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April, 1927
"A BEER BOTTLE, SERIOUSLY?"
Circe stares at the portkey that is meant to take her and Theseus to Prague. After Minerva's visit and the tip from Dumbledore, Circe informed Theseus that they might get a chance to get close to some of Grindelwald's acolytes in Prague. Theseus did not hesitate to organise a portkey for them to be taken to Czechoslovakia within the next 24 hours.
"A beer bottle. Seriously."
Theseus nods, clearing his throat as he takes a step toward the brown bottle of Muggle beverage. To be honest, Circe has had beer before, and she didn't find it appalling, but she still prefers butterbeer and firewhiskey over it. Vodka or wine or scotch are an utterly different matter, however.
"When does it leave?" Circe asks, staring at the empty glass bottle.
"Five minutes."
"Great. So we have time to talk about that dejected look on your face," Circe says, pointing at Theseus' face and the frown on his lips. "What's got your wand in a knot? Is it because the tip is from Dumbledore?"
Theseus sighs and shakes his head. "No, it has nothing to do with Dumbledore," he replies. "The only person who's afraid of Dumbledore and what he might do is Travers," he points out, although Circe doesn't need an explanation.
"Then why do you look like somebody killed your cat?"
"Why are you so invested in how I'm feeling?" Theseus raises a curious brow at the Dalton woman. "You've never cared about my feelings before."
"Well, we weren't friends before, were we?" Circe replies, shutting the Scamander wizard up. He gapes at her in shock, blinking several times as he processes the sentence that left Circe's mouth.
"Friends?"
"Fine. I take it back. I don't care anymore."
"No, no, no," Theseus says, shaking his head. He looks at Circe, still taken aback by the fact that she has begun considering him a friend. "I'm just— it's— it's unexpected."
