[OPEN] the McBain of my existence

Kenna slammed the back door to The Ugly Pigeon and stared across the back alley to the stone wall of the next door bakery that she had grown so familiar with, the thud from the door behind her still ringing in her chest. Anger swelled in her chest and she was undyingly grateful for the fact that none of her employees were on their smoke breaks and there to witness an uncharacteristic fit of rage out of her. The air was frigid and the air in front of her was frosty, stinging her already flushed cheeks into a deeper shade of red.

She noted that her arms were trembling, not from the cold, and she crossed them, briefly sinking back to rest against the door, tilting her head and closing her eyes, taking in deep breaths of air like a fish desperately seeking water. She felt the hammering of her heart finally slow and she let out a shuddery breath, eyes sliding open. All that was left now was this sense of disbelief, this sense of disappointment, this sense of self loathing, this sense of…

Defeat.

That was how Rory McBain made her feel.

She laughed at Lou’s joke and straightened up, slipping along the bar to reach the tap, sliding his glass underneath and filling it with amber liquid. Lou was tapping on the shoulder of his new companion, explaining at the top of his lungs that Kenna was a darling and not to be underappreciated when Kenna heard the sound of a door slam from above. Remy was jogging down the stairs and he threw her a kiss, to which she gave him a roll of her eyes, before he walked straight out the door. But her eyes were on the stairs now, even as she handed Lou back his beer. She caught up a rag and wiped her hands free of the spare drops of liquid. “Carlene! I need five.”

She made her around the bar as Rory began his tired descent down the stairs, calling out to him. “Rory!” He turned his head and met her eyes, eliciting a sigh out of him as he tore his gaze away. Kenna froze, wondering what she could have done to have possibly warranted that, before urging herself forward again. She had planned to stop him in his tracks to ask him a simple question, but she couldn’t help but feel a sense irritation now. She cleared her throat and reached out to grab the bannister, swinging in front of the staircase so his path was now barred.

“What?” he snapped.

“Good afternoon to you, too,” she said.

“Morning,” he corrected.

“Actually, afternoon. Just turned 12:30. You were talking to Remy for hours.”

“Is our room metered now?” His eyes were sharp and his voice heavy, and she hated the way his gaze bore into her and drug her down. She blinked, feeling like her heart had been hollowed. What had she done to earn her brother’s resentment.

She cleared her throat. “Madsen mentioned something wrong with the pipes in the bathroom. I talked to Carlene and we were thinking about doing a renovation. At least in the bathrooms.”

He had pulled out his datebook and was thumbing through it. “Kenna, I don’t care, I said this is yours, now I need to-“ He tried to move and she shifted in his way. She pressed on.

“We’re also thinking about revitalizing the menu in spring, doing a complete overhaul of our usual spring options. I wanted to have you, Angus and Granny Mags do the tasting with me.”

Again, he spoke while sighing. “I don’t care about the menu, Kenna, do whatever you want.”

And this time he successfully pushed past her. She turned and stared at him in shock before finally finding her feet, hoping her voice would come. He was heading for the office, probably to recover the week’s profits, and she followed, keeping a calm look despite her quick pace for the sake of the patrons. She slipped in as he opened the lockbox and took out the envelope. Without glancing up at her, he said, “You’ve checked this?”

“Why don’t you care about this place?” she asked, her voice breathless. This. This was what finally made him look up at her and actually see her. They stared at each other, matching blue eyes and matching stubborn spirits, and she could feel that things had gone south, though she could not imagine where they had taken their wrong turn.

“What?” he spat, but she was quick on the uptake with a firm “You heard me.” He stared at her sizing her up, and he slipped the envelope of profits into his coat. He quirked his nose and reached up, rubbing his eyebrow. “Kenna. I gave you this job because you needed something to do. What more do you want?”

She shrugged. “I mean, it’s our grandfather’s old pub, don’t you want to work on it? I hardly ever see you-“

“You see me plenty-“

“And you’ve been very cold. I thought you gave me the job so we could work on it together. I was feeling so alone and-“

“Oh, and that’s my fault?” His voice was quick and sharp and it cut deeper than any blade. The wind was knocked out of her and her brother’s face was still twisted into an ugly, hateful expression. So, it had only been pity? No real love. Kip and Remy and Yuri – they had jumped to her rescue because she had always been good to them, but it was Rory who reluctantly did his part. She would have bought a thousand pubs if she were able if it meant sparing her brother any heartache or hurt. But she had just been a burden. And for him to bring up her fault in the matter of Jamie… It wasn’t fair.

“That’s not fair, Rory,” Kenna warned.

“I think it is fair, Kenna,” he said, still spitting his words. “And besides, when did fair even come into question. No one owes you anything. I didn’t owe you this.”

“I’m not saying-“

“So why do I owe you anything more, eh? I’ve done my fair share, if we’re talking fair, and I have other issues to worry about.”

“I never see you,” she reaffirmed, “Not really! Rory, our family is smaller than most, you’re all I’ve got!”

He scoffed. “Oh, that’s bull. You’ve got plenty of people, you don’t need me every second of the day. I have my own life, Ken. I can’t sit around constantly affirming you that you’re doing your job when you know you’re doing it. I gave you free reign, so take it. Merlin, Kenna, it’s not that hard. You treat it like it’s some holy venture.”

She was practically gasping for air now. “Sorry, if I want to do a good job. Gran says-“

“Oh, what, that this pub is going to make us a million galleons? Or that your destiny is here? When are you going to grow up and stop believing in fantasies, Kenna?”

This was it. Without even making any sort of real accusation, it hung in the air between them, and for one moment Rory’s face softened, seeing real hurt on his sister’s face, cheeks stung with surprise. She swallowed and glanced down. Rory was pushing out the door and the office door swung behind him.

And then the lockbox was being thrown against the door.

Kenna gasped, her eyes wide. She had thrown out unruly guests, she had gotten in between fights, but she had never enacted violence for the sake of a violent release. She stared at the door, which slowly cracked open to reveal Rory, who had heard the crash. He looked down at the lockbox and flicked his wand, sending it floating back up to its usual spot. He glared at Kenna. “Grow up.”

And here she was, now desperately wishing she could remind him of how many nights he spent drinking rather than working, how he was still freelancing, how he couldn’t bother to write Gran and Angus, how she still snuck his bills from his flat to pay them because they were all past due because he simply couldn’t be bothered. She wanted to remind him that she was always the one reaching out, and he was still stuck as a stubborn sixteen year old who refused to cry about his dead parents.

But Rory was far gone now. She only had open air to argue to now.

She clutched her coat around her and squeezed her eyes tight, turning on her heel with an uncertain mind. It was a miracle she didn’t end up splinched and she ended up in Diagon Alley, right outside the sweets shop. She stood on the doorstep, feeling uncertain, feeling rotten, but she didn’t move. She had no idea what to do.

She was at a complete loss.

The frigidness that resided in the air of Diagon Alley was one that Nick hadn't felt in quite some time. Seven or eight months to be exact. His scholarly work had brought him to many places of the world; France, Germany, Russia, Japan; however, the wizarding world of the former country known as Assyria was his most recent endeavor. A warm place in the Middle East, it was filled with what seemed like more sand than anything else. His search for the Mimbulus Mimbletonia plant had led Nick to nearly forget what the cold January air of London had felt like.

More underdressed than overdressed, (he donned a dark coat that wouldn't keep him warm enough had there been a sudden outbreak of wind, gloves but no hat, and a simple pair of shoes when it was nearly appropriate for boots.) Nick found himself walking aimlessly down the streets of Diagon Alley, moving stray pieces of hair out of his face with every step he took. Originally planning to make a trip to the herbology shop, they were closed for the day because of a sudden illness to the owner (and one of three employees that compromised the staff).

While thinking of what to do next with his life, Nick decided to stop for a quick snack, and go from there. Upon arriving to the sweets shop however, there stood a girl (woman? Nick couldn't really tell by her appearance from the side and behind) that stood in the path between him, and the door. Nick noticed there was obviously something wrong and suddenly his kind hearted nature began to show. "Excuse me.. are you okay?" Nick asked with the same nice tone of voice he tried to carry with every conversation.

There were moments where one stepped out of the present, when life melted away and turned inward, probing into the depths of the mind to try to intuit meaning, rather than turned outwards to observe the world and piece together purpose via the senses. Kenna slipped in and out of this often, but rarely had the time to remain. She always had a new task to draw her out - she had to get drinks to table four, she had to balance their budget, she had to meet with Kip, she had to nurse Remy's ego. She always had something.

But she had just run away from her safe place, a home that had given her purpose and comfort without exception over the years. She couldn't turn on her heels and walk back in after such a certain exit. She briefly considered owling Kip, or maybe even Yuri, certain they could comfort her feelings of trepidation. But Rory was their friend, and she had long ago decided to never cause them any sort of conflict of interest. Besides, they had become Rory's friends before they had become hers.

She almost laughed. She was even indebted to her brother for her closest friends.

A voice popped her bubble of inner reflection and she started ever so slightly, turning to take in the young man that had approached her. His face was creased with a slightly, helpful worry and his voice was delicate - did she really look that vulnerable?

She raised her eyebrows and upturned her lips, clearing away the signs of her distress. She was no damsel. "Yes. Sorry just a... a moment of indecision, if you will." She laughed once. "Thanks for asking."

She was sweet; Nick could tell. What ever problem that caused her "moment of indecision" shouldn't have been in her life. Nick could always tell a lot about a person by the way they spoke, and looked. It was like judging a book by the cover, except adding a little thought into it as well. His travels around the world gave him a bigger insight about the way people thought about things and the way they reacted. Although she hid her problems behind a smile with her response, she didn't do a great job at it, and Nick saw right through her as he did most people.

Suddenly the wind began to pick up and reminded Nick of how much more worse the wind made the cold. If the cold was a sword in a wound, then the wind was the turning of the sword. "Why don't we step inside" Nick said, motioning to the door. "I'm Nick by the way. Nick Potter.." He paused. "No relation to Harry; although, that would be pretty cool." There were a number of times Nick thought about changing his last name. It was almost every time he introduced himself that Nick also had to explain he wasn't related to those Potters; soon it became habit to say it automatically.

Nick offered a smile again as her spoke, trying to be nice, "is there anything I can do to help get your mind off of things for a bit?" He asked. The more Nick got older, the more he fit into the category of a Hufflepuff, or a Ravenclaw; definitely not the house of Gryffindor of which he graduated from. Whether it was his good, kind-hearted nature, or the way he threw himself into his scholarly work, he was certainly much different than he was five years ago.

Something rang familiar about the young man in his face, but she couldn't put her finger on it. She often dealt with such unresolved feelings of recognition, having so many people walk through the doors of her pub, and she truly did try her best to treat each one like part of the Ugly Pigeon family. It had been her therapy, at first. Making her patrons into her new family had helped get over the sting of losing Jamie. And then it just stuck. She supposed that was the orphan's lot - always trying to conjure family out of any kind stranger.

It would probably get her into trouble one of these days.

A gust of wind needled her through her coat, stinging at her uncovered ears, and she glanced outwards to the street with squinted eyes, as though she could detect the culprit of the cold and tell them to knock it off. The man's suggestion was a practical one, and she shot the cold air one last offended expression before flicking a friendly look to her companion and offering a nod of concession as she slipped inside.

It was his name that finally struck the bell and she turned, recognition blooming on her face as her eyebrows lifted and mouth tipped open. "That's how- Right. Potter. You were- were you a Chaser?" She realized this probably didn't make any sense without context. "Right, I'm Kenna McBain. I was the commentator back in Hogwarts - we were in the same house. It's great to see you again - how have you been?"

His kind offer to get her mind off of things was forgotten as he had supplied a way just in his introduction. Catching up with a schoolmate was a certain way to get Kenna's mind out of the dreary.

Kenna

Nick wondered if it was a nickname, or short for something else upon hearing it. Makenna? Mackenzie? No, both of those names were far too American for a Hogwarts native. As it was discovered, the woman was in the same house and commentated for the quidditch program back when Nick was in Hogwarts, which seemed like forever ago. Although she knew him, and very well by the quick, bubbly way her demeanor changed upon hearing his name; Nick didn't know her. It wasn't often he ran in to people from his Hogwarts years, but when he did; Nick could never remember who they were. Sure there were past romances like Cecilia, or Sarah. And past friends such as Jack Dyllan, Sam whatever-his-last-name-was, or Andrew Thompson; however, it was when moments arose like the current one that made Nick realize he didn't know very many people.

"Oh wow, it's been forever." Nick paused. "I didn't even recognize you." Nick thought it better to create the white lie that he didn't recognize her, than to disappoint the girl further than she had seemed prior to their encounter by telling her he didn't remember who she was. "I've been alright I guess. I just got back into town after working on a few projects." Answering her question. "What about yourself? How've you been?" He asked, both continuing the conversation and taking a genuine interest in his (now known) former classmate.  

Nick began to lead Kenna to an empty table in the shop's lounge area. His knee began to ache from past sports injuries, and he needed to take a seat. Looking around the warmly lit, cozy shop; the sweet smell of cinnamon filled the air. The bakery portion of the sweets shop must have been preparing new baked sweets. Never had Nick entered this 'hidden gem' of a store, but he would again if in the area. With the nice area, good selection of goods from what Nick could see right off hand, and the lack of children running amuck like one would find in Honeydukes, the shop was simply more Nick's style than most other places. As he got older, Nick began to prefer the solitude that came with places off the beaten path. That could be attributed though to his mere lack of social situations. "It's certainly a nice place here" Nick said with a smile as he continued to look around, "have you ever been here before?" He asked.

Kenna often wondered at the workings of the universe and while many would marvel at its many ways of causing tragedy and misfortune, she tried to consider the ways it brought good luck and happy vibes. The sudden re-acquaintance of a Hogwarts classmate was more than enough of a distraction to briefly occupy her mind, and she could hope to have the severity of her interaction with her brother lessened with a good conversation in her day.

One could dream. And that's what Kenna did.

"I may have gone a shed darker with the hair," she said, by way of explaining why he might not have recognized her, while fully appreciating the fact that she was not exactly a recognizable person. Perhaps her voice, but her tones during conversation hardly matched the grumbling growl of her fierce voice during Quidditch matches. Now Rory and Kip - they had been the sort one might remember, with all their importance and ambitions. And she was sure Remy was hardly forgettable at Beauxbatons - oh, she could only imagine.

But her? No. She had made friends, she had tried to study, she had gotten wrapped up in the usual teenage tomfoolery. But she had never set out to make a name or reputation for herself. If Gran was to be believed, that would happen in its own time.

"Ooh, projects," she parroted back. She turned to follow him to the lounge area and waved a hand at his question. "Oh, fine. I'm managing my family's pub and that's keeping me busier than you might expect. Just doing what everyone else is doing - trying to get by, and enjoy it in the meantime." She grinned, sitting at one of the chairs and casting an eye around.

His question beat her to her own line of thought and she shook her head. "I haven't. I have a friend who swears by their truffles though, and always brings scones or whatever they have in that day by the pub." In truth, she wasn't 100% sure that this was the place that Yuri secured his treats, but by process of elimination, it seemed the most likely. Her hand found the little flip book on their table and she began to look through, curious as to their selections.

"So," she said, her eyes still trained on the menu. "You must have adventures on your mind." She looked up at him with a knowing look. "You turned a casual encounter into a full-on, sit down affair. You must have something on your mind."

Kip often teased his friend that she had the perception of a counselor and the tactics of a lawyer - to which she often quipped she had the discipline for neither. But it was statements such as the one she directed to Nick that made her believe his words just a bit more.

"Tell me about your family's pub. I'm sure you have all kinds of exciting stories" he said; mildly intrigued. This was the question that would lead Nick in to knowing about her life. If there were many fight stories; he'd know that the pub may be in a bad part of town. If she explained that she mainly did most of the work; then Nick would be informed that it would be less of her "family's pub", and more "her pub" than anything (or vice versa).

Then it occurred to him that he never really "tr[ied] to get by" as she put it. While Nick grew up in a family where smart money habits kept them afloat, it was the inheritance of his brother's fortune when he passed that gave Nick most of his opportunities. Nick didn't really know what Jess (the name of his older brother) did in life to amass such a fortune; however, the money was used by Nick for quidditch lessons, and a top of the line broom to accompany. The money led Nick to start his own fortune as a part of the Falcons, until his injury made him pursue other careers.

"I don't really have much on my mind. Really I was headed somewhere else; however they were closed and I decided to take a break before doing anything else." He explained. "Then" he continued, "I noticed an obviously stressed, dark-haired woman and here I am." He smiled. Nick never really knew why he did the things he did himself, more or less he usually went with the flow of his life, and if he could be kind to others along the way then he'd be content. Wanting to ask more about the problems in her life that brought her into the cold of Diagon Alley, Nick opted not to. In time, he would learn all he wanted to know.

"Would you like something?" Nick offered, motioning to the menu Kenna was flipping through. "My treat." He said, once again with a kind smile.