We Were Almost Friends Once

Jack did not feel like a married woman. Mostly because most days she did not even feel much like a woman. She felt like Jack - she never felt that any of her behavior particularly qualified her as something specifically. Everything was pretty consistently along the same vein of Jackisms. Random bursts of anger, the inability to stop pranking, snark and sass dripping from every word - yep, Jackism as usual. Marriage had not interrupted her personality. It had only helped her get to bed on time and ensure she ate close to three square meals a day.

Usually, she spent her free time with Max because it was easier. However, tonight he was working late, Sunny was spending the night with a friend from school, and Charlie was with her friends. So Jack decided to hit the town, drag herself to a bar, and enjoy the wizarding society she had always considered herself so far removed from.

She went to a bar that she had begun going to because it was a wizarding bar but it wasn't as sleazy or dangerous as some of her favorites. That way Max could not worry. She sent an owl to Gabby, inviting him along if he was available. She settled in at the bar and ordered her favorite - a rum and Coke - and gazed around at the room that would be her kingdom for the night.

As of late, Oliver had taken to heading out to the pub closest to his home in order to work on his latest novel. In doing so, however, it had taken away from any of his socializing – the little that had had before this habit started. He could still say, though, that he wasn’t even remotely close to being an alcoholic. So there was that. Though there was little else.

Chewing on the end of his already-marked pen in thought, Oliver ran his finger around the top of his glass, not even embarrassed to say that it was only a soda and not even slightly reminiscent of anything alcoholic. His pen fell back to the journal before him, added another few sentences.

...
The crowd of decorated high-society members split as the song dwindled away, the violin holding out its last note as a closing statement. As the bodies moved to either side in search of their next partners, her eyes were caught by the late entrance of the man who was most talked about in their circles.

Oliver growled quietly, glaring at the paper. A period piece, Connolly? This was entirely rubbish, the lot of it. He was half tempted to rip out the pages he’d filled with the ridiculousness that was his latest attempt at a romance novel. He had never managed one – even in the girl’s perspective, apparently – and perhaps he never would. Writers were always supposed to write what they knew; well, Oliver could admit to knowing nothing of real love. Thus, the journal was closed with a resounding smack as the person in the seat to his right got up to leave.

The Hufflepuff’s eyes were drawn in that direction due to the movement, and that gave his gaze a chance to land on the familiar face a few seats down. His eyebrows lifted in surprise as he sat up straighter, letting his pen fall onto the leather cover of his journal. “Jack?” He asked quietly. Shaking his head, Oliver realized she perhaps wouldn’t be able to hear him if he were so timid. “Jack Dyllan?” He tried again, voice a normal level as he tilted his head slightly and watched for some affirming reaction.

Jack enjoyed drinking. Perhaps a bit too much. Okay, so she knew that she enjoyed it more than she would be wise too. The whole Eis Estate ordeal had a lot to do with the problems of alcohol. She was proud to say she was back to just enjoying it, not relying on it, but she could still drink an startling amount considering her size and age. Her Healer had told her she drank akin to a fifty year old sailor - well, there were days when Jack most related to a fifty year old sailor.

She received her drink and paid for it, before getting up to move about the bar in search of a table or booth that could become her home for the evening. She took a taste of her drink - ah, good bartender. There was rum present, but the balance was still there. Good man. She would have to make a point to come here more often. Start up a tab or something. Yes, good plan. She liked this.

She glanced up, smiling a bit from the pure contentedness of being alive, when her eyes caught a familiar face. Oh. Right. This was why she did not like coming out into public very often. No, bad plan. Very bad plan, Jack Dyllan. She did not like this.

She swallowed, regaining the smile. She ticked her head. "Oliver Connolly, son of a gun." She approached, cursing her feet for being friendlier than she wished to be. She had no issues with Oliver. She did, however, have problems with what connected them. "You're lacking company. Mind if I join you?" She could not understand why she was torturing herself so.

Oliver nearly found himself surprised at Jack’s choice to move towards him – when had he last seen her? Probably about the time Ariel left. That certainly made things more awkward, didn’t it? It probably wasn’t a good idea, then, to mention the fact that Ariel had shown up at Oliver’s flat and requested a place to stay. The man was potentially back home right then, not too very far away.

Yes, he mused. It was probably a better plan to keep the fact from Jack. On the same token, it wouldn’t necessarily be the best idea to mention their meeting to Ariel, either.

For a Hufflepuff, Oliver thought himself just as certain of his place in the world as he was sure that he understood it. The people in his life quickly tended to be unraveled to the point where Ollie could decipher the smaller bits of them. Because of this, he didn’t feel the guilt he should have at the decision to keep the things he knew from his best mate and from Jack. Pushing away the frown that threatened to cross over his face, Oliver nodded.

“’Course,” he offered a small smile. The problem, next, was what to say once he’d agreed. That hadn’t really been part of the plan. Her name had sort of fallen without his really meaning it to, even though he had made sure she heard him. What a fool he was, sometimes. “How have you been? The whole world seems upside down with the Ministry’s laws.”

He, himself, had been drawn in by the Marriage Law. His match, however, had stormed out of the meeting, putting herself in jeopardy of being taken in and sent to Azkaban. As it were, he was now left to see if they chose to re-match him. Surely Jack, with all of her strength and sheer determination, hadn’t been forced into anything?

But she was sitting next to him, and not in Azkaban. So maybe she had decided to go on with it, in the end. Hopefully it was with someone good, and not someone she hated. Ariel would’ve been furious, Ollie supposed. He decided to keep that quiet if she gave him any indication of her current situation.

Jack did not like this whole run-into-people-from-your-past schtick that had been going on. She had just run into Ariel, after all. Perhaps Oliver knew about that. And, then again, she doubted it. It had been an uncomfortable meeting, and he had not seemed exactly happy about it. She doubted Ollie would have been told. Jack knew they were best friends. But she also knew when Ariel was cranky he sometimes nursed his wounds rather than asked for help with them. And finding out she had married would surely be the very sort of wound Ari would nurse until Ollie worked it out of him.

He allowed her to join him - she almost wished he had refused - and she sat, quickly taking another drink. She would need it.

How had she been? What a question. Ollie did not know what he was getting himself into with that question. Where should she begin? Where COULD she begin? If she started from the last time she had seen Ollie - graduation, if she was remembering correctly - then she would have to tell him about losing Vito, finding Nemo, leaving Nemo for his own good, and then setting about collecting a family for herself. She would have to tell him about the Ministry, about the war, about the Potters, about branding herself as a Death Eater, about breaking hearts, about becoming an adult.

She did not think he wanted, nor needed, to hear all of that. And, fortunately, she was not the sort to bare her heart for all to see. Nor would she bare her history. It was for her to suffer through, to recall, to avoid. She would have to come up with a better answer than her entire life story to survive this chance meeting.

"Well..." she said, thinking over the question, best she could. "I've been good. Doing the Quidditch thing, you know, with the Falcons. And working on and off with the Ministry, trying to fix their sh!t. Um... yeah, the marriage law has made things a bit crazy. Have you been matched?"

She thought she could talk about it to him, but not yet it seemed.

Oliver could practically see the wheels turning in Jack’s head as he reached out for his glass, rather thankful that he hadn’t been drinking. It wasn’t that he was a lightweight or anything; he just didn’t like the idea of being out of sorts in front of her. Even worse, he didn’t want to return to the flat and accidentally say anything to Ariel about this. Maybe he could call up some friends for a poker night instead, or just spend the weekend on his boat instead. Anything that could mean avoiding the guilt of hiding things until he got past it. He was typically the more blunt type, so hiding things completely was essentially backwards for him.

He nodded along as she spoke, tearing his thoughts away from the tracks that led towards Ariel and instead tried to focus on chatting as though it were entirely proper and not at all awkward. The fingers that weren’t occupied with holding his drink were set on the counter, tapping a nonsense rhythm into the leather binding of his latest failure. Perhaps he would keep that to himself as well; no need anyone else knowing about his attempts at writing something he didn’t understand. It was enough that he had Riley pushing him to try it anyway.

“I was matched, yeah,” he replied slowly, looking from the glass and back to her. “But the girl bolted so I may or may not be set up with someone else. The craziest part, though, isn’t even that she left during the meeting. She’s still a student at Hoggies. Not that we’re that far off, mind. But the Ministry really is mental if they think someone can be forced marry while one is in school and the other is out in the world.”

Oliver shook his head almost sadly, having been mulling over the fate of Rebecca over the past few days. In the wake of his meeting, he was rather tempted to take up writing about the law. In the end, though, that could only end badly; that idea had been dropped almost instantly.

“I hope your match makes more sense than mine. And, you know, doesn’t take off on you mid-meeting.”

The only bonding she and Ollie had ever really had had always centered around Ari. In fact, there had been very few times they had even been alone, and they had always been either on their way to see Ari, changing shifts with him, or leaving him. She had remembered a few people at Hogwarts having the nerve to call herself and Ollie Ari's mistresses - never loud enough for her to hear directly, of course, because they knew it would be unlikely to survive making such a joke at Jack Dyllan's expense.

So now that she was interacting with him without Ari as a subject or as a reason, both of them grown in the man and woman they had been far from in school, it was almost as though she was not talking to the same Ollie at all. And yet, she knew she was. She could tell that it was the same lovable prat who had trusted her with his best friend, who had let her copy of his papers every once in awhile when she was too tired to focus in class, who had never officially been a friend but had somehow always been an ally.

Time was weird. It distorted people but never let them change completely in one's eyes.

His luck with the match was unfortunate. "Don't worry - they won't be able to punish you if she remains truant. The fault doesn't lie with you. They'll probably just re-pair you. Which may work in your favor. As slowly as the Ministry works, the law may be torn apart before they can find you another match." She could almost consider herself an expert on the law, considering everything she had done to attempt to maneuver around it.

"I actually got out of my own match," she said, slowly, carefully. "It was some poor sap that would have probably hung himself after three days with me. I just stopped showing up to meetings and whatnot, and then made some other diversions, claiming I was already engaged or whatever to buy time. But in the end, I had to do something. I take care of my cousin and my niece, so my Azkaban days are over. I married my roommate a few weeks ago, to help him out too since his match is trying to get around it." She shrugged. Like it wasn't a big deal. Because it wasn't. Like it wasn't a betrayal. Because after all this time, it shouldn't be.

She paused. "I saw Ari the other day. I dunno if he told you. Probably not. He didn't seem very happy with me. He saw the ring." She reached up and flicked the ring hanging from the chain around her neck. It seemed she and Oliver Connolly would always be destined to talk of Ariel Greyback.

Idle hands never suited Oliver. He had always been rather jittery, never one to sit round for too very long. Even in school, aside from times when he had been helping others, he had found it hard to focus and keep up with the work that was required of him. No, indeed, Oliver felt that he could have done better in school if he’d found a way to study properly. Other things had always seemed more important, though.

Now, as he sat next to Jack, he was insanely tempted to reach into his messenger bag and retrieve his playing cards. At the very least, shuffling them would make him more attentive – it directed his focus, allowing him to think when he felt lost. But regardless of how many times she may have seen him do the same, surely she would expect him to have grown out of such a habit by now. Just as bad habits died hard, strange ones seemed equally difficult to get rid of.

Although he absorbed everything she said, Oliver’s mind was solely focused on the last bit. She had married. Not only that, she’d seen Ariel, and the man knew. It certainly explained the silence he’d been greeted with in the flat. On that note, it also explained Jack’s seemingly uncomfortable stance. It wasn’t that he wasn’t interested in her life. It really wasn’t. Rather, he was concerned she wouldn’t want to deal with him. Especially now that she had seen Ariel.

“Ah, um, no. He didn’t say anything.” Oliver’s hand lifted to rub at the back of his neck awkwardly as he spoke. “He’s actually living with me, not far from here. I’m not exactly surprised he didn’t say anything. He doesn’t always, you know, talk about his problems. He’s been almost quiet as of late, actually.” In an attempt to turn the discussion from entirely awkward to slightly bearable, Oliver shrugged and added, “I haven’t even gotten any back-talking lately. And Merlin knows he loves having at me.”

Sighing, he shifted in his chair, his hand moving from his neck to run once through his hair before falling back to the bartop.

“I think he’d be glad, though, secretly. To see you out of the Ministry’s hands to some extent, that is.”

He looked a bit surprised. Everyone looked a bit surprised. For whatever reason, people thought her above the law. They thought she was still Hogwarts Jack who didn't mind the rules in place and did as she pleased. However, in the real world, things weren't that simple. She was still beating the Ministry. She hadn't married against her will and she would not conceive against her will. She was still breaking the rules - except, now, she had to do it lawfully because people depended on her. And the rumors were that she had given up and taken the easy way out - didn't they see what a challenge it was for her to do this? How it may just be the most drastic thing she had ever done to avoid being told what to do?

She could deal though. She had faced Albus and she had faced Ariel. (All she needed now was a visit from Nemo and Vito and the whole gang would know.) After dealing with the men who had (wrongfully) expected her to be somehow stronger than the whole of the Ministry, she was certain she could face Oliver Connolly. Besides, he had a much less skewed idea of her, and could rationally understand the choices she had to make, surely. If not, well... Jack had never been one to cry over spilled milk.

It made sense that Ari had not said anything. He liked brooding way too much to just get that one off of his chest - he needed time to let it marinate so he could be right cranky about the whole thing. "Quiet," Jack echoed. "Nice little change, I'm sure." The joke didn't really land. Oliver made a joke along the same vein and she allowed a smile. Somehow, Ari not back talking Ollie was worse. That had always been one of the most charming parts of their friendship. It would be a shame for it to be gone.

He shifted awkwardly and Jack decided to make things less awkward by taking a drink - well, it would make it less awkward for her, anyway. One more drink and her rum and Coke would be all gone - ah, how alcohol flied when one was having... whatever this conversation was.

She glanced up as he spoke again and considered his words. Somehow, she did not feel convinced. She just couldn't reconcile Ari being happy about Max. Not because she had any right to suppose that Ari still cared for her, no, but because Ari did love to have things that made him cranky. And she was certain that the fact that she had married a easy-going Hufflepuff could get Ari crankier than a rock in his shoe. She grunted a "Yeah," in agreement. She would just have to wait it out, she figured. Besides, what were the chances she would see him again?

She finished off the rum and Coke and set the glass down, deciding to wait a bit before she flagged down a bargirl for another - Max would've been proud. "But, how have you been, Ollie? What are you doing with yourself nowadays?"

Oliver saw her half-smile and raised her a rather sarcastic one of his own, eyebrows lifting as he tapped his pen against the leather-bound journal still staring at him from the bar top. His index finger ran around the rim of the class filled with naught but soda, nearly envying her choice of drink. At the same time, alcohol never helped his writing. Honestly, though, with how awful his attempts had been of late, perhaps it wouldn’t be a hindrance for once.

Jack didn’t seem to believe him when he suggested that Ariel might be rather glad for her, but then, he didn’t really know if he believed it either. How was he supposed to bring this up to Ariel? Could he? Maybe if he did, Oliver could get some of his snark back into gear. Honestly, the man missed it.

She asked how he had been; Ollie rather wanted to lie, but he also suspected that she might catch on. It wouldn’t do for her to notice that he was having her on and get some sort of look or retribution for it. Would she? He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, he absentmindedly let his hand drift to cover the journal. A nervous act, he supposed once he realized he had done so. “Things have been… interesting.”

Shrugging with one shoulder, Oliver gave a sad smile. “The words just aren’t coming, y’know? I see it, but I…” He couldn’t find the words to explain that he didn’t know how to write about true love. That he couldn’t pull it off to save his life. “I just need to go back to my old genre, I suppose.” He finished after a moment. Shaking his head, he turned back to the bar, reaching for his glass and downing a good portion of it. He rather wished he had gone the alcohol route now.

Talking about his inadequacies as a writer never sat well with him; anything he published had to be something he thought he could like in a few years’ time. Here he was, unable to get anything of merit out of his pen or his mind, Oliver had to admit, at least silently, that he was feeling a bit lost.

“At least,” he added belatedly, setting the glass back down, “I’ve still got the boat. And, y’know, Ari’s back so I’ve got a roommate again.”