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@mr-gideon-prewett
2. If your character could switch bodies with anyone in their fandom, who would they choose?
Fab. Haha no. Anyone in the fandom? Even from the future? Nymphadora Tonks. Not cute little 70s Dora. Grown-up, badass, Auror-Dora. Changing any feature of his body at will is quite an alluring prospect. Plus she’s awesome.
8. What does your character’s writing look like?
12. What is your character’s least favorite food?
Olives. Olives are grim. And peas, they’re even worse, especially when they’re mashed. If there are peas in a pie or some other meal, Gid will spend as much time as it takes to pick out every single one and put them on the side where they don’t touch his food. Only then he’ll start eating.
Character Questions
You know the drill! Spam inboxes!
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1. What is your character’s birthstone? 2. If your character could switch bodies with anyone in their fandom, who would they choose? 3. Which one of the seven deadly sins would your character fall prey too? 4. What color would most likely represent the soul of your character? 5. Did your character ever have an injury so bad that it changed their life? If yes, explain. 6. What are your character’s goals in life? 7. What age did your character have their first kiss? 8. What does your character’s writing look like? 9. What was your character’s childhood like? 10. When your character was a child, what did they want to be when they grew up? 11. What is your character’s favorite food? 12. What is your character’s least favorite food? 13. How old is your character? 14. Are they right handed or left handed? 15. Does your character have any regrets? 16. If your character had the chance to become immortal, would they take it? 17. How does your character react when they find they are falling in love with another? 18. In your character’s opinion: Is it better to be feared or loved by others? 19. In your character’s opinion: Would you rather have the power to fly or turn invisible? 20. Any question about the mun that you have.
Paint it Black|| Gideon & Open || July 10th, 1979
The scent was familiar. Wet dirt – it brought her memories of mornings spent admiring the outside from within the Black manor’s confines. She’d been surrounded by priceless things, statues and artificial flowers little girls were meant to keep their little hands away from, dreaming of the dirt outside.
And Andromeda waited. She felt the grass under her shoes, the raindrops soaking her hair. She promised herself to try, to enter the church and repeat the condolences she had given to countless wizards. But her feet got stuck on the ground and the words dried up in her mouth. What could she give them? They were a parade of misery, all black and crouched under the rain, and she had known nothing of that woman’s life before she died in her care.
When her gaze landed on the old man’s face, Andromeda tore it away. Annie had spoken of her father, in those last moments. His disapproval was clear, and she didn’t think of the bright green she was wearing. The flowers engraved in her pockets, the earrings - they didn’t seem like offenses against the words she had repeated as a child, seemingly branded into her skin even when she had never meant them. Filthy, they had told her, muggles were filthy.
She could feel someone staring, walking in her direction. And it was just as she was correcting her posture, bracing herself for the string of insults she had grown so used to, that Andromeda saw a familiar face.
“I’m sorry - I shouldn’t have come, it’s not my place.” Nothing about her belonged there. Prewett seemed better at blending in with them, and for that, she recognized him as Gideon even before meeting his gaze. “Did you know her well?”
Andromeda didn’t fit in at all, a bright, hopeful blotch of colour in a sea of dirty browns and greys. It brought a warm, genuine smile to Gideon’s face. Throwing a quick look over his shoulder to ensure that all the muggles were at a safe distance, he pulled his wand out of the inner pocket of his coat and cast a spell to dry himself, before casting another one to shield both of them from the rain.
„No, don’t say that.“ He quickly replied and reached out to place a hand on her arm, a gesture meant to be reassuring. „She would have appreciated it. I don’t think she had many friends in our world.“ He’d been surprised by the lack of wizards and witches at the funeral. Annie had always struck him like a rather sociable person. It was odd that no one had come to remember her, and it made him a little angry.
Gideon‘s smile turned sad at the question. „Not as well as she knew me.“ He looked back at the flowers on the grave and tried to ignore the stinging in his eyes. „She’d been my assistant for what? Seven months? She practically knew everything about me. Well, everything important. And I don’t even know what house she was in. Or what her favourite colour was. All I know is that she had a cat and how she liked her tea. I should have made more of an effort.“
Tearing his eyes away Gid focused on the young, delicate woman before him again and carefully studied her face. „How are you holding up, Andromeda? You look like you could use a hot drink and some rest. I know I can provide at least one of the two. So, should we get out of the rain?“
1979, Time for a Wedding! || Gideon & Kingsley || May 20th, 1979 || Love, Marriage & Forever
steadfastlyfromthewoods:
“Perhaps,” Kingsley said lowly, trying to convince himself he didn’t want Gideon’s touch back on his arms as he watched his friend step back. He’d definitively had too much to drink; that was his own voice speaking but it was turning low and fond without his permission. ”l don’t spend any more time than you, really.” The ghost of Gideon’s hands patted his cheek with a smart sharpness before the sensation faded, and Kingsley realigned himself to the conversation at hand.
It was probably somewhere firmly between the realms of ridiculous and positively childish that he demanded, like a spoiled brat, Gideon to accompany him on excursions to the various bakeries of Diagon Alley. Even more improper was the balloon of relief that swelled bright and happy in chest as Gideon chuckled and agreed to Kingsley’s terms, a balloon so bright and big that Kingsley felt lightheaded, off balanced.
The relief of Gideon’s acceptance left Kingsley in the space of his chuckle, grinning at the mention of Gid’s oven as the Auror tried to regain his steadiness. “Have you treated it so poorly? I can see that the touch of the kitchen your sister possesses does not run in the family.” The image of a panicking Gideon coughing his way through a clean up spell was enough to keep the amusement alive in his eyes.
“I’ll bring the potion, regardless of your memory.” Kingsley had no intentions of letting Gideon get smashed enough to forget the following morning, but he doubted he could stop the man if the other wizard was determined. “And I overheard James saying the poor woman always looks like that. I’m not sure that they even hexed her a little.”
Gideon swallowed almost all of what he gave the man, the couple of ounces poured into the glass; Kingsley himself swallowed hard as he processed his own thought and poured a little more into the cups both men had, taking another swallow of his own portion. “It is somewhat nice to be around, yes,” Kingsley rumbled thoughtfully, fighting the urge to clear his throat for no reason. A nervous tic of his own making, the Auror knew, but it didn’t make the urge any less stronger. “Though like Evans’ sister, there are those who cannot be happy for even people they love.”
They could probably argue about who worked more for hours without coming to a conclusion. Fact was they were both practically living at the Ministry as of late. Kingsley was one of the few people who Gideon felt wasn’t judging him for being a workaholic, or tried to get him to take more time off. And he appreciated that.
He smiled dopily, swaying on his feet and automatically reaching for Kingsley again to steady himself. In a far away part of his mind that was still somewhat sane, he registered that this might look a little desperate, but it felt good and he couldn’t care less.
„I’m always nice to all my kitchen appliances.“ He promised. „It’s them you can’t trust. I’m pretty sure they’re conspiring against me. The stove is the ringleader so I tried to tech it a lesson. Didn’t work, apparently. Maybe next time I should try the sink. I swear, the only one I can trust in there is my coffee machine.“ Gideon snorted at his own joke. Funny. He was being funny, that was good. People liked him better when he was funny than when he was sad, or scared, or anxious. And he wanted people to like him, especially Kingsley. Gideon was too far gone to make sense of most of what the other man was saying. He’d lost track of their earlier conversation somewhere along the way and decided to just nod mechanically at everything Kingsley said. The mention of the potion, though, stuck.
„You’re too good to me, Kings. Always have been. How do people like you even exist?“ A crease had formed between his eyes and he was considering Kingsley as if he couldn’t completely figure out if he was real or not. „I was an idiot for pushing you away.“ He mumbled, more to himself but still audible. It took his alcohol clouded brain a little longer than usual to notice that he’d thought out loud.
Suddenly feeling uncomfortable, Gideon cleared his thoat and took an unsteady step back. „That… just forget….“ Fuck his own stupidity. The alcohol was making it hard to think and to put the right words in the right order. Gideon shook his head but it didn’t help to clear the fog at all. He needed to go, and find someone who could lock him away for the next few hours, until he was sober again.
„Fab’s probably looking for me.“ Not his most original excuse, but the best he could come up with right now, and hopefully not too far from the truth. Stumbling, Gideon moved backwards, not quite able to tear his eyes away from Kingsley yet. „I’ll… talk to you when I see you. Enjoy the rest of your night.“ Somehow he managed to make it towards the door and back inside without falling or embarrassing himself any further. At least he was completely plastered by now. With a bit of luck, he wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning.
End
Paint it Black|| Gideon & Open || July 10th, 1979
Date: July 10th, 1979
Time: 2:30 PM
Location: East Finchley Cemetery, London
The rain was almost too much of a stereotype, and yet it was very befitting the situation. When they’d left the small chapel Gideon had briefly considered to discreetly cast a shielding charm, but had, considering that he was the only wizard at this ceremony, decided against it. Now his coat was drenched and he could feel the water running down his back.
He wasn’t a religious person, the last time he’d seen the insides of a church he’d been a teenager, but Annie had been a muggleborn, and her whole family was catholic. Gideon had awkwardly stood in the back during the service, but had to admit that there was a strange, heartbreaking beauty in the rituals and the music. He could see why many found comfort in it.
When his assistant hadn’t responded to any of his owls, Gideon had searched the provisional hospital for her, with no luck. A day later, they’d recovered her broken body from underneath what was left of the Ministry. She had been in her office that day, like every day, working overtime because Gideon wasn’t there.
The ceremony was over. Everyone had payed their respects, the coffin had been lowered into the ground and now people were slowly drifting towards the gates of the cemetery. Gideon had briefly spoken with Annie’s parents, who had invited him back to their home for coffee, but he’d politely declined. He might have been an Obliviator once, but his muggle skills weren’t good enough for an afternoon of polite chit chat. Instead he would wait until everyone was gone and he was safe from curious muggle eyes and then apparate directly to the new provisional office that had been set up. There was more work than ever and they were, once more, running out of time.
A figure standing a little to the side caught his attention. Someone who didn’t seem to fit in at all around here. Casually, Gideon strolled over, hands buried in his pockets. “You know, if you keep staring like that you’ll just add to the rumours. Everyone in her family already believed that she was a member of some sort of secret muggle-auror organisation.”
Beside the Dying Fire || Gideon & Kingsley || 3rd July 1979
Date: July 3rd, 1979
Time: 6:35PM
Location: Hogwarts
Gideon’s steps were unsteady as he made his way through the Great Hall searching for a familiar face between all the strange ones. He was painfully aware that he was still wearing the same clothes, covered with Fabian’s dried blood and he could count the hours he’d slept in the past four days on one hand. When they arrived at the provisional hospital yesterday he’d refused to leave his brother’s side until the healers had promised him that his twin was out of the woods. Only after a few threats from Fab, a very stern talk from both his siblings and Molly swearing that she would get him if anything changed, he agreed to get at least a few hours of rest.
It hadn’t lasted for long though, somehow on owl had managed to find him early at 3am, with the message that Millicent wanted to see him. His boss had summoned the whole team to her house, only a little more than two thirds had gathered there. So far they didn’t know if those who hadn’t were with the injured at the school, or if they’d never made it out at all.
Millicent had confirmed what everyone already suspected: the Minister was dead. Until late in the afternoon they had tried to come up with a strategy, some sort of plan to not only keep the campaign alive, but to somehow get the situation under control. Bagnold would have kept him longer, but Gideon had barely been able to form coherent sentences and he was eager to check up on his brother - and to find someone else.
Gideon had tried to find Kingsley earlier yesterday, but had been informed that he was likely back at the Ministry or St Mungo’s with the other aurors. From what he’d gathered the aurors had worked tirelessly to safe those who were still buried underneath the rubble. Not knowing how he was, if he’d been injured, maybe even worse, it was killing him. So after a brief visit to see how his brother was doing, and a knowing look from Fab, Gideon was off again.
When he finally spotted a familiar pair of shoulders, he felt like a heavy weight was being lifted off his shoulders. He was alive. More than once he’d found himself worrying about his friend while stuck at the cottage and at least since they’d arrived back in London and been informed about the situation, his concern had tunred into fear. He didn’t know what he’d do if Kingsley had been one of the Death Eater’s victims. There was still so much he had to say to him. So much, in fact, that Gideon didn’t even know where to start and just stood there, dumbfounded and staring while his emotions threatened to overwhelm him. When he finally found his voice, it was unusually rough. “I don’t think anything has made me happier in four days, than finding you alive.“
Proper Decorum|| Kingsley and Gideon
steadfastlyfromthewoods:
Kingsley snorted into his tea, taking in Gideon’s fond tone and wishing that it didn’t strum echoing notes of warm-honey fondness in chest. “Sugar is good for a growing man,” Kingsley said, nodding over his tea cup as he set it down, settling himself into his chair and shaking himself of feeling like a big cat settling into its territory.
The touch of Gideon’s hand almost shook Kingsley’s resolve, and for a moment, he let it. He let the press of fingertips pressure him into cracking outwards, his chest opening and heaving and raw, let it dip into his cracked pieces just like wrecked bits of porcelain. But the touch of Gideon’s voice seamed him back together, and Kingsley took a heavy breath as he turned his hand palm upwards to catch long fingers.
Not again.
“I am here to talk to you, Gideon. If you’ll have me.” There was no going back now, even if he was spitting prose around a foot and half a robe in his mouth. “Can I ask you…” For you, for a handout, some respect, an embrace, for
“Can I ask an explanation of you? If you are comfortable sharing, I mean.”
“As if you need any more growing.” Gid muttered, his warm smile only widening. Kingsley was a big man, even Gideon, who definitely wasn’t short, sometimes felt small next to him. He’d found that it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. The way Kingsley finally seemed to relax and made himself comfortable gave Gideon a warm feeling. It was nice to think that he enjoyed Gideon’s company.
Only when suddenly, Kingsley’s hand moved, grabbing Gideon’s fingers and holding them in place, only then did he realise what his own hands had been doing without him even noticing. He froze. Kingsley’s grip wasn’t painful or particularly strong but it was firmly keeping his fingers from any further explorations. Gid could easily have freed himself, but as messed up as this situation was, he didn’t want to lose that precious bit of skin contact just yet, so he held still.
An explanation. Oh how he’d dreaded the day Kingsley would come asking for that. And he wanted to give him one, wanted to explain everything, from start to finish, no sugarcoating this time. If anyone truly deserved to know, it was Kingsley. After all, he’d been the one Gideon had hurt the most.
“I want to, you have to believe that.” He drew in a shaky breath, but never broke eye contact. He wanted Kings to see that he was telling the truth. “I’m just not sure I can.” The nails of his free hand were digging painfully into the skin of his palm, but he almost didn’t feel it at all. “I will try to give you an explanation. But I don’t think I can tell you the whole story just yet. At least not tonight. Do you think you could live with that? For now?”
.
Can’t Leave Us Behind || Prewett Twins || 19th June 1979
mr-fabian-prewett:
Fabian snuggled a little closer to Gideon, reaching back and pulling the cover over them. “But he doesn’t want anyone else.” Fabian said very matter of fact as he closed his eyes. When he heard Kings had been her he smiled lightly. “Did you kiss and make up?” He teased quietly, taking hold of Gid’s shirt and gripping it tight like a kid with a safety blanket.
Fabian didn’t mind the elastic snapping against his skin at all, it was grounding in a way, and the fleeting pain served as a further reminder that Gid was there. “That all sounds fantastic, I can’t wait to start our new life together. Especially the cats bit, I quite like cats.” He was so exhausted, he wanted to stay awake and talk all night but he hadn’t had a full nights sleep in forever and now he was here he just couldn’t keep his eyes open.
“You didn’t fuck anything up Gid, I fucked up. I don’t deserve her anyway. Have you seen the way she smiles when she’s trying to be angry at you? I don’t deserve that.” He mumbled, not really thinking about what he was saying anymore, just letting the words fall out. “I don’t want sex if it’s not with her.” He hadn’t realised it until now but it was true.
Stifling a yawn he almost missed Gid’s last comment. He frowned, but kept his eyes closed, brow furrowing. “That does not help.” He knew exactly what March was, if he wasn’t half asleep by now he would have felt more guilty. “Maybe you should see a healer or something, I don’t think that’s healthy.”
Gideon huffed quietly, but didn’t answer. He couldn’t admit out loud how much he hoped his brother was right. “Not exactly, no.” He chuckled and closed his eyes. “We talked. Well, he wanted to talk. He wanted answers. It was a difficult conversation.” One he still wasn’t sure he was happy about. He’d definitely enjoyed Kingsley’s company, but he’d rather avoided talking about his own shortcomings.
“Well, whoever fucked up in the end doesn’t really matter. Fact is, you’re truly fucked. You’ve fallen pretty hard there this time, haven’t you?” It both worried him and made him happy for his brother. He wanted nothing but Fab’s happiness and he hoped they somehow couold work this out. But he was worried what would happen if they couldn’t.
“Whatever.” He shrugged, feeling himself drift off as well. “’m not really misiing it, to be honest.” Gideon was too exhausted to discuss the matter any further and apparently, so was Fab. When none of them said anything else after that, he shifted around for a while to find a more comfortable position without disturbing his brother’s rest and then drifted off to sleep.
---
He woke up because the sunlight on his face made him sneeze. They hadn’t closed the curtains last night. Grumbling he tried to turn away from the light and get some more sleep, but the way Fab had invaded his space, keeping him trapped with an iron grip in his tshirt, made him unable to move even a few inches. Gideon groaned and then yawned and lazily lifted a hand to poke his twin sharply a few times in the side. “Wake up, idiot. If I’m not allowed to get any more sleep, you aren’t either.”
As the Clock Strikes Midnight || Igor and Gideon || June 30th, 1979 - Counting Bodies Like Sheep
karkaroff-silvertongue:
Igor’s spell missed, frustratingly narrowly. He bit the inside of his cheek, allowing himself a single moment of concealed emotion to swear in the privacy of his own head. So much for this being over with a single spell. Casting a Shield charm quickly, he sent the jinx that had been barrelling towards his face glancing away. He held the shield for a moment longer, just in case Maybe-Gideon was planning on following up his first attack with another curse in short order.
His opponent had retreated several steps, even while striking back at him, and Igor moved forward accordingly, keeping the distance between them as even as he could in the chaos that now reigned in the room. As much as he didn’t want to let the other man get away, nor did he want to get too close. Close quarters and magical duels didn’t mix very well.
Despite the element of surprise having succeeded to a degree in their attack, he could see now that it hadn’t been as effective as it should have been. The enemy had been surprised, but not enough to be immediately incapacitated. The coloured beams of curses flew every which way and Igor had to focus part of his attention on not being caught in any crossfire, as well as being wary of his actual opponent.
It was this divided attention, he reckoned, that let his Shield charm fade and made him too slow to recast it in time to stop the spell that blasted into the floor a foot ahead of where he was standing. The floorboards burst apart in a crash of splinters as if hit by a cannonball, knocking Igor off his feet and throwing him bodily backwards.
Miraculously, he didn’t hit any of his fellow Death Eaters nor any Order members. Equally lucky was the fact that no stray spell collided with him. What did collide with him was the wall. This hurt enough to drive any thoughts of miracles or luck from his mind and he grunted in pain as he slumped to the floor. Quickly (and a little dazedly) throwing up another Shield, he held the magical barrier in place as he struggled to his feet. As soon as he had his opponent in his sights again, he let the Shield charm drop and slashed his wand as if it were the handle of a whip. White-hot magic slashed through the air towards the twin’s face.
Not waiting to see if the curse struck its target (and stoutly ignoring the moral conflict if it did – he really did sort of hope this wasn’t Gideon), he quickly sidestepped, not wanting to present a stationary target. It was difficult to duel strategically with all the other bodies moving around the room, but he did his best to plan what he could of his attacks.
“Crucio!” he snapped, squinting through the darkness and rebounding spells at his target. Around him, he could see flashes of silver as the light of magic reflected off of the other Death Eaters’ masks and could hear the telltale growls of Fenrir on the attack. He tried to push aside all the distractions the same way he pushed back his emotions. While it was important to be aware of his surroundings, he couldn’t afford to let his guard waver when it came to the wizard currently duelling him either. All it would take would be one mistake to turn the tide of the ambush against him.
His spell had bought him time. Not much, but enough to move out of the corner and back into the middle of the room. Enough time to quickly scan the room, to look for Fabian. The idiot was literally on the other end of the cabin, battling what Gideon reckoned must have been at least one quarter giant.
Wand still drawn, he turned to move toward him, to somehow get his brother put of there or at least give him some backup, when he felt something wizz past him, close enough to feel the burn on his cheek. Gideon whipped around, cursing himself for his own stupidity. He shouldn’t have turned away the moment he saw his oppenent fly through the room and crash into the opposite wall. He should have at least waited a moment to check if he’d been knocked out fror real. This was how people got killed in this war. They couldn’t afford to be negligient.
He sent a stunning spell towards his attacker and wanted to follow it up with something more aggressive, but decided against it at the last possible moment. The room was too packed. The risk of hitting Alastor, Marlene or Fab with it was too high. He had to separate his opponent from the group, get him somewhere more isolated, less protected. Although that would mean letting Fab out of his sight.
Of course it had been a set up. They had been lured into this trap like rats, and had gone willingly. They’d known that this had been likely to happen and it hadn’t stopped them. A typical Gryffindor move, he thought cynically as he sent yet another disarming spell at the Death Eater, that hit the wall about two feet to his left.
He hadn’t expected the Cruciatus. He saw the flash of red light coming directly towards him, perfectly aimed considering all the additional bodies moving around him. Gideon felt the hairs in the back of his neck stand up, like a warning, right before it him.
His left shoulder seemed to burst into flames. The pain, worse than anything he’d ever felt before, rapidly spread through his whole body setting every single one of his nerve ending on fire. There was no way of describing what it felt like. No words were strong enough, terrible enough. Gideon couldn’t see, his vision had gone white and all he could hear was the sound of his own blood rushing through his veins, but so loud that it canceled any other noise around him. He couldn’t even think. He wasn’t Gideon in that moment. For a few seconds he just stopped existing, pushed away by that agonising, all-encompassing pain.
When he slowly came around, he found himself kneeling on the floor, shivering and panting, small tremors still running through his body. His limbs felt heavy and ached uncomfortably but it was nothing compared to what he’d just experienced. Gideon was almost thankful for the hard, wooden floor under his knees and the sight of his brother and the flashes of light racing through the small room. At least he was back in the real world.
Gritting his teeth he got back to his feet noticing with a grim smile that he’d never let go of his wand. He was exhausted, but not unable to fight and if anything, the Cruciatus had just been an encouragement. There was a window about ten feet to his opponent’s left. If he could somehow get him there, he could get him out of the cabin as well and away from the others. Dodging a stray curse, Gideon moved towards the Death Eater again, and aimed a spell at his right shoulder, hoping he’d start moving into the desired direction.
OOC: What does your head-canon wand for your character look like? What Aura color would you say your character has?
//Gideon’s wand is made from red oak with a dragon heartstring core. It’s 12 3/4” long and pliant. It’s mostly plain-looking, except for the handle that is decorated with some surprisingly delicate carvings. It’s in great condition, considering that it’s still his very first wand. Like Gideon himself, it has a twin, namely Fabian’s wand that was made from the same wood.
I believe Gideon’s aura is predominately made up of blue colours. Google tells me that people with a blue aura are often calm and collected, caring, generous and loving, sensitive and intuitive. I believe there also might be some red in there, for anger, nervousness, unforgiveness and anxiety.
Free to Be You and Me || Gid & Mary || April 9th, 1979
themistressofmyself:
That was the first and only time she would allow herself to be vulnerable, more like downright pathetic, in front of him. She blamed it on the fact she was still getting used to her life, where she was free and she could do whatever she wanted. And it was the first time she had allowed anyone else but Atti to touch her. In fact, every time people tried to hug her, she would step back and find an excuse. It wasn’t them, it was her. Mary could forget those long fingers touching her cheek, pulling at her hair, hurting her in unimaginable ways.
Mary shook her head and stepped away from him, trying to keep some safe distance between them. She accepted the plate, even though she wasn’t hungry at all. Atticus had made her promise she would eat, and while she loved her brother more than anything and would do anything for him, she knew that it was impossible. Mary took a seat and placed the pizza in her lap, looking down at the dogs.
It truly felt like she was living someone else’s life, and she didn’t feel comfortable in her own loft anymore. Mary didn’t know what to do or say, she simply wanted to go back to bed and stay there forever. Her fingers tapped on her knee in an anxious manner, the lack of colour on her nails caught her attention. She had been so focused on her hair, trying to make a statement, that she had forgotten everything else. She didn’t feel like Mary anymore, and that was depressing as fuck.
She took advantage of his words and the fact he was distracted with such thought to place her plate back on the table and nodded, not really wanting to play a game when she obviously wasn’t in the mood. Of course she appreciated his visit, and that he cared enough to bring her pizza and coffee, or maybe Lily had sent him. Either way, she appreciated it. It had been a while since anyone had called her Mary, Mary, quite contrary. It was nice, and a small smile reached her lips.
Was she allowed to pass pretty much every single question? Mary had never liked talking about herself, it made her feel uncomfortable, and words always came out wrong. Besides, wasn’t that a game people played on dates? She remembered Douglas had once tried that and she had kissed him in order to distract him. It had worked pretty well, and she had been really proud of herself. It obviously wasn’t even a possibility this time.
If she had to be honest, she didn’t know much about him either. They were friends, she supposed, and yet she barely knew him at all. Perhaps that wasn’t what she wanted to do, but it wasn’t that bad either. He was there, whatever the reason, and she was grateful for it. And maybe it would keep her mind busy, and help her to think about other things about herself, maybe she could even remember who she was in the middle of that hell. She bit her lower lip and reached for her coffee. “Sounds good,” she agreed.
In the weeks following his own abduction, Gideon had often felt like he wasn’t really awake. He constantly seemed to be in a dreamlike state, strangeley detached from everyone and everything around him. Life just went by, but he wasn’t really present. For a while it had been like all his emotions had been sucked out of him. There was no sadness, no happiness, no anger. He’d just been numb. It had passed in time, and he wanted nothing more than to tell Mary just that, maybe give her some hope. But he couldn’t, not without letting her know about what had happened.
She moved and the light made her hair sparkle for a moment. Gideon smiled sadly to himself, remembering that afternoon in the park, not too long ago watching the dogs play in the snow and sharing eclairs. It only made him furious at whoever had done this to her, and he hoped that maybe one day, he could get revenge on everyone who had ever hurt his friends.
Not for the first time Gideon felt a sudden hint of anger directed at Dumbledore. Member of the Order were being kidnapped, and tortured and what was he doing? Nothing. Gideon wasn’t exaclty a believer in fighting fire with fire, but he was starting to crave revenge. And he wasn’t the only one. He had a feeling that others were thinking just like him. If they wanted to achive anything in this war, they should act already.
Pulling out of his grim thoughts, Gideon placed his plate on the coffee table as well and leaned back. His goal was to distract Mary, get her thoughts off the abduction and maybe even lighten her mood for a little bit. He was not planning on asking any deeply personal questions. Maybe there would be time for that some other day. Today he’d concentrate on the lighter topics, the ones that he hoped didn’t require too much thinking. „Alright, first question.“ He reached for his own cup and breathed in the rich scent of strong coffee before taking a sip, furrowing his brow as if in deep thought. „What’s your favourite colour?“
On the floor the three younger dogs had started to wrestle and Gideon huffed quietly when they tumbled against his leg with enough force to almost make him spill his coffee all over himself. He reached into the puppy pile with one hand, lifting Guinevere up and setting her down i his lap. She looked a little confused at first, but quickly yielded and began to lick his fingers. He rubbed her chest absentmindedly, his eyes still resting on Mary as he gave her another mischievous smile. „You know, if you say something other than ‚purple‘ now, I’ll be shocked.“
Why can't you get it up?
Wha- Where on earth did you hear that??? That's not... Fuck, I have no idea, okay? It just... happened. And it's really not my biggest problem right now. I do hope it goes away though.
Who do you think will be the next minister?
Millicent. We can still do this. I believe in her, and in our campaign. I have to. For me there's no other option.
Is it true you still have a stuffed teddy bear?
So? I’ve had Theodore since I was a baby. He’s an antique.
Do you think Molly has too many kids?
I don’t think there’s such a thing as ‘too many kids’. They’re all happy and loved and she and Art are the best parents anyone could ask for. I hope they have more. If you ask me, they shouldn’t stop trying until they have at least one girl.
