[Sarah Vorhees]

Sarah felt weird walking into the Leaky Cauldron. She always had. She felt like walking into the Leaky Cauldron was for wizards and witches only. She wasn't either. She was a dancer and a Squib. Which meant that there wasn't much for her talk about with the majority of the wizarding world. But that didn't stop her from trying.

Once a month, or more if it was absolutely necessary, Sarah went into Diagon Alley to gather supplies, hear some gossip and get an ice cream. Somehow, Fortescue's ice cream just tasted better which made it a real treat. Today she had bought some plants from the apothecary to make into her signature inks and some special parchment she couldn't get anywhere else. She had even considered getting some clothes but her budget was tight and wizarding clothing it seemed, always cost more.

Sitting down in the Leaky Cauldron, Sarah ordered a Butterbeer and picked up a stray Daily Prophet that was lying on her table. The headline blared something about the Minister of Magic but Sarah could care less. She wasn't a news person, although she occasionally did watch the news at her apartment.

Even though Sarah didn't deal well with talking to the wizarding world, she still wished someone would come and sit down, have a conversation with her.

[Margot Blanchard]

"Now really, Rudolph! Please stay here," Margot begged. "I've got to try something."

Rudolph didn't say anything, but she got the distinct impression that he would have been sticking his tongue out at her, if only he had one. She hadn't told anyone about the little experiment she had planned, but once she'd told Rudolph that she was leaving the Alley for a bit he seemed to have guessed what she wanted to do.

She couldn't get into the Alley on her own; at least, she hadn't been able to before her stint in Purgatory. She'd seen how it was done, of course. What she didn't know was whether or not the stones had to be tapped by a wand or just tapped. If all it took was a tap, with something solid or with some kind of energy, then she would be able to open the brick wall herself. She was determined to try it. It was a conflicted decision, of course. Part of her felt like every step towards independence in the magical world was a step away from Atlas; but she comforted herself with the thought that she wasn't breaking away from him, she was simply equalizing them.

Tonight was the first chance she had to get away for a bit and try it. Atlas was out at the club doing morality scans, and she knew he may very well be at it for hours. That meant that she'd have time to leave and try a couple of different things, and that even if she got stuck she may be able to get one of her other friends to let her in before he came home, and she'd never have to tell him. Not that she thought'd he'd disapprove...this was just something she wanted to figure out on her own. Atlas had a lot on his mind at the moment.

Rudolph was the only problem. She needed to find something to do with him. His jaw was set the way it was whenever he was intent on doing something whether she wanted him to or not. She shook her head at him. He crossed his arms defiantly, which did very little except shake his bones loose. His forearms came apart, individual bones clattering to the ground. Margot laughed, an idea suddenly coming to her. She detached his hands and feet from his limbs and carried them up to her room. She stashed them in her sock drawer, then came back downstairs, smirking triumphantly at Rudolph, who now sat digit-less on the sofa.

"Try following me now," she said. She blew him a kiss and left, checking the door before she walked on. It was locked again. Atlas had designed special security features, and even though the doorknob recognized her hand, more was required to open it. Satisfied that the SHOP was safe, she headed to the Leaky Cauldron. Unfortunately, it was too busy for her to have the brick wall to herself. People were going in and out, jostling the small American girl as she moved through them. Margot sighed--at least she had plenty of time--and walked nervously into the pub to sit and wait for it to clear out a bit.

She looked around hesitantly, wary of sitting with someone lest they try to engage her in conversation. Her fake Squib papers were authentic enough for most people, but her knowledge of the wizarding world was still pretty poor, and she didn't need to get into any interrogations tonight. She spotted a young woman sitting by herself and looking just as wary of the wizarding folk as Margot. Taking a leap (mostly because she couldn't just stand there) she got herself a butterbeer from the bar and went over to the woman's table.

"Hi there," she said. "Mind if I join you?" She looked around and smiled nervously but genuinely at the other woman. "I'm not really the pub type, you know? I'm just--waiting for something," she added.

[Sarah Vorhees]

Sarah looked up, surprised when a small woman enterred the Cauldron. Somehow, something was different about her. Sarah didn't know what made her look up, however, she was pretty sure she saw the woman carrying Squib papers. Eyes returning to her butterbeer, Sarah kept her head lowered slightly. She didn't want to appear rude by staring.

But then the woman joined her.

"Hi there," she said. "Mind if I join you?"

"Sure. Throw the Prophet over on the other table if you'd like." Muggle like clothes... it was a Saturday so most people weren't at work and that meant robes. Sarah still couldn't understand why anyone found robes good looking. Then again, this was coming from the girl who practically lived in a leotard in a past life.

"I'm not really the pub type, you know? I'm just--waiting for something," she added.

Sarah smiled, deciding to go out on a limb. "It seems the entire Wizarding World is pub-folk. Personally, I only come maybe once a month. I don't live like most witches." It was a clue if the woman wanted it.

"I'm Sarah."

Curiosity was starting to get the best of her so Sarah played with the butterbeer bottle. "So what brought you here if you're not a pub person?"

[Margot Blanchard]

"Sure. Throw the Prophet over on the other table if you'd like."

Relieved, Margot slid into the chair. She gladly tossed the paper aside, not even looking at it. If she saw another article from Carmen Snidgeton about Will Channing's so-called ineptitude or Jasper and the Robards woman, she would lose it. She'd been almost religious in her reading of the Prophet for a long time, just out of an attempt to learn and familiarize herself with the world she now lived in, but after awhile it had just become too much. Knowing the people being written about was hard too, because she knew that everything printed was speculation, assumption, or just downright incorrect.

"It seems the entire Wizarding World is pub-folk. Personally, I only come maybe once a month. I don't live like most witches."

"I know what you mean," Margot said. "When I got here from the States it seemed to me that all of England was pub-folk." She chuckled and took a sip from her butterbeer. It was strange to think of how long she'd been here when she still remembered her first day so clearly. She'd only been in London a few hours before she met Atlas, but she'd passed so many pubs and drinking establishments in her sight-seeing that she had frankly been surprised to find Atlas sober.

"I'm Margot. I don't live like most witches either," she said, guessing at Sarah's meaning and comforted by the fact that she probably wouldn't want to talk about the wizarding world. Maybe we can talk about something normal, Margot thought, but that was a laugh too. Nothing about Margot's non-magical life was normal, either.

"So what brought you here if you're not a pub person?"

Margot hesitated to answer, her face blank and her eyes on her bottle. She couldn't tell the truth, because then she'd have to explain everything: that she was a Muggle, not even a Squib, but a medium who'd been trapped in Purgatory because of a curse that she didn't fully understand...no, she couldn't go into all of that. She felt bad lying to someone she'd just met, but at the same time it was probably better for both of them.

"I'm meeting someone, but he's always late," Margot said simply. "Why do you only come once a month?"

[Sarah Vorhees]

"I know what you mean," Margot said. "When I got here from the States it seemed to me that all of England was pub-folk."

"You're from the States? I've always wanted to go. I was suppose to go with my company," Sarah paused, correcting herself, "dance company, on a tour of the United States. We were suppose... I guess, they did, tour the major cities and perform. Where in the States are you from?" Sarah thought, wistfully almost, about how she could be dancing across the world, catching flowers (okay, they really didn't do that), killing her feet and enjoying every moment of it. But the stress fractures were stopping her...

Sarah watched the young woman, with a small smile. She seemed interesting and kind enough. Then again, Sarah wasn't a very good judge of character.

"I'm meeting someone, but he's always late," Margot said simply. "Why do you only come once a month?"

"I'm a Squib," Sarah explained simply, "I live outside of Diagon Alley, own a shop there, went to dance around there... I've just never had much of a need to come around here. Except, one a month I need to restock certain supplies for my shop. It's hard to find the things in the Muggle world."

Sarah sipped her butterbeer, eyes wandering around the bar. "So... what's your favorite candy?"

[Margot Blanchard]

"I guess, they did, tour the major cities and perform. Where in the States are you from?"

"I'm from Pennsylvania. The northeastern US," Margot said. She remembered her isolated childhood in the mountains with mixed feelings. It hurt her relationship with her parents and her ability to socialize with people her own age, but at the same time, taking her unusual abilities into consideration, it had probably been the best place for her to get a handle on what she was. She doubted that she would have found a way to deal with it in a populous place, and she certainly wouldn't have been able to avoid suspicions of insanity as well as she had.

"You used to be a dancer?" she asked, remembering the first part of Sarah's statement. "Touring companies are pretty professional, aren't they?" Margot didn't know much about dance, but when people said they were dancers or singers or actors she always assumed that it was amateur, a hobby. But if Sarah had been in an English dance company that had gone to the States, that meant it was probably legitimate. "Why did you stop dancing?" she asked, hoping it wasn't a sore or awkward subject.

"I'm a Squib. I've just never had much of a need to come around here. Except, one a month I need to restock certain supplies for my shop. It's hard to find the things in the Muggle world."

"Ah," Margot said, nodding. "I'm a Squib too, but I live here with a friend above his SHOP." She was getting sort of used to identifying herself as a Squib. It usually didn't come up in conversation, but she practiced it a lot in her head, especially when she was preparing to go out into the wizarding crowd. "What kind of shop do you have?" she asked, wondering what sort of Muggle world shop could need magical supplies, even if it was run by a Squib.

"So... what's your favorite candy?"

Margot blinked for a second, then laughed. It was such a random question! "Honestly I don't know," she said, smiling apologetically. "I don't really eat candy. I'm extra sensitive to sweet things, I guess. It was always just too sugary for me." The real reason was that some ghosts brought sickeningly sweet smells with them, so Margot had gotten into the habit early of avoiding sweets. "What's yours?"

[Sarah Vorhees]

"You used to be a dancer?" she asked, remembering the first part of Sarah's statement. "Touring companies are pretty professional, aren't they?"

"Yes, and yes. Touring companies are very professional. They're insane. My family, if they cared, should have been happy I got out. They have crazy hours and we rarely got a break. But," Sarah added this with all honesty, "I love it. I miss it."

"Why did you stop dancing?" she asked

Sarah exhaled, closing her eyes for a moment. She had brought it up after all. She just hadn't realized how much she missed the dancing life until she had brought it up. "I had stress fractures on both of my ankles - all that pointe. Magical treatments don't really work on me so I had to make a decision - I could keep dancing for maybe a year before I would have to stop permanently. Instead, I own a shop, my sister's old place, and dance for fun. It's not the best solution, but I'm enjoying it for now."

"What kind of shop do you have?"

"It's a stationary shop. I sell ink, pens, speciality parchment... notebooks, things like that. It's quiant and small. I get a mixed cliental - half wizarding world, half Muggles."

"Honestly I don't know," she said, smiling apologetically. "I don't really eat candy. I'm extra sensitive to sweet things, I guess. It was always just too sugary for me." "What's yours?"

"I love these peanut butter balls my mum makes. It's peanut butter and sugar, rolled into a ball and then dipped into chocolate. She calls them buckeyes." Sarah smiled in memory. "I haven't had them in ages."

"Your turn for a random question."

[Margot Blanchard]

This woman seemed very nostalgic for her dancing days. It was evident in the way her tone of voice changed, the sigh she released. Of course, her feelings showed themselves to Margot in less observable ways as well. She squinted and leaned forward a tiny bit. How odd. When Sarah spoke about dancing, she appeared to blur a tiny bit. When Margot looked closer, she saw that there was a barely discernible cloud of energy around her: an aura. Margot knew of them, certainly, knew they were changeable. She'd felt them before, when they were strong, but she'd never been able to see one before.

She kept herself from frowning visibly, but her heart sank a little bit. Something else, another side effect of her stint in Purgatory? Atlas would be even more worried. He was already a little bit wary of her using the spirit entourage she had to do small "spells." He was convinced that there was some kind of binding contract that they didn't understand being written each time she did. This side effect, if that's what it was, seemed more harmless, but what would she do if it got worse? She felt a little bit like she was becoming too open to other people, other energies. What if becoming a stronger conduit meant losing more of herself? Instinctively, she pulled back from Sarah and crossed her arms.

"Stationary? That's interesting," Margot said. "I guess it's sort of specialty for the Muggles, isn't it? You don't get a lot of paper correspondence or journaling these days, with the Internet and everything."

"I haven't had them in ages. Your turn for a random question."

"We had buckeyes at home. I never had them homemade though," she said. A random question? Margot wasn't good at this. She didn't have conversations with people very often; even these days she only talked to Atlas, occasionally Jasper or the Sinistras if they visited or if Rudolph went wandering. Feeling foolish, she asked, "Why did you choose stationary?"

[Sarah Vorhees]

"Stationary? That's interesting," Margot said. "I guess it's sort of specialty for the Muggles, isn't it? You don't get a lot of paper correspondence or journaling these days, with the Internet and everything."

"Definitely, it's a speciality. But there are some things you just can't say through the internet. I use email myself for business but I won't write thank you notes on anything else. The wizarding world, despite their great innovations, still tend to be a bit arcaic when it comes to paper. It keeps me in business so I can't complain."

Sarah only observed after the occurence, that the woman crossed her arms. She looked concerned for some reason. Sarah didn't want to press the woman to ask her what was wrong, although, it came out before the filter came up. "Are you okay?"

If Sarah was more intuitive, she might have noticed the woman sitting across from her didn't ask like a regular Squib. But Sarah was naive - she trusted people easily and tried to be personable to everyone - a downfall to some.

"Why did you choose stationary?"

Sarah smiled. "Dancing is so, so physically demanding. I needed a break from practices and so, I'd journal. I was so relaxed by it that, when I had to stop dancing I wanted other people to have the same experience, that same release of energy onto a page. Dancing with Words is that product, I guess."