With the capture of Verandi Farley and several high-ranking Trossach members, the British wizarding world has finally caught a break. The rate of rogue werewolf attacks have started dropping at a steady rate and, hopefully, things will stay that way. The Ministry is starting to loosen some restrictions, like not arresting werewolves standing on the street for loitering, however there’s still an obvious power imbalance between wizardfolk and werewolves.
The Cotswolds pack are continuing to advocate for the rights of werewolves and petitioning to change the legislation that has been set in motion by the current Minister for Magic, whilst the remaining Trossachs members are trying to stay out of the spotlight and keep a low profile… for now.
Whilst the British wizarding world seems to have calmed down, the same cannot be said for over in Northern Europe where a rebellion of magical creatures has risen. The state of things has gotten so bad that the European Ministry has enacted protocols to protect those under eighteen whilst their adult witches and wizards fight to keep control of their countries.
Students from Durmstrang have been sent to Hogwarts to keep them safe and those not old enough to attend school have been sent to live with relatives or designated British Ministry officials outside of Europe for the time being.
Will the low rates of werewolf attacks in Britain continue? How long will Durmstrang students stay at Hogwarts? Will the creatures usurp the wizardfolk in Northern Europe? Only time will tell.
SEPTEMBER 2019 It's been a very long, eventful summer in the wizarding world. A baby was stolen, several high ranking Trossach members were imprisoned, and werewolf attacks have drastically dropped as a result. What will happen now school has returned?
MAY 2019 An attempt to capture the beta of the Trossachs has been launched. Were the Aurors successful in their mission? Go read more here!
Post by HOPE GRIMBLEHAWK on Jul 29, 2020 9:32:17 GMT
It had been a week now, since Hope had leaned over Ivan's desk after their discussion on Amortentia and gently grazed her lips against his... and she had to admit that ever since, it had felt like she'd been floating on air... a feeling that she hadn't experienced, or at least forced herself away from, for the last eleven years since Osian had passed. It was nice to experience it again especially since for the longest time, she thought she never would, and she hoped that after their date this evening - well, that feeling of floating would stick with her for a little while longer.
Checking her watch, seeing that it was a few minutes until Ivan was destined to show up in her fireplace, Hope gave herself a cursory glance in the mirror. She looked presentable... dateworthy, she thought, wearing a demure, navy blue dress that hit just above her knees and a sensible pair of white heels. She'd gone to the effort to curl her hair too, letting it tumble down past her shoulders - typically, at work, she wore her hair back in a ponytail or a bun, so it was nice to wear it loose for the first time in a while.
Meandering over to the kitchen, Hope inspected her plain white cupboards (for what would be the third time that day) to make sure that everything Ivan needed to make them dinner was definitely there... as well as a bottle of her favourite red wine which she intended to crack open this evening to help them both relax just a little bit more.
The first week of October had passed by the blink of an eye, the entire experience wrapped in a warm haze the likes of which Ivan could recall knowing of only once in his life -- all those years ago, when he'd first met his ex-wife. It was a feeling he had almost forgotten -- after all, it had been more than 20 years since those days. But all of that had passed and didn't matter anymore, not when the haze had returned and Ivan enjoyed every second of it.
And tonight that haze enveloped every bit of Ivan's being as he prepared for a date. They had already managed to go to the Crooked Wand twice in the past week, but tonight was different. Tonight he was going to her place, and his task was to cook the two of them dinner. He could make a good impression while sitting behind a table at the restaurant, but now Hope would see him in all his domestic glory -- and there were so many things that could go wrong!
With the little beast of anxiety kneading at his innards, Ivan fixed the collar of his navy blue blazer, considering for the who-knows-which time that evening that, maybe, he ought to wear something a bit more formal than a white t-shirt and some blue jeans with those leather shoes; then again he wasn't expecting to wear shoes for more than a few minutes anyhow, so maybe it was alright; then there was the stubble... Hope had called him a silver fox and the white hairs here and there did fit..
As his hand was reaching for the razor, he heard footsteps in the corridor. Poking his head outside he was met by none other than Vera, who was carrying a mug to the kitchen. He asked her about the time... And promptly put away the razor because he was almost late.
With a grocery bag in one hand and a colorful bouquet of dahlias in the other, Ivan stepped into the fireplace, emerging on the other side just a few moments later, wishing the smoke would hurry up and disappear.
"Evening!" he greeted, stepping out into Hope's apartment, mentally fussing about the ashes he was getting on her floor -- it was inevitable with Floo powder, but annoying nonetheless.
He heard the clicking of heels against wooden boards as Hope entered the room -- and for a moment Ivan lost the ability to speak. She looked gorgeous, her hair down for the first time in ages, at least to his knowledge.
"Красота-то какая!1" he sighed out, walking towards her, bouquet of flowers extended towards Hope. "You look magnificent, Hope. You ought to wear your hair like this more often, it suits you." As he handed her the flowers, Ivan leaned down and kissed her cheek, his heart swooning as he felt her warm skin against his lips.
Post by HOPE GRIMBLEHAWK on Jul 30, 2020 8:06:40 GMT
Twirling around at the sound of a soul arriving in her fireplace, a smile spread across Hope's pink-stained as she click-clacked her way into the living room to find Ivan standing there. He looked dashing in his outfit, jeans clinging to him in all the right places. Hope was almost tempted to ask him to turn around so she could admire the view, but it quickly dawned on her that unfortunately, luck wasn't on her side to allow her to perve with Ivan's well-fitted blazer covering his backside.
Stepping forward, Hope gratefully accepted the gorgeous flowers Ivan had brought. She wasn't much of a green thumb, or all that knowledgeable with knowing flowers and their names, but she could admire beauty when she saw it. "You didn't have to," she said, before her eyes twinkled at the sight of the stubble peppering Ivan's jaw.
"Are you preparing your application to become a mountain man then?" Her words were light and teasing but to lessen any possible offense from her joke - and also just because she really wanted to - Hope brushed a small kiss against Ivan's cheek. "You look good with stubble - good in general, in fact, but I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. You look handsome even when you're just sitting at the Ministry all day, you silver fox you."
Tilting back, Hope's fingers laced with Ivan's in a flawless motion. "Let's get these flowers in a vase and I'll show you the kitchen, shall I?" she said. Without waiting for answer, however, she was soon leading him in the direction she wanted to go and into her kitchen. It was rather basic - there wasn't much point in decorating an apartment she usually only slept and ate take out in - but it could get the job done. "What were you going to make us? Or... is it some sort of surprise?"
"But I wanted to," his words were mumbled against her cheek as the two exchanged kisses. Wouldn't be right to arrive empty handed, even if he was holding a bag of groceries in his other hand. Those weren't exactly gifts in that bag, so he had to.
"Ah, what good is a fox with no fur?" he asked in return, a smile on his lips as Hope took his hand, "They say politicians look more trustworthy with a clean shave, but I don't do a lot of politics nowadays, and, since nobody liked my attempt at a mustache...Well, here we are. I'm getting a good start on my grandfather beard."
Next thing Ivan knew Hope had already brought him right to the kitchen, ready to get this show on the road. Casting a glance around Ivan considered the room -- minimalist and tidy, nothing at all like the Karev kitchen and exactly like he had imagined it.
"No, no surprise at all. Just Chicken Stroganoff -- onions, mushrooms, chicken and Smetana, that is, sour cream. I'll need a pan, two bowls, a cutting board and a knife." he said, putting the bag of groceries down on the counter, "But before I begin, I think I ought to take off my shoes. Sort of rude of me to be trampling all over your apartment with outdoor shoes."
Post by HOPE GRIMBLEHAWK on Jul 30, 2020 9:20:03 GMT
But I wanted to. The words had Hope huffing out a laugh because, well, she should have known by now that Ivan tended to do what he wanted - truth be told, they both did - but especially when it was simple gestures like that or sharing lunch or such. "I appreciate them. I can't comment on how long I'll manage to keep them from wilting over... but, well, I suppose cut flowers tend to die rather quickly in a vase anyway, don't they?" Hope mused.
"I'm not complaining," Hope said and if she had a free hand, she'd reach over and stroke the stubble yet again. She quite liked it, if she was being honest, although kissing Ivan on the lips later with a beard growing in would be different - it had been a very long time since she kissed somebody with facial hair. "I don't think there's anyway you can look untrustworthy, in all honesty... and I think the beard suits you better, you're correct. I imagine your daughters would opt for it over the mustache, yes?"
Right on cue, at the mention of food, Hope's tummy let out a grumble. It had been a while since she'd eaten, too caught up in paperwork from the Auror's office. A lot of them had asked why she didn't just take a break with the students, but... the thought of not working for three months didn't sit right with her. She hadn't taken a holiday in over a decade, why start now? "It sounds delicious," she said genuinely. "Shoes go by the door. Mine are brand new, by the way, I'm breaking them in... until my feet start screaming at me to take them off." Besides, it was nice to wear fancier shoes - as an Auror, she typically wore flat, practical shoes and as for Hogwarts... well, the heels she wore were typically flat and only a few centimetres from the ground - not very exciting at all.
Bending down, Hope began to pull out the cookware Ivan required whilst he tended to his shoes and once it was all placed on the bench, she fetched a vase as well which she filled with water before placing the flowers in them. "Let's have these on the table where we'll eat dinner," she said thoughtfully, carrying them over there before returning to the kitchen once more. "Would you like a drink?"
"Such is the fate of flowers," Ivan agreed, "I was considering getting you a potted plant, but I wasn't sure if you had any interest in a long term commitment like that. So, cut flowers it is, though you can't imagine the dirty look Nadya gave me when she saw them. If it was up to her, I think she'd outlaw the cutting of plants in general," he rambled on as Hope lead him through the apartment. But for all the love he had for his daughter, that wasn't the Hope he'd come here to talk about.
His date was complimenting him once again and her words made the man feel all soft and fuzzy inside, cheeks warming up. "I can tell you that Lyuba sounded very relieved when I wrote to her that the mustache is gone. She made it sound like it was something that would haunt her for years with no end... Tell me, Hope, was it really that bad?" He was sure that yes, it was as bad as Lyuba made it out to be, but he wanted to see how scalding Hope would be about his appearance. After all, she did like his facial hair...
As he was pulling off his leather shoes, he looked over to the direction of the kitchen, catching a glimpse of Hope bent over, looking for all the pots and pans that he'd requested. The sight of the hem of her dress inching up just a little bit, showing just a little bit more of her legs... He stared, but just for a few seconds, getting himself back together and returning to the kitchen, where Hope had already set everything up and was offering him some red wine.
"I think I shall indulge myself tonight," he answered, taking off his blazer and hanging it on the back of the nearest chair, revealing the simple white t-shirt underneath that had been tucked into his jeans, "I rarely drink, but you already knew that. Shall you open the bottle, or shall I use my hands for it? I left my wand at home, didn't think there would be any need for it here."
When two glasses of red wine were on the counter, Ivan grabbed the grocery bag and started unpacking, muttering the recipe under his breath.
"I suppose I should start with the onions, get the crying over with," he said, grabbing two rather large onions, a cutting board and started to peel them.
Post by HOPE GRIMBLEHAWK on Aug 1, 2020 8:15:17 GMT
"I'm not after any sort of commitment with flowers." It went unsaid between them that she was, however, seeking committment with Ivan if he was there to offer it. She'd made that clear the first time they'd kissed in the office, perhaps going into too much detail by explaining to him that if all she wanted was sex... well, she could have sought that out long ago. She was looking for something more meaningful, a connection, and she already knew that she had that with Ivan even if their personal lives were worlds apart in many respects.Curiously, Hope tilted her head in Ivan's direction at the mention of his middle child. "Do your daughters know you're here tonight or... do they suspect as much?"
Hope's lips twitched as Ivan delved into Lyubov's dramatics regarding the mustache he'd previously donned, her eyes twinkling as she said, "I wouldn't say that it was nightmare-inducing, Ivan... but with your beard - well, people will only have good dreams when they see it." She definitely would. The more she saw it when glancing over in his direction... well, the more she thought it suited him. She wasn't quite sure if she preferred it over the clean face or not, and so for now, they were a tie in her mind.
"I'll open it," Hope said simply. Seconds later, the magic was done and the bottle was already levitating, pouring out two glasses of deep red wine. She'd perfected wandless and unspoken magic quite some time ago, mostly in order to push her capabilities but also... because it quite often just came in handy.
One of the glasses moved over near the stove where Ivan was tending to the onions so it was in arms reach and Hope leaned back against the cupboard, taking in the view of Ivan sans blazer... and Merlin above, wasn't that a sight to see? Eyes drifting, Hope's tongue darted out ever so slightly to moisten her lips as she breathed in the sight of Ivan's biceps poking out from beneath the white fabric, working as he peeled the onions. "I do hope this is all there is in the way of tears this evening," she joked lightly, distracted. "I was after a more light-hearted night."
"No, don't think they do." He answered briefly before the conversation changed topic. He was eager to get to cooking and getting to know Hope, so discussing his daughters could wait a little bit... But only just a little, because no matter what Ivan did, he somehow always returned to his daughters in one way or another. Sometimes he wondered what it said about him -- had he invested so much of himself into raising his three girls that by now 'his daughters' were almost his sole character quality?
Once the two onions were peeled and the wine glass was in his hands, his mind returned to Hope's question once more. "About me being here -- I'm sure my daughters have noticed that I'm acting a bit different... The flowers would have been hard to miss," he smiled, taking a sip of the wine. It was pleasant. "But I doubt that they know where exactly I am... Anyhow, I didn't come here to make you listen about them. I came here to cook us dinner and get to know you."
And with that he put the glass away, grabbing a frying pan and some oil, putting it to heat on the stove. "Now, excuse me for a moment," Ivan said, taking a large knife and having a go at the onions. These were particularly feisty ones, biting his eyes almost immediately, and he had to bite his tongue to hold back the stream of swear words that were threatening to spill out. He wasn't someone who swore, finding it crude, but if there was something he hated, it was without a doubt onion cutting.
Just a minute or two later the onions were sizzling on the pan and the man was taking his time washing off his face, water droplets landing on his white shirt.
"At least that's done," he said, wiping his hands in a towel, trying to hide the fact that he was feeling a bit self-conscious about the shade of red his face must be after the onions,"Next come the mushrooms. This shouldn't be nearly as unpleasant."
"So, what other plans besides dinner do we have for tonight?" he inquired as he started cutting mushrooms, "Board games, cross-words, a walk in the night, or...?"
Post by HOPE GRIMBLEHAWK on Aug 5, 2020 3:43:31 GMT
Hope could only imagine the reaction that Ivan would get from his daughters if they'd found out he was visiting her on non-professional grounds, and so... she had to admit that him keeping their little date close to his chest was probably the right option... for now. If things went further beyond a few dates, however... she had no intention on being a secret kept from his daughters. Two out of three of his children were adults and if they couldn't handle their father being in a relationship with her... well, Hope's opinions on that and their maturity levels weren't all too pleasant.
"I'm glad you came to visit... and what would you like to know?" Hope said, flashing Ivan a small smile. She couldn't think of much they hadn't spoken about, really, but she was an open book and happy to tell him anything he'd like to know. Yes, she may have had a lot of tragedy in her life but it wasn't like she was opposed to talking about it.
Hope's smile quickly turned into a grimace as she watched Ivan start chopping the onions because, "That's why I buy frozen onions whenever I cook... which is about once in a full moon." It was the most horrid task. As a child, she used to find it amusing watching her mum and dad swear beneath their breath whilst cutting onions, but when she'd dealt with them for the first time as an adult... well, she'd quickly learned why they were so adverse.
The mention of other plans apart from dinner had Hope making an amused noise because, "Things don't always have to be meticulously planned out, Ivan. We're not at work." Usually she kept quite a strict schedule to get everything done but on her very rare days off... she liked to go with the flow, to relax. "We can just see where the night takes us, can't we? Unless you had something specific in mind already that you've yet to mention."
"I suppose you're right," he chuckled, pushing aside the mushroom slices and grabbing the next one, "It's just that it's been so long since I've had a date that I don't really recall how these things go. Having a strict work schedule and constant deadlines have made me forget how to 'go with the flow'."
"And you know I'm a stickler for organisation..." It was hard to miss the neat rows of binders and color coded folders in Ivan's office, and back home his bookshelf was ordered by alphabet and genre, like a library, so his words were certainly an understatement.
The mushrooms were sizzling away on the pan, filling the kitchen with a pleasant smell -- and a little bit of smoke -- the chicken was already halfway cut and his wine glass was almost empty; his mind was laced with a fuzzy fog from the alcohol, making his thoughts a little slower than usual, his movements a bit more freer, his smile a little wider and his laugh a little louder.
"Hm, if I remember right, you are half-blood? I ask because I wanted to know if you've ever watched TV? I didn't notice one when coming in, but then again, I've only seen a glimpse of your living room. I have a whole collection of DVD's and CD's of movies,"he rambled, not paying much attention to where his knife was going and where his fingers were, "Most of them in Russian though, but I was thinking, if you'll want a follow up date, we could watch something at my apartment some--Oi!"
In his excited monologue Ivan had lost his focus and cut right across his left index finger, rather than the chunk of chicken, and both the knife and the cutting board already had drops of bright red on top of it. Out of reflex, Ivan shoved the finger into his mouth for a few seconds as he hurried over to the sink.
Post by HOPE GRIMBLEHAWK on Aug 12, 2020 1:13:23 GMT
"I suppose the last time you were on a date, you were able to just look outside and see the tyrannosaurus' roaming around in the yard," Hope teased lightly, amused. The way Ivan spoke made it sound like the last time he went on a date had been in 65 million odd years ago.A small smile on her lips, Hope gently reminded Ivan, "I have a strict work schedule and deadlines too, you know. It is possible to go with the flow on your rare time off - I can help remind you how to do so, if you'd like." Visions of her and Ivan in the future, curled up on the lounge with a book in each of their hands, sunlight streaming in from the window and shining onto them, played in Hope's mind. It was a nice thought to have but perhaps it was a bit too quick to be thinking of cozy scenarios like that.
Tapping her nails gently on the side of her glass, Hope assessed Ivan before asking, "How long has it been since you went on a date?" She wouldn't be surprised if this was his first one since his ex-wife. For her, personally, it was her first date since Osian had passed all those years ago. She'd been asked out a few months ago and had agreed, but eventually, fortunately, work obligations had prevented her from going.
"Yes, I'm a half-blood," Hope replied with a small agreeable hum, before giving a curt nod. "I've watched a TV but only once or twice. My parents were both raised in the wizarding world so not with them, but... I took Muggle Studies during school, and we watched it once or twice in the classroom." The Professor at the time had managed to charm it so the technology could work within the castle, if she remembered correctly. "I'd like to go on a follow-up date with a TV for sur -"
Hope's answer was cut sure but Ivan's sudden yelp of pain. Alarmed, concern blooming across her body, she rushed over to the sink when he was rinsing his finger. "You silly thing," she chastised, leaning over to turn off the tap after a moment. Grasping her wand - it was always best to have precision involved when doing healing charms - Hope advised Ivan, "Stay still," before silenting casting vulnera sanentur three times. Inspecting her work, Hope watched as the blood flow stopped, the wound began to knit itself together and finally, disappeared almost entirely. "Is there where I say... perks of being an Auror? You learn to heal minor injuries on the job?"
Ivan threw his head back, laughing at Hope's comment. "Oh, it's even worse, the last time I was on a date, single cell organisms were all the rage." Of course, some part of him felt upset that he'd wasted half of his life waiting for a woman that didn't even love him, while he could have been happy all this time, but there was no point in crying over spilled milk, so Ivan went right ahead, taking the piss out of himself along with Hope.
"But no, really, it's been something like 22 years by now? Better late than never, and all this waiting has certainly paid off, if I consider how much fun I'm having right now." Those words were followed by a bright smile, before Ivan went off to ramble about TV's.
And then he was standing by the sink, Hope holding his hand while the wound closed up right in front of their eyes, the pain gone in an instant. "Thank you," he said, turning his palm around so he could take Hope's hand and lace their fingers together, "I've never been any good at healing magic so I'm glad I have you here."
She was right there, and, even though he knew he needed to pay attention to the ingredients sizzling on the pan, Ivan didn't want to let go of Hope. Even something so simple as just standing there, holding her hand, made Ivan feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Maybe that was the wine. Maybe it was something else. He didn't really care.
But the scent of mushrooms reminded him that he needed to make the food before he could have fun, so, after giving Hope's hand a gentle squeeze, he let go of it, returning to his work space and proceeding to cook, this time paying much more attention to where the knife went. It was supposed to be chicken stroganoff, not Ivan stroganoff.
Another half an hour passed until the food was served. They sat by the table, the bouquet of dahlias seperating them. Ivan was having his fourth glass of wine, which was some kind of a record in the last decade.
"I hope you'll like it," he said, "I think the chicken didn't dry out this time, so it should be alright."
Post by HOPE GRIMBLEHAWK on Aug 16, 2020 10:42:51 GMT
Sometimes Hope forgot that the age difference between her and Ivan was so large. Perhaps if she were single and in her early twenties, it would have been startling to fall for a man like him... but she had been through so much in her lifetime, hit so many of the same milestones as he had when she was freshly thirty, that it felt like they were in similar mindsets. "So the last time you went on a date, I was eight years old and probably trying to play with a bowtruckle," Hope said, amused. Her amusement quickly trickled into a much sweeter feeling as Ivan proclaimed waiting had paid off because he was having so much fun with her. "I'm glad. I'm having a good time too. It's been a while since I've laughed this much."
"I couldn't let you bleed to death in my kitchen now, could I," Hope remarked, eyes drifting to where Ivan's fingers were lacing together with hers. His hand was much larger than hers... warm, too, and raising their held hands to her lips, she brushed a tender kiss over his knuckles. "At risk of sounding cheesy... I'd be happy to mend your wounds anytime. I'll kiss them better, too." And Merlin, she was right, that did sound cheesy but as she raised her eyes to meet Ivan's, she didn't care. She was being truthful and that was all that mattered, wasn't it?
As their spoke and chattered, Hope moving onto her... gosh, third? Fourth? glass of wine, she watched Ivan tend to the meal, impressed at just how skillful he was in the kitchen. Then finally, it was time to eat. Crossing her legs, feet brushing Ivan's unintentionally beneath the table - no, she wasn't trying to play footsies - Hope raised her forkful of food in Ivan's direction. "I'm sure it will be delicious," she said. Moments later, she was proven right and Hope let out a moan of pleasure as the flavours hit her tongue, eyes widening. "Ivan, I hope you know I'm never letting you leave if you make meals this well - I'll chain you to my bed if I have to."
Ivan watched Hope, or, to be more correct, the forkful of chicken that she had, waiting for her reaction with bated breath. He'd cooked the same food for his own family countless times, and it had always been fine, but he suspected that his daughters tended to spare his feelings if they didn't like what he cooked. At least he almost expected such a strategy from Vera -- to eat without complaining, and then to sneak out for some snacks when Ivan wasn't looking.
But Hope had no reason to spare his feelings, so the reaction he'd get now would be genuine.
And it was a genuine and unadulterated reaction, though a lot more intense than Ivan could have ever expected. Hope outright moaned, her blue eyes going wide. At that moment Ivan was glad he wasn't already eating, because that sight without a doubt would have made him choke on his own food. He didn't know what to blame it on (Wine? Feelings?), but he felt downright sinful after hearing that, and then Hope was going off about chaining him to her bed, which wasn't at all his cup of tea, but it sure as hell made him feel very, very warm.
After a few seconds he realized that he'd been staring right at Hope with his jaw slightly ajar, eyes probably glazed over as he tried to sort out through the very adult thoughts going through his head. Cheeks burning, he began to eat his meal, a bit more hasty than he usually would.
"I don't think chains would be necessary," he said after a while, "I'd be happy to cook for someone who appreciates it so... Outright. Though I think some people might have questions if I never returned from this outing. "
"How about, instead of chaining me to your bed, I come around to cook once in a while? Say, once a week... Would give us something to look forward to. Maybe I could make breakfast one day, too."
Post by HOPE GRIMBLEHAWK on Aug 25, 2020 8:24:14 GMT
Perhaps it was because she was a few wines in, but Hope completely missed Ivan's eyes widening like he was a deer caught in the headlights at the sound of her enjoying the food so thoroughly. "This is the best thing I've tasted in a long time. Definitely beats a mug of soup," she said sincerely, this time intending the playful little nudge of her foot under the table. She couldn't help it - he sat there, looking oh-so-genuine across the table, and all she wanted to do was kiss him and touch him and... oh. The feeling of want hit Hope like a freight train, something she hadn't felt in years, and spots of pink rose high in her cheeks. She was struck with the realisation that she wanted to do things a lot less PG-13 than she'd mentioned above.
"I promise I'll keep the chains under wraps then. Wouldn't want to scar you off," Hope said with a hum, this time taking in the colour in Ivan's cheeks... was he warm? Possibly - it was, after all, a nice summer's night and they'd been drinking.
The offer to make her breakfast was put on the table all of a sudden and lips parting, Hope wondered if she should perhaps suggest that... before deciding no, she should not perhaps, she was a grown-up who was used to taking initiative and making executive decisions and this was no different. "Maybe... you'd be interested in making us breakfast tomorrow morning depending on how the rest of tonight goes?" Hope said, her voice dropping into a smoother tone as she bright blue eyes glanced up coquettishly from beneath her dark lashes.
It had been a week now, since Hope had leaned over Ivan's desk after their discussion on Amortentia and gently grazed her lips against his... and she had to admit that ever since, it had felt like she'd been floating on air... a feeling that she hadn't experienced, or at least forced herself away from, for the last eleven years since Osian had passed. It was nice to experience it again especially since for the longest time, she thought she never would, and she hoped that after their date this evening - well, that feeling of floating would stick with her for a little while longer.
