March 27th, 1891 — Art's House, Bartonburg

It had been difficult to get a hold of Art in the middle of the quidditch season, but once he had there was no stopping him from showing up in his floo ten minutes after he'd finished his morning tea.

"Okay, I know this is a strange question—" It was strange, coming from him at least, because they did not speak as frequently since Art had gotten married, and when they did it was usually life updates or small talk, not this. "—but which of your Lestrange cousins are still at Hogwarts?" He knew Art was... distant from that side of his family, but even in his large family Freddie knew which of his cousins and second-cousins were still at school, and the idea of not having a general sense of one's family was a foreign one.

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Arthur Pettigrew

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   Elladora Black

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— set by mj <3 —

It was too early in the day and Art had had too long a week to be seeing Freddie Prewett this early in the day. He was tired, not necessarily because of lack of sleep but because of what he'd been doing all week, and he didn't know how to explain that he was tired without explaining why. Still, he took a sip of his tea before replying to Freddie.

"I have got to get more context before discussing the Lestranges, Freddie," Art scolded.

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set by MJ <3

Ah, context—that thing that could potentially turn this conversation into an argument. Of course, Arthur didn't like the Lestranges, so there was always a chance that he would straight up not care even if given the full context, but he was too afraid that Art would shut it down immediately, and Freddie didn't know if he had the heart to continue his pursuit of Miss Lestrange if his friend expressed disapproval.

But then again, he would eventually find out, wouldn't he?

"I - uh, met one of them," he admitted, his cheeks flushing pink to provide all the context Art needed.

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   Arthur Pettigrew

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Arthur sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, and wondered how concerned Freddie would be if he poured whiskey into both their mugs. Probably very. This was why he tried to see people after noon. "Romantically?" he said, preemptively exasperated. Art was supportive, and fun, he was supposed to be a supportive and fun person, but Freddie was really trying him this morning with the Lestranges on top of everything else. "What's the hair situation?"

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set by MJ <3

Romantically was a bit of a stretch by the strictest definition of the word. He was attracted to her, sure, and he’d been caught off guard by her insistence that they would not see each other again, but he did not love her. Freddie shrugged his shoulders and pretended he did not care, but Freddie was very bad at pretending.

“I thought she was - pleasant.” Her lips had been perfectly pleasant; in the grand scheme of things, he knew more about them than he knew about her heart or her mind. Which is why knowing her name would have been helpful.

“She‘a blonde,“ he answered quickly, “and in Slytherin, if that makes any difference. I don’t - I don’t know what year.“ Merlin forbid there was one Slytherin Lestrange in school and she was in fifth year. (She had to be at least a few years older than Rufina’s girl, but not as old as Annabelle’s youngest daughter. He hoped.)

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"Oh for Merlin's sake," Art said as Freddie explained, because the only cousin he could think of right away to fit that description was Seneca Lestrange, and her father would eat Freddie alive. "That's not Frida, then. Could be one of two of the others - Seneca, in which case you're fucked, or the, uh, other one. Gertrude. Gretchen. Grace? Something with a G."

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set by MJ <3

He took note of the names: Not-Frida, Seneca, and Gertrude-Gretchen-Grace. None of them seemed to fit the image of the girl in his head, but then again, he also didn’t know what name did  fit her.

“She was with her aunt at my mum’s Christmas party, and - um...” Freddie was pink again, memories of cornering Miss Lestrange in the billiards room filling his mind. “And then I saw her again, just a few days ago, but I never got her name.”

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Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose again. "Ugh," he said, "Well, Seneca is Lucius Lestrange's daughter, so..." It wasn't like Art would feel obligated to tell Lucius, he wasn't a narc or anything, but he would feel obligated to warn Freddie off profusely, before the blush on his cheeks got him into trouble.

"What do you want to know?"

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set by MJ <3

Lucius Lestrange’s daughter was a terrible way to end the sentence, because even though Freddie had never been formally introduced to the man, he had a reputation for being generally intimidating just as Freddie had a reputation for being generally young at heart.

But he was not entirely dissuaded. He didn’t say he was marrying her, he just had - questions. “Um.” He got a little quiet and squirmed in his spot. “Her age. I don’t know - if she’s... or how old...”

Please, please, please have her be an adult. Or almost there.

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   Arthur Pettigrew

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Art furrowed his eyebrows and tried to remember. "Seneca's a seventh year, maybe?" he said; that sounded right, because her other sister had just gotten married. "I think the other one's sixteen." He wasn't sure, but sixteen sounded like the right age; she was definitely at least N.E.W.T. level.

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A relieved sigh escaped his body—loudly, and a smile faded onto his lips. “That’s good to hear, because I—” He paused abruptly, looking at Art with wide eyes. The expression slowly faded as he decided to just say it. “I kissed her. Twice. Different times.”

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Arthur made a pained noise. "I'm glad you didn't kiss a child," he said, "But if you kissed Lucius' daughter he will kill you anyways." Art wasn't even exaggerating, and his tone was dead serious - he needed Freddie to understand the risks here before he ended up getting a taste of the nasty side of upper class purebloods.

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”Like - kill kill me?“ he asked, his brow creased with concern. “Or do you mean he’ll make my life a living hell?”

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Arthur analyzed Freddie, squinting at him. On paper, Freddie was perfectly respectable, other than the prison thing. However, Freddie was also generally a pleasant person, and therefor unlikely to be able to handle the scrutiny of the Chief Warlock.

"Probably the latter," he said, "Not that I'd recommend it."

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That didn’t sound like much fun either.

“But there’s a chance that it’s the other one,” he began, now desperately hoping that was the case. He did not want to face Lucius Lestrange’s wrath; he couldn’t go back and change that he’d kissed Miss Lestrange now, and there was always a chance he’d find out.

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"Yeah," Art said, because there was. "She's Orestes' daughter, but he's dead. So I think she lives with Priam now? He's fine." Priam was fine, as far as uncles were concerned - or, Art never felt vaguely threatened by him, or, Art tried to avoid having opinions on his extended family at all. "And I met her sister a few weeks ago, and her sister was nice." Or something. Art wasn't sure if nice had been the right word, but Frida hadn't been condescending, or anything.

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set by MJ <3