An Interference of Portraits

Disaster in Dublin

Early evening on Thursday 19th July, Draco led me across Merrion Square in Dublin towards a collection of three statues.

'Are you alright with this?' he kept checking.

I sighed heavily, 'Draco, stop checking. I'll tell you if I'm not coping. This is fine. We're okay. I'm being left alone now. Just let's not go near a busy Irish pub again.'

'Okay,' he said quietly. 'Sorry,' he apologised again.

'Stop apologising,' I said flatly, trying not to give into the temptation of running my sweaty palms down my fancy navy suit. 'It wasn't exactly your fault. I should have just refused Aisling.'

I wasn't okay in the slightest. I was shaken and felt weakened by what had happened.

It hadn't been the best of ideas but Aisling Kelly was insistent she took us to experience Guinness and Oysters at The Temple Bar pub in central Dublin. I liked Aisling, she didn't hero worship me. And she showed no prejudices towards Draco. And most importantly, she had said 'absolutely' to the proposal for a Quidditch Home Nations Championship in November. All positives.

But then she had to go and mention The bloody Temple Bar. She said it was popular in the evenings and with live music from opening to closing. The place to be, especially for their fucking Guinness and Oysters. The taste of Ireland, she said. And she was determined that was what we should do and she would take us. I didn't have it in me to say no.

We'd arrived there early enough to escape the crowds but people started to flood in as the businesses started to finish for the day, and that was on top of the tourists already filling the venue. Popular was an understatement. Then someone recognised me and it became apparent that in Dublin no one cared for segregation between Muggles and Magical Kind as people crowded us and wanted to buy me drinks... did buy me drinks even though I declined. Everyone was so fucking friendly and wanted to talk to me and was crowding in on us. But it was so out of control and I could feel the claustrophobia closing in on me, to the point that my vision was beginning to tunnel because I could no longer see the door.

That was when Draco finally noticed the beads of sweat on my upper lip and my trembling fingers and he suddenly stood up, grabbed my arm, and said, 'apologies, Aisling, I didn't realise the time. We need to leave. We have an appointment across town. Share the drinks out.' He threw a fifty Irish pound note on the bar and told them to keep the change. It was a ridiculous amount of money.

He positively dragged me out of there and away from the Temple Bar area towards Trinity College and then the park.

'Why bring me here?' I said, dazed by how quickly the panic had enveloped me and still lingered at the edges. I just wanted to sit down and catch my breath. More than anything, I wanted to go home and hide.

'The statues.'

'And?' I said, feeling somewhat waspish.

'They commemorate the Irish author and poet Oscar Wilde. They were unveiled last year and I've wanted to see them ever since I read about them. This one...' we stopped in front of a statue of a man reclining on a large boulder, 'is the man himself. The sculpture of the woman over there is of his pregnant wife, Constance Lloyd. The bronze male torso over there represents Dionysus, the Greek God of drama and wine. And debauchery, depending on your source. It's representative of both sides of his life. The normative Victorian life he had to live and his gaze directed at the nude male torso.'

'Was he gay?'

He looked rather flamboyant and I wondered what my Mr Cargador would make of him. Was he a failed flamboyant or a successful one?

'You don't know about Oscar Wilde?'

I shrugged. 'Who's going to teach me anything about anything beyond what I learnt at Hogwarts or since. I don't know the first fucking thing about literature and wouldn't know where or what to point myself towards? My relatives certainly wouldn't bother educating me, let alone promote anything about a fucking Irish gay poet from Victorian times. No disrespect to the man... I have nothing against him personally, let alone his nationality or sexuality, obviously... But Muggle Studies is just a subject intent on pointing out how Magical Beings are superior and unless I have someone like you in my life to educate me about these things, there's no hope in hell. I didn't have a privileged life and education like some...'