Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or the Marvel Cinematic Universe. All recognisable characters, content, or locations belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.
Part One: In the Dark, I Can Hear Your Heartbeat
Chapter Two:
After her visit to the shops, Thalia returns to the apartment building with arms laden down with groceries. A man approaches the front doors at the same time, tall, and handsome, with broad shoulders and an easy, charming smile. He holds one of the doors open for her, and once they're both inside, he offers to carry her bags upstairs.
"That's kind of you," Thalia acknowledges, "But I'm quite all right, thank you."
"May I walk with you, then?" He flicks his gaze towards the narrow stairs, and adds wryly, "I think we're heading in the same direction."
Thalia gives a brief shrug, approaches the staircase in question, and acquiesces, "If you insist."
"My name is James," he informs her, "Most people call me Bucky, though."
They come to a stop near the foot of the first staircase, and James absently tugs off his cap with a sigh. His hair is damp, a dark shade of brown that curls at the ends, and James is actually quite young. Around her age, perhaps, with the shadow of a beard along his jaw, and eyes a startling, pale shade of blue. They're almost grey, even, with a darker ring of blue around the edge of his irises, and Thalia can't say she's ever seen eyes like them.
"Thalia," she answers. He seems bemused by it, and Thalia's smile is wry. It's not a common name - except maybe in Greece - and among the non-magical population of the 1920's and 1930's, she's received her fair share of attention for it. "It's from Greek Mythology."
"Interesting," James acknowledges. He gestures for her to walk up ahead of him, and Thalia does so in silence, "And you're new around here?"
"I am," she confirms, "I've just moved in with my brother."
"Welcome to New York, then. How are you liking it?"
"I only arrived this morning, so I haven't seen much, but I can't complain. Have you always lived here?"
"All my life," James confirms, "Brooklyn born and raised."
"I suppose you know all the interesting places to visit, then."
Thalia comes to a stop at the landing of her floor, and James halts himself at the stairs continuing upwards. He's shoved his hands into the front pockets of his trousers, his cap firmly back on his head, and there's a smile on his face, charming and suggestive in one fell swoop.
This boy's trouble, it seems.
"I suppose you'd be right, Ma'am."
"Maybe I'll ask you to show me around sometime, then."
James' eyes flash with interest. "I'd be glad to be of service."
"I bet," Thalia smirks. She takes a step towards Marius' apartment, "For now, though, I'd best get these groceries inside. It was a pleasure meeting you, James."
"Likewise, Ma'am."
Thalia retreats into the flat, unsurprised to find that Marius has already returned. She'd taken her time at the shops, deciding what meal to prepare, fussing over the ingredients she would need to do so, exploring what else the grocer, butcher, and general store had to offer. She'd also taken her time in getting to the store, visiting the other shops along the way, browsing their wares and speaking with the proprietors. She'd therefore given Marius plenty of time to leave and then return, and prompt as he has always been, Marius does not disappoint.
"I was wondering if I'd have to go looking for you," Marius greets her. He takes the shopping bags from her hands, and leads the way into the kitchen, "How did it go?"
"Uneventfully," Thalia answers, "We're having roast beef for dinner. Do you mind?"
"So long as I reserve the right not to eat it if it turns out inedible," Marius answers.
Thalia rolls her eyes. "Because you're so confident in my skills, you can clean the kitchen once we're done eating."
Marius pulls a face, but he doesn't argue. It may be that he's spent the last seven years in a society that still believes a woman's place is solely as a housekeeper, but he was raised in a culture wherein women have been afforded the same respect as men for generations. As such, he knows better than to expect Thalia to take up all of the housekeeping around their flat.
He knows even better not to risk her ire. Thalia has enough respect for herself, for others, and for magic not to hex people over trivial matters and petty grievances, but she has a temper, and she has no qualms about letting others know - loudly, creatively, and/or calmly - when, how, and why they've irked her.
"Do you need any help?" Marius looks like he regrets asking.
"No," Thalia denies, "But if you'd like to set the table…?"
Her brother does so, and then hesitantly wanders over to the living area. He plays an album on his record player, an American singer Thalia - justifiably - doesn't recognise. The music is typical of the era though, big band accompaniments, a catchy beat, a rhythm to dance to.
Thalia, personally, could do without the lyrics. They are usually a blatant reminder of the 1930's social mores regarding women, and in particular, the expectations of them as wives, and lovers, and what have you. As such, they never fail to irritate her beyond reason, and Thalia doesn't have it in her to spend her life angry.
It helps that Thalia knows things will improve in time. The gender gap hasn't been completely abolished by the mid 2000's - when she'd died - but at least in the western world, it is far better than what it is in the 1930's.
As Marius busies himself with his newspapers - The New York Times, and the New York Ghost, - Thalia prepares their dinner. She has to retrieve a lot of the cookware she'd brought from London to do so, and in doing so, she wonders, incredulously and out loud, what on Earth her brother has been eating for the last seven years.
"I've boiled things, mostly," Marius explains, "Sometimes I'll have dinner out, but mostly I just boiled potatoes, vegetables, chicken."
"Gods, just when I think I can't hate them more for what they did," Thalia grouses, "They're horrible people who should have been sterilised at birth."
"You shouldn't hate them, Lia," Marius sighs wearily, his eyes on his book. Thalia opens her mouth to protest, but he continues before she can, "They're not worth that sort of effort."
Thalia shuts her mouth then, her lips pursed in displeasure, and wordlessly proceeds with preparing their dinner. She can't argue with that kind of logic.
-!- -#-
Eventually, she serves their meal. Marius carves up the roast, Thalia serves the corn, potatoes, and assorted vegetables. She distributes the gravy, Marius pours them each a glass of red wine, and they settle in to eat with only the sound of Marius' record player between them.
"It's good, Lia," Marius compliments, and offers her a sheepish smile, "I'm sorry for doubting you."
"Thank you, and you're forgiven. I'm glad you like it."
"Do you think Dorea will be spoiling her new husband like this?"
Thalia tries to picture it, and laughs. Dorea's confident, and independent, and effortlessly classy in a way Thalia will never be, but she's never thought much of manual labour, and not even Charles Potter can change that.
"Not likely."
"Thank Merlin for house elves, I suppose?" Marius quips.
Thalia hums her agreement. "Something like that."
"How was the wedding, anyway? I received the invite, but…"
But Marius lives an ocean away, and he doesn't have the option of port-key travel to get to Britain promptly. Moreover, he's been disowned and disinherited from the House of Black, and to make an appearance at Dorea's wedding would have caused an absurd amount of drama among the family.
On Dorea and Charles' special day, he wouldn't have abided by it. Not for anything in the world.
"It was a beautiful wedding. I have pictures. Would you like to see them?"
"Of course," Marius replies, "I'd love to. After dinner?"
Thalia nods her acquiescence, and returns to her meal. Marius does the same, and between conversation regarding Thalia's thoughts of Brooklyn thus far, Marius' job with Stark Industries, his studies at NYU and Thalia's plans to start Nursing, Midwifery and Medi-Witch training, the time flies, their meal comes to an end, and Marius is harrying her towards her room, eager to see the pictures, and also to chase her out of the kitchen so he can clean in peace.
Thalia acquiesces, laughing, and she can't remember when she'd last felt so free.
She prays the feeling stays.