Closed It Was Inevitable

[Monty Pendleton]

The evening had been lovely, as usual. In fact, Monty was inclined to say it had been more lovely than usual. He enjoyed going out to dinner with Rupert, and still did so every few months, but the man’s suggestion to start dining at each other’s houses had been most welcome. It was less expensive, and, well, more private. Rupert was liable to be recognised in any magical establishment and Monty was rather conscious that they had been spending a lot of time together lately. There was nothing going on - they were only good friends - but Monty didn’t like to invite rumours if he could help it. They could both do without them.

Rupert was in the kitchen and Monty had been left to his own devices for a moment. This was seldom a good idea. Wine in one hand, he stood up, drawn over by a strong curiosity to a glass cabinet in the corner of the room. It was full of all sorts of interesting things. Small, ancient books, carved wooden figurines, strange metal instruments - Monty only had a vague idea of each item’s origin. Whatever their original purpose, they seemed to serve now mostly as decoration. Behind the cabinet, several framed photographs and diagrams hung on the wall. He tried to decipher some Latin. He wasn’t very good at it.

Perhaps it was the wine, or perhaps it was inevitable, but a very mischievous idea came to him. He wandered out to the kitchen, putting on his most serious face. “Rupert,” he said, “why do you have a picture of me?” He tipped his head toward the hall. Goodness, he was fantastic at this. Being Arvo’s best friend had given him a lot of time to perfect his poker face. He was sure he looked genuinely troubled. “In the dining room.”

 

[Rupert Cresswell]

Rupert was a patient man in most elements of his life, but that had never been the case for his romantic entanglements before. All of his previous dalliances could best be described as a race to the good bit, so to speak, and as time passed he was finding himself more and more out of his depth when it came to his relationship with Monty. It was an unexpectedly delightful feeling; to spend years getting to know someone on such a deep level, making space for one another as they were, without a hurry to reach some predetermined milestone. Whatever they were to one another it was special, and that meant more than any of the conquests he had previously valued so, making them look petty and meaningless by comparison.

So Rupert had long since set aside any inclination that dinner at home may mean more than dinner at home - dinner at home was a special event all of its own, and Rupert found himself consumed by anticipation for each one as they came. Tonight's meal had been an excellent one, and Rupert had stepped aside a moment after the fact to handle the dishes, before the pair of them would no doubt retire to the parlour for brandy and conversation. He was making quick work of the task, plates shedding their water and returning to their places with a final flick of his wand.

He was just closing the cupboard when Monty entered the room, blinking in confusion at the man's unexpected question. "A picture of you?" He asked warily, quickly running a mental inventory of the house. He didn't keep all that many cursed items around given the nature of his current employment, though there were a few odds and sods from the old days lying around, as well as a couple of pieces he had picked up recently to assist in Lysander's training. He couldn't recall any frame that might project a person's image on it though, and he frowned slightly in concern. "I'm not sure what that might be..." He said, one hand on his wand as he made his way through to the dining room. Had he really been so foolish as to forget some cursed item lying around in the dining room of all places?

 

[Monty Pendleton]

Monty maintained the facade all the way back to the dining room, where he beckoned Rupert toward the picture frames. “I’m absolutely mortified, Rupert,” he said. “I’ve clearly just stepped out of the bath. I mean - look.” Stopping by the cabinet, Monty pointed to the accused photo. It was, in fact, a picture of a very wrinkly mandrake. To be fair, there was a resemblance - especially around the chins. Monty turned a theatrically displeased look upon his friend. “Explain?”