Sound Salvation

Maurice Creevey | 24 | Sound Engineer at WWN | Ravenclaw Alum | Pirate Radio Host

[mauricecreevey]

London Calling

Location: Maurice’s Flat Date: May 2nd 1982 Self-Para

There wasn’t really time to set up all the wards, all the precautions that he’d been religiously depending on for the last month. Everything was happening too fast and too slow. Dedalus’ watch weighed down his wrist now as he flicked various switches and brought the radio equipment to life. For the last time? No, he couldn’t be sure of that. But the advice ‘live every day as if it were your last’ had never been more useful. If this was the last time, he had to make it count. 

There were none of the usual preshow rituals. He didn’t even take a seat. Just leaned into the microphone and started broadcasting. 

“This is an emergency transmission. I repeat this is an emergency transmission. As I speak to you now, the Death Eaters, the Silver Masks, You-Know-Who’s followers, whatever you want to call them, have invaded the Ministry of Magic. They aim to overthrow our government, destroy what’s left of our democracy, and wipe out some the last things that were keeping us safe. They’ll burn it all to the ground and start a new reign of bigotry, and terror and fascism from the ashes. 

If your first instinct upon hearing this news is to run and hide, you- you’re not alone. But there is no more opportunity for inaction. There is no tomorrow unless we act today. Ask yourself if you’ll be able to live with the outcome of today’s events knowing that you did nothing to try and stop them. If you’ve listened to this show before, if you’ve seen the injustices going on in this world and ever wished you could have done something to stop them, now is the time to put those wishes into action. You might not get another chance. Go to our Ministry, put up a fight. They’re going to win if we sit back and let them. The only way they can lose is if we oppose them.

*A short silence*

That’s it, that’s all I can do. A final plea. If you can’t- if you won’t join us, then stay safe, pray for the ones who do. It may be a different world tomorrow. For better or for worse.”

Maurice stood back from the microphone. For a moment he just stared, as if hoping the machines would speak back, answer his plea. But of course, no answer would come. This was a one-way conversation. He’d already wasted too much time here. 

He quickly cast a spell that would loop everything he’d just said and broadcast it indefinitely, giving as many people a chance to hear it as possible. He squashed the notion that this recording may last longer than he would. He’d already wasted too much time on that. 

Now to follow his own advice. No tomorrow unless he acted today. With that thought, he disapparated to the Ministry.

[mauricecreevey]

dedalusdigg​:

This felt very much like that conversation they’d agreed to postpone, but Dedalus couldn’t bring himself to care. He didn’t need the reassurance, that much he was sure to make a point of even if just to himself. But he did want it. And he certainly wasn’t selfless enough to turn it down when offered and was entirely too selfish to consider he might’ve been asking for too much. So in the end, there was only a sense of relief as he let out the breath he’d been holding, not daring to risk missing Maurice’s response. “Of course I do.“ Still quiet, but more certain. If it were up to him, they would drive each other crazy on the daily and it would be the best kind of madness.

"You’re welcome,” he said, but it was more of an automatic response. You hear a person say thank you, you answer with a you’re welcome; the kind of mundane social rituals that were so deeply ingrained in him that even now he couldn’t shake them off. The kind that came with little thought but also with little genuineness. The need to clarify that followed, however, that was all Dedalus. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. It's… good. A lot of people need someone to listen to and to hear. Someone worth hearing. And the wrong people are already too loud to begin with so. Yes. It’s a good thing.”

But then again, who was he to say what was good and what wasn’t. He’d spent plenty of time listening to the wrong people and he was still trying to figure out who the right ones were. Perhaps that was part of the reason he was so drawn to Maurice – he made it look easy. He was always so certain of himself and of his demands and of his complaints, and surely someone who had this much conviction had to be right, didn’t he? How could Dedalus not get caught up in that?

And it was his conviction now too that helped calm Dedalus. He didn’t want to, he’d said, and almost immediately some of Dedalus’ worries eased. Not all of them. Not even enough for him to move his hand away. But enough to matter. He didn’t want to offer more shallow gratitude, though, and so he didn’t say anything in response. Instead, he just leaned even closer to press a slow kiss to Maurice’s lips. It wasn’t a thank you as much as it was a confirmation that Dedalus didn’t want to let go either. And so he didn’t. Even as he pulled back, there was only a second of distance before he made himself comfortable cuddled up to Maurice once again. Waiting for sleep to come would at least feel much more bearable that way, he knew as much for a fact.

He allowed a small huff of amusement. Of course Dedalus wanted to drive him crazy. There was a swell of fondness within Maurice that was quite overwhelming. A day of overwhelming feelings, it was hard to separate the good ones from the bad ones right now, but logically he knew, this was good. This was a good thing.

“Someone worth hearing.” He mused aloud, with a low hum of thought. Again, this morning he would have taken the words for granted. Of course he was someone worth hearing. He wouldn’t give himself a platform if he didn’t believe that. But now, was making himself heard worth the damage it could cause? He’d always thought so, in theory. In practice, it was much harder to justify.

The kiss felt like the only natural response. A seal on whatever they’d just decided together. Slow and deep and somehow even more electric in the dark. Not a sharp cracking shock, but a steady buzz, an undercurrent that heightened everything, the kind of steady power that kept the lights on. Perhaps if Maurice were to open his eyes right then he might have found the whole room illuminated. A silly thought. Even in a world where magic was real.

Then Dedalus broke the kiss as slowly as he’d started it. Maurice stayed very still, lingering in the feeling as Dedalus made himself comfortable. Only when the other man had stopped moving did Maurice allow himself to sink properly into the mattress, all his muscles finally relaxing. He didn’t say goodnight. Much like everything else that went unsaid, it was implied. At least, Maurice hoped it was.

 END

[mauricecreevey]

dedalusdigg​:

“Well, of course. Self-improvement is the most important kind of tinkering.” Once again, it was said as a joke, meant as a joke, and yet carried too much truth for that to be all there was to it. However some of that underlying seriousness dissipated as Dedalus let out a small chuckle, tired and weary but genuine nonetheless. “In fact, I’m my favourite invention. You see, I’m very advanced – even capable of thought! Now, some would disagree with that, but I can guarantee that sometimes I almost think things through. Wonders of innovation!”

With the lights out, however, he couldn’t bring himself to be funny. Humour took a lot, much more than he had left to give at the moment, and as much as that unsettled him, there wasn’t much he could do about it either. He leaned into the touch almost on instinct, almost like he’d been expecting it. He hadn’t, but perhaps he’d hoped.

“You are?” The first part, he didn’t doubt; enough people had claimed the same thing and he’d come to accept it as an inevitability. But the fact that Maurice might willingly let him… “Are you sure?” It didn’t come from a lack of confidence or self-assuredness; it wasn’t beyond him that someone – even someone as grumpy as Maurice – might like him this much. But there was still uncertainty behind the question, one that had more to do with the kind of unspoken commitment that came with a confession like that.

And although he knew all this about being an open book was probably supposed to be a joke, he didn’t laugh. “You really are, though,” he said instead, more quiet now, and not even he himself knew if it was to match the atmosphere or because he couldn’t summon anything more. “You care a lot and you’re very… loud in your care. It’s not a bad thing, but people notice loudness.” He’d noticed loudness. Even back when he hadn’t known what Maurice’s favourite colour was or when his birthday was, his righteous anger and scorn had done more to tell Dedalus about who Maurice was than any mundane facts he’d chosen to keep to himself might’ve. People who were so free with their emotions were more open than perhaps even they realised and it seemed unfathomable to Dedalus. Unfathomable and so very brave. “It’s one of the things I admire most about you.“

And then he fell silent. He couldn’t bring himself to ask some silly, mindless question, but he also had no desire to bring up any of today’s events; he was at a loss. And the more the silence stretched on, the more he felt he had to speak up again, as soon as possible. "I don’t know,” he said finally, voice small and quiet, as if that would somehow lessen the meaning of what he was saying. “I don’t know what to ask. I don’t know what to say. I just… don’t know.” And there was something about the simple, startling vulnerability that came with his admission that suddenly had Dedalus’ heart skipping a beat in irrational fear that Maurice would pull away. The thought had barely even crossed his mind and yet his hand had already moved to rest on top of Maurice’s. The words, too, left his lips without his permission. “Please don’t let go.”

If Maurice were a softer, cheesier individual, he might have agreed, that Dedalus was Maurice’s favourite invention of his too. But he was not that cheesy individual and so he simply let out a huff of amusement and kept the thought to himself.

He had not known it was true until he’d said it. He was going to let Dedalus drive him crazy. One of those truths that grew within you without you really noticing until suddenly it was spilling from your lips in the dark. It scared him a little. Perhaps a lot. Not only that he felt it, but that Dedalus now knew. What if he was wrong? But even then, the fear was not that he might be wrong, but that if he was, he’d be hurting Dedalus by being so. That gave him as good an answer as any. 

He nodded, in the dark the small quiet movement seemed to take up much more space. He had to clear his throat a little to make any words come out. “If you want. Yeah.” He wasn’t sure if he was trying to play it cool or if this was more vulnerability creeping in, needing to know that this was definitely what Dedalus wanted.

He felt very seen by Dedalus’ next statements. He wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Any other day perhaps he would have worn it as a badge of honour, but today his loudness may have cost him and many others dearly. People had noticed his loudness, and the outcomes may have been disastrous. He hid his face in the pillow for a moment, not knowing how to respond. “Thank you. I think.” He didn’t sound hurt, just unsure, and even then with his voice still a whisper there wasn’t much room for it. He wondered if he went quiet, would Dedalus still know him, still admire him? Would he recognise him in the dark?

The first ‘I don’t know’ was somewhat a surprise. He had never known Dedalus to falter for words, or pass up a chance to ask some question he was dying to ask, no matter how trivial. The distressed admissions that tumbled afterwards left Maurice stunned. He hadn’t realised the simple request would cause such anxiety. Would he recognise Dedalus in the dark?

As soon as he felt Dedalus’ hand on his, heard the whispered plea he shuffled closer without a second thought. Not stopping until his other hand reached Dedalus’ chest, and his shins knocked Dedalus’ knees. He wasn’t even sure what being closer would do, only that, only that fuck, he wanted it to erase the fear he’d just heard in Dedalus’ voice. “I don’t want to.” It was quiet but forceful. He didn’t know why those words came more naturally than perhaps the more clean reassurance of ‘I won’t’. It wasn’t an evasion of commitment, at least Maurice didn’t think of it as that. He didn’t want to let go, surely that desire, that intent meant more than a promise he might not be able to keep. Because somehow he knew they were talking about more than right here tonight. Don’t let go. That was a big promise. There were a million things out of Maurice’s control that could come between him and Dedalus. But he could control himself, and as long as he could choose, he wanted to choose Dedalus, to choose to hold on. And it was terrifying but true.

[mauricecreevey]

dedalusdigg​:

The funny thing was, he did actually have a night cap – several, in fact. No oil lamps, he wasn’t a caveman, but definitely night caps. He didn’t wear them, of course, that would be ridiculous; he just liked owning things. “You’ve now lost both your night cap and dressing gown privileges,” he informed Maurice. “Remember that when you wake up in the middle of the night because your ears are cold. See if you find it funny then.” Belatedly, he realised that said middle of the night might have actually long passed and the realisation came with a wave of exhaustion. Not sleepiness, oddly enough. Just exhaustion.

Though he could most certainly find some energy for those morning escapades Maurice was suggesting, if only he hadn’t also immediately seemed to backtrack. He’d done it earlier too, back when Dedalus had kissed him, and while not being sure what he wanted was all well and good, surely having second thoughts so frequently and so early on wasn’t a great sign. Maybe they should have had that conversation. Or maybe it really was better like this; Dedalus would certainly prefer to wait than have Maurice tell him one thing tonight and then another in the morning. So as much as he wanted to simply ask, he didn’t. “Very selfless of you,” was all he said instead.

His brevity didn’t last long, unsurprisingly. “Oh, no, no, no, thank you,” he waved Maurice’s offer off the moment he’d finished making it. “I’m all good. I’m low maintenance too if you would. Or even better, no maintenance at all. Self-maintained.” There was only so much he could say about that, though, and eventually there really was nothing left to do but get in bed. Which wasn’t a problem. No, the problem came with what followed. Namely, giving his wand one final flick and turning the lights off.

(After that his wand, which he usually left on the bedside table, ended up tucked under his pillow. Just in case.)

“Well, goodnight then,” Dedalus said finally, with as much cheer as he could muster while ignoring the way his heart had sped up as soon as darkness had overtaken the room. It was ridiculous; he was well past the age of being afraid of the dark, and what was more, his flat was perfectly safe. It was sound logic, without a doubt, and yet he still couldn’t bear to close his eyes for more than a second. Which in turn left him staring at the walls until his eyes got used to the darkness and he was instead forced to move his gaze up to the ceiling to avoid all the ominous shadows around the room. It was only marginally better.

The worst of it, however, there was no escaping from. He couldn’t stop thinking about today. All those events that had become but a blur were now slowly starting to take shape once again, and he couldn’t ignore them. He found himself reevaluating his every move, trying to wrap his mind around the fact he could’ve very well died, thinking back to what could’ve gone differently. They weren’t pretty thoughts and usually, just about any distraction would do, except those seemed to be in short supply right now.

After a moment of hesitation, he shifted around so that he was lying on his side facing Maurice. In a way, he owed it to Dedalus. He’d stormed into his home, broken his things, ruined his plans; the least he could do was take Dedalus’ mind off it all. “Are you awake?” An obnoxious whisper, but a whisper nonetheless. “I can’t sleep. Talk to me.”

“Whatever will I do?” Maurice rolled his eyes, but as was so often the case with Dedalus, there was affection behind his exasperation. He’d never need a nightcap in all his 24 years so far, he was sure he’d survive another night.

He wasn’t surprised when Dedalus waved away his offer, perhaps just a little disappointed. After all, they were English, they could hardly take up on people’s hospitality, not without some dithering first. ‘Oh no I simply couldn’t’ ‘Oh but you must!’ ‘No no I insist!’. These funny rituals they played out. Still, Maurice let out a little huff of amusement at Dedalus’ comment. “Self-maintained huh? You tinker away at yourself in that little workshop too?” For some reason, the idea gave him a pang of sadness.

He got into the bed, suddenly feeling more awkward about the whole arrangement. Not want to tug the covers too much, o=not know which way to face. It was like he’d never gone to sleep before and he had no idea how it worked. But he did settle in, first on his back and then shuffling carefully to face outwards away from Dedalus when the lights were out. He didn’t know why he did it. Perhaps a hangover from sleepovers as a little boy, not wanting to seem too interested. Not wanting to sleep too close. Even before he really knew what any of it meant, knowing that it wasn’t good to be accused of that.

“Goodnight,” He returned softly. Now that he was finally lying down, any desire to sleep had fled. He was hyper-aware, of every little movement, every little breath from the other man. He thought perhaps he was waiting to hear the breaths slow down and even out, to signify Dedalus was asleep, then maybe he’d be able to relax. But when Dedalus finally spoke again, Maurice knew that was what he’d actually been waiting for. The invitation to roll over and dive back into him.

So he did roll over. Not without a sigh of course, but when he was finally facing Dedalus again, even though he could only make out the faintest outlines of him in the dark, the sigh turned from exasperation into a soft relief.

“You’re going to drive me crazy.” He murmured, quiet compared to Dedalus’ obnoxious faux whisper. His hand reached out to find Dedalus’ face, fumbling a little in the dark, but then cupping it softly when it was found. His thumb brushing Dedalus’ cheek. All senses heightened in the dark. “And I’m going to let you.” If possible it was even quieter. 

Then as if snapped out of a dream he sighed again and blinked in the dark. “What do you want me to talk about?” He asked, now that he was put on the spot he was stuck for words. He didn’t know what Dedalus wanted to hear. He had any number of speeches tucked away in various corners of his mind, but this didn’t feel like the place for them. “Ask me a question and maybe I’ll answer it.” His hand didn’t pull away though, braver in the dark than he may have been in the light, thumb gently stroking, exploring, experiencing, remembering. “I’m an open book.” He smiled then, easier perhaps knowing no one could see it.

[mauricecreevey]

dedalusdigg​:

None of it was a surprise – not the expectation he’d have to keep being fun and exciting, not the eye roll, not even the resignation to blue. In fact, to the latter Dedalus could only answer with an eye roll of his own. “Oh, yes, so let’s just wear whatever, why don’t we? Might as well get dressed in the dark.” He shook his head, but for all his exasperation, for a moment there he felt lighter than he had all day. “Honestly, for someone so logical you say the silliest things sometimes.”

He waited for a second when Maurice seemed like perhaps he wanted to add something, but then he didn’t and as soon as the door shut, Dedalus headed towards the bedroom just short of running. Fortunately, it was easy enough to grab the bag and shove in the deepest corner of his wardrobe, and while he was there, he also took a moment to look for a set of pyjamas for Maurice – blue, as already established, but also preferably a bit looser to hopefully make up for the difference in height. Not at all difficult to find, unsurprisingly; he was hardly short on clothes.

However, just as he went to grab his own sleepwear for the night, he realised there was still one more issue he hadn’t taken care of. Quickly, he moved towards his bedstand and started rummaging through the drawers until he found it. A small, round mirror that lit up as soon as he tapped it with his wand. A moment later, his father’s face appeared in it. “Oh, good, we were starting to worry. Are you on your way? Is everything alright?”

His concern was very much not welcome, but Dedalus tried to keep his voice down and not let his annoyance show as he let him know about the change of plans. He didn’t mention Maurice, of course, instead pretended he was simply too tired to Floo back and forth, and although his father didn’t seem particularly thrilled, Dedalus was sure to cut off any further questions or concerns. It wasn’t a long conversation. In fact, after it ended he even found himself with some time to spare before Maurice came back.

And even then, it still took him by surprise when he did come back; suddenly, Dedalus found himself grateful for the half-shut door that gave him just the moment he needed to realise Maurice was only joking and didn’t actually know about any secrets. After that, it was easy to play along. “All boggarts have been safely put back in the wardrobe where they belong,” he confirmed solemnly. “But fortunately for you, I managed to wrestle this out of them before I shut the door.” He handed Maurice the pyjamas. “The pants might be a bit short but the shirt should be alright. Oh, do you also want a dressing gown? I didn’t think of that, but if you’re cold let me know and I can absolutely get you one.”

And while he didn’t usually like silence, he found himself even more apprehensive to let it fall right now. So even as he moved to change into his own set, tossing his shirt at a nearby chair without much care, he racked his brain for something else to say. “Do you have a favourite side of the bed? I like the left, but then again, never let it be said I’m a bad host so I suppose you can have it if you really want to. Did you know that in Ancient Rome they actually used to think sleeping on the left brought bad luck? Apparently, if you got up on the right side, you started the day in contact with positive forces and vice versa if you got up on the left. Cue the whole ‘wake up on the wrong side of bed’ saying.” Just as he said this, he finished up with the last of the buttons on his shirt and immediately, he looked around for something else to focus on. “In any case, do you need anything else? More pillows? A drink?”

Maurice entered the room, almost apprehensive, but relaxing when he saw Dedalus again. Still, there was a nervous energy, the kind of nervous energy that came from a night you’d imagined many times not quite going the way you’d thought it would. “My knight in shining armour.” He teased gently, taking the pyjamas, surprised to find that along with the t-shirt came trousers as well. Perhaps he should not have been surprised. Of course Dedalus was the type to wear matching pyjama sets. He smiled fondly, for once deciding not to poke fun at the man. There was clearly some nervousness coming from him too if his rambling was anything to go by.

“I’m not cold,” Maurice reassured, starting to strip off. His heart had been beating at a million miles an hour since some time this afternoon for various reasons. There’d been no chance to get cold. Although the idea of him walking around in matching pyjamas, with a dressing gown, was a funny one. “Do you perhaps have a night cap as well? And one of those old fashioned oil laps- or even better a candlestick holder- so I can wander through the house like some lost Victorian ghost.” It was a light jab, but he couldn’t help it. He considered the trousers. Usually, he just slept in his underwear, no matter the season, but he didn’t want to make Dedalus uncomfortable, so in the end he put them on. Perhaps Dedalus would convert him to pyjamas.

He snorted lightly at the question of which side of the bed he’d like. “I have a single bed, so I hardly have a preference.” It had been there when he’d moved into the flat and he’d never thought to replace it. Not that there was much room for a bigger bed. He didn’t often have company anyway, so it had never been an issue. “I’ll take the right.” He decided graciously, not wanting Dedalus to give up his preferences for him. “And you can just roll over me in the morning to get all that good luck and positive forces.” He gave a small suggestive smile without thinking and then immediately reigned it in. The truth was if Dedalus had been anyone else, Maurice probably would have already jumped them, taking an invitation to their bed as an invitation for sex. But Dedalus wasn’t just anyone else. And they had already decided, no more firsts tonight.

Maurice would not sleep with Dedalus as some kind of stress relief, or just because that’s what people did when they were attracted to each other and they were sharing a bed. This night could go many different ways, but Maurice would not let it go that way. As much as he wanted to kiss Dedalus again, to pull him close and shut him up and stop his nervous fussing.

Instead, he went over to the bed, the right side, and pulled back the duvet. “I’m fine, really. I’m very low maintenance” He was about to crawl underneath the covers when he hesitated and looked back at Dedalus. “Is there anything I can do for you?” It was open and sincere, if a little apprehensive. Dedalus could have asked for anything in that moment, even the things Maurice had already resolved not to do, and he would have given them willingly.

[mauricecreevey]

arabellafiggaf​:

Arabella wasn’t one to actively look for a silver lining, usually – she preferred to keep her feet, along with her hopes, firmly on the ground. But she had to admit, now that Maurice seemed to have gotten a grip of himself and to have resolutely focused on the task at hand, it brought her a sense of confidence. She was suddenly very glad she hadn’t been alone when the attack happened; she knew she would’ve already been dead had that been the case. Unfortunately, that thought was as terrifying as it was comforting. After all, it was a lot easier to make peace with death when you weren’t staring it in the face – something she was keenly aware of, especially now that Maurice pulled her back behind the wall just in time for her to avoid being burnt to a crisp. Or something less dramatic but none the less painful, she imagined. The details didn’t matter.

For a moment, she couldn’t move, could only watch as Maurice stepped out and set to putting the fire out. Good. Smart. She hadn’t thought that far ahead, that they would need to deal with the fire afterwards, and in retrospect, it’d been very stupid of her to overlook that. Fortunately, Maurice hadn’t. And that, in turn, gave her the chance and strength to step out as well, although she still hung back. She had no illusions that she could be of any great help right about now.

“Well done,” she finally said once she got her breath back, once the Death Eaters had been taken care of. It felt like an understatement, but praise could wait. She glanced at the puddle. “Now we have to decide on which side of it we want to stay. If only we could know where most of them are…” But those two had come from the lower floors, hadn’t they? And Arabella and Maurice had taken care of the group that’d been chasing the two of them initially; she wasn’t naïve enough to believe that was everyone on this floor, but with the limited information they had, that had to count for something. “Honestly, I think we should just stay.”

She glanced back at the hallway they’d come from. “Could we make the floor slippery somehow? At least from one direction? But then we’d also have to worry about our own coming this way, fuck.” She ran a hand through her hair, entirely forgetting she’d braided it, and when her hand got stuck, that was just another source of frustration. She let out a huff before forcing herself to take calming breaths. “Okay, nevermind, let’s just stick to the plan. Get the cables to the water and prepare to drop something at people from above.” And so she set off to do just that. The heavy-lifting, that bit she’d clearly have to leave to Maurice, but even a squib could drop the ends of the cables into the puddle – only after making sure both she and Maurice were safely away from the water, of course.

He hadn’t expected praise, even the short ‘well done’ caught him by surprise. Was he doing something right? It didn’t feel like it. But he supposed in this situation, anything that didn’t get them killed was a good move. It was oddly calming to realise the bar was so low.

But he hardly had time to linger on the praise because they had to get right back to action. Arabella seemed abuzz with ideas, conflicting ideas, so Maurice stayed mostly quiet, considering everything she was saying as carefully as his frazzled mind would allow.

“No, no you’re right we should stay here.” He reassured her. “If Death Eaters come from the ground floor, we can act as bait from up here. They try to climb the stairs and slip. If they come from this level, we hide, they see their fallen comrades down there and slip trying to get to them.” He reasoned. In theory, it was very neat, though he was sure the reality would be much messier. “Maybe soap to make things slippy? Is there a bathroom nearby?” The geography of the house had completely left his mind in his panic. “There should be one on this corridor right?” They only needed a little slip, if that, Maurice could always give them a little push down the stairs with a spell, or Arabella could throw another cocktail, but the slipperiness would help.

Dropping the heavy machinery on their unsuspecting foes seemed simple enough, but Maurice realised that if he just held the items with a levitation spell he wouldn’t be able to do anything else with his magic whilst keeping them aloft. He looked around for ideas, and then ripped some curtains down. He quickly transfigured them into ropes and tied the various equipment up. It wasn’t neat, but it would work. Then he levitated the roped up machinery over the puddle. There were some light fixtures right above luckily that he could dangle the weights from. He spent a frustrating minute or so trying to knot the rope around with careful wand work (not aided at all by his shaking hands) when he realised he could just transfigure the rope into a loop. He cursed himself for wasting time, but eventually he had a few pieces of equipment hanging, high enough that they wouldn’t be noticed until it was too late, and ready to be cut down to squash the enemy at any time. A quick spell would have them falling in a jiffy.

When it was done he turned back to find Arabella, he’d been so focused on his task he’d lost track of what she’d been up to. “Ready? Good?” Good, none of this was good, but he wanted to know, relatively speaking. “We should find a good spot to stake out the trap.” Stake out and not hide, it sounded much less cowardly.

[mauricecreevey]

dedalusdigg​:

Everybody loves you, Maurice had said and the words made Dedalus’ smile tighten. Everybody did, didn’t they? Because he’d worked very hard to be someone sweet and caring and considerate; someone lovable. He didn’t feel too much like this person tonight though. “Well, I’d like to think there’s at least some difference,” he said instead. “And you know, you might be the first person who’s ever accused me of subtlety. But just so there are no more misunderstandings – you are different. And yes, I do actually know you’re pleased with that because you, on the other hand, have not been subtle at all. Not that I can blame you; I’m very charming and frankly irresistible.” He was going for a chuckle, but all things considered, he’d take a smile too. He did have a soft spot for Maurice’s smiles anyway, he’d discovered some time ago, in part because they were so rare, in part because while he liked seeing people happy in general, happy was a particularly good look on Maurice specifically.

And so was this, actually, whatever one could call it. It would be shyness on anyone else maybe, but the mere idea of Maurice feeling shy was so ridiculous that Dedalus immediately dismissed it. Perhaps vulnerability would be closer, but that one came with so much heaviness and so many implications that he preferred not to think of it as such either. And so in the end he didn’t try to put a name to it. It just was, and it made something warm and fuzzy spread in his chest.

“No rush,” he agreed, while at the same trying not to seem too much like he was rushing Maurice to go. And the kiss felt like a good way to mark that, a nice little goodbye without the finality of spoken words. Except there were words, not his but Maurice’s. Dedalus couldn’t find it in himself to mind it too terribly, though, especially not with Maurice looking at him like that. “Good. Just don’t get used to it in a bored way.” And while he was going for light and teasing once again, it was possible that there was more truth and honesty to his words than he would have liked. It was a ridiculous thing to be worried about, he realised that but he did still worry. That Maurice would find him to be too boring, too low-spirited, too uncertain. Perhaps there were more reasons than he cared to admit as to why he didn’t want to start anything tonight of all nights.

“Stay… here? With me?” It seemed obvious enough, but the ridiculousness of the question barely even registered in Dedalus’ mind. Because how could Maurice stay here with him if not even Dedalus himself was staying here? He blinked at him some more. It was a terrible idea, objectively. Maurice very clearly needed comfort right now, perhaps a shoulder to… not cry on, but maybe yell at. Even though he seemed to have calmed down a little. That wasn’t the point anyway. The point was that whatever he needed, Dedalus couldn’t offer right now. By all means, he should’ve said no. And yet. The words were out without waiting for his permission. “Of course. Of course you can stay.“ As if he could really say no to Maurice; for all he’d tried to consider it, it’d never really been an option. "And you won’t sleep on the sofa, don’t be ridiculous,” he added once that part caught up to him as well. “My bed is more than big enough for two.” Not an issue. Except – his bed. As in, the same bed on which he’d left his packed bag, all set and ready to go. A bag that Maurice could absolutely not see.

Dedalus was very mindful of making his words seem like the natural progression of the conversation as he continued, “You know what, you can even have the bathroom first. Meanwhile I’ll go get you something more comfortable to change into.” He took Maurice by the hand again, pulling him along towards the bathroom. He had half a mind to just shove him inside and close the door too, but that would be just a bit too obvious. So instead, he left him at the door and tried to seem perfectly casual and breezy as he glanced up and asked, “Colour preferences? I’m thinking blue, it would really make your eyes stand out, but I’m open to suggestions. As long as you don’t say, oh I don’t know, grey or black; they’re not real colours and I hardly own anything in them anyway.”

It was almost inconceivable that Maurice could ever get bored of Dedalus. Every judgement he’d ever made about the man had turned out to be wrong, every resolution of indifference or annoyance against him had been contradicted. For all intents and purposes, Dedalus made absolutely no sense to him, and so Maurice had no doubt he would never stop trying to figure him out. Not that that was the only thing that drew him to Dedalus, but it certainly meant he had no intention of getting bored any time soon. “Don’t get boring, and I’ll stay interested.” He said instead, not certain he could handle much more heart revealing truths tonight.

Dedalus hit the nail on the head with his question. Staying was not so much motivated by the ‘here’ as the ‘with him’. They could have been anywhere really. Maurice was not scared to go back to his flat, he was scared to go back to his flat alone. “Yes, with you.” It could have been soft, but it came out more sardonically, a slight affectionate eye-roll, to help mask his own vulnerability.

He was relieved when Dedalus said yes. For a moment he’d thought Dedalus might refuse, but then he was offering his bed and ushering him into the bathroom before Maurice could even think if he wanted to object. He opened his mouth to request black, but closed it again with a smirk when Dedalus outlawed it with his stunningly accurate prediction. “Fine, blue is fine.” Blue was more than fine really. “As long as you understand that a fundament of sleeping is that my eyes will be closed and therefore, not standing out regardless of what colours I’m wearing.” 

He knew that this was the point where he was supposed to step back and close the bathroom door so they could both get on with their tasks, but he hesitated for a moment, like he wanted to reach back out, pull Dedalus close again, perhaps deliver another kiss. He didn’t. He scoffed, at himself mostly, and shook his head, and then retreated into the bathroom.

With the door closed, the silence swept in. Funny how a slither of wood could shut away Dedalus’ energy so completely. When Maurice was standing right in front of him it often felt so strong that it could blow whole houses away. Now it was temporarily gone, he realised how much of his own energy had been dependent on Dedalus’. He was exhausted. He caught his reflection in the mirror. He looked exhausted too. He looked away and busied himself with getting ready for bed. 

He did poke around a little, though he didn’t find much of note except a long-dead house plant and an amazing amount of hair products. How many did one man need? He opened the lid of a few and gave them a sniff. None of them were particularly reminiscent of Dedalus’ scent so he placed them back where he’d found them. 

When he couldn’t stay away any longer he left the bathroom and went towards the bedroom, more eager to reunite with Dedalus than he’d like to admit. The door wasn’t fully shut but he knocked anyway. “Have you had enough time to put away all your secrets?” He asked, an echo of something his mother would always say before entering his and his brother’s room. ‘Hide all your secrets, I’m coming in.’ As a young boy with no secrets, or trivial secrets at that, he’d found it endlessly amusing, and when he’d gotten older, incredibly useful.

[mauricecreevey]

emmeoutofline​:

.

The man’s answer wasn’t a satisfactory one, not when it came to determining who he was or what sort of things might be more beneficial for him to learn. She thought his face seemed vaguely familiar, but it seemed words were much more helpful in jogging her mind than images. Fine, she’d have to wing it.

“Well, but what I meant is… What kind of emergencies?” she asked, trying not to let her frustration over his response show. If he thought enough of her expertise to come ask, he did have to be so condescending when she tried for follow up, even if it was vague follow up. “Are you wanting to heal cuts and bruises, learn more medical counterspells, take care of burns… There’s just such variety, and we can’t possibly cover everything. So what it is you want?”

And yes, their emergencies did tend to run high. Emmeline need only glance at the files around her to know that. “They do tend to come in clusters,” she admitted.

*

He could tell his answer had frustrated her somewhat but she was doing an admirable job of hiding it. Maurice let his own annoyance reduce back down to a simmer. It clearly wasn’t that she was dead set against helping, he shouldn’t put her off more by biting her head off.

“Well, say I’m alone and I get ambushed or attacked, that kind of thing.” He didn’t want to think too deeply about the details. These kinds of scenarios already ran rampant in his mind if he wasn’t careful. “Give me something to stop bleeding, burns yeah, that would be useful. Maybe something for broken bones, I don’t have to be able to fix them completely, just, something that would let me walk with a broken leg. That kind of thing. Especially things to reverse more magical damage.” The thing was, he already knew vaguely how to make a splint, wrap a wound with a bandage, make a sling, muggle first aid. But as much as he hated to admit it, it was slower and it was less effective. If it was a matter of magical or muggle, and that difference was a matter of life and death, Maurice was going to choose life. So if he wanted to give himself the choice, he needed to get better at magical first aid.

“Don’t they just,” he sighed. Sometimes the makeshift hospital wings could be quiet for weeks, but when it rained, it poured. “So will you help me?”

[mauricecreevey]

arabellafiggaf​:

Destroyed equipment was much preferable to destroyed people, but Arabella understood why it also wasn’t an easy loss to shake off. The less you had, the more valuable it all was, and she felt a pang of sympathy as Maurice spoke about using the remains. She didn’t disagree, though; there was no point in sentimentality right now. “Perfect. But we should try to move everything we need in one course. Going back and forth would be a waste of time and energy.” And they already needed more time than they had to set it all up.

He was right about warning other members too and Arabella hissed out a curse as they moved down the hallways. When this was over, she would have to talk to someone about improved methods of communication. If they had a way to talk to the others right now, they could not only warn them about the traps but also let them know to lead Death Eaters into them. So many magical inventions yet nothing quite like a phone; figures. “We can’t just sit around and wait either,” she said with a frown. She didn’t like what she was about to propose, and she didn’t like it one bit. “Our best bet might be drawing the attention of Death Eaters and leading them into the traps.”

At least it would be on their terms, she tried to reason with herself, but it didn’t really help the way her heart was pounding the entire walk. And it wasn’t any better when they finally made it to the room either; eerie silence was nerve-wracking, whether in a hallway or behind a door. She took a deep breath, tried to at least stop her hands from shaking.

“A puddle,” she repeated with a sharp nod. “Can you do that with magic or should we… look for a vase?” Not in this room, clearly. If there had been any vases here, they were long smashed. But surely in the other rooms there had to be at least one. And they would pass quite a few rooms on their way to the staircase. “That way,” she pointed at the direction opposite of the one they’d run in initially. Opposite of the clear path they’d managed to secure for themselves. Not ideal. “But it’s close. And it’s not considered a main staircase.”

Which would be either good or bad, depending on so many circumstances outside of their control that there was no use in trying to prepare for all. Another deep breath and Arabella reached out to pick up some of the equipment, carefully shifting it to one side so that she still had a free hand to throw a bottle if needed. And as they stepped back out into the hallway, followed it down towards the straicase, it turned out it really would be needed. Because just ahead, two Death Eaters were coming right up the stairs. Immediately, Arabella backed up behind the corner she’d just turned and prayed they hadn’t seen her.

She turned to Maurice, whispering frantically, “Two of them, right up ahead at the stairs.” She put the equipment she’d been carrying down and took a bottle in one hand, the lighter in the other. They couldn’t wait longer, though; if the Death Eaters got too close, the cocktails would do more harm than good. And so with one quick silent prayer, Arabella popped out from behind the corner again and lit up her Molotov. Then she chucked it at the Death Eaters who were now right at the top of the stairs.

Maurice agreed, luring Death Eaters to the trap was probably their best option. Active but cautious, a good balance between running around like headless chickens, and cowering in the corner doing nothing. 

“I can make a puddle, don’t worry about the vase.” He gripped his wand a little tighter. He very often opted to do things the muggle way, but opted was the critical word there. Arabella didn’t have a choice and it made him anxious.

Arabella pointed in the direction of the stairs and he nodded, appearing more resolute than he was. “Let’s go.” He levitated one of the heavier machines in front of him as they walked, cautiously, through the house. As long as he had these actions to focus on, these tasks, he was okay. Or at least, he could function. If he wasn’t with Arabella, if they didn’t have these goals, things would be much worse right now. 

They were approaching the stairs when Arabella stopped. His heart clenched as he flattened against the wall. The object he was levitating faltered with his fear, before he remembered it and carefully, quietly, lowered it to the ground. Two more Death Eaters. All the planning and plotting left his head in a frenzy of despair. Fuck, they really were going to die today.

But Arabella didn’t experience the same kind of freezing. She acted instantly, almost calmly. He watched her as she pulled out the bottle and lighter and lit it. Watched as she chucked it, presumably in the direction of the Death Eaters. Some kind of instinct made Maurice reach out and pull her back behind the corner, just after she threw the bottle, right before the blast. 

It was loud and messy and then there was a sudden blast of heat. And screams. Not his, not Arabella’s thank god.

A second later he stepped out from behind the wall, water gushing from his wand. Because that was the instinct drilled into him: you see fire, you put it out. There were fewer flames than he expected, and there were two people in robes stumbling back down the stairs. His torrent of water hit them, and they crashed further down, yells of anger and confusion erupting. 

Once all the flames were gone Maurice stopped the aguamenti spell. Unfortunately, this gave the Death Eaters a reprieve, a chance to turn and see their attacker. Maurice sent two stunners before they had a chance to see him through the smoke and the steam. At least what he lacked in natural fighting ability he could make up for with good aim. There were two thuds as they fell to the floor. Maurice’s hand was shaking. “Well we needed a puddle.” He mumbled.

[mauricecreevey]

dedalusdigg​:

“Of course I did. There wasn’t much entertainment at those terrible functions our parents made us all attend so the others and I had to come up with something ourselves. And childish flirting is always fun.” He gave their hands a little swing as if to illustrate. “Clearly it still works too.”

He wasn’t sure what exactly to make of Maurice’s surprise, however. How many days and nights had they spent together, working on the radio, enjoying each other’s company? And yet none of it had clued Maurice in that Dedalus might’ve wanted more. He gave him a long look, both in confusion and incredulity. “Are you only just realising this now? What did you think this was all about? Well, no, that makes it sound as though I’ve had some ulterior motive all along – I haven’t; you’re my friend and that’s that, no matter the rest. But are you really telling me that’s all you thought there was to it?”

Now the kiss… that was a bit of a difficult one. At first, Dedalus was offended. Then he was touched. Then he was ready to dismiss Maurice’s concerns only to immediately realise he couldn’t. “I was happy that you did,” he tried and it wasn’t untrue. But he also realised that he really didn’t want to associate any more firsts with this wretched day. It was all very confusing – or perhaps a bit too clear, what he had to do. He closed his eyes for a moment and exhaled slowly. “Maybe we should talk about this later. I’m tired, I’m sure you are as well, and it’s late, and, well, to be frank, I think we’ve had about ten different conversations since you got here. Which there’s nothing wrong with, of course, but it's… a lot.” And this was the part where he pulled back, let Maurice go on his merry way, and Floo’d back home. He knew that, in theory. In practice, he only got as far as letting go of Maurice’s hand before regretting it. He wanted Maurice to stay, was the issue. He wanted to talk about everything and to explain how tiring it all was and more than that, he wanted Maurice to listen and to understand. But that would be unfair and selfish, and it would ruin any chance of romance he still had anyway.

However. If they were both allowed one last moment of selfishness…

“Wait! Before we go.” He reached out to grab at Maurice’s shirt before he’d had the chance to fully pull back. “I’m happy now. Kiss me again?”

Maurice huffed a bit of a laugh, like he wanted to be amused, but the weight of the day was still sitting on his chest. “So smooth Diggle. So smooth.” But even he couldn’t help but smile, at the words, at their hands swinging, innocently, childishly almost. When had he last been allowed to be childish?

What had he thought this was all about? His brow crinkled even more, indignant over the fact that this should have somehow been obvious. “But you have lots of friends. You’re affectionate with a lot of people. Everybody loves you.” He stated these things as facts, as though they proved his point. The truth was there had been signs, hints, flirtations, that had let Maurice hope. And it was a hope that he instantly squashed, at first thinking that he himself didn’t want it, and then upon realising that he might, squashing it out of self-preservation, for exactly the reasons he’d given Dedalus. “How was I supposed to know I was any different?” It wasn’t accusative, not angry. He didn’t begrudge Dedalus his wealth of friends, although perhaps he had in the past, he didn’t at this moment in time. No, his voice was almost vulnerable now, open, honest, like he was really asking for an answer. And then he seemed to remember what they were talking about and glanced away, embarrassed. “Not that I’m not... pleased. If I am.” In fact, he hadn’t properly processed just how pleased he might be if what he thought Dedalus was saying was true.

He nodded along to Dedalus’ suggestions. Really, Dedalus could have given any number of outlandish orders at that moment and Maurice might have followed along unquestioningly. His defences were down, worn out, he wasn’t as guarded as he usually was, and the realisation scared him a bit. “Yes, we’ll talk about it later, there’s no rush.” Except there was, wasn’t there? Because they both could have died today. They were lucky to even be having this conversation, and even though it had taken months to get to this point, suddenly waiting even another hour felt like torture.

That realisation was still in his mind when Dedalus let go, and it was still lingering when Dedalus pulled him back. But all thoughts left his head when Dedalus told him he was happy, because suddenly, Maurice was happy to, and you couldn’t be happy whilst pondering your imminent death. The grin had barely met his lips before they were on Dedalus’, kissing him, as he had asked. Kissing him, indeed, as if there was no tomorrow.

When Maurice finally pulled back he found his hands were cupping Dedalus’ face, his fingertips disappearing just beyond his hairline at the nape of his neck, gentle, reverent. He blinked as if he didn’t quite believe what he was seeing, and then a smaller, more timid smile. “Yeah, I could probably get used to that.”

He let his hands drop, slowly, brushing here and there as they fell, reluctant to leave. But that was what Dedalus willed, was it not? This was a ‘before we go’ kiss. But the more Maurice considered that, the more the happiness faded. He imagined going home to his flat. He imagined being alone in the dark.

“Could I stay?” He asked, not beating around the bush, but not said with his usual confidence, perhaps arrogance, that he’d get what he wanted and if he didn’t, he was being wronged in some way. “I can sleep on the sofa and be gone by dawn, I just...” He trailed away. Surely it was obvious. On a night like this, who would want to be alone?

[mauricecreevey]

moaningmaddy​:

She nodded and decided to believe him. Sh realised, then, that she’d never hugged an older boy for comfort, except her brothers, and it was hard to imagine Maurice as her brothers. Too spikey. That was, too willing to fight and capable to see the positive in an attack like that. She nodded into his chest and held on tight. The problem was, with him saying that her reason was a good one, a valid one, he did admit that it had been her fault. All this. Or at least the destruction of Diggle’s Delights. And guilt, she knew it already, was going to settle in deep within her.

Nevertheless, she didn’t say so, and thus Maurice continued. And the way he did, it was so soft and so hopeful, she pulled back just to look at him from below. The sun was shining behind him. “If you’re rebuilding the radio, I’m going to rebuild the store then,” she said, and she sounded unsure, or perhaps a little lost, but her gaze showed determination amongst the gratitude. And then he squeezed her and it pushed out a little chuckle from her chest, brought a smile to her face. “Will you help me today? Or do you have to go?”

He sighed, with relief, with gratitude, when Maddy made her resolution. It felt like he’d finally knocked through the wall of a prison cell and on the other side was a wide open space. He hadn’t realised he’d been so invested in it. “I will, you will. We’ll help each other.” He finalised with a sturdy nod.

He hadn’t considered staying if didn’t find Dedalus here, but then he hadn’t considered the possibility that he’d find Maddy here either. “I’ll stay.” He decided quickly. He could spend a little time helping her now, solidifying any resolutions he’d lead her too if needed in the process. “But let’s get inside before you tell me what you have planned.” They’d already been out in the open for too long for his liking.

[mauricecreevey]

spellnbone​:

“It is,“ Edgar nodded, lips pursed, “Too bad it’s the only sight we seem to have sometimes.“ The fact that there seemed to be a lag between Maurice’s ears and his mouth had Edgar raise his eyebrows. He didn’t judge. Couldn’t, because there’d just been a battle, and nerves needed time to settle. But he did wonder what Maurice thought he had meant. Politeness kept him from asking, though.

It was almost a relief, to hear Maurice’s more familiar tone return. In his mind, Edgar checked each of Maurice’s points: Equipment could be fixed, bought anew. It would take a time? They had time, at least on this. Especially if it was to take more safety precautions. They had to be able to take time to make their operations safe. But he said none of this, only nodded – partly because Maurice knew all this, partly because it wasn’t exactly what he’d meant with his question.  “But are you ready?” he asked, not doubtful but in a tone that hoped for honesty. “Do you want to continue?” Because, yes, Maurice was already inventorying all the problems at hand why it would be difficult, but that was just a thing people like him – like Edgar – did. It didn’t speak of whether he felt ready. “If you say you are, I’ll believe you, I have no interest to make decisions for you. But you did just see the worst of the worst come to life, and if you’re not ready to resume your work right away, then no one will-… I won’t make you.”

“Because I’m not just one man.” A pause. “Well, I am. But we’re a group for a reason.” He shook his head. “Things have changed. We have new information, on a few fronts. And-… Well, as you said. Hindsight. Leaving anything at the Potter Estate was a mistake. We didn’t try to protect it, so this wasn’t something we couldn’t have prevented. We didn’t try. But we can try now.” They would. They had to. “We’ve never been ambushed like this before, and there’s a reason for that. The same way there’s a reason why it happened this time, and fortunately, we know those reasons now.” At least the two most biggest factors of it. “I’m not promising you blind safety, I’m promising you hard work to achieve safety.”

His own readiness hadn’t factored into his plans at all yet. Perhaps it was an oversight on his part. “Do you want me to continue?” He asked carefully, suspiciously. Not everyone liked what he was doing with the show, even people int the Order. Edgar had been on board with the phone line, that was true, he’d encouraged him to move forward, but this sounded like some kind of reverse phycological way to get him to call it quits. Had he been too quick to consider Edgar an ally on this front?

It was only now he was given the option that he even realised stopping was a possibility. But of course, it was a choice. “No one made me start in the first place, no-one could make me continue now.” There was a bite to his voice but it reassured him, that what he was doing was important, was necessary, that people would try to make him continue if he stopped.

“And no one’s going to make me stop.” He wouldn’t let them win. Now more than ever the world needed his show. And perhaps, although he wouldn’t admit it, he needed his show. 

“Right, I see, the collective ‘I’.” Maurice still wasn’t convinced. But as Edgar said, he wasn’t promising blind safety. He ran his fingers through his hair. He never wanted today to happen ever again, but as he well knew, as he preached weekly, burying your head in the sand and ignoring the problem wasn’t going to solve it. “You better be right. I’m in, whatever it is, I’m in. I’ll have the show up and running again as soon as I can.” He felt nervous making that promise, to Edgar of all people, now of all times.

[mauricecreevey]

everybody-talks​:

Lucinda hadn’t wanted to come back to Maxim’s, but not for the same reasons as before. She’d come to terms with the damage and rubble, but she absolutely had not come to terms with the attitude of her uncle. He had once been almost annoyingly vibrant, and now he hadn’t seen the light of day in almost a week. He still refused to clean up, and the Ministry had begun placing ultimatums on him. The place was an eyesore and either needed to be repaired or removed. Uncle Maxim still hadn’t decided which he preferred.

Lucinda grabbed her wand out of her pocket. She’d stopped carrying it in her satchel after the 21st. It seemed unsafe to not have it on hand. She pointed it at the rubble and twisted. 

“Reparo.”

With a creak and a moan, the rubble seemed only to depress even further into the ground. The noise caused a few people on the street to jump in alarm. Lucinda shoved her wand back into her pocket, pulled the collar of her coat tighter, and hissed a mortified apology over and over, sulking back down the road she’d just come from.

She should know better than to try any helpful magic, but sometimes she just couldn’t help herself. She fell into step a few beats behind an unusually scruffy looking man. He was balancing items in his arms like some sort of reject circus act, and she chuckled under her breath at the sight.

But, as he readjusted his load, something small and shiny fell from his pocket. The man turned suddenly and nearly jogged across the road, not even realizing what he’d forgotten.

Lucinda hurried her steps to catch up and shouted at him as he crossed the street.

“Uh, sir?! Sir, wait a second! You dropped somethi-”

The sentence died in her throat as she finally saw the small, shiny object lying on the cobblestones. A tag that matched the one currently stuffed in the inside pocket of her coat. 

She snatched it up quickly and balled it up in her fist, looking around her to see if anyone had been watching. It wouldn’t do to shout at him now. She’d need to be a bit more stealthy. She saw his back disappearing down the alley and sprinted off after him.

She turned the corner and saw that the place was a dead end. He’d been looking for a place to apparate, most likely, but he absolutely couldn’t leave without this.

Lucinda tromped down the alleyway with urgency, holding out his Phoenix Tag in front of her.

“Wait, stop!!”

Maurice acted before thinking. As soon as he heard the footsteps follow him supplied were dropped and his wand was in hand. As soon as he heard the shout he spun around and cast.

“Stupefy!”

His aim was off, the spell hit a wall and ricochet away. It didn’t hit his target. As his wild eyes finally settled on his assailant, he was almost glad it didn’t. But the fear of being followed, of being trapped down a dead-end alley and attacked still thumped in his chest. He wished his spell had landed, just to prove that it could have done. 

“Talkalot?” His wand didn’t drop, it remained trained on her. “What the fuck are you doing following me?” His voice was practically a hiss.

[mauricecreevey]

moaningmaddy​:

Maddy thought about this for a moment, her lips pursed tightly. “So if I felt unprepared today, you all felt so much more unprepared.” Was this the reason why she’d not been scared? Because she didn’t yet know how it was to fight with a plan?

When the grip softened, Maddy pushed forward and buried herself deep into Maurice – trying not to get distracted by the fact that he didn’t smell at all like she’d imagined it – and tried not to cry. But the harder she cried, the more tears bubbled out, big and full of guilt. His last words made it worse, because she knew why she’d chosen here. That her choice hadn’t been made on convenience or price, but because she had an agenda. “Because I want to make them uncomfortable.” And she had succeeded, and repercussions had come instantly. 

“Started with what? All that I thought I was doing has been bombed down.” She didn’t think twice about the phrasing. It just came out of her, naturally.

“I expect there’s some truth to that, yeah,” he agreed. Of course Maddy didn’t have anything to go off, any prior experience. At least she’d found an advantage to that. “You’ll be more prepared next time. Hopefully all of us will be.”

Maurice nearly had to take a step back with the force of the hug, but he stood his ground. He wasn’t used to hugging, but Maddy hadn’t given him much choice. It was her explanation that finally made him soften, made him chuckle. “That’s what I like to hear.” He wrapped his arms around her in return. “A better reason than most. And it worked!” He was quite proud by the admission actually, he was smiling brighter than he had in days. “It may not feel like you won, not while we’re standing in the wreckage, but every time we rile them up and they don’t destroy us, it’s a victory.”

It was easy to empathise with her. He was currently rebuilding his radio show from the ground up, and it infuriating. More than once the thought had appeared, that it would be easier to let it die. But no sooner had the thought appeared did he squash it. He couldn’t let thoughts like that flower. As soon as he did they had won. As Bran had impressed upon him, he couldn’t let them make him a victim. “Only a bad workman blames his tools.” He said, though his voice was soft and missing any of the harsh admonition it might usually have carried. “Your store was important, but you’re the indispensable part of this equation, and you’re still standing.” He cleared his throat a little. “Well, just about.” A small squeeze, a small smile. Only while she couldn’t see his face to prove it.

[mauricecreevey]

spellnbone​:

There was an unshakable feeling of age superiority towards those you had met as a kid, wasn’t there? Had Edgar met Maurice when he’d joined the Order, he would’ve never seen himself as much older, but as it were, Edgar had met him when Maurice had been but a tiny little thing of a boy, wide-eyed and seemingly lost in the magic of the Ravenclaw Tower. And Edgar, as most thirteen-year-olds, had scoffed because he’d thought himself oh-so much wiser and far more worn. Similar to Dedalus, the years had passed, and Edgar had never been able to shake that first impression. The arrogance he’d carried within himself as a teenage boy always resurfaced around Maurice, eyes too willing to roll and lips smirking behind notebooks, as if nothing Maurice could say was worth more than a ‘look at him try’. 

Or, in this case tonight, a sense of brotherly care. Of looking at Maurice’s suddenly lost expression and his stumbling words and … simply wanting to protect. How easy it had been to pull Daisy into a hug a month ago and hold her until the tears had subsided. But Maurice wasn’t Daisy, and he wasn’t crying, and he wasn’t scared. He was right. “I should not have let that place go unwarded for so many days. I’m sorry.” Empty words, and of the type Maurice didn’t care for. But they needed to be said anyway. “Where will you go now?” A pause. “You’re not stopping, are you?” 

Edgar gave it a nod, almost something of a smile. So Maurice had stared right into the red gleam of war’s eyes and still wanted to fight. “Good.” He took a breath, held onto his notebook tighter. “We won’t get ambushed again. I’ll make sure of that. And-, And if we do, we’ll be prepared anyway.” The dates on the list. The battle strategies born during Fighting Club. The Ministry Infiltration Plan. Next time they’d be first to attack.

The apology surprised Maurice. He hadn’t been looking for one, and he didn’t think he’d pressed Edgar into it, so it must have come from some genuine guilt. Maurice had not thought to blame Edgar, he was still too shaken to really play the blame game yet, but even so, Edgar wouldn’t have been high on this list. However, he knew Edgar wouldn’t have apologised if he hadn’t meant it, and so he didn’t brush it away, or tell him it wasn’t his fault. Instead, he nodded concisely. His own guilt sparked. Here was Edgar apologising for his own lapse in action, when it might all have been avoided if Maurice hadn’t been too proud as to listen to Lu’s warning, or to at least investigate it, take steps to prevent its fruition. “Hindsight’s a bitch.” His eyes didn’t quite meet Edgar’s eyes, not sure if the words were for himself, or for the man in front of him.

Where would he go now? He hadn’t given it much thought. Home he supposed. But then all throughout the meeting, despite everything, his mind had wandered to Dedalus, or rather, Dedalus’ absence. It was a silly thing to fixate on, after everything that had happened today, but the nagging question of whether Dedalus was safe or not wouldn’t leave him alone until he’d answered it. So with his guard down he nearly answered exaclty that, to Dedalus’, but then Edgar carried on and Maurice realised the question had meant something entirely different.

“Oh, you mean with the show.” Anger slowly overpowered the guilt that had been rumbling. “I don’t know what I can do. Those bastards destroyed all my equipment.” Even if could be fixed, he didn’t particularly feel like going back to the Potter Estate to grab it. “It’s going to take me a while to get it up and running again.” Lu had gotten everything they’d wanted, Mundungus couldn’t be on the show if there was no show at all. “And I need- I need more safety precautions, I got complacent.” He stopped, anger luring him into exactly what he wanted to avoid, giving Edgar more information than he wanted to.

Maurice smiled but it was more of a grimace. “You’re just one man Edgar, how can you make sure of all that?” Even with a whole army, Maurice wouldn’t have trusted that promise. How could you prevent an ambush if the enemy were dead set on it?

[mauricecreevey]

arabellafiggaf​:

Arabella’s eyebrows rose as he announced he had lighter fluid, but she wasn’t about to complain about things going well for once. “That’s perfect,” she nodded instead, still much too anxious to be excited, but maybe at least starting to believe that they could make it out of this alive. “You take two and I take two? That way neither of us has to worry too much about carrying too many bottes and accidentally setting them off.” Which they would need fire to do, anyway, and so she quickly took the lighter with a grateful nod.

Traps would definitely be preferable to fighting the Death Eaters head on and Arabella tried to think of what else they could use around the estate. “If we go back to the other room, with the equipment, would we be able to use any of it to somehow shock them?” She had no idea if that was even possible; unlike alcohol and improvised weapons, electronics were very much outside of her knowledge. However, if anyone would know, she figured it would be Maurice. He himself also seemed to have ideas, anyway. “For the stairs, we could drop some beads. I’m sure I’ve seen jewellery boxes in some rooms, they have to have some of those fancy pearl necklaces. And then for the balcony, I guess anything heavy enough would do?”

However, the more they brainstormed, the more it became clear to Arabella that ideas weren’t the problem. Carrying them out could potentially be the downfall of their plan. Although they’d managed to take care of the Death Eaters who’d given chase, the estate was still crawling with them. But staying here was clearly not an option either and so Arabella took a deep breath and turned to Maurice. “Okay, are you ready to head back now? You’re sure you’re okay?”

He mentally ran over the equipment in the other room. Most of it was magical stuff, radio equipment that ran on magic rather than electricity, because it had been things he’d stolen borrowed from the WWN. But there were a few pieces of muggle technology he’d swapped in and bodged together with its magical counterparts. He was sure there must be a battery and some cables somewhere. “Yes, yes I think so. And some of it’s quite heavy as well. If it’s already-” He paused, just a second of mourning. “If it’s already all destroyed, the least we can do it use it to squash these bastards.”

It seemed there was no end of plans, but then another problem occurred to Maurice. “If we set them, we have to stick around, close enough to warn off any Order members who might unwittingly walk into them.” They couldn’t just set a trap and run off to the other side of the house. These traps could potentially do as much damage to Order members as they could to Death Eaters.

“I’m sure.” He confirmed, checking his explosive cocktails and then finally picking up his previously disregarded tape recorder and tucking it under his arm. He knew it wasn’t any use, but it was almost like a safety blanket at this point.

The corridor was eerily quiet not that the rushing of fear wasn’t buzzing at his eardrums. But distant commotion could be heard from other parts of the house. He tried not to jump every time he heard a noise, but it was tough.

Eventually, they made it back to the room. Maurice had prepared for something, but it hadn’t quite been this level of destruction. It seemed the Death Eaters had taken a few extra seconds to demolish the remaining recording equipment. Probably the few extra seconds that had allowed Maurice and Arabella to get to safety and prepare some kind of attack. But the sight of all his work destroyed hit him hard. He set his jaw and started scrabbling through what was left, looking for where he knew a battery should be.

“Here,” he said after a moment, pulling out the thankfully still intact and rather chunky power source, cables still attached and dangling. “You know how this works?” He asked, eager to distract himself now. “If we make a puddle of water or something, and dip the bare ends of the wires in, then anyone who touches the water should get a shock. Maybe we put the puddle after the stairs, so they have to fall into it, and their shoes won’t insulate them.” He turned back around and started to test levitating some of the bigger items. “I think some of this could make a dent too. Where’s the nearest staircase?”

[mauricecreevey]

coragreengrass​:

Cora was almost lost in her own thoughts for a moment, missing her ex and wishing she hadn’t started thinking about him again. She had no idea where he was or how he was at the moment, and that didn’t help. And yet… She was distracted by Maurice’s words, and she pursed her lips. The very unladylike part of her felt almost tempted to flick the ash from the cigarette at him in retaliation. But, she new that would be very childish, and it was not something that was going to get him to like her anymore, so she refrained. She chose instead to roll her eyes at him and let out a soft scoff, not commenting on that.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” She admitted when he offered her some of his notes, “Though I suppose I’d have to only borrow them here. I don’t think anything like that would be safe to take home.” Just like the notebook in her arms with her current project would be hidden away in a spot far from home, where her relatives wouldn’t think to look for it. It was too dangerous to even let them think she’d be doing something for muggleborns, let alone seeing anything she might have planned. Perhaps that would be easier if she had her own place… but she’d changed her mind on moving out. It would be much more useful for the Order if she lived at home still, even if it was more dangerous for herself.

She let out a faint hum at hearing him say that it was done with for now, wondering if it was true and not about to hold her breath just yet. Not after this. Not after Dorcas. She would have to just get used to being snapped at, it seemed, and figure out a way to endure it. “I have no doubt you would,” She admitted with a soft laugh, “I don’t believe you seem to be someone who would back down from anything.” She paused, then curiously, almost playfully, asked, “And how do they find a way to drown you out? Just for curious minds, of course.” She smirked lightly.

“Yes, I’m sure mummy and daddy would not be best pleased to see the radical scribblings of a muggleborn in their daughter’s possession.” It was sharp, but the knife’s edge was not pointed at her this time. Though he had very little sympathy. He was sure there must be reasons she still lived with her family, but after the atrocities, she’d spoken of, and how they treated Ryland, Maurice would have a very hard time eating at the same table as them every night. Still, they weren’t his parents, so what did he know. At least she was interested in his notes. 

So she thought he wouldn’t back down from anything. He liked to think that was true. He liked to think other people thought that was true, but he didn’t comment on it. In this instance she was right. Instead, he huffed out a small chuckle. “No no no, I’m not giving away any trade secrets, you’re going to have to figure it out for yourself.” He finished the last of his cigarette and flicked it into some bowl that probably wasn’t an ashtray. “I think the beginners level is something akin to plugging your ears up with your fingers and singing loudly, but there’s much more finesse to be found than that.” He let slip with some amusement. Then he stood up.

“Well, I won’t say this has been delightful, but it’s been something. Useful. Interesting. But I’m busy and I have to get going.” He looked around and made sure he had all his possessions stuffed into his pocket. “I’ll leave those notes for you at one of the safe houses, or maybe I’ll give them to you at the next meeting, we’ll see.” As he left he shot her one more teasing grin. “Good luck with those durable fabrics.”