Teatime in a Timely Manner

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The door to dungeon creaked open with an unhurried groan as a cold drift of air coiled its way into the room like a curious serpentine figure. Samuel Reinhard Sauber stepped through it, a line of posh cutlery and porcelain teacups gliding silently behind him in a precise arrangement, levitating. The items shimmered slightly under the dim sconces, each piece a muted silver or crisp ivory, sharp and with order.

He, too, was far less formal now, if only marginally. His previous clothes had been replaced by a pressed white shirt and black slack, neat, unwrinkled but clearly softer in presentation than his usual ensemble, that too with his hair down. The sleeves were rolled to the mid-forearm, exposing a sharp wristwatch an veins that ran like ink did over parchment pages. His tinted glasses remained obscuring his gaze as he crossed into the room and surveyed his office.

Desislava had already found herself a place on one of the worktables, comfortably dressed and visibly at ease. A thermos sat beside her along with an elegant, blue and silver tea kit. It looked arranged with care, more emotional than practical he assumed. The scent of ginger, cranberry and orange peel was already present in the air.

"You're early," he observed simply, his voice remained as poised and cool as always, though lacking it's typical edge. He paused beside her, taking in the details of her tea kit without comment, though his gaze lingered for a moment far longer than etiquette typically permitted. "I had anticipated a ten minute margin, at least."

The hovering cutlery set itself down onto the adjacent table at his gesture, arranging into perfect order without so much as a sound. He lifted a narrow box from within the stack and opened it, revealing an array of delicate biscuits; lavender, lemon, almond and a more obscure black sesame variant.

"Snacks?" he offered with the flat tone of someone stating a fact rather than performing hospitality. "I was uncertain of your preferences, so I acquired a spread sufficient enough to ensure I would not need to try again."

With a snap of his fingers, a column of thick books materialized upon his desk, hard bound, handwritten and some visible weathering apparent on them. The oldest among them had no title upon it's spine. Only a scrawled numerical tag and a band of worn leather to bind it shut. They landed one by one in a clean column with a soft thud.

He turned slightly to face her, folding his hands behind his back with practiced habit. "I've brought several works in progress here," he said. "Two pertain to interspecies magical exchanges, one of environmental fluctuation and systemic triggers in freshwater colonies, and the bottom two are about developing comparative models between magical and non-magical territorial beings and their behaviours."

There were several more manuscripts, more than he could list out. Some of these included but were not limited to Magical Surveillance via Ingestibles, Potion Tracking via Signature Enchantments, Suppressants for Wandless Magic, Cross-School Alchemical Theory, Blending Eastern potion theory with Western traditions, Theoretical Frameworks for Magic Classification : Proposing stricter taxonomies of spell and potion types., Legal Loopholes in Magical Substance Control, Magical Immunology, Potion-Biome Interaction, Unforgivable Curses: Residual Traces, Cognitive Degradation in Spellcasters, Magical Pharmacology, Advanced Antidote Theory. But ultimately he decided, none of these concerned Desi and thus chose to keep them away from her eyes.

A beat passed as the faint aroma of her tea mix still drifted through the air, strong, assertive and slightly nostalgic in a way he would never admit aloud.

"Where would you like to begin?" he asked, voice interested and no longer neutral.

He didn't sit immediately. Instead he approached the teapot she had prepared, lifting it and turning it subtly in his hand. The craftsmanship was delicate, impractical for a man like him, but he wasn't a man without aesthetic appeal. He poured himself a modest cup without request, nodding once towards the blend. Taking a careful sip, he lowered the cup, lips pressing into a thin line, not of quiet disapproval but of thought.

"Cranberry, ginger, cirtrus," he talked to himself. "Balanced, not unexpectedly complex. I would not have chosen it, but it is not unpleasant either."

A pause.

He glanced at her, with a faintly amused edge that barely tugged at the corner of his mouth.

He finally took his seat opposite her, his back straight as a wand shaft.

"Show me where your methodology begins to conflict with mine," he said. "Let’s not waste time on what we already agree upon."

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Date: 04/2025| Time: Afternoon | CC:#5B8899

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"I apologize for my early arrival. I am a punctual person. I err on the side of caution and arrive early where I can. Next time I will simply be 'on-time.' Desislava apologizes as she resituates herself on the table. She watched as Samuel set down a box which when open, revealed his cbiscuit collection. The spread was quite interesting and she noticed that there seemed to be a lavender scent wafting from the tin. She did enjoy flowery flavored items and when Samuel offered for her to partake, she nimbly reached for the lavender looking one.

"Thank you." She smiled and pushed a strand of her still wet hair out of her face.

Desislava smiled gently as Samuel next presented her with the research he had promised that she could look over. It was a large stack that he had brought out but he only handed her one or two of the stack bound parchments that he had in his bundle. She looked over the titles of his worked and nodded with an amused tone.

He allowed her to think about where she would like to start in terms of discussion. She liked the idea of discussing something related to the freshwater ecosystems seeing as this is how they met earlier in the day. She thumbed through the extensive selection of material that he had offered her and held up the manuscript that was based off a familiarity.

"I would like to look at this one. This seems to be most on topic for our current conversation." Desislava explained as she opened it up and began to read as she swirled her finger in the air, instructing the spoon in her teacup to swirl the tea. With a quick wave of her other hand, a sharp 'popping' sound occured as a small pot of honey appeared in front of her teacup. A spoon levitated itself into the honey pot and added a helping of honey to her tea all while she concentrated on the work and well manicured writing that Samuel had offered her.

"Fascinating... and- oh yes I see." She mumbled to herself as she took the spinning spoon out of her tea and sipped it cautiously. It was perfectly sweetened but didn't overpower the original taste of her tea.

They sat in a silence for a few moments, both reading over the others work. It was only interrupted by the sound of a rolling accent and the warm deep tone of greeting from the doorway. Desisalava peaked her eyes over what she was reading and saw a very rustic woman standing in the doorway with a platter of cookies and a goregous snake adorning her shoulders. The snake was gorgeous, the woman herself was gorgeous, and the ensemble of herself was the epitome of carried grace.

Desislava knew this was a woman of respect and she would only ever refer to her with the correct amount of respect.

The woman spoke with a heavy accent from somewhere Desislava had never visited and thus, she couldn't tell exactly where the dialect came from. But it sounded very similar to french as Bon soir was French for "Good Evening." Her limited understanding of French had her politely nodding to the woman and making a soft 'welcome' gesture into the moment she was sharing with Samuel.

It was no secret that the woman was pregnant and it seemed that she would do well to sit. In her hands, she brought a tray with an assortment of cookies. Well well well. Treats galore it seeemed.

"Ah прекрасно! Wonderful." She spoke gently as she watched the woman. "I am the new Divination Professor, Desislava Nenovsky. Удоволствиеa pleasure. You may call me Desi." she continued politely. It would do well to meet more of the staff around the school seeing as she knew almost nobody. Perhaps this woman could become a close friend within the staff and would be interested in her research as well.

"Tea?" was all Desislava said as she offered a seat to her.
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The room smelled of ginger and polished glasses all around, calm and herbal ingredients in the back. Samuel sat with stillness, one leg crossed precisely over the other, hand resting against the cool table while the other cradled a teacup. He leaned back, shoulders square and posture guarded but not hostile.

Desislava was, by all accounts, proving herself to be an articulate and detail oriented conversationalist. A punctual one too. When she'd apologized for her early arrival, Samuel had merely shaken his head and said in a measured voice, "Please do not misunderstand. You weren't early, you just came prepared. It is a quality I do not discourage."

Their conversation had wandered into freshwater ecosystems and the comparative anatomy of certain flora. A topic they'd begun discussing since their first fortunate meeting. Her eye for academic composition was, to Samuel's satisfaction, keen enough that she seemed as if she understood his notes and diagrams. Her magic, he assumed was equally efficient as well. The way she brewed her tea and conjured honey with no theatrical flair and just clean spellwork. He appreciated that.

They read in comfortable silence until the door gave a creaking groan, interrupted only by the jingle of jewelry and what Samuel's brain first catalogued as "clatter." His attention rose, crimson eyes scanning the entrance.

There, stood a woman, draped in various bracelets and whatnot with a serpent coiled like a ceremonial embroidery around her midsection. Her posture was purposeful yet not imposing. A calm face and lips curled into what he could only describe as calm caution. She wasn't faculty he had yet met, and her presence was anything but not spontaneous. The sort of visit that chose its own hour.

"Bonswa," she said in a melodious Kreyol accent.

Samuel stood without hesitation, clearing space for her to set her offerings down. His reply came in the same tongue; "Bonswa tou," He inclined his head, returning back to english. "Samuel Sauber, Potions Professor. A pleasure." His words carried the weight of civility within them, neither fawning nor cold; carefully weighed.

She hadn't introduced herself yet. That was fine, he was not one to prod.

He did not ask about the snake nor did he comment on her pregnancy. These were things one acknowledged through the act of not remarking upon them.

Instead, Samuel gestured towards the seat opposite Desi and Himself. "Please, join us. There's tea and you seem to have brought quite the accompaniment."

Desislava introduced herself, graceful and polished as ever. Samuel's gaze meanwhile flicked towards the tray and then to the woman's eyes.

"You've caught us mid-discussion," he continued, "though please feel free to join in and go through some of these should they interest you." As he gestured towards his pile of notes. None of these were ground breaking and so he didn't mind if another pair of eyes glanced over them.

"If I may ask," Samuel said, taking a clean sip of his tea, "in what capacity do you serve the school?"

There was no accusation in the question, just a smooth quiet interest. He did not assume her subject, rank or intent. He rarely ever did. It was a small discipline he carried from his days in enforcement: Never presume, only assess.

Her familiarity with the castle was self-evident. The chances of getting lost with a pitcher and trays was unlikely. Whether she had tenure or was another of the Board's strange appointments remained to be seen.

"I'm certain Professor Nenovsky here would be glad to learn more about you, Miss?"

The implication was subtle. Not a test, but not a mere pleasantry either.

He would extend courtesy. But Samuel's trust? That had to be earned.

And he'd seen enough of Hogwarts to know the more gracious an entrance, the more carefully one ought to watch the exit.

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Date: 04/2025| Time: Afternoon | CC:#5B8899

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Professor Toussaint, Sarai, had been very polite in her introduction of herself and the way she had brought offerings of cookies and milk. Desi smiled to herself as her sweet tooth took over and upon the official offering, her hand smoothly picked up one of them up and she took an encouraging bite.

"Divine. Thank you for your cookies." Desi spoke with a light air without taking her eyes off the passage she was reading. She didn't mean to not look the woman in her eyes, but this specific written passage was absolutely riveting and she worried that she would lose her place if she took her eyes away. When she had finished the passage for the moment, she put Samuel's work back down and turned her attention solely on the two others in front of her.

With the departure of Sarai's snake, Desi watched it leave with fascination. It seemed that Sarai had talked to the snake and it had understood. Was it true that Parseltongues still existed? She had thought the ability had died out years ago. Apparently it had not but it was still rather interesting to hear. She'd never heard such a language before in all her time exploring languages which interested her in more ways than one.

"Ah, a Parselmouth. Very intriguing. Your speech pattern is quite exquisite. I am a collector of languages myself but this one remains elusive to me. Of course I am not a carrier for the ability." Desislava explained with a smile as she took a sip of her tea. "Your snake is gorgeous, what is it's name?"

Desislava didn't have any pets that she had brought with her to Hogwarts. Except her stain glass manatees that floated lazily in the classroom windows. They were a precious gift given to her from her father when she told him she would be teaching. Her father had always hoped that perhaps she would give up her Mermaid excursions in search of a real job. Hogwarts had appeased him enough to craft her stainglass.

Yet here she was, communicating with her fellow coworkers about their own research and their abilities to comprehend language. Funny how things always seemed to work out for most everyone in the end.

Looking at Sarai, it was no secret that the woman was heavily pregnant. There was a curve to the front of her body that could only be defined as a pregnancy that was prominently on display. Desislava had no knowledge of exactly how complicated it was to undergo a process of carrying a baby or babies, but she did know that it was to some degree the happiest thing to some people.

Historically, she knew that in the Eastern countries, it was popular for prospective and future parents to seek out the help of a naming Seer, or perhaps a Seer in general to get a slightly forseen view of their children. Hey Great Grandfather had been such a Seer and he had predicted at least ten accurate predictions about people in her hometown. Perhaps Sarai would accept an offer to give her own insight.

"What adorable babies. They have strong heartbeats and an intertwined soul." Desislava mused quietly.
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Tea Time

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Samuel had remained quiet through much of the ongoing interaction between him and the professors. Not out of rudeness; no. He simply found introductions to be the most unreliable of conversations to be ever held. People wore masks in first meetings, crafted from whatever image they desperately wanted others to see. A polite tone, a small smile, a compliment here or there. Rarely, if truly ever, did any of it reflect the depth of what truly lay beneath their initial façade.

The scent of sugar and cinnamon had crept in before she did, subtle and warm; a strange contrast to the sterile tang of sanitizer that soon followed the departure of her abdomen coiling snake. He lifted the faintest of a brow at the well-timed entrance and neatly conjured presentation she had brought. Someone raised with social graces, then.

A woman who understood the subtleties of first impressions, who entered a room bearing gifts, to buy a moment of good faith. Samuel wasn’t opposed to such strategy. In fact, he respected it. After all, wasn’t that what most people were doing at all times? Negotiating space. Building Influence, affection, reputation, connections.

Still, when she spoke Kreyòl, his ears perked up, even if he did not let it show. He hadn’t heard it spoken that cleanly in years outside of a few brief encounters in the field and from his acquaintance in the ministry.

To Samuel, Desislava seemed far more effusive in her greeting. The way she responded to the boa’s departure and Sarai’s linguistic abilities was certainly a curious and enthusiastic showing. Her mind was a library of languages and cultural trivia, and Samuel had learned to appreciate her ability to find fascination where others might feel unease.

Parseltongue wasn’t something that impressed his mind. He considered it a language, like any other, and believed it came with its own uses and limitations. However, the way she spoke it so casually, almost elegantly, did say something about her command of herself and the serpentines. And without a break, Desi, true to what grasp Samuel had identified of her nature, was already reading into the children that were yet to be born.

Intertwined souls, strong heartbeats. Samuel looked between them with quiet detachment as he sipped his tea.

"An intertwined soul," as Desi had said, of Sarai’s unborn children. Samuel didn’t consider it necessary to add a comment. He was too busy turning the words over in his mind.

The idea of soul that were bound together by fate itself was an old one. Some cultures believed twins were one soul split into two bodies. Others thought the sharing of womb left them with psychic threads, strings that could tug at one another across several oceans. He had studied enough myths and folklore to recall them, but none left him with comfort.

The romanticization of fate often struck him as a defense mechanism for those who understood they were much too minute to fight against the pre-woven threads of fate, perhaps this was their attempts at believing the certain to be uncertain, delude themselves to believe in their false bravado and sense of control.

He inclined his head in a nod, slightly, when she praised the collection kept on one of the tables. Though a small part of him itched to correct her. The library’s version of Potion-Biome Interaction would never be as thorough as his own notes. This copy was annotated with his own marginalia, dense as printed footnotes. He doubted the library copy would be half as useful for her. But he kept that piece of information to himself. People as he had come to find in early childhood, disliked being corrected when they were being complimentary. Besides, the usefulness of Sarai Toussaint to him remained to be seen.

When she asked how they were adjusting to the school, Samuel gave a small, short exhale; barely audible.

He folded his arms loosely, gaze trailing over the rim of his mug.

"It's been Well enough," he said. "The rhythm here is far more structured and predictable. I appreciate that change. My previous post was more volatile with scheduling issues and lack of personal time."

He leaned back slightly in his chair.

"Someone did set my office on fire in the very first few days of my arrival," he added matter-of-factly, "but on the bright side, I did not need to justify a renovation."

His tone remained even, unbothered, as if arson were simply part of the onboarding process, much to their unknown knowledge, Arson was among some of the tamer conditions Samuel had previously dealt with. In addition, in a school like Hogwarts, he expected most who were present, had a knack for drama.

He continued, "my workload is far more easier to manage here. In my last post, there were no clear hours." he sighed, "Here, at least, evenings are mine."

And they truly were. Whether he filled them with research, writing, or simply time left blissfully unclaimed, it was a freedom he had not known in quite some years.

He studied Sarai for a moment longer as she shifted in her seat, one hand resting on her belly. He had seen the signs before, pregnancy worn not as a burden, but as armor. A kind of grace-through-discipline that some women wore when they’d already made peace with the world seeing them as mothers before seeing them as anything else.

"Congratulations," he offered, quietly but sincerely. "On the children."

It was the polite thing to say. But truthfully, he did not understand the appeal of children, parentage or family.

Samuel had never wanted one. Parenthood required more than provision. It required patience, self-sacrifice, and emotional transparency of the absolute degree from the parents. None of which came easily to him. His own childhood for the most part had been a ledger of expectations and punishments, his parents were more interested in outcomes than outward affection.

He had no desire to perpetuate that cycle, nor any delusion that he could simply "do better". Despite what he would tell another, he simply did not feel or understood how to do better, some cycles were best broken by omission.

Still, the world needed people who did want such things. It needed people who believed in forging bonds and tying fates together, even if he did not personally subscribe to the idea.

He lifted his cup again and took another sip before finally speaking once more, his tone level and inquisitive.

"You’ve been at Hogwarts longer than we have," he said, directing the question at Sarai now. "I assume you’ve got a better read on the faculty. Anyone to keep a measured distance from?"

His voice carried no gossip, no hunger for scandal. All one could hear from his voice was just the pragmatic detachment of someone who’d spent too long navigating complicated institutions. It wasn’t paranoia in his in mind, it was simply preparation.

"And, if you don’t mind sharing with us, what’s your experience been like as a professor here so far? I’ve found the students more disciplined than initially expected, though that might just be the novelty of term still lingering."

He didn’t offer a smile, but there was a hint of ease in his tone now, a willingness to actively engage the little crowd he had found.

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⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Date: 04/1/25 | Time: Afternoon | CC:#5B8899

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Sarai's question about wether Desislava was a Seer had her nodding slowly. It wasn't somethin she generally liked to share but given her new tenure as the Divination professor, it was like the word was painted across her forehead. She spent a great deal of time taking care of her appearance and remaining completely neutral about the world when it came to things that could potentially trigger visions.

Heck, she had been dying her hair for years- the ugly white color that dominated Seer identification was something she abhored and tried to keep away from her natural sandy blonde. Whenever someone found out about her abilities, it was a never ending cycle of requests for her to read their futures, or find a love match for them, or to predict a prophecy on command. No matter the way she explained it, or how often, she still always managed to be bombarded by the few who were ignorant and refused to understand her specifications on how Seer-isms worked.

Besides. She preferred not to use her abilities unless it was necessary. Though her family had been quite encouraging when she had applied for the Seer job here at Hogwarts on a whim and been accepted. She figured that with such a responsibility as the way to "see" meant that she needed to actually participate in her gifts. If that meant teaching ignorant children about their "sight" then so be it.

Perhaps she would be able to find a student or two who possesed a heavier prowess for the Sight that she could pass her musings and her experiences on to just as her Dukun had done for her when she was learning on the Isle.

"Yes I am a Seer. Though as I am sure you are aware, my Sight is not an on command ability. I am mostly hear to further my research of this castle's lake and it's subcategories of Merfolk. That is why I was meeting with Samuel in the first place." She smiled as she gestured to her manuscript that Samuel was still holding. "We were exchanging research preparation. Do you have any research you're working on or published as of late?" Desi asked with genuine curiosity.

As their conversation continued, Desislava laughed along with what Sarai was speaking about in terms of unruly students. Of course while it wasn't something that she should be promoting in her classroom but it was funny to hear about the students and their antics in general. However the fact that the professor tenures here weren't very long was disheartening. She didn't want to come into a place where the vibes were so off that people did not feel comfortable staying in.

This was her first teaching job, or anything even related to the profession. If it was something that was because of the staff environment then that was one thing- if it was because of the students then that was another.

But she put that from her mind as she continued to listen to Sarai talk about Hogwarts as a school and her experiences. Her snake -Badriyah-Abuk- while it had departed, still gave Desi a feeling as though it was watching from somewhere or other. A familiar was something she was familiar with but one who could commune with a creature in a way such as Sarai's and Badriyah-Abuk's way of speech was foreign and perplexing to her.

"Forgive me for asking, but how is it that you and your lovely companion are able to share such familiarity? I have never seen such abilities across my travels only heard of it. Parseltongue if I am correct? Or have I mistaken it?" Desi asked with her standard manner of speaking. Less analytical and more along the lines of genuine misunderstanding and confusion.

While she had seen and observed snakes before, she had never seen one so beautiful or almost individualistic as Sarai's company. She hoped that it wasn't anything too prying or crude to ask about.
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