"So the Headmistress tells me you're only signed up for three classes for your N.E.W.T.S."
Titus cringed. That tone. That damn tone. His father rarely sounded angry. In fact, he rarely sounded disappointed. He had a reputation and a way of speaking that colored any question he asked with a genuine curiosity. He could ask who had broken a window the same why he might ask why it was that a particular spell worked a certain way. It was a warm and interested fascination with world and whoever he was talking to. But Titus knew his father. He could pick out the undertones to his questions. And yes, this one was disappointed.
He turned to face his father. "Er yeah... We only need to take 3 so I picked the ones I thought I could pass..."
Ansel raised his eyebrows and the corner of his lip twitched. "You wanted an easy way out and chose
Charms? Son, that's not going to be the easy A you're expecting."
Titus stared at the ground and mumbled. He was already taller than his father, so he could make out his motions through his peripheral vision even as he tried to avoid the man's eye.
"You're capable of much more Titus. I know you think you can go on to play professional Quidditch. And if you get your shit together, I believe you can. But you won't be zooming around on a broom at 40. Maybe not even 30. You need to think about the future past that. And to even get that far, you need to focus. I doubt you planned to get in that much extra training with your time free of studying..."
Titus sighed. His father wasn't wrong. Of course that was the excuse he had used to justify it to himself. That he could put more effort into his training. That he might just be made Quidditch Captain this year. He had to admit, though, that no one in their right mind would make him captain, and he didn't often choose the wisest ways to use his extra time. "I wanted to practice some potioning too..." he mumbled, but even he could hear the whine.
Ansel reached up, his small firm hand coming down warmly on Titus's shoulder with a soft thump. "And that's good too. I figure while you're practicing all those potions you can practice cultivating those ingredients too. I've asked for you to be placed in Herbology. You have the marks for it."
Titus felt his body go cold and warm at the same time. He could feel every drop of sweat on his body. "No, Dad. Not Herbology." He couldn't be in that class again. Not after last year.
"Weren't you the one who was telling me potions worked better with plants specifically grown for a particular use?"
"I mean that's what the Count says... but he also says store-bought is fine.
Please, Dad. I can't take that class."
"Why not? You always seemed to like it before?"
Titus remained silent, hoping his face wasn't too red. He had no excuse. None that he could tell his father, anyway.
"Well, you're free to drop the class later if need be, but I would appreciate it if you gave it your best. Remember, you have to set an example for your sister."
Titus's shoulders slumped even further. "Okay..." He really didn't need to set any example. It wasn't as if that girl needed anyone to tell her to try harder. But the point stood
"Perfect... Don't look so down, son. I think you'll find with a little focus you'll surpass even my expectations. Now, have you seen the Ross boy around anywhere?"
Titus perked up. He finally looked up at his father, his brow furrowed. He was confused, but thankful for the change in subject. "Charles?"
"Yes, Charles. He should be around somewhere. If you see him, I want you to invite him with you to the game."
"But I was going to invit-"
"Yes, yes. Whoever it is, you can buy the ticket for her. Be a gentleman. But the tickets
I paid for will be used by Grey Matters employees. The boy needs to get out in this world more." Ansel interrupted. His tone had shifted to something more businesslike. The paternal pressure was out of it... mostly.
Titus cocked his head. "Why is that my problem? He's a fourth or fifth year. He's had plenty of time to get adjusted. People aren't even all that mean to Muggleborns anymore!" That wasn't the complete truth. Sure, a lot of the old attitudes had faded. But among the older families they still simmered. With the money that his family had come into, he'd been able to fund his way into newer circles at school. And he didn't always like what he found.
"Not everyone is so lucky as you as to live with a foot in each world, son. And adjusting to a new culture is always hard.
Trust me."
Before Titus could get in another word, an old witch in flowing bright yellow robes interrupted them. Something about some communication charms. Titus just tuned it out and turned to leave. Sure enough, he immediately spotted Charles. He seemed incredibly out of place. Even for him. He began to walk over to him, though in no hurry. He really didn't know what to make of Charles. They hadn't really interacted before the Ravenclaw started working at Grey Matters. He wasn't very social, and even while working together, Titus didn't get much from him. They'd occasionally discuss Quidditch, but even then Charles seemed to only know about the school teams. Titus got closer and of course the guy was wearing Muggle clothing. Titus shook his head and reached for the cap in his pocket. He put it back on, transforming his clothes into the oversized T-shirt and athletic shorts from earlier.
"I'm not the first person you've watched linger awkwardly at a gathering, am I?"
"I guess not. But they're usually girls I'm looking for an opening to talk to..." Titus responded with a laugh. "Doin' all right, Charles?"
@Silverbird
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