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@franktheauror1x1
She is not ‘my girl.’ She belongs to herself. And I am blessed, for with all her freedom, she still comes back to me, moment-to-moment, day-by-day, night-by-night. How much more blessed can I be?
Avrahan Chaim, Thoughts after the alchemist (via thelovejournals)
florawiingrave:
Gemma Arterton as Alice Lamb in Summerland (2020) (insp.)
thewrongsorts:
“Right.” Lucky for both of them he had years of practice at looking the other way from shit. Mundungus tucked his face against his shoulder, hands still against the door. He shoved it open at the cacophony behind them, stumbling inside to startling darkness; a hoarse lumos revealed a dingy storage room. Perfect.
He slammed the door shut behind Frank, not risking a glance back into the alley behind him. “Not automatically,” he sighed, translucent runes flashing between his fingers and the handle. “Give us a second.”
There was a hum and a heavy click before he looked back up at his… unlikely ally. “Alright. What now, auror?”
The promise of momentary respite was enough to let Frank relax slightly, and he slumped against the wall as the adrenaline rush loosened its grip just a little. “We take a moment,” he said quietly. “They’re not gonna be seein’ well for a while, so... Disillusionments might help. Though if they’re thick enough, they might think we Disapparated once they realise they can’t get through this door easy.”
thewrongsorts:
“I have had to memorize a great deal of names,” she agrees with an answering laugh. Her family is not small, either, if one includes the grandparents and cousins who still live in Shandong, but only one of them had been able to attend. She hopes to introduce Bill to the rest sooner rather than later, but, especially with the rising tension of an impending war… who could say.
“I think I have time,” she nods beamingly, glancing back at the band as they start their transition to a new song, and holds out her hand. “Let’s?”
A grin spreading across his face again, Frank took her hand and stepped in close. He wasn’t the best, but his mother had drilled a few formal dances into him just so he wouldn’t embarrass her at any formal functions, and he still remembered a couple now.
“Fingers crossed I won’t step on yer feet,” he said, well aware that she was a lot more graceful than him. “Not a good look, mashin’ the bride’s feet.”
thewrongsorts:
She lets go with a breathless laugh of her own, leaning back into a lazy crouch on the balls of her feet. “Pull your arm off, please. Break it at worst,” she teases lightly. There’s handfuls of loose, sweaty hair in her eyes and her knee aches where she’d landed on it earlier, but that easy smile is all real— She does love sparring with him.
And winning, to boot.
“Need me to kiss it better?”
He flops pathetically once she lets go, making a show of nursing the arm, and then rolls over with the most outrageous puppy eyes. “Yes please,” he replies, tryig to look as much like a kicked puppy as a tall, burly man can.
thewrongsorts:
text posts [1/9] alice
thewrongsorts:
They go down, and Alice curses softly, tugging and turning herself to hit the ground a little away, where at least he’s not on top of her. She doesn’t quite stick the landing— it pulls a harsh little oof! out of her, and she already knows it’s going to bruise, later.
She lunges back at him, grabbing for his arms to twist him onto his stomach and pulling his arm back behind him in a rough shoulder lock. ( It’s tempting to throw a knee over to straddle him— but right now what she really wants is the control that focusing on his arm gives her. )
“Say when, yeah, babe?”
By the time she’s got his arm up his back, Frank is laughing. She’s definitely got him good this time. He goes limp, or as limp as he can without straining the pinned arm, and shakes his head. “When, before you pull me bloody arm off, woman,” he says, still laughing.
thewrongsorts:
“Thank you.” She beamed back up at him, squeezing his arm for a moment before stepping back. Usually Fleur was restrained about physical contact —skittish, even,— but tonight, it seemed to come easily to her, the brightness of her smile not flickering for a moment.
“Not left me to it,” she agreed, laughing. “We agreed to… comment dire… divide and conquer, for a bit, yes? So that we can see everyone, between us. And for dancing, I admit— the first person I went off to was my sister.”
Frank laughed, warm and loud. “I think you’ve a lot more guests than we did, so makes sense. There's that many Weasleys, you need a map to keep track.” He said it with all affection; as a rule, he rather liked the Weasleys he’d met, and the newest member of the family was no exception.
“Speakin’ o’ dances, don’t suppose an old bloke like me could get one wi’ the lady of the evening?” he said playfully. “Or should I come back later?”
thewrongsorts:
Kingsley beamed back at him— It had been a joy, these last months, to see his already-affable colleague and mentor bloom. He was thrilled by every update and could hardly wait to finally meet the wife that made Frank smile like that. Sooner rather than later, apparently!
“With her healers’ approval, I hope?” His eyebrows jumped a bit, but the smile only widened playfully. Just from Frank’s stories, he was fast gaining the impression of a tremendously stubborn woman, and he doubted the St. Mungo’s would sway her much in any case.
“That’s lovely,” he hummed, nodding effusively. “I’m sure he’ll be able to make up the time later. Family comes first… I can’t imagine how exciting this must be for your boy.”
Sighing thoughtfully, he agreed, “More than a few, I’d imagine. I look forward to meeting her.”
“Ah, there’s at least one Healer she always listened to, at least most o’ the time,” Frank said, grinning hugely. Ted Tonks had been a close friend and part-time Quidditch rival since school, and he and Andromeda had been a tremendous help in the early days after the attack. (Frank knew full well that Andromeda blamed herself for it, somehow. Pity what having a psychopath for a sister did to you.) In any case, Ted had always been willing to coax or bully stubborn members of the Order into actually getting some medical treatment.
“But yeah, she won’t be stuck in there any longer than she needs. An’ Nev’s over the moon. Bit awkward, like, but happy. To be fair, how d’you make it not awkward when you’re talking to your mum for the first time in your life?” He chuckled fondly. “I’ll make sure you get an introduction, first thing.”
thewrongsorts:
The first tumbler clicked into place and Mundungus muttered a spell to push and hold the next after it, twisting a pick to test the enchantment pulsing at the back of the lock and sighing a soft curse.
He winced and his eyes flicked up worriedly as a hex whirled by to smash and dissipate against the alley wall; worse, his hand slipped, and another string of swears broke through his teeth and he scrambled to recover his lost progress.
“Never shoulda fuckin’ signed on for this shit…”
Another moment later, the locked dropped open with a mechanical clack and a quiet whoosh of dispelled magic. “A’right, here we go—”
“Sorry!” Frank hissed as a hex got past him, sending a barrage back to try and push the Death Eaters away. Merlin’s arse, he couldn’t let Mundungus get hurt now...
The quiet warning that the door was open got his attention. “Okay. Soon as I let off this flash, we leg it. Don’t look this way or you might go blind for a minute. One - two - three!”
A blinding white light, accompanied by a bubbling kind of shriek, lit up the entire area. Even with his eyes shut tight and shielded, Frank winced; judging by the howls of the enemy, they’d got the full blast. He wasted no time in sprinting for the door. “Please tell me it’ll lock again automatically when we shut it!”
clumsyherbologist:
@franktheauror1x1 | fake death eater neville
Tell him? Merlin, Neville doesn’t think he can find the words for what happened today. For what he’s seen or what he’s done. He’d thought he’d been ready and that he’d get through it somehow, and while he did get through it without getting caught out as a fake, he hadn’t been ready. The amount of cruelty he’d witnessed is something he thinks he’ll never be able to forget.
Neville has no clue how he’s going to keep going forward with the plan, he thinks he doesn’t want to do it anymore. But. Looking at his dad patiently waiting for him to talk about what he’d gone through, his dad who has no idea just what his son has done behind his back, he thinks that he can’t give up yet.
He’s doing it for them, for his family and all his loved ones.
“I… I don’t think I can,” he quietly says, even though he really wants to. “…Not yet. Just. I needed you to know.”
I needed you to be prepared for what the future is going to bring, he doesn’t say, even if that’s exactly what he means. Dad’ll likely understand if Neville gets outed as a Death Eater, at least he’ll understand what Neville hadn’t been able to tell him, even if it’ll break them to think he’d gone against them to the Dark side.
That sounded very serious. Frank’s expression betrayed him; despite being capable of presenting an excellent poker face in even the most dangerous of situations, this was his son and something terrible was going on.
But, much as it broke his heart, he’d always tried to not be overbearing, to give Neville his space and keep the pressure off him that the rest of the family tried to apply. He couldn’t bring himself to change that now.
“Well, lad,” he said heavily, “I can’t make you tell me. I’d hope you’d trust me wi’ owt, but if you can’t right now... well, I hope you can soon. You know I won’t stop bein’ your dad, don’t you?” Along with everything being a dad implied. Whatever help or support his son needed.
“ do you need a hug? ”
Frank sighed and lowered his trembling hands, feeling more than a little ashamed of himself, but nodded mutely.
“Ugh, my head. What happened to us?”
“Think we got Stunned,” Frank replied tersely, assessing the situation as best he could in the dim light.
“You thought I was dead?”
The Auror had to swallow down the instinctive explosion, and simply nodded, letting out a slow breath. “You were half buried under a load of rubble,” he said finally once he could speak evenly.
“ i-i didn’t mean for any of this to happen… ”
Frank reached out and managed to take hold of his son’s hand for a few seconds, though his fingers were too weak to maintain his grip for long. “D-did well enough to be here.”
“ i’m scared. ”
“We’re all scared, lad.” Frank let out a slow, measured breath as the night closed in, broken only by quiet voices and scuffing in the grass. “We’ll manage. It’s not over yet.”
“ i… i did something really bad… ” (so what are your thoughts on fake Death Eater Neville coming home from an initiation and having to pretend he's been out with friends, but he feels so awful about the whole thing that he's about to break)
That quaver in his son’s voice was a dangerous warning sign, and Frank put down the scroll he’d been reading. Turning to face him, there was a moment of silent scrutiny before he said, as calmly as possible, “Tell me what happened, lad.”
