#alicealongbottom

[ptpeter]

where: longbottom residence who: @alicealongbottom

He was caught off guard once the door opened and a witch came into sight, he hand't come looking for her so it took him a moment to actually muster a smirk. "Alice, sorry, I was actually coming to give Frank a message." He was quick to explain what he was doing at her house. "Is he home?"

[ofxsorcery]

Starter for: @alicealongbottom & Ela Wood Location: The Atrium, Ministry of Magic

"I can't believe you convinced me to get out of here for this," Ela mumbled to her sister. She had found a babysitter for Oliver and this was the first time she had left her son alone since Patrick had passed away around eight months ago. And it was much, much harder than she had expected. "I will never be the person for these kind of things but I'm happy you're here with me."

[auror-frank]

That Would Be Enough

Longbottom Estate, the Master Bedroom 4 April 1982 @alicealongbottom​ 

The breakfast nook had been cleared for the morning and Frank was satisfied. It was not that he had not tried to wake Alice that morning before he had been called down; she made it clear, though half asleep he was sure, that she was not going to be joining him and Augusta for breakfast that morning.

That didn’t stop Frank from hoping that she would come down, though Augusta noted that Alice had been working—or ‘working’, depending on what, exactly--every Sunday since, and it was a little strange that she was actually home then. Alice’s favorite brew had been prepared just in case anyway. 

Frank declined Skimble’s help as he ascended the spiral stair, carrying a silver tray with two large coffee mugs, a small boat of cream, and a sugar bowl. It wasn’t heavy enough to bother his arm, so Skimble didn’t have to carry it up for him. With the coffee settled on the bedside table, Frank shuffled the blankets around only to find that Alice had gone. He hadn’t seen her on the way there, so she was still in their bedroom.

“Alice?” He turned around to look for her, glancing first at the empty sitting room. He hoped she wasn’t working on a Sunday morning.

[rylandgreen]

Date: February 18, 1982 Location: McKinnon Farm Starter: @alicealongbottom

Ryland took a deep breath before rounding the corner again. He’d walked past once and almost tripped when he’d realized Alice was sitting alone in the room. He hadn’t wanted to go in, but nothing was going to make his nightmares about Lachlan better if he never addressed it. Besides, Alice was the good sort, right? Frank had been kind to Ryland in the aftermath of his rescue, and Ryland had to believe his wife would be the same.

“Hello,” he said as he sat down across from her. Hopefully she hadn’t been waiting for someone, but he was already sitting and had something to ask. “Mind if I join you?” Ryland almost came right out and asked about Lachlan in custody right then and there, but he knew he couldn’t jump in. That little voice in his head that sounded an awful lot like his grandmother insisted that was rude.

[trustingpotter]

THE WRONG APOLOGY | ALICE&JAMES

Location: Lily and James’ Townhome Date: January 3rd, 1982 @alicealongbottom​

Things were getting out of hand. The holidays had flown by - with James being almost-punched by Frank Longbottom only minutes after hearing the man might have been a traitor; Severus Snape’s return; and then the orb. The thing that had killed so much innocent Muggles. What once might’ve made James feel just a bit sad now made him feel sick. He was so in this now - so invested.

With the news of the orb working and his adamant disagreement that Lily was being treated wrongly, while Frank Longbottom got to walk around free and possibly a deflector, the Christmas party he’d put on for the Order felt like a lifetime away.

Which was why, when there was a knock at the door and James saw Alice Longbottom standing there, he was surprised. And nervous. Had she found out about his suspicions on Frank? Had she discovered that he was leading the charge to get the inner circle to investigate her husband - without her knowledge? “Uh, Alice,” James said. “Hey.”

“Wait - I’m supposed to ask you something to make sure you’re you, right? You’re an Auror and I’d rather you not be cross with me and take back that favor you owe me. What kind of champagne did you have at the party when we were talking a few weeks ago?”

[auror-frank]

Fix You

Longbottom Estate, the Master Bedroom 23 March 1982 @alicealongbottom​

Frank shouldn’t be hiding from Alice. It wasn’t hiding—he shouldn’t call it that. But she already had so much to worry about, and Frank’s injury shouldn’t be another on the list of her concerns.

It wasn’t hiding. It was staying busy. He had finally managed to talk to someone at Headquarters, even if half that conversation involved completely forgetting who Julian Selwyn was. He helped Skimble harvest some of the herbs from the conservatory; it had been a long time since he had brewed any potions, but surely there had to be something in the library that could help with his little problem. 

At the very least, he needed to change into some clothes that were more appropriate for brewing anything.

The closet had a few old shirts that he didn’t even remember owning, and he tossed those on the bed to decide which one he liked the least. He unbuttoned his own shirt and let it slide down his arms, grimacing at the blood that stained the sleeve. The bandages needed to be changed, but it wasn’t something he could do by himself. 

He turned to call for Skimble, but it wasn’t the house-elf who had entered the room.

[auror-frank]

Walking on Glass

@alicealongbottom​ at the House of Bones 14 March 1982 with a box of foe glass

It was strange.

After so many months of running the Order from the Potter’s Estate, she had grown used to making her way through the familiar corridors, and knowing precisely where everything was.

Now, it was as if she’d been thrown into a labyrinth with a blindfold on, and absolutely no hope of finding the exit.

She felt as though she’d been walking in circles for hours, hopeless in her attempt to find the kitchen so she could have some damned coffee. She nearly jumped a foot in the air when she heard a thunk from around a corner, and she drew her wand. Surely there was nothing to be frightened of here- then why was she so on edge?

She rounded the corner and gave a small sigh of relief, before stooping over to help her husband. “Is it just me, or is it painfully easy to get lost in here?”

“Fuck!” Frank hissed, letting out an exasperated breath. He wasn’t sure if the foe glass he had brought to the new headquarters would be salvageable, and he quickly looked around for what he had stumbled on. He looked for the footsteps of rats; while the place wasn’t uninhabitable, that didn’t mean that something else had come and decided to make its residence here.

And it wasn’t unlikely that they were planning on having visitors. Not that they were visitors, really.

Frank hadn’t had time to look long; he looked up at Alice, peeking her head in the corner. His heart had stopped, though not in the good way; terror gripped at it and it was a long moment after she spoke that he realized that she had actually said something to him. He opened his mouth to speak, only to find that he hadn’t breathed in a second—and it came out as a cough as he breathed in, disturbing the dust that lingered in the air.

“Yes?” Frank wasn’t sure if he should agree, though he looked behind him to make sure that the path he had taken hadn’t disappeared. He wiped at his mouth to try to cover more of the coughing—he wasn’t sick again with the illness, he swore, it was just the damn air! “Did you decide where to put these? Or—I don’t even know if these work.”

[auror-frank]

The Menu, The Venue, The Seating

closed for Alice and Augusta Longbottom 15 February 1982 at the Longbottom Estate Late Morning after the Rosier Party

Frank didn’t feel rested, despite having been the first to fall asleep on the couch. He had woken up unsure of the time, taking a moment to realize that Alice tucked under his arm and Augusta hovered over them. He didn’t know if his mother had waited up for them to come back from the Rosier party, though he didn’t think it was important enough for her to hear about the menu, the venue, the seating—though it was a popular topic and means of scandal and gossip that Frank didn’t quite understand the semantics of.

The three of them silently ate breakfast, with Frank eating more omelets than usual; their house-elf Skimble had to make him a second helping mid-meal. Very rarely did the Longbottoms have a meal together as a family. Frank didn’t remember the last time he had a meal with both his wife and his mother. If Frank ever ate dinner at home, he was usually by himself—either having worked overtime at the office or dealing with some other Order task. On the weekends he was usually only accompanied one other of the two of them. The instance was so rare that it felt like a formal occasion—in spite of the fact that Frank and Alice were both still dressed for an evening out, albeit Frank’s robes were much more wrinkled than what was appropriate.

He sat at the head of the table, though he was sure that both Alice and Augusta were well aware that he was not the one calling the shots here. The table had been cleared and a bit of cake served, but Frank hadn’t touched his food. Instead he kept glancing at both women, trying to think of a way to figure out how to even start the discussion—obviously his mother hadn’t been in attendance, and it was too early to start talking about… James.

But he and Alice had been there. A lump in his throat made his first sentence hoarse, and he sipped a bit of orange juice as he tried to come up with a way to retell the story without getting into the weeds of what happened. His mother didn’t need his protection—not from the truth, anyway—but that wasn’t going to stop Frank from being careful about what he has to say.

“The Death Eaters were at the Rosier party.” Okay, great start.

“I mean, not a surprise that there were Death Eaters there—” Was it a surprise though? Maybe not to someone in the Order.

“—we already thought that one of the Rosiers—” Frank couldn’t remember which already, even with some food in him.

“—was a Death Eater, but I don’t think it was Jayesh?” That much was true, as far as he was aware, though perhaps Ainsley was more the type to let her sister be married off to an actual terrorist, but he didn’t linger on the thought very long.

“So Alice and I chased after them—she actually got—” Frank looked at his wife, trying to remember what she said the night previous. “—one of the Greengrasses?”