Invisible String [t. s]

Illicit Affairs

December 31st 1921.
London, United Kingdom.
Theseus Scamander's house.

He stayed for the night and the entirety of the next day before he headed back to London. During the time he was away from the French woman, he found himself thinking of her constantly, it was as if Amélie had built herself a home in his head and refused to leave, now, Theseus was covered in her. He just thought of her laugh, her scent, her hair, her touch, her kiss...Bloody hell. That night was definitely a terrible idea and this was the consequence of the love affair.

  Not so far from where he was, Amélie had the same symptoms, Theseus was constantly running through her mind. And, in all honesty, it was agonising. It was as if they had taken a drug they couldn't breathe without. And what was the remedy? Each other.

Suddenly, there were unexpected meetings, or days in which they were going to deliver information personally to each other just to see one another.

  They'd find themselves on complicated situations, situations in which their lips would meet the second the doors of their offices were closed and locked, in which they had to be extremely quiet, where they had to leave everything tidy and make sure not to spoil their clothes to look completely normal when they walked out. Usually, these meetings would be taken to their houses later on the afternoon.

They're a funny thing, illicit affairs and clandestine meetings. You need to be very careful for the world not to know. You have to make sure nobody sees you leave from the other's house. Even if nobody knows you in that town, people speak. You need to make sure to keep your eyes down, take the road less travelled by, keep perfumes on shelves to make sure you leave no trace behind when you walk out...like you don't even exist. Like you're a ghost. What's interesting is how everything was born from a single glance, a stolen stare in a beautiful and crowded room.

Theseus woke up and looked at the ceiling. It was cold even if he was covered by the blankets. He turned on the mattress and inhaled the soft notes of her perfume on his pillow. He closed his eyes and frowned as he found himself missing her touch, her kiss, her presence. He sighed and sat up. He stood up and headed to the kitchen to have his morning tea, as the water boiled, he approached the entrance of his house and opened the door to find his paper on the ground. He took it and walked back in.

  He read how the elections and the campaigns of each candidate that were running for the position of International Confederation of Wizards' Supreme Mugwump were going. Vicência Santos was taking the lead and she had his vote. He drank his tea and prepared some food for breakfast, when he was done, he washed every dish and cup he used and headed to the bathroom to take a shower.

After washing the last shades of sleep off his body, he stepped into his bedroom to get dressed, a sigh left his mouth when he saw his tux was all ready for tonight. He didn't want to go. Balls come with the job, they're formalities the head of office should attend, but he's tired. Christmas' ball was not long ago and he wondered if he had to go. Then he had an idea as he brushed his teeth. One that might be stupid, but hey, all his stupid ideas end up being his best ones. Well, there are a few exceptions, but we won't go into detail.

He dressed up with a casual black suit, a white shirt, and his favourite black tie with silver straps on it. He threw on his coat when he had tied his shoelaces and then grabbed the tux. He walked out of the bedroom and made his way towards the kitchen. He left the suit on one of the stools and opened the cupboard where he keeps the liquor. He grabbed a bottle of rosé, gathered his stuff, and headed out.

Would this work out? Perhaps. Would it be odd? Hopefully not. Would she be home or out? Hopefully she'd be home. Would she be at the Ministry getting some last minute work done? He hopes not.