Vive la resistance

Selwyn knew the Boot-Corner's house as soon as he saw it. It wasn't big, but it stood out. All dark cladding and odd angles designed to shield the occupants' privacy while maximising access to sunlight. For a moment, his envy distracted him from his nerves.

He pulled into their driveway, and followed a flint footpath to the front door, nestled between the garage and the front room.

In the centre of the door was an doorknocker. Overly ornate in comparison to the rest of the house, and if you looked at it the right way, it looked a bit like a bird. There was no striker, instead, they'd put the doorbell where the strike plate ought to have been.

Now that he was an adult, Selwyn often felt like he didn't fit into Slytherin. He liked Hufflepuff, but didn't think he had that kind of work ethic. Sometimes, he'd fancied himself a Ravenclaw, but seeing this, he knew he could never live up to their eccentricity. And that was saying something, as Selwyn had been reliably informed he was quite eccentric himself. Was this supposed to be a tribute to Hogwarts or a slight? Maybe he simply wasn't smart enough to understand.

Bracing himself for whatever was about to happen, because that was the issue, wasn't it? He didn't really know what to expect. If he'd had some clue, he could have planned ahead. Selwyn didn't like operating without a plan. So he braced himself and rang the bell.

Michael was watching cartoons when the doorbell went. It was a Saturday, a day off, and he was reluctant to get properly dressed when he could technically lounge about in his pyjamas all day.

"I'll get it," he called to Terry, who was doing goodness knew what, but it was probably more important than Michael's breakfast.

He internally cringed when he saw who it was. Michael didn't really care what Thorfinn thought of him, but he would have preferred to have been dressed. At least they were presentable pyjamas.

"Hello," he said, allowing Selwyn inside. "I thought you were Jenna."

"Um, sorry," Selwyn apologised feebly as he stepped across the threshold.

He had been making a very conscious effort not to let his gaze slip from Michael's face, lest it seem like he was checking him out. Not that it wouldn't be a perfectly natural thing to do. Even the most vehemently heterosexual men checked out other guys, if only to assess the competition. But, well, probably not in this situation.

So the opportunity to appreciate the surroundings was, well, appreciated. The interior of the house could not have been more different from the outside. Wooden floors and white-washed walls and classical elegance, completely in contrast with the severe lines of the exterior.

"How is Jenna?" Selwyn asked.

Michael watched Selwyn, amused, as he took in the entryway.

"She's fine," he replied. "She and Liesl Dolohov have a tutoring school over in Diagon Alley."

He crossed his arms.

"I don't think you came over here just to enquire after my daughter, Selwyn," he prompted.  "Unless the rumours are true and you really have been taking out every eligible witch in England."

"Ah, pretty much," Selwyn murmured. "I didn't know it was common knowledge, though."

"And that's not why I'm here," he continued quickly.

The idea of taking out someone like Jenna was... well, it was less unpleasant than some of the alternatives, to be honest. She was a smart girl. But she'd also been one of his students, and he'd rather not cross that bridge if he could possibly avoid it.

"I was hoping to speak to you about... The Ministry."