#caradoc 2

[franklongbooty]

When: 13th October 1979 Where: Wherever ministry employees eat lunch Who: @dickdowndearborn​

More often than not, Frank chose to have his lunch at his desk. Today though had been an intense day, so much so that the auror he was shadowing had chosen to take lunch outside of the Ministry. So Frank found himself in the cafeteria, picking at his sandwich, when someone sat across from him. “Dearborn?”

[spellnbone]

the sun

Location: Costa Coffee, Muggle London Time: 3rd of December, afternoon Status: Closed, for @dearborncaradoc

Edgar was wearing his sunglasses. He’d found them at a flea market many years ago and was certain they had to date back to the Victorian Era. Small and round, they were more a form of accessory than they were actually shielding your eyes from the sun. Today he regretted it. The Muggle fashion of the time had come up with massively large glasses and while usually he found them a bit too ... blatant, and the light in this Costa wasn’t half as bright as it could be anyway, he wished he had a pair of them now.

He’d not slept a lot. However, he had been drinking a lot. At first, as most mornings, he hadn’t felt the effect of either, making his way back to the Potter Estate with no issues, apparating away from the back alley behind his apartment just fine, but the moment he had entered the kitchen, he was overcome by an insurmountable weight. On the first of December, he had kept watch here, had kept the minutes of their mission, had stared at the map and seen the teams struggle, incapable of helping without leaving his own duty. Two nights had passed since, but it was as though it was happening right now. The map was still at the head quarters, and when he opened it flat on the kitchen counter, seeing it mostly empty now, it was as though he was dragged back to sleep. Dragged into a dream where things could’ve gotten different, dragged into a state of immobility, dragged deep into thoughts.

He noticed certain names appearing and disappearing by the McKinnon Farm, others at the Estate, one even at Diagon Alley, but he didn’t ... notice it. Indeed like in a dream, he was confined to being a passive observer once again, and as hours and hours passed, no amount of tea-cravings or smoke-cravings could make him move. They had all made it out of it alive. That was what mattered. That was what kept this feeling in his throat from turning regret or panic. And yet. There was one particular event, when that one team had suddenly appeared on the Estate’s ground, and they didn’t move. They just ... stayed on the spot they had appeared on, and Edgar knew something had gone wrong, knew he needed to go check on them -- knew he couldn’t though, because there were others currently facing Death Eaters and their outcome was still in the open, their lives in more urgent need to be watched over. His fingers had pressed into the table, trying to move the unmovable. Just like now, he’d been frozen to the spot, staring at the map and begging, begging, begging, that the cluster of names could just please move. Just an inch. Just a breath.

Caradoc had appeared, then. Not three days ago, but today, on the third. He must’ve called him multiple times before his voice had seeped into Edgar’s mind, because when Edgar finally looked up, he seemed impatient. Was frowning. The map was stashed away again and he had been urged to his feet, urged out of the Estate, urged back to Muggle London, to their usual coffee shop where they discussed all things that shouldn’t be heard by other Wix or by the ears of the Estate’s walls.

A coffee and a savoury pastry before them on the table, Edgar’s middle-fingers were once again burying themselves into the wood, pushing imaginary names milimeter by milimeter. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. The other hand. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. The other hand.

[bristlybranwen]

ten steps

Location: Outside McKinnon Farm Time: Afternoon, 26th of December Status: Closed, for @dearborncaradoc

Bran’s grin was broad as she stood almost nose-to-nose with Dearborn, wands raised over their chests, the grip tight. “Ten steps?” she asked, not waiting for the answer before she turned. Counted.

One. There was always this little tug in her guts telling her to turn around at nine and firing the first spell. Two. It would be so easy to win like that. Three. But she’d never acted upon it. Four. That was her father’s move. Five. Not hers. Six. She wasn’t afraid to do this properly, to look her adversary in the face as she’d shout out the incantation. Seven. Everyone could win a duel by aiming at the other’s back, but to win while the other was ready? Eight. That was admirable. Nine. And while she knew this whole thing was probably a thinly veiled enterprise to see if Dearborn could trust her in a battle, if she was truly fit to fight in the Order, not actually Dearborn wanting to train his duelling skills, she trusted him just enough to not attack her prematurely as well.

Ten. She swirled: “Expulso!”

[dawnwitheyy]

Dawn wasn’t about to let the likes of Amycus Carrow ruin her night. As soon as he was out of his sight, she furiously blinked away the tears stinging at her eyes, refusing to let them spill over. She’d just turned twenty, and her team had won their first game with her as captain. She was going to enjoy this. Swiping the closest bottle off the bench, she left the kitchen and disappeared into the crowded living room.

Taking a deep drink, she scrunched up her nose. Cheap vodka. Glancing around, her eyes landed on Caradoc, making her way over to him with purpose. “Do you have anything better than this?” she asked, holding the bottle up in front of him. 

@dickdowndearborn​

[lutraverselemonde]

carrie starter

Location: Muggle London Time: 3rd of March Status: Closed, for @dearborncaradoc

Lu rarely never with heavy luggage. Both metaphorically and physically, they were incredibly good at getting rid of everything and anything that tied them to their previous life, the few months spent in a country prior to yet another move across the world. It was just so lovely to start out fresh, a blank slate, a new beginning about once a year. Nevertheless, their wardrobe was always thick and padded. They rarely lasted a week without spending their entire earnings on everything shiny that passed their eyes and so it came to no surprise that by the end of their sixth month in England, they had already filled two entire rooms in the Travers House with clothes. The choice was vast and colourful. But today? Today Lu wore a pair of black trousers and a simple white t-shirt, sneakers and a beanie that tried to hide their pink hair. Today, Lu was not Lu Travers, pureblood Wixtraordinaire with no luggage.

Today they were Ndulue, and had to make a phone call.

Standing in the little telephone box in a bland, mediocrely crowded street of London, their heart was racing, their knuckles were being cracked over and over again and the back of their head was pressed against the glass as they stared up at the filthy ceiling of the box and the infinite numbers of sex workers that had found their home up there. If they were Lu today, they would’ve found it more iconic to finally be standing in one of those famous red telephone boxes, but as it were, they had no mind for it at all. All they could think about was the one number their mind had refused to forget, even after all those years.

First of March. Come on. It had to happen today.

They picked up the receiver with one hand, fumbled with the other to get the Muggle coins from their palm into their fingers, brought them to the coin slot and -- saw a painfully familiar figure appear right outside the telephone box. Caradoc Dearborn, Inner Circle of the Order of the Phoenix, the one person Atlas had warned Lu to watch out for and make sure to impress. And Lu had done nothing so far to impress him. And he was walking right towards them! No. No, wait, he wasn’t. He wasn’t even looking at Lu! He was walking and walking and walking straight past the telephone box and -- “Fuck.” Eyecontact. They’d made eye contact. And Caradoc Dearborn had come to a surprised halt. 

Lu put the receiver back and opened the door, shaking but smiling. “Hey, there. Been a while.”