously he wiped them on the opposite sleeves under the guise of folding his arms and leaning back in what he hoped was a devil-may-care manner.

“Oh, you know,” he said, before realising that she probably didn’t, seeing as how her profession was far more exotic, but involved significantly less mopping up of blood. Or at least he hoped it did.

“When someone takes a bludger to their face I fix it for them. I’m a dab hand at those,” and he ought to be, given how many times his mother had been forced to fix his face after a match. “I’m hoping one of the major teams will take me on officially. Then I can start earning some real money and…well…start a real life.”

  

Had she known he'd moved specifically into the quidditch league? Maybe. Maybe it had gotten lost in the letters that were few and far between over the years. The distance she put between herself and Scotland was enough for them to take a while most of the time and though still quicker than muggle mail, left enough room for people to stop replying. To be honest, she was the one who slipped most of the time. Busy with work, long days, remote locations. It took a lot of her energy, love it as she might.

"That would be good," she mused, curious, though obstinately skipping the last part of the comment. Gem didn't know what to do with that information. It would make sense, Alfie being ready to settle down, but for some reason it still twisted her insides a little. It was much easier to focus on the quidditch though it had been a long time since Gemma had put any thought into the sport, which was funny, given how much she'd loved it in her youth. Now it was just a passing thing, a shallow conversation, like the weather. She was interested in his career goals though, like any friend should be. "You're not like attached to a specific stadium or the league or anything?" It would make quite a bit of sense for the league itself to employ their own mediwizards, given how brutal the game could be sometimes. The hours must have been better than at the hospital too.

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“I’m usually sent for when somebody else can’t make it to the match,” he admitted ruefully. He truly wished it sounded more impressive, but he did not have it in him to be dishonest and doubted he would get away with it with Gemma. Though perhaps she would not notice? After all, it had been a while since they were as close as they had once been. Could have been, his brain supplied unhelpfully, though he still was not sure what he had done wrong – if indeed he had done anything.

Perhaps that was the problem? Lack of action. Well, there was only one thing to remedy that!

“Which means that I can travel anywhere really. If I needed to,” he thought of Gemma travelling the world, going wherever the plants were. He could go where they were too. “If someone else needed to, I mean.”

  

Gem sipped at her cider, enjoying the warmth as it spread through her. So much of her travels had been to warmer climates that she had grown accustomed to the feeling. Coming back to Scotland always felt cold, even if autumn had just barely begun. It was like she wasn't used to it anymore and Hogsmeade knew it.

With both elbows on the table now, Gemma got more comfortable, leaning in and cradling the cider between her hands, listening as Alfie explained more specifics of his job. "It's nice to have that sort of flexibility," she mused, trying not to read between the lines but finding herself doing it anyway. The last time she'd done that, things had gotten complicated and had sort of faded with no resolution, but she still couldn't help but to wonder what if.

"Is that something you'd like to do, travel?" Gemma loved it far more than expected. It was an adjustment certainly, but the freedom of it, the places and the people and of course the plants.

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Honestly, he had never given it much thought. Travel was something other people did; perhaps some were lucky enough to have a profession that took them overseas but to Alfie it had always seemed as though going abroad was something one did when they did not have to earn a living. He remembered in his final year at Hogwarts there had been boys his age planning their tour, full of themselves and their dreams of adventure and debauchery, while he (and others, he was not so self-deprecating he thought he was alone in not having a job that would be waiting for him when he returned) were thinking about job security.

At seventeen the wages he was earning now seemed like the stuff of dreams, but now it was not enough for the future he wanted. It was not enough for her.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, staring into his drink as though it would help him say what he wanted to say. “I wouldn’t know where to start. Do you have any favourites?”