WHO: Chester and his new BFF
WHERE: Diagon Ally
WHEN: Yesterday?
Penelope hated November. Hated the month that stole her family, her future, her life. And though they remained but faceless ghosts, hated the people who'd done this to her. She blew a frustrated breath into the chilled autumn air, warmed only slightly by the weak sunshine. It seemed so unfair to her, that she'd finally started to get herself back on track, that she might actually be able to salvage her future sooner, rather than later, and then it all started to go off the rails once she'd looked at the calendar. Not that it mattered—it was as though she had an internal clock ticking down to the anniversary, could feel herself withdraw, become listless, moody, … empty.
The difference this year was that she didn't want to go back there. Penelope would fight and claw her way out of the hole and beyond from the edge, but a not-so-small part of her was terrified she'd still lose.
Looking back at what the last two months had made of her, she had to admit that she'd fared much better than she'd thought. Studying for a make-up examination of sorts for her N.E.W.T.s, apprenticing at the metal-charmers' forge in the meantime. Glamorous and lucrative, no, but she'd gotten there by herself. Devastating as this time was for her, harder still that such a terrible rift lay between her and her only remaining family, she could not allow herself to slide back into that blackness. What Penelope did have was a wonderful best friend and surrogate family, a real place to call her own, like an adult (though she suspected there was some cushioning with the rent payments), and no, she might not have a certain someone in her life anymore, but perhaps that was for the best. She had been right, she needed to be alone now, even if that loneliness seeped so far beneath her skin, she doubted it could be removed.
Keeping one hand on her hat, lest the wind pick back up, the other keeping the strap of the book bag slung across her shoulder in place, she trekked through Diagon Alley with the intention of running errands before sitting down at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour for an studying intensive, smothered with ice cream and a dollop of hot fudge. She'd just left Flourish & Blotts with a new book in hand, trying to stuff it into her bag. Penelope's steps faltered and she was jostled from the left, sending her stumbling, and her bag's contents tumbling to the ground.
"Pardon," she mumbled with her cheeks pinking, tightening her grip on her hat whilst ducking down to collect her things.
Chester was bored again already. He got the hit wizards off his trail far too easily. It wasn’t even a challenge. Granted he still sort of had to worry about his former brother in laws, but really how much could they really do. No evidence. Chester was meticulous.
He spotted her through the storefront as he was walking by and couldn’t help but grin. Someone from above was smiling down on him. Penelope Fawcett. She certainly was fun. And now that he thought about it, it had over a year since he last spent time with her. He certainly took great pleasure in messing with her head while she was a guest with him. Practically had her convinced there were multiple people involved when it was mostly just him. Half the time spent tormenting her never saying a word, while the other half he spent just sitting in the room talking to her, getting her to calm down enough to just barely relax. That’s when he always had to ‘leave’ of course. One time, he even held her hand while she cried after the ‘other guy’ was particularly mean. It was
touching really, would have pulled at your heartstrings, if you had any.
He was almost certain she was growing fond of his ‘nice’ persona right before Drystan played the blackmail card and he let her go, even though he was convinced that they didn’t really have much on him, he had grown bored and let them win one. But now, perhaps, was the best time to renew the game. He schooled his features into a properly morose look and put himself directly in Penelope’s path so they would bump into each other.
“No, excuse
me.” he said kneeling down to help pick up her things, looking the very picture of distraught. “I wasn’t at all paying attention to where I was going. It’s like I’ve just been walking through a fog lately. I suppose that happens when your life is falling apart around you. My wife-- I just--” He handed her books back to her, and pulled his free hand down his face, rubbing at his eyes as if he were trying to mask tears that may have been welling up there, while he struggled to speak.
“Sorry, I’m sure you wouldn’t understand and you probably don’t want to hear the ramblings of a stranger.” he finished running his hand over his face.
She blinked, not having expected anyone to come to her aid. Grateful, certainly, she also felt twinges of sympathy—it overrode the feeling of being overwhelmed from the clearly distraught incoherence he'd began to mumble—and something else, that she could not quite place. Was it unease? Strangers made her feel terrible discomfort these days. Penelope made herself a bit of a hermit, for all intents and purposes. Being thrust into this situation certainly wasn't enjoyable, and yet... there was something about him. But she was nothing if not a soft-touch, and the sympathy and kind-hearted nature she'd been blessed with got the better of her.
"Thank you—I—I'm sorry," though she didn't know if it was because she'd bumped into him—or he, her—or his apparent marital woes. Grabbing the last item from his hand, Penelope stuffed it haphazardly in her bag and rose from her crouched position. She meant to drop her gaze to him, to complete her thank you, but stumbled when she saw him watching her. That wasn't peculiar, as they were having a sort-of conversation, but something about him struck her as familiar. The eyes? Penelope couldn't place it.
"Is it—do—do I know you?" she blurted out, startled. Her gaze quickly swept the pointed features, the distressed expression, and she found herself coming up blank. Yet that niggling feeling that she was missing something. She'd never thought herself poor with names and faces, but then perhaps she'd never been in a situation to test it. Hitching her bag higher onto her shoulder, she stared at him uncertainly.
Chester cleared a catch in his throat as he stood, brushing off the knees of his trousers. “It’s the least I could do for knocking them out of your hand in the first place. My fault entirely.” he said completely sincere. He watched her as she scanned his features, making it seem as he was doing the same when she asked if she knew him. He wasn’t worried about her recognizing his face, she never actually saw him. They had never crossed paths outside the time they spent together before. His voice, possibly, but he wasn’t too concerned about that either. Memory charms were on his side after all.
His name on the other hand, was not.
She would definitely know his name and the negative implications tied with that being Bess’ sister-in-law. Bess certainly didn’t bother hiding the fact she didn’t like him to anyone. He would have to this just right if he didn’t want to scare her off. And this game would be very short lived if his name ever got back to either Bess or Drystan. Both would be certain to put a stop to Penelope cohorting with anyone with the name Chester. He took pride that he could invoke such hatred from a single family.
“Er...I’m not sure.” he hedged. “Perhaps? Honestly, I could run into just about anyone right now and not recognize them. Anyways, my name is Tripp.” he said introducing himself, holding out his hand. He surprised himself giving out this name instead of a fake one. His grandfather, the original Chester Lawrence, called him Tripp. He was only one who was allowed to do such a thing, privilege of being the original and the fact the man was the only person to gain what amounted to closest thing that Chester could call love. No one had referred to him as that since he passed in Chester’s fifth year.
Well it would work out for the best, as it wasn’t a lie he could get caught in later down the line.
"Penelope," she replied automatically, as manners had taught her to do, and took his hand. She cursed herself for it after, dropping his hand suddenly, as if it burned her. One would think she'd learn to be discerning when giving out her name; after all, the last time this happened, she'd been quite neatly stalked... even if secretly, she enjoyed it and had done much of the same.
Still studying this Tripp, but trying to appear as though she wasn't, Penelope tucked a loose curl behind her ear. "I—er, I can't say that lights a wand," she hedged, tilting her head. She felt a keen sense of—was it disappointment?— that his name was unfamiliar. Still, she could have sworn she'd known him, and the miserable, haunted look that flitted in and out of his eyes played very neatly on her tender-heartedness. People had forever come to her about their problems in her Prefect and early Head Girl days. Something or the other invited all and sundry to spill their woes to her, and she always felt compelled to listen. So even now, as Penelope thought she might know him, though still felt compelled to hasten away, she wanted to ask him about his troubles.
"Is there—are—are you all right?" She flushed again after asking, even though her tone was sheepish. It was quite a foolish question to ask, when one had but to look at him with a vague half-squint to know the answer.
Chester was quite pleased with himself when she didn’t take off immediately. And even more so when she didn’t beg off with some excuse. In fact, he had her inquiring after his well being. Such a kind girl she was. And right where he wanted her to be.
“I--don’t know. People think --” he started before cutting himself off, carefully dropping just enough information to peak concern. “No-- nevermind. I’m --I’m sure I’ll be fine. Eventually. ” his voice hitched over his words as he looked at his shoes.
This was almost too easy, playing in to such a bleeding heart, but if he could keep it up, he was positive he could get her to trust him. And once he got that, well, who knew what kind of fun could come of it. “It’s just--- Have you ever turned around one moment and found yourself in such a mess you can’t even fathom how to begin to fix it? And then to top it all off, you realize you don’t have anyone to turn to?” Chester sighed again.
“I apologize, I’m taking advantage of your kindness, Penelope. I shouldn’t burden you with all of this. We’ve only just met.”
Her stomach gave it a nauseating little twist, because
yes, as a matter of fact, Penelope was all too familiar with how that despair felt. In fact, it quite tore one up inside, and she wasn't sure she could fully recover from it, even if she somehow got her life back on track in its entirety. Perhaps, just perhaps, if she'd thought to cry it all out on some stranger's shoulder, free from the judgment she might otherwise get from someone familiar like Dianna, she might have slowed the ensuing insanity. Perhaps if she'd done so from the beginning, she could have stopped it from ever happening, and wouldn't be in this wretched situation. Should there be even a chance that she could do the same for Tripp, would she not be a terrible person for passing that chance up? She was a little uneasy around those she didn't know, this much was true, though it was not without reason. But the phantom familiarity of this man convinced her there was more to him, to his story, than met the eye. Penelope was a firm believer in getting as well as one gave, so her mind was made up.
"Please, I don't mind," she replied, bracing a hand on his shoulder. "I'm actually a very good listener. Perhaps you need a stranger's perspective?" Even if she couldn't help—for, really, what did Penelope know about relationships, when all, from romantic to platonic, continuously fell apart on her—she hoped the company might do him some good. Such a morose fellow was surely in need of comforting, even if by a stranger. Fiddling with the strap over her shoulder, she pointed behind him. "I was just on my way to Florean's. You can't say ice cream wouldn't help, just a little." It wouldn't be such a burden to put off studying for just a little while.
Chester glanced down at the hand on his shoulder and stopped himself from grinning outright. Instead he offered Penelope a small sad smile and nodded a bit reluctantly. “Florean’s does tend to make things just a little better. Even if for just a moment.” He turned, gesturing for her to lead the way before falling into step beside her as they made their way down to the ice cream parlor. He waited until they both had their ice cream, which he insisted on paying for, as he was taking up her time after all. It was the very least he could do for her, as nice she was being, and settled into a back corner booth before starting with his story. He took a few small bites of his ice cream as though he were trying to gather his thoughts.
“My wife and daughter, they are-- they have been missing for a couple weeks now. It’s difficult to just admit.” he said staring at his ice cream, poking it with his spoon. That’s the thing Chester noticed about distraught people, they were constantly fidgeting, couldn’t stand to be still apparently. Not that he would know personally, but he’d been around enough people in such a situation that he could mimic it rather perfectly. “I just came home one day to find the house a mess and my family--the only family I have just---gone.” He wiped at his eyes and paused as if to gather himself.
“And her family, they think-- they think that
I had something to do with it, even now after the Hit Wizards have cleared my name. I knew they never approved, but to this extent...why would I do anything to them?” he paused pushing his ice cream away, one didn’t eat ice cream at times like these. He let what he had said so far to sink in, not wanting to pile up too much at one time. His tale was such a tragic one. “They won’t even speak to me, so here I am trying to navigate all this on my own and I--- I feel like I’m drowning.” He chanced a glance up at Penelope, as if he were nervous to her reaction to what he had just told her would scare her off. There was always the chance that she too wouldn’t believe him.
When he described stumbling across the house and his missing family, Penelope blanched slightly. She'd never seen it, everyone had been so very careful to keep the details from her, but she knew the scene might have been identical to the one Tripp laid out. Having not even been there for her own and feeling so upset, she could scarcely imagine what it must have been like for him, to have experienced it firsthand.
It was a cruel thing, for his in-laws to suspect he had a hand in their disappearances. A little part of her wondered if it was not without reason, and so, studied him carefully as he stared woebegone into his melting ice cream. The way he looked, so close to falling apart, made Penelope think she must just be silly as she always was with strangers. In fact, it struck her as some sort of kismet that though she and he appeared to be very different, they were turning out to have more and more similar experiences.
Resting her chin on her propped up fist, she dragged her spoon around the edge of her ice cream dish, nodding slowly. "I know that drowning feeling… I'm really very sorry you're going through such a difficult time." Not knowing what to say, she reached across the table and patted his hand sympathetically. "I—I've experienced some of what you're saying myself… I know how difficult it can be, especially—" she broke off, her eyes falling back onto the dish in front of her, "especially without family, or any kind of support, really." She gave him a very sad, very tentative smile. "I hope your family is found soon. And I'm sure the rest will realize their error in judgment soon enough."
Chester looked up at her, surprise portrayed on his face, when she mentioned that she had a similar experience. While the look on his face clearly said ‘who would do such a thing to such a sweet young girl’, Chester may have been laughing just a bit on the inside. He turned his hand over to hers as she patted it gently and gave it a small squeeze. “I’m sorry that you have any idea how I’m feeling. Someone as sweet as you shouldn’t have such experiences.” He pulled his hand back and cupped his ice cream bowl in his hands once more. “ I was never expecting to find a kindred spirit, just someone that would listen to me.”
He leaned back on the booth and stared up at the ceiling for a moment, as if praying to whatever sort of god stupid people believed in. “I certainly hope so. I just can’t help thinking---no I can’t think like that. I have to believe things will work out.” The number of times he’d heard that one.
Playing the part was tiring, Chester couldn’t imagine how people functioned on a daily basis with real emotions such as these. He’d needed to make an exit soon before he slipped up. He acted in a moment of spontaneity and wasn’t prepared for an extended act. He glanced down at his watch and frowned. “Oh, I hadn’t realized how late it was. I am suppose to meet with the Law Enforcement Offices. It’s why I’m in London after all. They said they had some new information.” He stood quickly, adjusting his scarf.. “I’m sorry to run out on you like this, I really appreciate you listening to me. It was nice to have someone to talk to that wasn’t judging me, even if just for a moment.”
He hesitated as he turned to leave. He had two options, hope that he made enough of an impact that she would offer for him to contact her if he needed to talk again, or he could ask and risk looking sleazy after all his effort to avoid doing just that.
“Could I--Would you--” he started before stopping and shaking his head just a bit, like he just has stupid idea. He looked down to Penelope. “Thank you so very much.” Chester said simply. If all else failed he could simply just chance another run in with her in a few weeks.
There, she'd done good, hadn't she? But she hesitated as she saw him falter, plainly wanting to ask for her help but being unable or unwilling to. She'd made a commitment to herself to try and make a difference for someone else, so the least she could do was see it through. Be the shoulder she'd have wanted for herself, in her position.
"I—wait!" she called at the last minute, ripping a page's corner from one of her books and hurriedly scribbling down the address of the owlbox Dianna and she shared, courtesy of the former's brother., having made up her mind to help as best she could. "Just—if you need to talk, or anything… please don't hesitate to write me?"
Chester made a show of hesitating to take the parchment from her hand, deciding if it was appropriate or not, but did so after a moments pause. “Thank you.” he said quietly looking down at the parchment, then back to her. “It’ll be very helpful to have someone to talk to if need be.” He gave her a small smile. “I really should be going now, though. I hope you have a good day, Penelope.”
He gave her a small wave, before turning and exiting the shop. Once he was around the corner, he grinned brightly as he took a moment to study what she had handed him. Today was an absolutely fabulous day.
