False Hope of Redemption

"Haggis," he began thoughtfully, "is not as bad as I was led to believe. Perhaps I'll try and find the recipes for some of the stranger ones and let you get an idea for them sometime. I think that would do better, as far as explaining goes. I don't think I could really get the picture in your head."

What he had expected to draw a laugh had instead caused discomfort and panic, and Simon felt guilt push through his chest in a way he had not felt because of a rejection - partial or not - before. It wasn't her fault, after all, that he was more to-the-point than she had expected. Or, perhaps, wanted.

"Hey, no. Livia," he held his hand up again, his eyebrows lifting as well as sincere concern appeared on his face. "It's fine. Nie martw." Simon slipped up, his native language appearing as he tried to speak more quickly. He didn't even notice it, though, despite his return to English in the next sentence. "It's not a big deal, honest. You will learn early that I am quite blunt, and often speak in jest. Then again," he mused aloud, glancing down at his cup, "I think maybe you already have."

He decided not to explain that, this time, he had only been blunt. He didn't think she would appreciate it, anyway. Looking back up at the brunette, Simon felt it would be best if he retreated before he inadvertently offended her again. That wasn't at all what he wanted.

"I think, also, that I maybe should go." He pushed his chair back and sat up before she could argue with him. "I'll be here tomorrow, if you decide you want to join me. But you don't have to.

"I'll wait anyway," he added, picking up his coffee and standing up. It wasn't until he reached the door that he hesitated, looking back at her. His lips pressed together into something resembling a frown but he nodded to himself and pulled the door open, heading out.

“I’ll wait anyway.”

She had written out the words on a scrap of parchment that evening, having reached a lull in her research, her eyes smarting with tiredness. She had put Finley to bed after a hearty dinner of colcannon and roast beef which she had pored over during the afternoon before picking him up from school. After he’d showered and she’d read with him, he burrowed down to sleep and Livia spread her things out across the floor of the living room, intent on doing some work. Only, she couldn’t. She could barely concentrate. Simon was on her mind, instead.

Livia pressed her quill into the page, adding the full stop. She swallowed and looked down at her curly script, her index finger unfurling from the palm of her right hand to trace over the lettering. I’ll wait. For me she marvelled silently, a smile pulling up her cheeks. She threw down her quill and shook her head, getting to her feet. She felt foolish – and yet, she was also giddy with optimism, especially after her chat with Finley.

Of all of the Hayes men in her life, he was the one least likely to disapprove and most likely to offer some insightful advice. Having sensed her despondency over dinner, Finley had asked what was bothering her. Despite herself, she’d found herself spilling her heart out to her nine-year-old. The boy had absorbed every single word with quiet gravity and, having weighted them all, began his response by assuring her that there was nothing wrong with her and then said: “If you like him and he likes you then you should give him a chance, Liv.”

Livia had taken his words to heart, too. So, after having breakfast with Jack, whose daughter, Paula, was Finley’s best friend, Livia returned to the Hog’s Head and focused on getting ready. She managed to send off her research to Keiran in between doing her makeup and fed Buttons, who came in through the kitchen window yowling for food, while shimmying into her shorts. She pulled one of Millie’s old West Ham jerseys over her head and tucked the bottom into the waistband of her shorts before running through the flat in search of her shoes.

“Liv… what are you doing?” A yawning Peter emerged from his room, tugging his dressing-gown around himself.

“Have you seen my Converses?” She asked hopefully, bouncing over to him.

“They’re under the sofa, babe. Where are you going?” He inquired, rubbing at his eyes.

“Out!” She flurried by, diving under the sofa to source her shoes.

“When are you back?” His footsteps retreated into the kitchen.

“I dunno!” She laughed, rolling back onto her bum, pulling on her shoes.

“Have fun, babe!” The kettle began to rumble into life and Livia grabbed her bag.

“I’ll see you later!”

Jumping through the floo, Livia hopped out on the other side. The Leaky Cauldron was already brimming with life and she weaved through the light crowd, waving at Declan as she wandered into the courtyard outside. Following a group through the barrier, she made her way up through Diagon Alley.

She was early by ten minutes – a rarity for the normally rather tardy witch. She hopped inside, determined to get something to drink before Simon got there. She picked an iced latte and added a tiffin, too. Naturally. Then, she moved to stand out in the sunshine to stand and get nervous. What else there was to do, really?

I’ll wait too.

Simon, in truth, wasn't feeling very confident. He was hopeful, of course, but that didn't mean that he would get what he wanted. The night before, he had ended up at a pub, watching whatever match was on. It wasn't entirely pleasant, of course, to remember that he could have been in their places if life had gone as it should have for him. As he had expected it to go.

He consistently denied the fact that he was aching to find his new path. That he actually missed having friends and and a family. He had settled into a routine and that was okay. He accepted it enough to live with it. For now.

So when he woke the next morning, it was with enough time to shower and to spend a bit of time trying to look good. Without the certainty that Livia would be there, though, it had made him care a bit less about looking entirely put together. Besides, he wasn't convinced that there wasn't a real sense of charm in someone who looked perfect all the time - or even sometimes. It just wasn't realistic. And, if he was being honest, he had gotten much lazier about it over the past year.

So he made his way to Diagon Alley, having long since learned how long it would take him to get there, and arriving with just enough time to walk to the coffee shop by eleven. As he approached, however, he wasn't paying too much attention to what was in front of him. He expected that, if Livia did decide to show up, she would be late. In his head, he saw her debating and finally arriving, or not showing up at all. So he was glancing to the side at the stores and the people bustling around doing their morning shop.

When he neared the café, though, his chin turned forward and he stopped in the middle of the cobbled street, just staring. After a moment, a slow smile arced across his face and he started towards her again.

"Well," he began as he came to a stop next to her, "I'll admit I'm surprised. But I'm glad, either way. How has your morning been?"

A coy smile wriggled over the lips of the brunette in the sunshine. She leaned down and, from the pavement beside her feet, picked up the extra cup she had dashed back into the coffee shop to retrieve almost immediately after she’d emerged with her purchase.

A voice in the back of her head that sounded helpfully like Keiran’s reminded her that, just maybe, Simon might like a drink of his own. So, all of a tither, she’d hurried back inside and the baristas had laughed before making up his order from yesterday.

She had more or less just gotten her composure back when she looked up and saw him, and he looked up and saw her, too. It was one of those moments, you see – the sort you only really find in films and books. Lucky, that.

“Good,” she replied, holding out the cup for him. “Got to keep you on your toes.”

“My morning hasn’t been bad,” she conceded, shrugging her left shoulder thoughtfully. It had been good, really. Productive. “What about you?”

“Oh! Where would you like to go?” She asked suddenly, after taking a sip of her coffee. “Do we want to nom or do something or … oooh!”

Her eyes had been drawn to a poster pasted up on one of the buildings. Hopping over to it, she grinned and turned, pointing to it, her eyes fixed on Simon.

“A fair!” She exclaimed. “It’s on today – should we go?”

Simon didn't mean to laugh when she handed over a drink for him, but he was surprised both that she had remembered and that she had bothered when he wouldn't have minded buying his own as he had the day before. He wasn't really complaining, though.

"I am not a morning person," he confided, lifting his eyebrows and dipping his chin forward to take a sip. His eyes were locked on her the whole time, though, and when he brought the cup back down, he was smiling at her again. "Better now, though. Thank you," he lifted the cup a little to ensure that she understood the intention behind his comment was simple and pure. Platonic, if you will.

Her question in itself didn't surprise him, but he startled a bit - both when she began her question as well as when she amended it. He followed her as she bounded away, eyes drifting up to the poster before he shrugged.

"If you'd like to," he agreed, focusing in on her again. She seemed more than thrilled to have noticed the sign at all, nonetheless to actually go to the fair, and he couldn't bring himself to say no.

Besides, he knew that he would have a grand time anyway. It was something he would have done with his mates back during his school years, and although he wasn't supposed to see this differently - according to Livia, that is - he couldn't help but recognize that feeling. A fair, with a girl he found attractive, just because she had grinned so widely when she saw the sign? He was going soft.

Schooling himself enough to think and behave more rationally, Simon eyed the poster again. He, as one should, was worrying about whether or not they needed to apparate, and if so, how quickly he would have to down the coffee in his hand. Apparently, though, it was a Muggle fair set up in some park that he was certain he had heard of before. If that were the case, of course, it couldn't have been far. He hadn't exactly gotten to do much exploring before Kosta arrived. Better that it be a Muggle affair, though, he supposed. It wasn't often that people recognized him anymore, but the less chance of that happening, the better. Particularly around Livia.

Why anyone was advertising a Muggle event was momentarily lost on him, but then he supposed that, with the DWN and other Muggle creations filtering slowly into their society, someone could easily have been a family or friend of whomever was putting it on or hosting it. In the end, he supposed it didn't matter. Livia wanted to go.

"Do you know where this park is? I bet we can just walk there if you do. Otherwise we may have to hurry up with these," he mused aloud, gesturing with the cup in his hand, towards the one in hers.

The fact that Simon Marek was decidedly not a morning person was something that the former Hufflepuff should have committed to memory. However, she did not. She merely grinned and, like him, left her gaze lingering on his face. In a few weeks’ time, a little ginger moggy would be sat on his chest, pressing her paw into his cheek and meowing softly in order to rouse him so that he could fill her rumbly belly. The said moggy wouldn’t learn, either, that Simon wasn’t particularly keen on mornings. But then, who could stay mad at a kitty that cute?

“You really want to go?” She exclaimed, bouncing eagerly on the balls of her feet. A squeal wouldn’t have been out of place in that moment but she forewent that and instead beamed at him, affection for him increasing with every moment.

Grabbing hold of Simon’s hand, Livia declared that she knew a short cut and pulled him down the alley whose wall the poster had been posted on. They clattered over the cobbles and took the corners slightly too sharply, resulting in a little bit of spilled coffee here and there but none got on their clothes, thankfully, so only laughter really ensued.

They pulled to a stop at the mouth of the end of the alley and Liv smiled, feeling the magic ripple over her as they departed from the magical world and arrived in the Muggle one. She exhaled and squeezed Simon’s hand before disentangling her fingers from his. She glanced up at him and winked, nudging her hip against his before stepping out into the London sunlight.

“It should just be over there,” she pointed across the road. “It’s a Renaissance fair,” she remembered, glancing at their clothes. “We might have to appropriate some costumes on the way through.”

"Well," he returned, smiling as she practically hopped around with enthusiasm, "I haven't been to one, so I may as well go today, don't you think?"

Bizarrely, and much to Simon's own surprise, he actually meant it. He wasn't lying, he wasn't trying extra hard to be smooth, and he was actually curious. It wasn't hard for him to be intrigued by Livia, regardless of if he understood exactly why that was yet. He had the presence of mind, as she rushed through the streets and pulled him along with her, to remind himself that he wasn't supposed to be close to people. It wasn't smart, it wasn't safe, and it only meant that pain was assured for him in the future.

Maybe it was worth whatever he would get from their friendship until that point, though. He had never really balanced those fears well, and he was genuinely afraid to give it a try. But then Livia darted around a corner, spilling her drink, and a bright laugh escaped. And he knew that he was in it until he no longer had the option.

It was just a shame that she had been so taken aback yesterday.

They broke through to the other side, and she let go of his hand, but Simon had to school his expression when he wanted to show his bemusement at her actions. She went ahead of him, though, so he let his thoughts show for a moment before joining her.

Looking around, he realized that he recognized the area more than he had expected to. When she pointed out the concept of costumes, he snorted but was hardly surprised that it was something she would be excited about. Besides, it was a 'fitting in' situation. Wizards weren't unused to that idea in the Muggle world, and it was all the more common for Simon himself to do what it took to appear just like everyone else. So he figured he may as well have fun with it.

Besides, he would undoubtedly look pretty spectacular in whatever outfit he picked out.

"C'mon," he said, touching at the small of her back just long enough to direct her to the right. "I used to come down this way on Sundays, to visit this market thing. Jeffrey, a guy from round Hastings? He had the best mangos and pears. But I remember it was just up the road from this shop that did party things. I think they had outfits."

His instincts had been correct, thankfully, so he managed to keep from looking like an absolute mess. For the time being, at least. Holding the door open, he gestured for Livia to head in first, following and searching around for those marked bags. Finding them, Simon grinned and waved her over. He began picking through the options, wondering just how much she was going to laugh at him based on each possible choice.

"What do you think?" He asked finally. "Vest? Or Robin Hood cloak thing?"

Neither were necessarily his ideal, as far as Halloween ideas might have gone, but based on the things he thought he knew about Renaissance fairs, he thought they might work.

"Which one are you going for?"

[oooc: http://nerdist.com/drone-over-a-middle-ages-festival-taken-down-by-a-spear/ ]

Of all things to absorb, Livia’s scatterbrain earmarked the opportunity to find mangoes and she mentally noted the need to venture into London at the end of a week sometime soon. Perhaps that very weekend coming. Finley hadn’t been to London before, she didn’t think, and she did rather enjoy riding the tube – perhaps he would do. So, already forming a new plan in her mind, the witch began to wander as directed, depositing her coffee into a bin just outside the party shop.

Inside, it was a kaleidoscope of colour that was ever so slightly offensive to her. That odd smell that purveyed such shops invaded her nostrils, making her wrinkle her nose disgruntledly before straying back to Simon’s side. She brightened at the sight of the costumes and her eyes flicked up to scan the shelves in search of something for her to wear. She blinked down and looked between the costume choices Simon had, a smirk playing on her lips.

“Cape – you’ll look like a highwayman.”

As the daughter of an archaeologist and a historian, Livia was attuned to the historical inaccuracies of the costumes and it did set her teeth on edge just a little bit. That said, she was also attending a faire that, equally, would not be particularly accurate. She decided to try and ignore it and instead plucked herself a costume off of the rail. She turned it over in her hands, pleased to find that the wreath came with it.

“Maybe this one?” She showed him the front, nibbling on her lower lip.

Having decided it was the one, Liv grinned and hurried off to the changing room that was helpfully provided. After wriggling into the outfit and using magic to do up all of the strings, she pulled her hair out of the plait it was in and let it fall in soft waves around her shoulders. Then, she plopped her wreath on and smiled at her reflection. She was definitely faire-ready.

After shoving her things into her bag and shrinking it she put her bag in the pocket of the dress. She also poked her wand in there and, after smoothing it out, emerged from the changing room.

“What do you reckon?” She asked, twirling about, her laughter bubbling up unbidden into the air. She came to again and reached up to fix his hood, her smile curling into a smirk. “We’re going to make quite the pair. Maybe we’ll win best costumes or something?”

"Shame about the vest, though," he replied with a laugh. "I was thinking about going as Han Solo for Halloween. Might not be a good idea, then."

Still, he put the other down and kept hold of the one she had picked. He just hoped it wouldn't look completely mental. As much has he had been making jokes about dressing up for the holiday, it wasn't as though he'd had a particularly eventful last go of it. Simon probably hadn't done much with the event since his time at Durmstrang, if he thought about it realistically. He knew that he had been missing out, though. It could be quite fun to be daring; he had discovered as much through playing Quidditch and taking on the role of a seeker. Surely this couldn't be much different.

She showed him the deep red dress, and he couldn't disagree when she decided that it could quite possibly be the best choice for her. She went off to change, and Simon realized that he would be expected to do the same, so he ducked into a changing room and drew the cloak around his shoulders after donning the rest of the costume. Flipping it upwards, he nearly laughed at the image he saw in the mirror provided in the changing room.

When he emerged, he imagined that he must look quite the character. Hopefully, he mused, he was a dashing one.

Livia, on the other hand, didn't have to hope. Or Simon wanted to believe she didn't. He certainly knew what his opinion was about it. He had to remind himself, however, that he wasn't at liberty to make that opinion entirely plain. He didn't even know this woman, after all.

"Good choice," he agreed, offering a nod of approval. When she approached, he tilted his chin down, making it a little easier for her to fix his costume how she saw fit. "We might. But I always imagined people spent ages making stuff for events like this, so I suppose we'll see."

Reaching up, he poked the flower crown on her head and chuckled before turning towards the front of the shop and making his way over to the counter to pay for their new attire. His own things had been tucked into his trousers' pocket beneath the cloak he now wore like it was his usual badge.

"Sorted?" He asked her, gesturing with a nod of his head towards the door. Once they were outside, he held up a hand to stop her, though. "If we're going to walk around like this," he began, glancing down at himself and then at the people passing by and giving them odd looks, "then we may as well go for it, shouldn't we?"

With that, he lifted his arm, elbow extended towards her as though they were about to walk into a royal dinner rather than head down the street to a park fair. Merlin, if he had friends to judge him, he knew they absolutely would have done so. But if he was going to try this 'having a friend' thing, at least he could play along as she wanted him to.

The highway man and the medieval princess. Whether they won something or not, they were definitely a sight and as Livia looped her arm though his, she couldn’t help but feel, first of all, comfortable with him and, second of all, rather excited, indeed, to be going to the faire. She knew that while her other friends – who really only comprised of a myriad of older, parental figures – would have gone with her to the faire, it was nice to have someone else, a near-stranger, to be with. She liked the idea of re-learning things about a person. Her family knew everything about her, and in many ways she them. Working them out was all done for the finer points rather than the broader picture. With Simon, it was the entire picture. He was a blank canvas for her, one to be explored.

They crossed the road, Livia thanking him brightly for the outfit, confessing that she wasn’t sure where she’d have the opportunity to wear it again but was grateful for it regardless. She squeezed his arm, giving him a half sort of hug, and fell into step with him. It was a short crossing, although it gave them plenty of time to attract funny looks. Livia turned her head into his arm, hiding her face as her cheeks lit with embarrassment. She was a confident girl, not easily shaken by what other people thought, but she was wracked with her own amusement at the situation and so she was hiding her giggles in his side, really. She didn’t know what was stranger – their current outfits or dress robes. But then, wizards never really knew how to blend in. It wasn't in their nature and certainly not in Liv’s.

The faire was wonderful, to say the least. There was jousting going on in one quadrant. In another area, an alehouse had been set up and there was a myriad of other things to see. Liv had no idea where to begin. No, I tell a lie, she knew exactly where she wanted to begin – she wanted to dance. There was a group of people near the alehouse going through a routine with an instructor. She looked up at Simon and batted her eyes comically at him.

“Please, please, please, please?” She recited, bouncing by his side.