i might have just flown too far from the floor

dedalus diggle. 17. gryffindor. he/him // somewhere, something incredible is waiting to be known

[vanitv-archive-blog]

“It can’t have an existential crisis, Diggle. It isn’t sentient.” She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, demonstratively exasperated with the entire ordeal, from being paired up with Dedalus to having to grow the damn thing. “Do you really think it’s a good idea to coddle Venomous Tentacula?” She poked it again, glaring at it as though it had done her some personal wrong.

[dedalusdig-archive]

“She doesn’t mean it. Deep, deep, deep , deep, deep down, she doesn’t actually mean it, Archie.” Herbology used to be boring to Ded during the first couple of years, but since then they would be taking care of poisonous, flesh eating, lethal plants. That made it much more interesting and definitely one of the classes he always looked forward to the most. “Archie has a pure…” Well, he couldn’t exactly say heart. “Root. And we’ll raise him to be a nice dancing plant, because we’re good parents. You know what creates enough mommy and daddy issues to make the children grow into killers? Neglect and abuse. Stop poking him, please.” He grabbed her wand while she was trying to poke Archilbald again and pushed it to the side. “Plus, he’s not very strong or lethal, yet.”

[vanitv-archive-blog]

“Stop —… stop calling it that. It’s a plant.” She prodded one of its leaves apprehensively with her wand, watching the tendril curl up and withdraw, her face clearly showing her distaste.

[dedalusdig-archive]

“Do you seriously want to give Archibald an existential crisis at this age?” He nearly hissed back at her, while keeping his voice down. Dedalus then carefully placed his glove covered hand over one of the small leaves with a kind smile on his lips. “Don’t mind her, Archie. You are whatever you want to be, we’ll love you no matter what.” The professor had told them that talking to the plants helped them grow, and he didn’t take it lightly. 

[aurora-owens-blog]

Mudbloods and Imposters

[aurora-owens-blog]

Aurora shrugged her shoulders but she relaxed as she talked to Dedalus.  “Yeah I know.  And it is.. confusing as fuck.  But the thing is that there are people who don’t know a damn thing about me and they hate me.  I know there are people who hate me.  People who are afraid of me.  In their mind I’m evil, I’m a bitch, I’m that stereotypical pureblood slytherin.  But with some people, my actions have nothing to do with anything.  As soon as I was sorted into Slytherin I became the enemy.  Sure, there’s you and Cara and a couple of others that I consider friends.  But the truth of the matter is that it’s not enough.  I do what I have to do to survive, Ded.  I’ve always been like that.”  

This was a much deeper conversation than she was used to having with Dedalus.  It had her feeling vulnerable.  She wrapped her arms around herself.  “I know there’s a war.  I haven’t thought about what I’m going to do after school is over.  Honestly, I’m scared.  I don’t know what I’m going to do.  I want to be me, the real me, Aurora, the person you and Cara know.  But that’s the kind of person that’s going to be targeted.  I’ve just.. I’m not thinking about that right now.”  

[dedalusdig-archive]

He opened his mouth to give his own input after almost every word she said, but quickly closed it. Dedalus wasn’t a good listener, but that kind of conversation required him to be one. It was a delicate subject and he knew it. I’m scared. Tough fighters, future soldiers, reckless and brave children. But they were all so scared. Ded gave her leg a little head bump, in an unspoken gesture asking her to sit like him. Unspoken gestures were rare with Dedalus, but they were meaningful. “Then woman up! If you’re brave enough to survive, then you’re brave enough to fight back.” It was an honest and open conversation, like most of his. After thinking about what he had just said, the corners of his lips rose a little. To him, being brave was just generic. That was what they all did, their first choice. Never to cower, never to hide away. Flight or fight would always end up in a fight. Be  b r a v e. The sorting hat’s decision was made very clear in moments like those. But he believed that there was bravery in survival too. Perhaps Aurroa just needed a little push. 

“We’re all going to be targeted, c’mon. Blood-traitors, muggleborns, Merlin anyone who fights back and everyone who doesn’t. We’re all targets somehow. What, you think that by joining the little murder club you become immune? Make one mistake and there’ll be targets all around you. Make none and they’ll be there anyway.” He rubbed his chin, concentrating once again on the words he had just spoken. He never thought before speaking, only after. In a way it was something positive for it made him very honest. Sometimes slightly blunt, but always well-intentioned. “It’s all a game while you’re in here, but don’t take the theatre outside. Seriously, this evil Aurora thing needs to end here. Don’t make bad choices over fear. You won’t be alone if you fight back, but you know you will if you don’t. There should be more than a handful of people who know who you really are, Ror.”

[dedalusdig-archive]

take my hand, take my charms knowledge too || dedalus&gideon

Most of the party was a blur in Dedalus’ mind, but if there was one moment that was clear as crystal in his mind was the proud accomplishment of finally being able to distinguish the Prewett twins. Or so he thought. After wrongly identifying Fabian, he became very aware of the subtle differences between the two twins; so much that they now nearly looked like two highly distinguishable people to him. Ded was sitting near the black lake with a large and old, and possibly stolen from the restricted section, charms book. It was as far as it could be from being a quiet place, but the buzzing behind him was much more comfortable than silence. Students were enjoying themselves on the very last days of sunny weather, and what better way to do that than being close to the lake? It was Scotland after all, when it was sunny people better enjoy it because it would never last  for long.

A group of seventh years like Dedalus were chatting not far from him, babbling about difficult spells and patronuses. He wasn’t eavesdropping, but a sentence he had accidentally overheard caught his attention. He took a quick peek at the group to identify who had said it. Gideon Fabian Prewett wasn’t very good at the Patronus Charm. They had spoken very little in their seven years together, but he sang him a song during the party so that made them close enough for him the meddle in. At least in his opinion. After the group separated and everyone took their separate way, Ded got up and walked quickly, catching up with Gideon. “I wasn’t listening to your conversation, you were the ones talking very loudly.” He started, not minding greetings. Ded always found them very generic, unnecessary and time consuming. “Which is, you know, fine. I mean, we weren’t in a library or anything, and we’re free-“ He took a break to catch his breath, and to get back on track. It was remarkable how easily Dedalus could start rambling and completely forget what he was actually supposed to be talking about. “Patronuses are  the most amazing things you’ll ever see. They’re like the definition of magic itself! It’s a brilliant experience and you should be able to well, experience it, more often. I can produce a patronus fairly easily, and so should you, so I’m volunteering to help.” Everything he said was true to him. The Patronus Charm was definitely his favourite, and the embodiment of magic in his opinion. It was beautiful, full of light and something completely out of a fairy tale. “If you want to, of course.” The thought of not volunteering to help someone at the first chance he got was simply rude in his mind. “What do you say, Fabian?” Pride filled his voice and body, making him stand straight and with a slightly smug smile on his lips. A remarkable accomplishment indeed.

[aurora-owens-blog]

kill (bc i'm trash)

Kill — I’ll write a angst drabble of my character violently killing yours. Because you are mean and want me to cry a pool of tears.  

The death mark on her left inner arm was jet black and moving, and it was burning.  She was being summoned by the Dark Lord.  He likely wanted another potion.  As long as she wore the death mark on her arm and as long as she did Voldemort’s bidding, she was safe.  None of the death eaters would touch her.  Not even Bellatrix.  She pasted a smile on her face as she walked into the Dark Lord’s abode and found him in the dining room.  

But there was no keeping that smile pasted on her lips when she saw Dedalus.  He was laying atop the dining room table, his shirt was ripped off, leaving it hanging around his waist in torn tatters.  She stopped dead in her tracks at the door.  

“Ahhh, Aurora, come come.  Look at the present I’ve gotten for you.”  

Aurora felt numb inside as she moved towards Lord Voldemort.  Present?  The word confused her.  What present?  Did he mean Dedalus and how the hell could anybody consider this a present?  

“My Lord,” She said, as she reached his side.  “What present?” 

“Why this, traitor to the wizard community, of course.  I’ve brought him here for you to play with.”  

Like a cat, bringing in a live mouse and dropping it at her master’s feet.  Here’s your present.  Have fun with it.  But why on earth would he give her Dedalus.  She looked at Lord Voldemort for the first time since coming into the room and seeing Dedalus.  There was a dangerous glint in his eyes, his smile nothing more but a bearing of teeth.  Realization fell over Aurora.  

This wasn’t a present.  It was a test.  

“How shall I play with him, my Lord?” Aurora asked, hardness coming over her.  

This was the only way to survive.  

“He’s a member of the Order.  I want to know everything he knows.”  Lord Voldemort said.  

“Of course, I have veritaserum-”

“No.  No veritaserum. Loosen his lips with screams.”  

Aurora took out her wand and stepped towards Dedalus.  There was fear reflected in his eyes, and a glimmer of hope.  

“Don’t do this, Aurora.  We’re friends.”  

Aurora shook her head.  “No, we’re not.  A long time ago you said to me… There’s a war.  Who are you going to be then?  Now you get to find out…  Crucio,” She said, aiming her wand at the defenseless man.  

Her features were hard, closed off.  On the surface she looked unfeeling, but instead she was dying.  Dedalus screamed in pain, trashing uncontrollably on the wooden table.  Aurora couldn’t look away.  She wanted to, Merlin, how she wanted to.  But she couldn’t.  She needed to hear every scream, see every feature of agony.  She would carry the burden of this guilt with her for the rest of her life.  Aurora cut off the curse, dropping her wand.  

“Tell us what we want to know, Dedalus, and I’ll make it end quickly.”  

Dedalus glared at Aurora.  “Hit me with your best shot, Ror.”  

The old nickname cut through her chest like a knife, stabbing into her heart.  

Aurora pointed her wand again.  “Crucio.”  

Hours passed, and still Dedalus had not given them any information.  Each time she applied the Cruciatus curse, it killed a piece of Aurora’s soul.  

“Enough,” Lord Voldemort said.  “He doesn’t know anything.  Good job, Aurora.  End it and meet me in the study.”  

“End it?” Aurora asked.  

“Finish him, of course.  If he hasn’t talked by now, he’s not going to talk.  He serves no more purpose to us.”  Lord Voldemort said and walked out

Aurora was left alone with Dedalus.  He was still trembling, his eyes wild with the pain, despite the fact that the curse was stopped.  But after hours of torture, his body didn’t know the difference between magic and real anymore.  There was even blood dripping from his nose.  

“Ded?” she said softly.  “I’m so sorry.”  

“Kill me, Ror.”  Dedalus croaked.  His voice was so hoarse, she wasn’t sure she heard him right.  “Please.  Just.  Kill me.”  

Aurora couldn’t see him through the tears in her eyes.  She blinked and they cascaded in two hot lines down her face.  She lifted her wand.  

“Avada Kedavra,” she whispered.  

A flash of green and Dedalus’ body went limp, his eyes staring at her, unseeing.  She couldn’t leave him like that.  Aurora moved closer to the body.  He was a body now.  She couldn’t think of him as Dedalus.  She felt sick to her stomach, she was going to throw up.  But she couldn’t.  The Dark Lord was expecting her.  

Aurora trailed her hand over his eyes, closing them.  Then she wiped the tears off of her face, took a deep breath, and went to see the Dark Lord, that pasted on smile cemented in place.  

[capnprongs]

take a right at heartbreak hotel || dedalus & james

Jamesie,

Before you even begin to fret, your father is fine better. He took a nasty fall, but if there’s one thing to said about the Potter boys, it’s that you lot are persistent. A healer at St. Mungo’s patched him right up, but he’ll have to stay for at least a week overnight. They say there’s nothing they can do about the irregularity in his heart ( so there’s nothing you can do, young man! no need to worry! ), but as he’s still grumbling about missing the opening for Quidditch this year, I have to believe he’ll be fine. Just thought I should update you.

Love,  Mum 

[capnprongs]

James refolded the note in his hand, as he had done a hundred times prior, and slipped the crumbled, smeared parchment into his pocket. The Quidditch pitch was empty, a fact which he was grateful for. All of the uncertainty, all of that annoying, forever creeping fear didn’t seem quite as consuming when he got on a broom. He flew for a while, until the wind swept away his thoughts and the cold pierced the haze surrounding him. When his feet touched the ground, he felt not at peace ( for as long as the darkness continued, a lion would never be at peace ) but at least more clearheaded than he had been.

Footsteps echoed with unnatural loudness in the pitch, and he caught sight of Dedalus, looking far worse than James felt. Waving at him from across the pitch, James immediately made his way to the man’s side. It was a rarity to see the young man with anything outside of rays of sunshine bursting from his face; James hid his stab of panic beneath a hesitant smile. “My favorite little flower! You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Do you want to talk or hit something, because we can do either?” 

[dedalusdig-archive]

No matter how nurturing his uncle and aunt were, like any other child that had been left behind by his own progenitors, Ded had abandonment issues. He’d never call them that, of course. Perhaps ‘completely normal fear of being alone’ would be the self given definition. Because if he were to admit that he was terrified of being abandoned again, he’d have to admit that that was why he surrounded himself with people. Why he always did his best to befriend every single person to a point where, at the moment, it was just habit. Why he always welcomed everyone to his heart, because maybe if he filled it up enough, a loss or two wouldn’t leave wounds as deep. She’s fine, she just left me again. She’s  f i n e.

A letter came early that morning, and Dedalus had been quiet ever since. He was grateful that Caradoc was still asleep, because he wasn’t quite sure what he’d tell him. He’d tell him everything, of course. He always did. But things were depressing on his life at the moment too, so he was grateful to have a couple of hours before he had to tell his best friend that he had received a letter from his aunt announcing that she and his uncle were going to Germany for an undetermined amount of time. They would go looking for his mother, who hadn’t been replying to any of their letters for two months. She hadn’t replied to his own letter, sent weeks ago, but he brushed it off. It wouldn’t be the first time that they wouldn’t talk for months, so it seemed normal. As normal as it could be. But she always replied to their letters, so it was indeed alarming. She was a blood-traitor, but that was it. For all he knew, she held no important secrets or had no important profession that would justify a war-related disappearance. But then again, what did he know about his mother?

When things got too bad, and the negative thoughts outweighed the positive ones, he’d call it a recharge day. It was the perfect excuse – no one could be jumping around in an infinite state of hecticness for three hundred and sixty five days a year. Therefore, he’d just tell everyone that it was his day to recharge batteries and he’d be away from people, quietly stuck inside his own mind. Those days were almost as terrifying as most of his nights.

It was recharge day.

He barely remembered the last time he actually saw his mother, in the beginning of the summer. She stayed with them for the weekend and barely exchanged more than ten sentences with her son, but after so many months, he couldn’t remember a word of them. He wished he could, because it was easy to forget her voice. What if he never heard it again? His thoughts shut him off reality, so he just kept walking, his hands tuck inside his pockets and his shoulders rigid, giving him the impression of being even smaller than he actually was. The intense smell of grass brought him back, and he finally realized that he was on the Quidditch pitch. He couldn’t exactly understand why until he saw James taller than ever in the sky. Perhaps he was hoping that there was someone there. Perhaps he didn’t want to be alone, quietly stuck inside his own mind. 

He couldn’t help it, but form the ghost of an already faint smile on his lips after hearing Potter’s greeting. “You’re very much correct, I did see the Fat Friar on my way here.” Jame’s suggestions were both tempting. Usually aggressiveness wouldn’t help him at all, but he was indeed angry. Behind all of the panic and sadness there was something fiery that wanted to burst everything around him in flames. He just wasn’t sure of who he was mad at. Voldemort and his crew; alternative a) they had taken her. His mother; alternative b) she left him again. Himself in both alternatives, who couldn’t remember her voice anymore. “What do have for me to hit?” Lying would be ridiculous, James knew him far too well, and hitting sounded less painful than the panic attack he had after reading the letter. It was too soon to talk. The fiery thing that was burning his insides had to come out first, panic could come second, words later.

[queensmaker]

[aurora-owens-blog]

Mudbloods and Imposters

[aurora-owens-blog]

The more Dedalus talked, the worse Aurora felt for saying the things she was saying.  He knew how she really felt about all of this stuff, but she still felt guilty.  Then again the more he talked, the more the Slytherin girl she had been talking to was likely to leave and finally she was gone.  Aurora leaned against the wall, relieved that it was just her and Dedalus in the hallway now.  

She rolled her eyes at Dedalus’ words.  “You’re an ass.  Stand still, I’ll tattoo a snake on your forehead and you can be part of the club.”  

She sighed softly and looked down the hallway where the girl had retreated.  

“I’m sorry about all of the things I said.”  She said softly and then looked at Dedalus.  “I can’t wait for the term to be lover.  I can’t wait to leave Hogwarts and put an end to all of the lies.  It’s exhausting keeping up appearances and pretending to be somebody I’m not.”  

[dedalusdig-archive]

You’re an ass. There weren’t many things that could trigger Dedalus’ rage, but blood purity was one of those. He was indeed an ass when he was angry. A very cynical ass. So he simply nodded in confirmation of her words, not really looking at her. Her apology was sincere, that much he was sure of, but it was becoming something tiring. Slowly letting himself sink back to the floor, Ded crossed his harms  staring at his friend. “I can’t say I get, you know that. Pretending to be someone I’m not is something I’d never be willing to do. Plus, it must be confusing as fuck.” He added with a lighter tone and a glimpse of a smile, now that the fake one was gone. 

“But you can’t go out of your way like that, Ror. C’mon, give yourself some boundaries. It’s not because you don’t say mudblood every five seconds that they’ll thing ‘Oh Merlin, you’re one of them aren’t you’.” Ded nudged her foot with his knee, in a much more gentle and calm gesture than the ones he had before. Being mad at someone was exhausting, and since he finally told her everything he wanted, most of the anger was gone. “What about the after? There’s a war, in case you’ve forgotten. What are you going to do once school is over? Who are you going to be then?”

[hestiajxnes-deactivated20150829]

Hestia laughed and shook her head kindheartedly, “I should have known you would be a culprit, however I think I might have been the one to put the socks on… then again I don’t remember much of what happened.” Her face twisted in disgust at the word ‘spider’, however she couldn’t stop the laughter that fell from her lips. “That spider was definitely one lucky gal, next time you see her you should invite her to Hogsmead, share some biscuits at Puddifoot’s Tea Shop.” Hestia paused and pondered the question over, she knew that they had all been caught but as for detentions she knew that she didn’t get one although she had been caught by McGonagall. “We defintely were caught, but as for punishments I haven’t heard anything yet.”

[dedalusdig-archive]

“Excellent plan! Although she did seem a tad too punk rock for Puddifoot’s, but we’ll see.” He added with a laugh. The amused expression turned into a concerned frown for a couple of seconds, but as soon as he learned about the lack of punishment (for the moment) it disappeared as quickly as it came. “Perhaps if we don’t say a thing, they’ll just throw us some shade and let it go.” That was the hopeful and optimistic way to see it. “Worry not, if they come at you with crazy detentions just say that I dragged you with me. And then we’ll pin it all on some Slytherin that forced us both to go.” He was joking, of course. At least in the last part. “In unrelated news, I talked to Slug this morning about our baked goods situation. He told me that he had never heard a sillier question, and that is a lot since, you know, I’m one of his students and have been for quite a long time. He then indicated me to a couple of books about potions that affect the human body, so there’s still hope!”

[aurora-owens-blog]

Mudbloods and Imposters

[aurora-owens-blog]

Aurora internally winced as Dedalus made his presence known.  For a moment she hoped that he hadn’t heard her, but that smile on his face and the next words shattered any hope of that.  She always felt bad when Caradoc or Dedalus saw her do something distinctly Slytherin.  Over the last seven years, Aurora had wondered a time or two if the sorting had hadn’t gotten it wrong.  It should have put her in a different house.  A house where she didn’t have to lie and pretend to be something she wasn’t.  But Aurora was better than to whine and cry over the shit life tossed at her.  She adapted.  

Aurora rolled her eyes at Dedalus as he completed his speech.  “Oh you misunderstand, my point completely.  I’m not scared of mudbloods.  Not in the slightest.  They’re a nuisance.  They annoy me.  They’re not dangerous.. they’re a waste of space.”  She smirked.  

Aurora had spent a lot of time perfecting that smirk.  It masked her own thoughts perfectly.  Cause her real thoughts on that matter were I’m probably one of them too.  

“Now if you’re done butting into my conversation, sod off.” 

[dedalusdig-archive]

“A waste of space? Really?” He knew she didn’t mean it, but he couldn’t just listen to those things and stand still and quiet. It was like there were two Auroras, and it pissed him off that things had to be that way, but he didn’t let that justify her words. Ded was trustworthy and he would drop cold and dead before telling her secret, but he sure as hell wouldn’t let her go out of her way with the slurs and hate speech. “Nobby Leach, one of our most recent Ministers of Magic was a muggleborn. Economy was alright, and he wasn’t crowding Azkaban with even more dementors like our lovely current Minister, Minchum has been doing. A pureblood, for the record. Of course, he had to leave his post when he mysteriously contracted an illness. Such a waste of space.” At that point he was talking over Aurora, and mostly just to the other girl who was slowly getting rid of his hand on her shoulder. 

“The list could go on, you know?” He then looked at Aurora, concentrated on her smirk. He wasn’t smiling like that, no. His smile was simple and almost seemed genuine. “They are so annoying, living their lives without doing anything to you.  Because look around us, Hogwarts is so crowded with them. There could be more pureblood extremists in their place! Purebloods have a reason to hate them, not the opposite, of course.” He could have continued,  but the other Slytherin girl left them silently. Ded rested against a wall, watching her disappear in the distance. “No, don’t go! We were having such a lovely time being bigots!” Once she was out of sight, he turned again to face Aurora, the smile still stuck to his lips. “She wasn’t committed enough to the cause. Now, when are we getting our matching hate group tattoos?”

[dedalusdig-archive]

something you're afraid of with the death eaters rising?

“I’mafraid, no, I’m terrified about what might happen to my friends and family. It’scliché but it’s the truth. I mean, look around you! People are eitherdropping dead like flies or disappearing, and let’s be honest, most of thosewho disappear are probably dead or worse. I try not to think about it because Iknow nothing will happen to us while we’re in Hogwarts, but many have come backfrom the summer carrying the kind of scars that don’t go away. The ones whostill have a family right now, might not have one by the time they leave Hogwarts. Andwhat will happen to my friends after we graduate?” He took a break tocatch his breath. “They all deserve much better than the world they’re about tolive in. We all do. Which is why there has to be something we can do once weleave Hogwarts. We can be Aurors and Hit Wizards and all that crap, but all ittakes is for them to take over the Ministry and we’re useless. An independentgroup, that’s what we need.”

[dedalusdig-archive]

tell me something you appreciate about a person in your life

“Justone person? His hair. I try to mimic it sometimes, that’s how perfect itis.”

[dedalusdig-archive]

one thing you've never changed your mind about?

“Equality.I was always raised to be accepting and being told that everyone is equal. WhenI think about it, it helps me humanize some of the students who believe in the whole blood supremacy thing. Not justify their acts or words, God no! But what if I hadbeen raised by my grandparents and not my uncle and aunt? Perhaps I could have endedup like them. I like to believe that I would have learned a better way andchanged my mind eventually, but you never know, right?” He sighed, shrugging hisshoulders. “Then again, my grandparents would never raise a ‘mixed abomination’ –their words, not mine.” Ded added with a laugh. “In light of the recent events,I’m glad that believing in equality is the one thing that I’ve never changed my mind about, and never will.”

[dedalusdig-archive]

what is something you think about before you fall asleep?

“Thatreally depends on what I have to look forward in the next morning. If I have todo something related to Quidditch, I think about Quidditch, and so on. It alsodepends on how sleep deprived I am. The more tired I am, the more I think aboutthings that I can’t really look forwards to do on the next morning, like why isthe moon so distant? How many laws of physics does Cara’s hair defy? What thehell am I doing with my life because I get really anxious and panicky at fouram.”

[dedalusdig-archive]

[hestiajxnes-deactivated20150829]

I can’t even remember what time I got back to my common room. All I remember is waking up to my arms in my socks and mittens on my feet.

[dedalusdig-archive]

“Alright, I remember the mittens, that was me. I have no idea how you ended up with your arms in your socks though.” Dedalus remembered very little from the party besides noise and him playing guitar and singing. Or perhaps they were both the same thing, he couldn’t really tell. “I believe I blacked out after singing a serenade to a spider on the wall. She seemed vaguely interested, so perhaps she’ll come with me to our next Hogsmead trip.” He joked with a faint laugh. “If we have one. That would be one nasty detention, though. The teachers were there, right? Were we caught?”

[sheddingscales]

Lucinda & Dedalus || Come Fly with Me

[sheddingscales]

He didn’t disappoint, of course. Dedalus’ reply elicited a hearty laugh from Lucinda. She didn’t know exactly what to expect, other than to be surprised. He proved a prime example of when to expect the unexpected. “Alright, glad to hear it.” The laugh still bubbled through her words, which were funny, too, by association. To be plain, she didn’t fully understand how to react to Dedalus or the things he said but being in a good mood (rather the result of the prospect of flying) she was fluidly rolling with it. All, or at least some, of the care and calculation continually installed in Lucinda seemed to be set aside for a while, like a social experiment. “I’ll drop you off to the kitchens after this and probably see you later at dinner, then, yeah?”

Sadness at the loss of her broom, the remembrance of that, threatened to overwhelm her, now that she was confronted with a time of need. However, other distractions secured Lucinda’s attention. Mainly, the idyllic landscape that lay before her, which coveted such an influence over her. The soft, crisp crunch of the grass underfoot. The vastness of the backdrop which was the sky, whether it contained Dedalus’s rain clouds or his aunt’s scorching sun. The surrounding stands, where generations upon generations of Hogwarts students gathered to scream and cheer their throats hoarse with excitement, pride, anger, fear. With passion. Here and now it was soundless and unstirred. Lucinda could feign hear the yells on the swirling wind, like ghostly calls. There was an eeriness about this becalmed scene that didn’t awaken anxiety, as you might expect. It was more of a nostalgia, like visiting an old, vacant home.

There was no space for sadness here. Not among the mass of memories which Lucinda connected to this pitch, that were rooted in the soil beneath her feet and formed towering trees around her. Recollections of victory, a sense of belonging and rightness, reminiscence of purpose and passion. Even the defeats and the mistakes did not trouble her. Lucinda had the kind of ambitious, resourceful mind that bent these memories to her advantage. They were motivation and lessons. All of these memories structured into a forest, trees with branches that she could climb all the way to the top. There she would find herself so easily among the clouds again, where she felt a belonging, a fit, above and beyond the reach of any earthly pressure or prejudice. That was where she thrived, where she flew, where she felt power and the exertion of it.

So perhaps that was why Lucinda permitted an honest, full answer when Dedalus inquired after her broom. No coarse or crude rebuff, just a simple, open truth.  "My little brother happened to it, I s'pose.“ He, too, prevented her depression. How could she not forgive him? "We were all playing Quidditch and went in for a water break, but he got to my broom and started throwing it around, bashing it against the ground. He wanted to play, too, little tearaway. But it was old and delicate and now it seems to have firmly kicked the bucket.” Lucinda chewed her lip, deep in thought. Her gaze alternated between Dedalus and that sky she longed to return to. It was unlike her, but much like desperation. “Don’t suppose you’re any good at fixing brooms? I’ve tried everything but nothing seems to do any good.” A feeling of stupidity clung to her directly after the words left her lips. Why should she expect any help from anyone? What had she done to deserve it?

She took a broom from him, examining it in her hands. It wasn’t much worse than her own and it was all in one piece, it certainly had that going for it. “Sounds good to me.” Absently, Lucinda began throwing the Quaffle up and catching it, familiarizing herself. It wasn’t her regular but she practiced ever position in Quidditch, especially at home. This wasn’t just for enjoyment or to give everyone a go, it also stemmed from a sheer need to be the best Quidditch player she could be. Lucinda did not just play Quidditch, she worked at it. Tucking the ball under her arm, she gripped the broom between her hands and prepared to take off. Her grin could not, almost refused of its own will, to be concealed as she began to fly, excitedly ordering, “Lets go!”

[dedalusdig-archive]

He wasn’t expecting an actual answer. Hoping, perhaps, but not really believing he would get one. He had already asked her too much. That was always Dedalus’ issue, he never knew when to stop. He never knew when he was going too far, or meddling too much. Being intrusive was never his goal, it just happened. Everybody was filled with stories to tell, and Dedalus wouldn’t mind listening to a two hour ramble about how someone brushed their hair that morning. Sure, he’d interrupt multiple times and eventually start rambling himself until he’d realize what he was doing and give the microphone back to the storyteller, but it was all well-intentioned. Tell me about your day. Why are you wearing blue? Why do you call your grandma double-mama and, no judging, please tell me she’s forcing you to do that. Why was she broomless?

At that point it was just habit. Tell me your stories, what do you mean ‘who the hell are you’, you asked me the time four months ago, we know each other. And he was used to receiving half-hearted answers, said just to shut him up. Lucinda was open and carefree, and that surprised him. He loved that feeling.

Dedalus had always wondered what it would be like to have any siblings. Perhaps he had half-siblings somewhere in the world, who perhaps carried his father’s surname. The one he never had. The one he never even heard. The thought erased the smile from his face, but he didn’t even realize that. He was far too concentrated in the castle, where the objects he had summoned would soon come from, and on the side of him that he would never know. He didn’t need him, no, he never did. But it would be nice to know a name, or if he had any half-siblings out there. Perhaps lonely ones, who also didn’t know their surname. Maybe they destroyed footballs and not broomsticks. Ded shook his head to concentrate back in reality, just in time to listen to her question. “I’d need to actually see the corpse to know if I can revive it.” He answered with a chuckle that almost disappeared in the raging wind. “Bring it to me and I’ll do my best. I can’t make it worse, can I?” The full grin was back where it belonged, and any thoughts of lost relatives were shoved to the back of his mind.

There was a cold and earthy scent on the air that made his blood run faster, filling him with energy. Sometimes it felt like there was too much of that, and not enough of him, because when he got excited about something it was like his skin was pressing on his bones and he could barely breath. After a few seconds of watching her play with the Quaffle, his hands held tighter to the broom until his fingers became pale. He let her go first and couldn’t suppress a laugh when he got a glimpse of her face. He gave a little jump, just so that he could release some of the energy and repeated under his breath. “Let’s go!”.

After a few seconds of adapting to the broomstick, Dedalus caught up with Lucinda, and then got ahead of her. He speeded in the direction of the three rings, but not in a completely straight line. Every now and then the broomstick would turn a little to the sides, or turn around itself, but he always found a way to put it back on track. The wind wasn’t of much help either, sometimes trying to drag him in a direction he didn’t want to go. After a while he reached the hoops and stayed close to them, taking the position of a keeper. The scene looked almost like a joke, because keepers were large and tall. Dedalus was small enough to look like a fourth  year when he was standing in front of the large hoops. “I’ll be the keeper first! We trade places after-“ The stopped mid sentence to look at the sky and a drop of rain fell on his nose. He looked back at her with an almost smug expression. “I told you!” Ded remarked with a chortle and then continued. “We trade places after fifty points, yes?” All she had to do was pass the Quaffle through the hoops five times. Being fully aware of his own skills, Ded knew that in just a few minutes it would be his turn to throw the Quaffle. He got in position, ignoring the rain that slowly started to wet his back or the wind that shook the broomstick every few seconds. He had been shouting the whole time, but the wind still diminished his loudness. Ded didn’t have the most pleasant shouting voice. In fact, it was high-pitched, slightly adenoidal and breathy. “Go!”