we're running out of time [cynthia]

[marvolo augustus lestrange]

It was late when Marvolo entered the Three Broomsticks and looked around. There was something about him that made people look away like they were afraid for him. He smirked. Fear was a good thing. Fear meant he wouldn’t be disturbed by some inquisitive person there thought he or she just needed to talk with this young wizard.

“A fire whiskey” he ordered before he sat down by an empty table in the corner. The last place Marvolo would work was in the place like this. He would hate to take orders and act nice. Nice wasn’t something Marvolo knew of.
Marvolo took a sip and saw a group of young witches were looking at him. It wasn’t a big surprise. Marvolo knew he was handsome and he didn’t try to hide it. Of course they looked at him but he wasn’t in the mood. He was tired and he just wanted to be alone and not being forced to talk and act like he was interested in whatever they talked about.

Marvolo had just been to a dinner party at his parents’ house and he had enough of acting interested for the rest of this week. He had gone early from the dinner because he got tired of it all, his parents, their friends and his father’s reproachful look. His father didn’t understand why he didn’t want more than just being the photographer for the Daily Prophet. “You could be the Minister of Magic, son” he had said a thousand times. And a thousand times Marvolo had replied “Yes father”.
The only reason Marvolo worked as a photographer was because his father had said he wouldn’t pay for his flat and his wild way of living if he didn’t have a job. His father had thought Marvolo would have chosen a job in the ministry and not a photographer-job. Marvolo knew working in the ministry meant you didn’t have time to anything else.

Marvolo took a deep breath like to indicate how annoyed he was. If just his father would shut up and stop being like this! He clenched his fist and his hand turned even whiter than it all ready was.
Marvolo placed the camera on the table. He had been on work before he arrived to his parents’ house. He took another deep breath to relax. For those who didn’t know Marvolo he had just reacted very angrily and he was now trying to control his feelings.
Marvolo looked out of the window. It had started raining. He liked rain because it matched his mood. Rain or when it was cloudy were Marvolo’s favourite types of weather. He took a sip of the whiskey and started to relax.

[cynthia montague]

It was raining, and Cynthia hated rain. The only thing worse was snow, but it was still wet enough. It was her night off from the cauldron, so she wasn't going there even though she felt like going out. It was too late for some cosy London café, and she really wasn't in the mood for some of the more... inappropriate pubs, so didn't even consider going to knockturn alley. The first place crossing her mind was the three broomsticks, in Hogsmeade. She hadn't been there for ages, but it couldn't have decayed that much since she left Hogwarts. And seeing she was a witch, the cross-country trip wasn't that much of a problem.

She entered the pub, took off her wet jacket and hung it over her arm as she walked over to the bar. Cynthia asked and paid for a big coffee and gazed out over the place. A young man, probably around her own age, was sitting alone at a table. With a camera, and that interested her. "Is this seat taken?" She asked him politely, but seated before giving him a chance to answer. He looked respectable and cultivated enough to know how rude it would be to deny a lady an empty seat. She stroke a lock of hair behind her ear and blew on the surface of her coffee, just a poor effort to make it cool off.

[marvolo augustus lestrange]

Marvolo was surprised anyone addressed him. He was surprised anyone wanted to talk with him. He wasn’t looking so friendly today. He looked at the young woman and his eyes wandered up to her dark hair. He preferred dark-haired women over blondes.
Marvolo looked slowly down at the chair she was pointing at. Of course he needed to say yes. It was rude to deny a lady a place to seat and Marvolo didn’t want people to think he was impolite.
If he offered her to seat down at the table it meant he had to talk with her. They couldn’t just sit without talking and talking meant he needed to talk about himself. See this was why he preferred meeting girls at parties and bring them back home. There wasn’t so much talking to do. It was more action without the unwanted talk.

Marvolo looked back at her and smiled but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“No it isn’t. Sit down and enjoy your… coffee?” Marvolo said and pointed at the chair. Coffee? Why was she drinking coffee now?
“No reason to stand up when you can sit”
Marvolo moved the camera a little bit closer to himself like he wanted to protect it. It was just something he did instinctively; he didn’t think the young woman would take his camera. He took a sip and tried to make it as long as possible so he didn’t have to talk with her right now. In the end he had to say something.
“What is a young lady like you doing here tonight?” Marvolo asked and tried to sound interested. Marvolo just wanted the conversation to end so he could go back to London. He had other things to do than sitting here all night talking. He wasn’t really in the mood for flirting. The dinner had really made him crappy.

[cynthia montague]

"Yeah, I can't apparate when I'm drunk" Cynthia explained smiling, before noticing how little he wanted her there. It wasn't the most pleasant discovery, but to be honest, she didn't really care that much. She wanted company and her hadn't denied her, she could act as if she didn't understand. "It's not like I have anything better do" she shrugged as an answer to his question. So she didn't care much of that he already disliked her, but she didn't want to put him through hell... at least not worse than it already was, so she trashed the idea of asking him the same question back. Because those kinds of questions simply sucked.

She leaned back against the back support with the coffee still in her hands, warming them slightly. It wasn't that bad, she had coffee and a pretty boy to look at, so she didn't mind that he had no interest whatsoever in her. Cynthia took a sip of her coffee while twirling strands of her hair between two slender fingers. She tried to enjoy the view from the window, but as earlier stated, Cynthia was never one fore rain. The man in front of her was more pleasant to look at though, but she kept herself from staring, since she after all didn't want him to leave.

[marvolo augustus lestrange]

Marvolo smiled a little bit. To Apparate when you are drunk could it up very ugly he knew from experience. He, of course, had never tried it went wrong but he had seen it. And it wasn’t a pretty look. Some people should just not apparated when they were drunk. Or at least they should practise before they let other see their lack of that skill.
“I see” Marvolo said and it was like he wanted to say more but didn’t. No reason to tell her any horror stories. He really wasn’t in the mood to act charming but, he thought, there was no need to. He was charming anyway or that was what he liked to think.

When the young woman didn’t say anything or asked him the same silly question he had the time to study her. She was indeed pretty and she reminded him of a girl he had met last summer to a festival.
Marvolo was very careful to not stare at her like he never had spoken or seen one of the opposite sex before. He took a pull of the whiskey and felt it was starting to have its effect. He now remembered he hadn’t eaten all day simple because he didn’t have the time to it. Not even to the dinner party had he eaten because he couldn’t eat in front of all those people he didn't want to speak with.
Marvolo looked at the woman again and it was like the way she twirls her hair between her very slender fingers hypnotised him. He liked women doing things like that.

[cynthia montague]

One more glance at the man, and she noticed that he was paying attention to her, Cynthia liked attention. She put her lips to the cup and swallowed some more of the liquid caffeine. "Photographer?" She said after a few seconds. She was interested, but desperate for company as she was, she didn't want to scare him away with above thirty questions, she gave him the option to just say 'Yeah' instead. Although she doubted that she'd be satisfied with that answer.

Pictures, photographs, had always fascinated Cynthia, and they impressed her even more after discovering her complete lack of talent with a camera. And she had assumed that a boy sitting alone with a camera as his only company was a boy who could snap art. So Cynthia hoped for more than a 'Yeah', he could at least brag a little, right? He looked arrogant enough for that.

[marvolo augustus lestrange]

Stop staring like that a little voice in his head said. Marvolo moved his eyes so quickly away from the young woman's hair and slender fingers it was hurting in his eyes. He blinked once. Marvolo was like his snake. He, just like the snake, never did any sudden movements only when he had his prey closed to him.
He was giving her a little bit too much attention and he didn’t want her to think she was so special he would forget he wasn’t in the mood to talk. He laid his hands around the glass with fire whiskey like it was a cup of a warm drink. It did warm him but in another way no tea or coffee ever could warm him. He was feeling better now. He wasn’t so angry and annoyed anymore. Maybe he even wanted to talk just to make the woman happy so she would leave him.

When she asked if he was a photographer he looked down at the camera. Who could have thought that a son of a man who just wanted his son to be the minister of magic, liked to be creative? He played music, he photographed. What next? Painting? Marvolo thought sarcastic to himself, without letting the woman see he was thinking of something else.
Marvolo turned his head and looked at her. His blue eyes were hiding behind the bang of dark, dark hair. “Yes I’m a photographer” he said. It would properly surprise her that he said this much.
“A very talented one” Why not bragging? He was talented.

[cynthia montague]

She got the time to observe him while she was waiting for the 'Yeah'. Cynthia noted two things, one, he was rather handsome, two, he looked familiar. She thought the possibilities through, Hogwarts, no she didn't remember many of the people there. The thought about meeting him at one of those pureblood parties, if that was what you could call them, also crossed her mind, she'd been introduced to so many young men there, but she couldn't figure out why one of those stuck-up boys would be alone drinking in a pub in Northern britain, so she shrugged off that idea too. She decided that she probably had seen him at the cauldron sometime, that wasn't at all unlikely.

"Really?" Cynthia said, raising her eyebrow. She was relieved that the answer even came, not that she cared much if he liked her or not, but she'd feel stupid if he acted as if she was just air. She had a slight feeling of that he just thought that the word 'talented' was pretty, but nevertheless, she was interested. "You don't happen to be carrying any photos with you?" She asked him curiously, after another sip of her still too hot coffee.

[marvolo augustus lestrange]

Marvolo ran a hand through his dark, dark hair very, very slow like he was trying to draw the time out or maybe to show her his gorgeous hair. She was a little pretty thing to look at and he really liked to have something pretty to look at. He would properly not have the patient if she somehow had been unattractive. The only flaw was she kept talking. Was a piece of silent too much to ask for?
He still didn’t know what her name was but he didn’t care. Names were waste of time; it was a thing he could live without. As long you know the other’s last name so you knew if the other was a pureblood.
A thought crossed his mind. She could be a muggleborn or a half-blood! What if he had talked with a muggleborn or a half-blood! It would be terrible, nothing but terrible. Marvolo looked at her with a studying look and straightened himself up.

Marvolo thought if it was too rude telling she couldn’t see his photos. But then again... He liked to brag and when the opportunity was dancing right in front of him it would be a crime not doing it.
A smirk was slowly formed on his pale lips and he leant forward again.
“You’re lucky. I do happen to have some of my photos” he said and took something from his bag.
Marvolo put the photos on the table. It was various photos. Some was in black and white but none of them was in light happy colours. They were all photos the Prophet didn’t want to use because “they didn’t fit into a newspaper there was for everybody” what a piece of crab!
Marvolo knew these photos were genious. They were true art and the prophet didn’t know what a true photographer was.

[cynthia montague]

Cynthia put her coffee on the table and took the stack of photographs to browse through them. That kind of failed though, since the very first one got her dumbfounded. It was satisfying, as food to a hungry and silence to a stressed, it wasn't the most motivating picture she'd seen, far from cheering and brightening, but she'd never been much for that kind of stuff anyway, she would've complimented him, but she just stared as a smile started spreading over her mouth. And the following ones didn't make her lips part either, they kept getting better and better, oozing art and talent and hard work. Impressive.

She hadn't expected it from him, although he didn't seem very talkative and looked like that mysterious artsy type, he'd seemed like a proper fathead. Someone who in no sense of the word would be capable of making something that beautiful. But Cynthia was forgetting about that now, his pictures really amazed her, she immediately looked differently at him now, now that she saw that there was a mind behind his rejecting attitude. She'd gone through all the photographs now, quite sure about having memorized most details perfectly. She'd adored every one of them.
Cynthia smiled approvingly as she gave him his photos back, "Very talented, indeed" she agreed.

[marvolo augustus lestrange]

Marvolo waited without showing any feelings. He just looked at her face and waited. Waiting for her expression to change when she saw how good the photos were. His father didn’t think they were good. He said it wasn’t good enough for a pureblood being a photographer. He didn’t know what he was talking about. He still listened to old classic music and didn’t like anything new music for the simple reason it was new.
Marvolo was satisfied when he saw a smile started to spread over her mouth. Good, mission completed. Once again he had surprised with his photos. He leant back in the chair and in his blue eyes you could see his satisfaction and how pleased he was with himself.

Marvolo took the photos back and laid them on the table. There was no need to put them in the bag. “Just like I told you” he said and smirked.
Marvolo took a sip from his fire whiskey. It was starting to affect him and he now thought she was a lot more attractively than before. He took another sip.

[cynthia montague]

She nodded, his smugness annoyed her, but Cynthia decided that he was worth it. She took her coffee from the table and leaned back again. It was getting cold now, she'd been staring at his art for longer than she'd thought. "Are you getting them published somewhere?" She asked him after a few sips. It hit her that where would have been a better question, to photographs had to be published. Even though he seemed like a bastard, typical Slytherin - not to stereotype or anything, he couldn't be selfish enough to keep those from the world.

She felt an urge to ask him who he was, because she wasn't quite satisfied with her own answer on why she recognized him, and even though his attitude reminded her too much about those gentlemen her mum had introduced her to, he appealed her. Not just for the fact that he was undeniably handsome, but for his creativity. His talent. And besides, semi-narcissistic boys with bad attitude had always interested her, and so did this boy, even though he wasn't giving her the attention and appreciation she usually expected from males.

[marvolo augustus lestrange]

Marvolo was looking down in his glass at the golden liquid. He looked at her through his bang thinking if he wanted to tell her the truth. That he hadn’t published them yet because his father had said no to give him the money. That he was forced to do it himself, finding a place there wanted his photos. This was the situation and this was what he didn’t want anyone to know. Marvolo raised his head. He was no longer feeling an annoyance talking with her. Yes she asked too many questions but he knew she was thinking he was attractive. That had his selfish arrogant mind told him and Marvolo did only believe himself and he believed what himself told him.
But she had touched a weak point. Marvolo raised his head more so he didn’t to look down at her. This made him looked even more arrogant so he could hide his annoyance better.

“No” he replied. The answer was short; he didn’t want to talk more about it.
“I mean no, not yet. I’m planning to” Marvolo said. He didn’t want her to think there was another reason why the photos weren’t published. He let go of a nearly inaudible sigh.
Marvolo was now again in control and smirked. “Wait and see. Soon you will see your favourite photos by your favourite photographer again” he said.

[cynthia montague]

Was that a sigh? An exhalation of hopelessness or disappointment? No, he was probably just tired, it was a deep breath and she was searching for signs of him knowing that he wasn't as divine as he wanted it to seem like. Nobody could be perfect, and she liked the thought of everyone knowing that. It made the world seem a little more honest, ever how fucked up everything really was.

"Who said you're my favourite?" Cynthia teased. Well he probably was, but despite the cuteness of his arrogance, it did annoy her. She had a love-hate relationship with all those boys, she found them obnoxious, but they interested her as long as they showed interest for her. Attention always flattered her, and naturally even more when it came from picky boys. "I mean, yeah, you're good, but I've seen good muggle photographers too" She added the last part to check her theory, that this boy was a pureblooded snob, most likely been a Slytherin.

[marvolo augustus lestrange]

“Well who said I’m not” Marvolo said “I know I’m your favourite photographer”
He said the last part so sure. He was so sure he was her favourite because he was the best photographer in the world. Or that was what he thought of himself. He could make art out of nothing. He knew how to make art with his camera without thinking about it. He created art, he created a new world every time he photographed. A world in the colours he liked.

Marvolo was holding his glass to take another sip when she said she had seen good Muggles photographers. He put the glass down so hard some of the whiskey was spilled. No Muggles were better than he. No Muggles could ever create what he created with a camera. No Muggles had the right.
His eyes were lightning but still he was in control.
“Ha! Muggles are stupid creatures. They can’t photograph. The only reason they still are alive is so they can serve us purebloods” he said calmly but his voice was cold as ice. He was stressed purebloods so she knew he was a pureblood and a very proud one.
Maybe she was a Muggle-lover. Maybe she was a Muggleborn herself. Marvolo wrinkled up his nose in disgust. Maybe she didn’t understand was true art was. If he found out she was a Muggleborn he would burn his photos.