[cxradocdearborn]

alicealongbottom‌:

trustingpotter‌:

DECISIONS | The Inner-Circle+Severus

Date: November 18th, 1981 Location: The Potter Estate, Sitting Room

James was livid. Emma-Fucking-Vanity had pulled a fucking Dorcas-Fucking-Meadowes and brought a fucking Death Eater into his house! He wanted to scream - had yelled, a little bit already. And his fingers were clenched tightly around his wand, though he hadn’t thrown any stinging hexes this time. Yet.

They’d tied Severus up, magically binding him to a chair, and taken his wand - but they didn’t exactly know what to do with him. Emma had told them he knew a cure… James didn’t buy it, despite the fact that she looked much better than before. He wiped at the blood on his cheeks and glared at the rest of the inner-circle, unable to contain his resentment for the fact that they were even considering letting Severus Snape stay.

“He’s a Death Eater! We all know he’s a Death Eater! There’s no way he won’t screw us all over the second he has the chance. I don’t care if he’d cured bloody Dragon Pox, we can’t be consider letting him into the Order. Caradoc - “ James looked to the older member, almost pleading, though not expecting any sympathy. “Just wipe his memory and send him on his way. We’ve got these ‘cures’ or whatever - if that’s what you really want. We keep them and send him on his way.”

@alicealongbottom

The one thing that Alice had come to realize was that being associated with the Order meant that a never-ending heap of chaotic issues that could wind up with all of them sitting in cells in Azkaban. 

The room was a dull roar behind the drumming of her pulse that echoed in her ears, drowning out a very displeased James Potter. The list of things that were being presented to her to deal with just kept stacking up, and she was ready to burst. She didn’t trust Severus as far as she could throw him. And yet…

A cure.

She’d heard how poorly the Vanity girl had faired, and when she’d waltzed into the Order’s base of operations with one Severus Snape in toe, she’d seemed the perfect model of health. If there really was a cure, and he could provide it… It could get their side of things all back up and on their feet that much faster. And it could help Frank.

“And where does that put us, James? With a very confused Death Eater who still has suspicions of someone in our ranks. Unless Emma Vanity has suddenly taken to parading about announcing that she’s part of the organization that nearly blew up the Ministry, I suspect he’s been coming to this conclusion for a while.”

Coughing into her handkerchief and pushing her hair back, her eyes fell upon the tied up elephant in the room. The whole scene stunk of illegal activity. It looked as though they’d kidnapped him and were holding him against his will which was exactly what they were doing much to her chagrin.

“We need to think this threw. What are our options? That won’t get us locked up for life?”

@cxradocdearborn​ @muddymary​

For the first time in his life, Caradoc agreed with James Potter.

Well, perhaps he didn’t agree with all the yelling and the whining, but he was self-aware enough to know he hadn’t looked much different days ago, about the Dorcas situation. They each had subjects that hit too close to home, he supposed. He didn’t care enough to ask, but it was clear that there was some unresolved tension between the two young blokes in the room. Caradoc always made an effort not to mind these youngsters’ business, whatever happened between James and Severus in the past wasn’t relevant to their current present. Maybe it had been a love affair gone wrong, who knows.

As expected, Caradoc stood there, arms crossed, still as a statue, as everyone shouted and danced around each other in the initial frenzy. This was his role in the inner-circle, something solid to lean against. He could be that today, when he wasn’t particularly emotional about the presence of Mr. Snape, nor sick.

He listened to James’ pleas, listened to Alice’s argument. A deep breath filled his lungs and came out in a long sigh. I’m about to agree with James Potter out loud, he thought. How mildly embarrassing for all of his grudges.

“James is right,” he said, and it came out easier than he thought it would, because it was the utter truth. There was no reason they should keep Severus around, or let him keep the memory of all of this. Whatever had led them to this gigantic mistake, it could be wiped away easily. “Cure or not...”

There was a pause, as he thought about that last part. It pained him, somewhere deep in his moral compass, the idea of keeping these alleged cures and sending the poor boy off without memory. Caradoc was a righteous man, he didn’t like the idea of just stealing something, but the safety of the group had to come first. “Cure or not, he can’t leave remembering all this, and he can’t stay. That much is obvious, I reckon. I don’t see a reason for him to stay,” he looked around the room, silently inviting anyone to object, to change his mind. “We’re not a shelter, we don’t just take in the strays that come knocking on our doors, now, do we?”

@muddymary​

[cxradocdearborn]

healingvance‌:

Fighting Caradoc on this matter was the last thing that Emmeline wanted to do in this moment. There had already been enough going on, that she didn’t want to waste what little energy she had left and knew that he wouldn’t want to either. All that mattered at the end of the day was getting him healed, even if it meant not getting exactly what it was that she wanted. 

“Then we’ll do it the easy way.” She hadn’t quite worked out what the hard way would be, but it certainly wouldn’t have involved him going of his own free will. She was about to turn and head off towards the parlour when she was stopped in her tracks by him asking whether or not they were going to go. She’d thought it’d been implied before, but apparently not. Forcing down the annoyance and tiredness from the last day, Emmeline pushed the small smile onto her lips as she towards him.

“Whichever you prefer. I can take a look at you now and if we need to, we can head down there.” She didn’t know what she was facing, knowing he must be mostly fine, but never truly knew until she was able to properly examine a patient. 

Caradoc didn’t have any energy in him -- he hoped that didn’t have anything to do with the concussion, actually, and more just with the emotional toll the day had taken on him. He did not have the time to handle an injury now, things were chaotic enough with this accident, and his work at the Minister, and everyone depending on him.

“Sounds good. Thank you, Em,” he tried offering a smile, but it was weak. Moving his cheeks for a smile was enough effort on a good day, now it felt like they were a million pounds heavier. Hopefully, she wouldn’t mind. Either way, he’d remember to be extra pleasant some other time, when he had the energy.

He gestured over to one of the chairs nearby before taking a seat, so she could have easier access to the gash behind his head. “If you’re too busy, I can always look for someone else, you know. Other people in the Order are more hurt, they’re a priority. I can probably find myself some potions to heal this thing. Just let me know.”

[muddymary]

Caught Red-Handed

[cxradocdearborn]

muddymary‌:

She could see the wheels turning in his head. His eyes were like lasers, bleary or not, and Mary forced herself to stand firm when they flickered over her face. His brows were furrowed - she knew that look - but when he uttered a mindless bit of advice instead of the flurry of questions Mary was expecting, she faltered. As surprised as she was, she couldn’t dwell on his uncharacteristic nonchalance - that would have had the opposite effect, and she wasn’t going to sabotage herself. 

“I did get it checked out,” she said quickly, barreling over Caradoc’s realization to point at her swollen eye, still shiny from the paste Emmeline had given her. “Unfortunately it’ll take more than five minutes to heal, but at least I’ll fit in with the rest of you.” 

Her smile faded then. Caradoc always looked…well, burdened by something, but she didn’t know that she’d ever seen him look quite so haggard. News of the mayhem at the Ministry had been trickling through all morning, but she wasn’t going to pretend to know the details. Perhaps this was why, at Caradoc’s question, her own brows knitted together.   

“A meeting? About the masquerade?” 

Bloody hell. Any hope she had of escaping the Potter estate unbothered left with the gargantuan sigh she heaved. 

“Is this a mandatory meeting I’m just now hearing about? Doubt it matters that I wasn’t even there.”

More than five minutes to heal? Hardly anything took that long to heal with the right potions and spells, and the thought worried Caradoc a bit more, his head tilting in brief confusion. He should talk about this with Emmeline later, perhaps, and see what had happened. It didn’t seem right to ask now, she didn’t look like she wanted to talk about it.

He nodded when she asked about the meeting, and he hoped his desperation wasn’t clear on his voice when he spoke again.

“Absolutely mandatory,” he assured. There was no way he was letting her sneak out on him with this one, not with how tired he felt. He’d appeal to her emotional side if he’d think that would have any effect, but he doubted it. “We need as many people as we can, and we barely have anyone right now. Sorry, kiddo. Soon enough we get to go home, though.”

[cxradocdearborn]

muddymary‌:

trustingpotter‌:

James threw up his hands in defeat when Mary reminded him that she wasn’t at the event. “He just said it!” He said, indicating to Caradoc. How was James the bad guy here when Mary hadn’t even been listening when Caradoc explained that Dorcas had never meant to explode the hall. It aggravated him. Grated on his nerves. These inner-circle meetings were supposed to be important, but the second Kingsley left, it turned into another Let’s Turn On James Day. He was really fucking sick of it.

Of course Mary had a point. Everyone except for James had a point in this room. James rolled his eyes - not even resisting anymore. “Of course they think we’re bloody useless - we’ve been losing lately. People don’t look to those in charge and think ‘oh I’m so glad they’re leading us to non-victory.’ They only like us when we’re winning. It’s something I’ve said before, I believe.”

James was Dorcas, once upon a time. She was young and naive and thought she could change the world, despite the fact that she had only been around six months. She was going to get herself killed. “They’re going to run rogue either way. What d’you want us to do about it?” They could talk theory all day, but James liked action. 

@muddymary​

Caradoc’s support was appreciated, but Mary didn’t have time to give him more than a curt nod of acknowledgement. James and his stark opposition interjected, and Mary rolled her eyes.

“That’s horseshit,” she groaned. “If they only ‘liked us when we’re winning,’ they wouldn’t still be here. We haven’t been ‘winning’ for years.” The words were sour and bitter - acid on her tongue - but she wasn’t going to hold back. It was the truth, and as members of the inner circle they were all aware of how the war was actually playing out. 

“They won’t run rogue if they feel useful. So let’s give them a job to do.” 

James’ little outburst of anger is met with nothing else but a simple, tired glare from Caradoc. Another time, he might’ve told the kid to stop acting out like this when they were dealing with serious matters -- no reason to sound like a petulant teenager fighting their mother when they were all adults here --, but today had been exhausting enough already.

Mary’s words are harsh, and they hit so close to home that he almost wanted to laugh off the pain. Another time, he would’ve reprimanded her tone, too.

“We need to be... more open, I think,” he offered, adding to Mary’s comment carefully. “Giving them a job isn’t a bad idea, but they’ll see through it, if it’s all empty promises. We need to listen to what they want. They want action, and if we don’t take full control, they’re gonna get it their way. We need to stop being their enemy. I don’t know how, James, this is why this meeting is happening, isn’t it?”

@trustingpotter​

[untamedmeadowes]

And So Reaped

[cxradocdearborn]

untamedmeadowes‌:

He didn’t think so. Dorcas wanted to tell herself that it was just because everything had gone wrong, that Caradoc was too responsible to let himself encourage her after she had screwed-up like that – but even she was pretty sure she was lying to herself. Caradoc didn’t understand, didn’t agree after all.

Her shoulders slumped, a small and nearly insignificant echo of her spirits sinking. James or Mary still might – but the thought was a weak, faltering attempt at cheering herself up. Even though Caradoc was one of the most responsible, most cautious, of the other Other members, even though Dorcas knew there were other people in the organization far far more likely to see things her way, that didn’t stop how much his opinion mattered to her. But had she been fooling herself all this time? Had Caradoc just been humoring her, not ever really thinking she had any potential, any value to the Order of the Phoenix?

“Right,” she said dully. “Of course.” Dorcas felt too drained and miserable even to voice her usual complaint that all they ever did was talk – to point-out that maybe if anyone else ever talked less and acted more, she wouldn’t have been forced to take matters into her own hands so disastrously. “Gotta get all your fwoopers in a line first. Sure.”

She swallowed. “Should I….should I wait? Will they want to talk to me, do you think? Before they…before you decide what to do with me?” Or would it all come down to public opinion? Dorcas’s values and merits dismissed on the altar of The Daily Prophet’s latest outraged columnist? Would she even have a chance to make her case – or had this already been it? Caradoc here to take responsibility for her one last time, now off to report back to the others on the extent of Dorcas Meadowes’s failure?

Caradoc could feel Dorcas’ spirits dwindling, but he didn’t have it in him to comfort her anymore. Maybe he did, before they talked. But now that she still refused to see his side, still insisted what she’d done was right, he didn’t have the energy to baby her. He’d argue with his peers later that she was just a kid, and he believed it, but he couldn’t pet her head every time she did something wrong. He’d always have a soft spot for a fellow hufflepuff, probably, but he couldn’t be eternally patient towards someone who wasn’t willing to learn, and Caradoc was afraid it’d be the case with her.

The questions had him humming, at first, before he nodded. It wasn’t like the Order to not give someone the chance to defend themselves, of course. “Yeap. I think they’ll want to talk to you, it’s fair. Otherwise, we’d be running off of other people’s opinions. They wanna hear what you have to say,” he reassured. Well, if that could even be called reassuring, he wasn’t sure where Dorcas stood on that.

He would consider it a good thing, that they were willing to listen to her after this mess. One last attempt to make her case, and he hoped to Merlin she was good at it, otherwise he’d have to bend over backwards to defend her later. “Just wait here, for now.”

[cxradocdearborn]

muddymary‌:

trustingpotter‌:

James narrowed his eyes at Mary’s tone about action. He was sick and tired of everyone acting like the Order didn’t do anything - annoyed that it often seemed to revolve around him. As though he were the only one making the decisions around here - despite the fact that there were many older members who had been around longer than him. James getting pulled into the inner-circle might’ve been a controversial choice, but it wasn’t like it was his fault when things went wrong.

Despite what Mary and Caradoc seemed to think. James resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the way Caradoc talked in these things… so proper (and they called James the posh one!). This wasn’t the way the older wizard had talked to James at the party - there had been no apologies then. Just picking a fight, all while acting he was in the right. James wished others could see those hidden moments with Caradoc where he used his power to his advantage.

“It doesn’t matter if she was trying to hurt people… the fact is that she did. Hey, I voted for her to stay, too - but she’s been in the Order, what, six months? She can’t just act as though she knows everything and expect us to give her a pass because she’s young. Young shouldn’t equal dumb and people could’ve died.” 

James looked at Mary and could barely hide his annoyance now that they were both ganging up on him - again. “It’s comments like that which make Dorcas think we won’t do anything, which is why she didn’t come to us. I could’ve told her about the wards in the Ministry. And she wasn’t trying to make an explosion,” he added at the end. “Or didn’t you hear?”

@muddymary​

Mary was no stranger to tension; she allowed it to settle over her like a large, weighted blanket. It wasn’t comfortable but she leaned in to it all the same, eyes moving slowly from James to Caradoc and back again. Truth be told, the role reversal between them was unexpected, if not a bit maddening. Caradoc was usually the iron fist, the hard-faced enforcer of rules and discipline. James, meanwhile, tended toward the opposite (at least in practice), and that might have been why his pointed words rubbed Mary the wrong way. He wasn’t wrong - what Dorcas had done was stupid, and she deserved to be reprimanded for it - but the way he was playing at being a disciplinarian made Mary’s face contort with distaste. 

“I didn’t hear much of anything, James, seeing as I wasn’t there,” she spat. “But maybe instead of whinging about why she didn’t come to us, we should be trying to think of ways to make the idea a more appealing one. We’ve got all this ‘inner circle’ shite going on - and I get it, I s’pose - but if we don’t take other ideas into consideration willingly, people are going to start taking matters into their own hands.”

@cxradocdearborn​

They both had points, Caradoc could actually see that. He wouldn’t sit here and make his case on Dorcas, anyone had a right to be furious at her. He was, too, he just didn’t have the energy for it at the moment. Maybe he’d be angrier tomorrow, after a good night of sleep. He watched with tired eyes as Mary spoke, the sharpness of her tone more cutting than anything else he’d heard in a while. Even his own voice didn’t have quite that quality to it, when he was mad. His was more of a bludger, she sounded like a dagger.

Anyway, he was zoning out again, he should focus on the conversation more, no matter how tired he was.

“Mary has a point,” he agreed. He definitely didn’t want to be on her bad side, if anything. James already hated him. “Dorcas said it to me earlier, that she didn’t elect anyone. She thinks the inner circle is bullshit. It’s easy to imagine others might think the same,” it was a bitter thought, but he believed it now. Dorcas had been so dismissive about their title, so defiant. That one stung more than he’d had time to process. “If people keep thinking we’re their enemy, this whole thing comes tumbling down. I’m not a fan of listening to an eighteen-year-old, I’ll say that, but we need to appease them. They’re gonna keep running rogue if we don’t start meeting them halfway. As much as I hate to admit it, that is.”

@trustingpotter​

[dinahlances]

Popping bottles with Margot Robbie and Michael B. Jordan

[cxradocdearborn]

bad news | connor & doc

[cxradocdearborn]

goodgollymolly‌:

“You’re on a stop call, Sugar Tits.” Connor saddled up to Caradoc and plucked the drink from his hand. “All tapped out, all gone. So sad.” 

He tipped what was left in Caradoc’s current glass all over the floor. “Oh no, such a travesty. It’s all gone.”

Honestly, Connor had very little room to speak about drinking too much. On any given night he had at least one drink if not several and if he hadn’t drug himself (or been drug) up to his room at the top of the stairs more then a few times a week, well, he’d be a liar.

He was already a liar. So that proved the point. Maybe. He had gotten off track in his own head and tilting his friend’s face between his fingers this way and that.

Connor might have also had a few drinks but, really, there was all that business at what was supposed to be a perfectly lovely gala, refugees, and he still had to pay his bills. “Yeah, you look okay but you’re not getting any more alcohol or else Spots is gonna be dadless and I can’t be responsible for that.”

Caradoc was so content about having Connor on his lap that he took a second too long to notice the other pouring out his drink. That and, also, his reflexes were terrible when he was this level of shit-faced.

“No, hey--,” he tried, but there was little protest to his voice. It was more of a pout, as he watched the last drop of his drink fall to the floor beside them. Someone should clean that up, he thought, but he didn’t have any plans on moving now. Obviously.

He let his face be tilted around, eyes squinting because the quick movement made his vision blur and he was having flashbacks to Connor’s masquerade makeup, with the multiple pairs of eyes. “Don’t call me a dad, that makes it more real,” he complained, though that sounded hilarious in itself, and made him giggle. Caradoc, a dad. In this economy?!

Caradoc’s head, at this point, became much too heavy to hold itself up, so he resorted to leaning his forehead against his friend’s shoulder, arms draped over Connor in a half-hug, half-sprawl. “Please get me another drink,” he asked without getting his head up, his plea drawled out like a little kid begging for dessert before dinner. He was already hammered, that wasn’t a question, but he still wasn’t quite on the level of passing out somewhere. If he stopped talking for too long, his mind would conjure up images of the masquerade and how badly everything could’ve ended and it was driving him fucking insane. “Or distract me, I don’t know,” he picked his head back up now, with a grunt, and looked around aimlessly. “When’s the next show?”

[untamedmeadowes]

And So Reaped

[cxradocdearborn]

untamedmeadowes‌:

Dorcas let him have her hand, squeeze it, comfort her – but his words, that had started so sensibly, veered off into the same nonsense, the same non-action, that everyone in the so-called “inner circle” was always preaching at them. “I didn’t elect anybody,” she muttered mutinously – but it was true, she hadn’t. Had anyone? Or had they just placed themselves in charge by acting like it – by doing the same sort of things that Dorcas had done tonight? Her frown of misery curdled into a scowl instead and she pulled away from him – not quite yanking free, but not a gentle disentanglement of fingers, either. How could he still not see?

“No,” she said flatly. “I don’t understand. How can we possibly be ‘more powerful’ by hiding  o deep in the shadows that half the Wizarding World doesn’t even think we’re real? The Death Eaters might wear masks but nobody doubts that they exist. What’s so bad about people seeing us, knowing we’re here, too?” She twisted sideways on the bench so she could see him, scowl at him better. “I didn’t print a list of our names in the Daily Prophet, Caradoc. I didn’t even show my face!” She pointed to the offending visage, much less impressive behind its mask of drying orange than it had been with that blazing phoenix beak upon it earlier in the evening. “How does that put us in danger?”

She waved a hand down the hallway, as though she could encompass the entire Potter Estate with a single wide swath of a gesture. “There’s nothing to connect ‘the witch on the fountain’ to this place, or anywhere else we go. The Death Eaters already know we exist, the Ministry of Magic know it too - or know somebody exists at least, that’s why they pull people like James Potter in for questioning before, because they think if someone’s going to actually do something about the Death Eaters, he’s maybe one of them! But they couldn’t prove that, and they don’t have any proof on me either! The only people I’ve told anything to that didn’t already know it are the ordinary people who were there tonight – the people we’re supposed to be helping. But how can we, if they don’t know we’re really there?”’

Dorcas caught his hands now, heedless of the orange goo she smeared across his knuckles. “Caradoc, please. I know what I did was wrong, but only because it went wrong. It wasn’t a bad idea – it wasn’t. You see that, right? If it had worked,” she begged, “if it had only worked the way it was supposed to, you’d be agreeing I did the right thing now!” Before tonight Dorcas had been sure of that, had been sure that nearly the whole Order of the Phoenix would side with her choice in the end – certainly Caradoc and James and Mary, anyway, and probably even Moody too for all that he was a curmudgeon. Now, though, she was starting to second-guess herself, an unfamiliar experience for the stubborn Hufflepuff – and she didn’t like it. “You would,” she said bleakly. “You would.”

Oh, the audacity this little shit had, to say she hadn’t elected anybody. His eyebrows raised at that, but he bit his tongue not to comment on it, because he didn’t need to start a fight now, for Merlin’s sake. But he absolutely took offense to it, and he’d hold that grudge for just about all of eternity now, so that’s what he got for trying to be close to an eighteen-year-old loose canon. If she didn’t think he had a place in the inner circle, that was a whole new conversation for another goddamn time.

And she had a point, he knew, about the hiding. It was a bad point, in his opinion. They weren’t going to win this by making a parade out of their organization like the Death Eaters did. They couldn’t go in guns blazing when they were the little guys, he knew they had to be careful for a reason. If winning a war was as easy as making a couple exploding-fountain appearances, they would’ve had this one already. 

Caradoc wasn’t new at this. He’d inherited this fight from his parents, he’d gone through more than enough to have to endure a teenager tell him how he should be running things. But it wasn’t worth arguing with her, because she was the second most stubborn woman he’d ever met in his life, second only to his own mother. And he had enough arguments with his mum to know there was no way to get out of it a winner. Every time, he’d leave exactly as he would leave this very conversation -- feeling drained and sad and incredibly annoyed.

Caradoc let her take his hands, hardly bothered by the orange mess left behind. “No. No, I wouldn’t, Dorcas, there’s-- a minimal chance that I would, actually,” he explained, but even then, there wasn’t much fire to his words. He cut himself off with a sigh, his jaw setting as he looked away. He didn’t want to talk anymore. Actually, he regretted coming here to talk to her at all, but he squeezed her hands again, because he knew if he was too cold now, then he’d regret that later. Maybe he just regretted too much in life, all the time. “There’s a lot to take in now, a lot we need to keep an eye on,” he said, gravely. “Where public opinion will be, mainly. We’re no different than them if you just performed a terrorist attack at a party. We’ll see what comes up about it. Then we can properly talk about what you’ve done.”

[cxradocdearborn]

muddymary‌:

trustingpotter‌:

What Has Two Thumbs and Fucks Up Real Good? Dork-Ass. | Inner-Circle

Date: November 1, 1981 Location: Potter Estate @cxradocdearborn & @muddymary​

They’d be at it for hours. It was exhausting, talking like this. Making arguments. Yelling at one another. Coming to a decision, only for it to have been all torn up again. This wasn’t their first meeting like this - but it was James’ first when it came to deciding if something should be able to stay or not. Caradoc had made quite the passionate argument for why Dorcas Meadowes was an idiot who did some very dangerous things, but an idiot would should get a second chance. 

James couldn’t exactly disagree - he wasn’t really against Dorcas sticking around. He wasn’t surprised to hear that whatever she’d done hadn’t been intended like that - but it was still stupid. Witch needed to do her research before exploding things!

But now they’d all voted - made their decision. She would be able to stay - on thin ice. It made James feel like fucking McGonagall and he did not like the sentiment. Now, he, Mary, and Caradoc were stuck - alone - to figure out what to do about the whole thing, everyone else having to rush off to the Ministry, where they had very real jobs that needed them there. To keep up appearances.

James glanced to Caradoc - if he was a Ministry worker, why didn’t he leave too? But then that would just leave James with just Mary, which was something else he wasn’t too keen on. He ran a hand through his hair. “Alright, I get that she wasn’t trying to blow up the bloody place, but what was she trying to do and what went wrong? Did you ask her what spell she was using? The Ministry has all sorts of barriers to protect against unwanted magic like that - did she not even try to ask what she was up against?”

She’d missed something big - that much was clear. Whispers of the catastrophe wound their way to the southern coast where Mary was busy taking stock of…well, of herself, but she didn’t pay them much heed. Not at the time. She tended to be skeptical of most things uttered before the break of dawn, and she’d lived under the rule of a corrupt Ministry long enough to know that whispers couldn’t always be trusted. It wasn’t until she returned to her flat in muggle London that she realized the enormity of what had happened, and the boiling atmosphere at the meeting of the inner circle really brought it into perspective. 

Dorcas. Of course. 

Mary held her tongue as she tried to put the pieces together, grabbing bits of hissed words and bellowed descriptions and struggling to ascertain what exactly went on. She didn’t know why she was there, really. Sure, she was part of the inner circle, but she hadn’t seen what happened and Dorcas certainly hadn’t seen fit to confide in her. Mary tried to snuff out the voice in her head: ‘She could have,’ it said. ‘Perhaps she should have?’

Although she was absent, Mary wasn’t going to pretend she didn’t have an opinion on the matter. Of course Dorcas should stay. She was young and stupid, but she had a lot of try and a lot of courage and the Order needed more people willing to take a chance every now and then. James’ words made her snort, and her face twitched into a smirk that didn’t meet her bruised and swollen eye. 

“Who was she going to ask? She’s brash but she knows better than to come at any of us with plans involving action, much less explosions.”

@cxradocdearborn​

Thank God Mary has stuck around, Caradoc was sure he wasn’t gonna endure a meeting like this with only James. He was tired enough as it was, exhausted, hoping he could find some energy-spiking elixir in his fridge once he got home, as opposed to having to survive on coffee alone.

As passionate as he might’ve been in this discussion hours ago, when the event had recently happened, now all of his fire had burned out. Maybe it had burned out somewhere along his talk with Dorcas already. Something about that killed all of his spirit. And he gave it his all to keep her in the group, because he thought she genuinely deserved it, but there was so much space for doubt in his head that he didn’t even want to think anymore. About anything. He wanted to go home, and pet his stray cats, and crash for an hour or two before something else called for him.

“She would never ask,” Caradoc agreed, his arms crossed in front of his chest. It was a comforting move more than a defying one. He was trying to hold himself together from falling asleep on the nearest table. “I tried to convince her to do so next time, to come tell me first, because we all know there will be a next time, but... I don’t know. All I know is that she wasn’t trying to hurt anyone, she just wanted to make a big fuss,” he sighed. “She’s a kid. She’s horrified that people got hurt, I can guarantee that. I don’t think she knows what went wrong, either-- I can talk to her more in depth later about what spell she used, and what else they had planned out. I wasn’t in my right mind today for that, I apologize.”

[cxradocdearborn]

healingvance‌:

There was plenty that Emmeline felt that she could say in that moment. It was just a matter of where to start, yet she knew exactly where it was that she would start. He was injured, that came first, above all else. “Sooner so you decided to come here instead of to me?” She’s teasing, just, the telling tone in her voice that she wasn’t about to get away from him now. She wasn’t about to let him out of her sight, not until he was healed and cleared by her.

“I’m fine, but you’re not.” She’d escaped the worst of it, far enough away from it all, until she’d run into the middle of it all, that was. Her list of patients had been long and still wasn’t yet done, not until she’d cared for him, though there were others that she’d still have to get back to again later. For now though, they could wait. “Are we going to do this the easy way or the hard way?”

She’d prefer the easy way, not wanting to have to drag him down to the parlour, but she knew if it was required that she would do it. “Come on. The sooner I get my hands on you, the sooner it’ll all be over. Then we can talk about someone breaking their promises to me.”

Neither of them were fine, Caradoc would argue, but he didn’t have that energy now. If Emmeline wanted to spend her time fixing his head, he’d allow it. He could use the time to wind down and stop for a second, anyway -- and hopefully he wouldn’t fall asleep while she worked. He had barely even taken a seat since it all happened, he would need to crash soon Either that, or need a revitalizing potion.

“Easy way would be preferred,” he responded with a shrug from his shoulders. He wasn’t sure what either of those options meant, but he had a guess she could make his life incredibly hard if she really wanted to, so he wouldn’t take the chance. And there was a joke there, about her getting her hands on him, but he didn’t have it in him to make it. When it comes to Caradoc, though, chances are he wouldn’t ever make that joke anyway, exhausted or not.

“Do you want to go to the Infirmary?” He hummed. “I think things are all healed up back there already, I’d appreciate if you checked it out, though. I don’t want to go to work with a concussion, I can’t be distracted.”

[cxradocdearborn]

bad news | connor & doc

@goodgollymolly​

Ganymede was possibly the only place Caradoc could go to have a drink, these days. For one, he trusted Connor enough to get wasted in front of him -- he’d never woken up anywhere too weird after passing out there, so he counted that as a win. And besides that, the place was fantastically hidden and mysterious enough to allow him a good time.

He had a reputation to keep with the others, he couldn’t just go passing out in any bar where someone from the Order could see him. Do you think Dorcas would ever listen to another word he said if she knew how wasted he was willing to get? No!

And Merlin knew he needed to drink after this week. He deserved a drink. Things had been so chaotic; usually he had an easier time letting go of past issues and focusing on the present, but this one had done a number on his head. 

Which was his plausible excuse for losing count on how many drinks he’d had already. “Anyway, so I’m calling the one with the freckles on his nose Spots, now, so I guess I’m a fucking official cat dad or whatever,” he said, his speech already slurred. He’d probably told Connor this a thousand times already. There wasn’t much his drunk brain could come up with, to be fair. He brought his glass up to his lips for a sip, and only then realized it was empty. “Hey, oh no, fill me up again.”

[cxradocdearborn]

healingvance‌:

the potter estate 1st of november 1981 @cxradocdearborn​

The night had been long, but it had yet to stop for Emmeline. After having helped clear up the mess of those injured at the Ministry of Magic, the night had not been over for her, helping assist transport those in need to St Mungo’s before eventually finding herself back at the Potter Estate to heal those members of the Order that had not made their way to the magical hospital. 

However, there was one person in particular that Emmeline had yet to see to heal and now she was trailing in search of him. She’d heard it mentioned from someone before that Caradoc had been injured in the blast, but Emmeline had not yet laid eyes on him since everything had happened. Now, with everyone else taken care of, there was one last person on her list that she had to find since he wasn’t coming to her for help.

Spying him up ahead, there was a brief pause in her step as she forced a level of composure over herself, knowing that being in a state herself would do no good for anyone when she was supposed to be taking care of others. “Mr Dearborn…” she spoke when she was still a few paces from him, that quiet warning that she was coming, that he wasn’t about to get away from her this time.

Caradoc had been avoiding Emmeline, technically, but could you blame him? He didn’t have the time to stop and take care of his problems when there were a dozen people needing him to take care of theirs, too. It was the role he accepted within the Order, and it was the role he would gladly take. He didn’t know enough healing magic to help, he had to make due with whatever else he could offer.

And then the inner circle needed him, too, and before he knew it, the sun was already up in the sky, high and proud. He felt drained. He wanted sleep, but he still had things to do, and then work to get to, and he knew a bed wouldn’t fix any of the mess off thoughts dancing in his brain. He could use a smoke and a drink, perhaps. He could use clean clothes and the comforting purr of his stray cats and a shower, but he got the bleak cold walls of the Estate, instead.

The voice cut through whatever had been on his mind, and he blinked as if he was just waking up, despite his eyes being open this whole time. “Ah, Emmeline,” he greeted, his tone already apologetic. He was the one who had a lecture coming now, probably. “In my defense, I did plan on seeing you sooner. I was just needed elsewhere, and it slipped my mind. How are you doing?”

[muddymary]

Caught Red-Handed

[cxradocdearborn]

muddymary‌:

Mary quickly redacted her last thought. If she were trying to rob the Potter estate, she would do it - no matter the cost - meaning Caradoc wouldn’t be gaping at her for more than a few seconds before…

Well. 

She wouldn’t make a poor burglar, just…not a very sneaky one. 

It was a bizarre and admittedly macabre thought, but it was gone almost as soon as it flashed across her mind. She liked Caradoc well enough, more than most of the “inner circle,” but he wasn’t the person she wanted to find her in such a state. He was smart, focused, calculating, traits she admired when they weren’t being used against her. Still, she tried to save face, smiling; the swollen skin around her eye twinged, but she refused to show it, biting down on her tongue. 

“D’you think masquerades sound like my scene, Caradoc? I was asked to stay behind, if you remember.”

If Caradoc hadn’t been concussed and rightfully exhausted to the bone in these fine hours of the morning, he might’ve made more questions. It made no sense why she would be so hurt if she weren’t at the ball with them. Should they be worried for her? Did she get jumped? Was her identity as an Order member suddenly compromised, was that the case?

But today, with so much on his mind, it was hard to focus on any of these questions. His brows remained furrowed as he raced through twenty more inquiries he could throw her way, and then he settled for none of them.

“You should get that checked out,” he said instead, because it was the polite, mindless thing to do. Then, it occurred to him the exact spot they found themselves at, just a couple hallways short of the infirmary, and how he had plans to meet Emmeline, too. “Ah, of course,” he waved a hand in the air, apologetic. “My brain’s a bit scattered.”

And that, in itself, reminded him of the goddamn meeting they were supposed to have, as well. “You’re staying for the meeting, right?” They both knew that was rhetoric, on his part. He refused to have a meeting only with James, of all people.

[untamedmeadowes]

And So Reaped

[cxradocdearborn]

untamedmeadowes‌:

More scared of us? Dorcas thought. Yeah, right – because the Order of the Phoenix were the ones going around murdering people and leaving their calling card shining in the air overhead; because the Order of the Phoenix were the ones making people disappear; because the Order of the Phoenix were the ones with a bloody Dark Lord running their show…but she didn’t say anything. Just bit her lip and nodded along, more morose than obedient but nonetheless not protesting. She didn’t feel she had the right to argue, not now. She’d tried to prove her point, and it had ended in disaster.

Besides, if she argued, he’d argue back. And right now that gentle hand on her back felt like the only thing tethering her to the world. It was really all she could do not to fling herself sideways and sob into his shoulder like a child – but she wasn’t a child. And she wasn’t going to cry, even if the alternative was choking to death on swallowed tears.

“I wanted to do it together,” Dorcas mumbled. “I’ve tried to do it together. But if nobody else will ever do anything then…what else can I do?” It was a plea more than a question – a desperate entreaty for someone to take her hand and lead her to a solution that didn’t exist, or at least wasn’t something she could see. Because she had tried – she’d argued and pushed and shouted and argued again, and everyone just kept telling her to wait. Kept telling her to be careful. Kept telling her to do nothing. But doing nothing did nothing and she hadn’t joined the Order of the Phoenix because she wanted a cool clubhouse full of cool older wix to hang around (although that was, undeniably, one of its side benefits). She had joined because she wanted to do things – because she’d wanted to do things with the Order. But they wouldn’t, so she had had to take matters into her own hands…

And see how that had ended.

“A hand?” The word didn’t have any strength behind it; came out of Dorcas’s mouth as raw air barely shaped toward speech. Her eyes, white and ghostly against the orange smears on her brown cheeks, seemed to swallow up the rest of her face. “But…they, they can put that back, right? Madam Pomfrey, she put two of my fingers back on once, it was fine.” She held up the hand and waved it raggedly as though to offer evidence, although of course there was no scar there to see. “It’s fine. It’ll be fine, right?” She needed him to tell her it would be fine. Needed to hear it, and maybe if she heard it from Caradoc, maybe she would be able to believe it. Maybe.

Of course, there was “not fine” and then there was not fine. “You think they’re really going to get rid of me?” she asked in a tiny voice. “I didn’t mean for anybody to get hurt. I didn’t even mean to–” She swallowed. Tried again. “I…” Dorcas hadn’t thought she could feel any worse than she already did, but then he talked about how she’d lied to him. He didn’t say she’d hurt him; he didn’t need to, she could read it on his face, in the set of his shoulders. Her voice, when she managed to force it out past the lump in her throat, was uncharacteristically meek and flat, with none of the bounce that usually carried her words into the world.

“I thought you would stop me,” she said. “I thought – no one in the inner-circle ever wants to do anything. I thought…” It sounded so stupid, so childish now, on the other side of last night. “I thought maybe if I let the world know we were really there, we weren’t just a rumor or wishful thinking, I thought…I thought maybe then, they’d remember we’re supposed to be fighting the Death Eaters, not just…not just protecting ourselves.” She’d thought he would remember. “If I’d told you what I was doing, if I’d asked for help, all you’d have done was stop me.” And maybe he should have – but even though Dorcas couldn’t argue that she’d done a good thing, she still didn’t believe that the urge to do something was wrong. The plan had been good – just not successful. Obviously. But if it had worked…

“No, you’re not. You’re not doing it together, because if you were, you’d value the group’s thoughts and plans over your own, Dorcas. That’s what staying together means. If we elect a council to make the decisions and they make a decision, you don’t get to rebel just because it’s not what you wanted,” Caradoc explained, and though this topic could be a lecture of its own, it could wait until later. His voice was devoid of any anger, because there was no room for that, still. He couldn’t pull it out of him, even if he tried. He was pretty sure if he just tipped his head back against the wall behind them, and closed his eyes, he’d pass out in seconds.

And most of all, he knew that lecturing her about teamwork wouldn’t take them anywhere. Dorcas was impatient, filled with a passion for this fight that she couldn’t control, and it wasn’t a good thing but it wasn’t all bad, either. It wouldn’t do them any good to kill these kids’ spirits, they were a vital addition to the Order, all of the young ones -- they just needed to adjust some things.

Caradoc would talk to the rest of the inner circle about this, about how they should listen more. They’d been too good at shutting everyone else out and making the decisions by themselves, but if they ever planned on keeping Dorcas from fucking up again, they needed to listen to her. Meet everyone halfway, as best as they could. Maybe they all needed lessons on teamwork.

She sounded horrified when she asked about the severed hand, and he felt regret immediately flood and weigh down on his chest. It’d been mean to tell her about that; he’d wanted to throw a jab, to make her feel bad for a second, but now he knew it’d been a bad move. She didn’t need anything else to have nightmares about. “Yes-- yes, it is going to be fine,” he reassured, speaking over her concerned words. He took the hand that she so uselessly waved around, and gave it a squeeze before releasing. “I’ve talked to Emmeline and the medical staff about it, it’s gonna be fine. There won’t be any issues with the hand.”

Were they going to get rid of her? He didn’t have a clue, and it weighed on her as much as it did him. His eyes moved over to a spot on the ground ahead of them, and he hummed, uncertain. He felt inadequate, not being able to comfort her on that end. He’d vote for her, he’d told her that already, but he was only one vote. If the others were in a bad mood, if the others were annoyed just a tad too far, they could all turn against her and his vote would be swallowed down. “I don’t know,” he confessed, and felt worse saying that than he’d ever had in his life.

“Yes, I would stop you,” he agreed, matter-of-factly. Of course he would’ve, it was a ridiculous idea to begin with, and there was -- as proven -- a lot that could go wrong. “Dorcas, it was a bad plan. So what, you make your big entrance, announce to everyone that members of our secret organization are present in that party, and then what? Leave everyone to kill each other in the chaos while you’re at it?” He sighed, slumping back against the wall and pinching the bridge of his nose. He was so tired that it was less of a pinch, and more of just a scratch, at this point. “It’s not smart to out us. It’s not. It puts all of us in incredible danger. If you want to give people hope, we can talk about that, but that’s a whole other story. We’re more powerful if we stay quiet, can’t you understand that? It’s not always about shouting it from the rooftops,” he supposed maybe he was asking too much from a kid, to understand that. Maybe it’d been a mistake to let people so young into the Order after all. Maybe he wouldn’t have an argument to make, if they did decide to vote her off. He retrieved his hand from her back to let it rest at his own knee instead. “We’ll... see what happens. And then we can talk about this again. Later.” When he’d gotten over some of the hurt and the disappointment and he could have better words to give her. 

[cxradocdearborn]

muddymary‌:

open starter. 

Mary moved carefully, deliberately. She allowed the door to the makeshift infirmary to shut with a gentle click behind her, dark blue eyes flicking back and forth as she emerged into the corridor. Well, one dark blue eye - the other was too swollen to be seen, the lid and surrounding flesh mottled black and purple. She wasn’t out of place among the rest of the Order members, not after the fiasco at the Ministry, but she didn’t have the same alibi and most of them knew it. The masquerade was a public event (the word was flanked by quotation marks in her head) so she could have attended if she so wished - only, she didn’t, and as a muggle-born there was no way in hell she was going to be invited to the private party. Her presence would have been out of character, might have given away the Order, but she was anything but disappointed when asked to steer clear. Based on what she’d seen and read, she would have been the least of the Order’s worries; but, as it turned out, she didn’t escape her own night unscathed.

That was why she moved like a hunted deer, quiet and careful, through the Potter estate. As much as she hated to admit it, her injuries needed proper, professional medical care; a simple episkey! or coagulation charm wasn’t going to do the trick. She entered the home with three simple goals: go to the infirmary, get patched up by Emmeline, and disappear. No greetings, no talking, no interruptions. Her route to the infirmary stayed clear (it was a blessing Gillie was scarce), but she was only two-thirds through her task and she wasn’t about to lose focus.

It wasn’t hard to sneak around the Potter estate, something Mary knew because she found herself doing it more often than not. She never meant to - it was an unconscious habit, like going quiet in a church. The only way she could imagine herself in such a nice home was to imagine herself robbing it, it seemed, nevermind that she’d never robbed a single soul in her life. Gritting her teeth, she edged forward, her traveling cloak barely whispering over the floor. Her heart thumped against the inside of her ribcage and she made to hurry across the branched bit of hallway ahead. Just as she crossed into the intersection, however, a silhouette loomed out of the corner of her eye.

Fuck.

She would’ve made a poor burglar.

Caradoc was exhausted. Not the normal kind of exhausted, the kind that sent him straight to bed after a long day of work, the kind that would be fixed with a good night of sleep. This was the kind of exhaustion that clung around your bones even after you’ve slept, the kind that made your head too heavy to hold itself up and your lungs too tight.

He’d already talked to Dorcas, and although he imagined that would’ve made him feel better, it didn’t. Images from the night before were still flooding his mind, and he continued to be haunted by the possibilities and what ifs.

The least he could do before he went home, was to get himself properly cleaned up -- he knew Emmeline would give him a hard time if he didn’t. He just needed to make sure everything was okay with the back of his head, and then he could go home, wash out of his bloody clothes, and get an insignificant amount of sleep before he had to head out for work.

He wouldn’t have thought much of catching sight of someone else walking towards the infirmary, if he hadn’t done a double take to check who it was. “Mary?” It was a question more than a greeting because it took him a solid second to recognize her past the swollen eye. She looked like she’d been terribly hexed. “You... weren’t at the masquerade, were you?”

[vulnussanentur]

Pinning Predicament

[cxradocdearborn]

mortemrevelio‌:

mmckinnxn‌:

vulnussanentur‌:

Narcissa yelped as the statue crashed down behind her, shaking the world around around, hands flying up over her head on hyper-attuned instinct at this point. It took a moment for her to place the sound as the statue, which of course was going to have to come down sometime. Forcing herself to breath, she looked up at Caradoc and smiled out of habit. That’s what she did; smile no matter what. What was a crisis to the ever inflappable Narcissa Malfoy? And yet, it was a cracked smile, too tight to be sincere, with dirt smudging her cheeks, dust in the wreckage of her hairstyle, and her robes beyond salvaging.

Returning the squeeze, she nodded. “I’m fine,” she said, leveraging his grip to help haul herself up, only to wobble as the shock washed over her again, jellifying her knees. Leaning against Caradoc’s side—ever steady, reliable Caradoc—she let out a slow breath as she clung to his arm. “I’m fine,” Narcissa repeated, trying to will it to be true. “Thank you,” was added in  a soft, urgent voice as she met the man’s eyes. She didn’t know what had happened, was still trying to piece it together, but the gratitude for Doc’s help was simple and pure.

Marlene was so very close to snapping and leaving Malfoy to squawk on through the smoke calling out for Narcissa. She knew it wasn’t the right thing to do, but Malfoy had a knack for pushing buttons the witch hadn’t known she’d had. She was praying to anyone who’d listen that she’d see the fair haired witch in the most perfect golden dress in the world, and then she could go home (or at least somewhere that did not require her no hear the peacock anymore). The only possible good thing that could come out of this is the possibility that suspicion would be drawn away from the McKinnon name. If Lucius mentioned her help to anyone with Death Eater ties, then maybe no one would find out the Task Force, and by default, the Order. Maybe it was wishful thinking, sure, but sometimes it was better to think impossible thoughts than negative ones. 

With a heavy sigh as she hauled herself over fountain rubble, she started to call out for the witch. “Narcissa…? Narcissa!! Can you hear us?” She glanced back at Lucius, wondering if her helping him even mattered in the long run… which was a selfish thing to think: will helping this man find his wife help me? She tried to get the voice in her brain to shut up. After a few moments, she turned back to Malfoy. “Do you see her?”

A sharp retort – If I saw her, would I still be flailing around shrieking her name with you? – poised itself to tumble off Lucius’s tongue, but no more had his mouth opened to begin the sneer than suddenly he did see her and all other considerations became entirely irrelevant (even the urge toward withering commentary, which for Lucius was generally a higher priority than breathing). That flash of gold, that swirl of ash-white – unmistakable.

“NARCISSA!” The word burst out more like a wail. He barely noticed the wizard standing next to her; barely noticed the witch standing next to him even as he grabbed Marlene’s shoulder for leverage and thrust himself forward in a slipping, sliding, sloppy sprint. The shattered fragments of statuary under his feet were notable only for the inconvenience they posed as he scrambled over them and threw himself forward, catching Cissy in something that was less a hug and more the gesture of a drowning man clutching a liferaft.

“Darling, you’re injured!” he gasped, seeing the blood. “Oh no!” The wizard next to her came suddenly into focus and the warm panic in Lucius’s eyes clouded over into frigid gray. “What happened?” he demanded – as if it might somehow be Cardoc Dearborn’s fault his wife was hurt, never mind the explosion that had devastated the whole room!

Caradoc wasn’t technically any more stable than Narcissa, but when the woman wobbled by his side, he was quick to catch her and offer his side to lean against. She didn’t look any more hurt than he was, which was a relief. He needed to get her out of there and into some fresh air if she was up for it, and then he’d return and help others.

“Are you alright? You must’ve gotten up too quickly, let’s sit you down somewhere, okay?” But before he could stay true to his word, the familiar shriek of Lucius Malfoy cut through them.

He didn’t even try to stop the man from nearly tackling his wife to the ground, even if he was hesitant to let Narcissa go, based on how unstable she’d been on her feet before. Lucius’ petulant suspiciousness was met with a glare of his own, all of the warmth he’d offered Cissy now gone from his face as he talked to the other Malfoy. “That horrid statue had trapped Narcissa underneath it, I helped her out. That’s all.”

Only then he noticed Marlene, and he reached out to her with a relieved sigh, squeezing her shoulder. “Good to see you. What happened? Is everyone okay?”