It was odd to feel this happy to be standing in a morgue but for the dark-haired woman, the chilly room had always been a sanctuary. It was something that had belonged to her only for ages, the same way the swirling lines on her body were hers alone.
( And everyone needed to have something that could not be taken away so easily. )
Waving at a duo of assistants who were giggling over their marks, tracing the marks on each others wrists, she made her way to her small office space, running one hand through her hair as she reached for a report that had been left where it did not belong. Back where she had been on top of the food chain, she would have said something but not yet, not here. In this place, she just returned it to its designated place and told herself that she was using this to familiarise herself with the place.
She sighed, rolling her shoulders, as she looked around in the tiny office. It was a new morgue, for her, a new place she had to get used to --- but she had appreciated the transfer because the offer had come at the right time. After all, she had left behind scorched ground.
Flipping through a report, she reached for her coffee, only to find it empty. “Oh, c’mon,” she grumbled as she got up and made her way towards the exit. “Page me if you need me,” she told the assistants as she moved her arm to open the door, only to collide with something.
and maybe a dash of 'things you said while you were drunk'
He was drunk and she was about one glass of fire whiskey past tipsy but this did not really matter because they were having some time off. Of course,they were teachers, now. Heads of their respective houses, even, and therefore ina position of doubled responsibility. But even a few years and a war after the lasttime they had ended up sitting on the astronomy tower after curfew, the old charmhad not faded. The only thing that had changed was that they no longer had to worryabout getting caught and having to serve detention.
“Wannabet on the match tomorrow?” he asked and she felt like this was a massive case ofdéjà-vu because ever since he had worked out that she was about as invested in quidditchas he was — which had been halfway through their first year when he had bumpedinto her and tons of parchment covered in match statistics had fallen out of herbag.
Still,she snorted at his words. In over twenty years, they had not even once bet on amatch between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw as they both would be immensely prejudiced.Of course, there had been an instance or two when Ur had been disappointed with the students ofher house and had seen the advantage of the side of the Slytherin her house —the house her daughter was playing for. “Unless I missed the memo, Fernandes isplaying again which means the eagles will win,” she said as she leaned over to gether hands on the bottle again.
“I’m guessingyour information comes directly from your daughter,” he replied as he yawned andlooked up at the stars.
“We allhave our sources,” she said with a shrug as she arranged her sapphire cloak aroundher. It was ironic, she guessed, how red had always been her favourite colour andyet, she had been wearing blue nearly every day for the past years.
“We couldstill bet, ya know,” he muttered as he rolled onto his side and grinned at her.“Just not the usual ten galleons.”
For a moment,she halted — the glass nearly touching her lips, her other hand still messingwith her cloak. Then — “You got my attention,” she said as she raised an eyebrow.The ten galleons had been the very same ten galleons that had been pushed back andforth between them since they had been eleven.
“Knew that’dcatch your interest,” he said as he stretched out his hand and she passed him thebottle without missing a beat. “Let’s see — if Ravenclaw wins, I’ll tag alongto that Charm Expo next summer? And when my lions win, you gotta wear red for aweek,” he finished and she rolled her eyes because this was ridiculous. For starters,aside from perhaps Slytherin, Ravenclaw was the most balanced team at the moment.And then, there was the matter of how little she would actually care about losing the bet.
“You know,I should feel bad,” she muttered as she took a sip of her drink, relishing at theway the whiskey burned in her throat. “That’s like taking candy from a toddler.” Turningher head to look at him properly, her eyes narrowed. “You didn’t suddenly decidethat Charms are amazing and you want my job, yes?” she asked as she pursed her lips.
“I gotan A in my NEWTs, you got an O — the headmaster would be an idiot for letting metake your job,” he said with a scoff and she bit down on her tongue. This was notthe time to remind him that if he had studied with her for the OWLs rather thanto fight with the Slytherins and to go on dates with everyone, he would have gottenat least an E.
For a moment,her brain was not working correctly and she had trouble working out what possiblycould explain his interest in going to the Charms Expo with her before she caughton — one of the leading experts in defence and home security charms would givea presentation and this was something that likely interested him ——- nevermindthat these ‘new findings’ were mostly derived from her one and only book, the bookthat had been deemed ‘too complicated’ for a regular reader.
“You know,if you wanna hear news on shield charms, you could always just ask me,” she huffed,feeling nearly offended because he wassupposed to be her friend and friends knew what other friends were good at.rsed her lips.
(She knew that there was hardly someone elsealive who knew as much about combustion spells as he did.)
Gildartslaughed and she kicked his wooden leg — an old war injury, for good measure —because she did not like being laughed at. “Alright, alright,” he said as he pushedthe bottle into her direction. “Have another drink, Professor Milkovich, and tell me about charms,” he said with far toomuch emphasis on her title.
“I doubtthat either of us is sober enough for this now,” she replied as she poured herselfanother drink with a lazy wave of her wand. Usually,the first thing she did when students entered the seventh year was to tell themnot to use magic when being ridiculously drunk but she had experimented with thematter long enough to know that she could safely use charms after a few glassesof fire whiskey. Clearingher throat, she brought the bottle down and leaned against a gargoyle. “So, backto the bet,” she said as she absentmindedly cleaned her wand with a scrap of clothshe kept in her pocket for this very purpose.
“Ah, yes,”he said as he reached out and poked her nose, an old habit of his that had led herto hex him a couple of times when they had been still students. “How about — ifyou win, I mark half of the Charms OWLs?”
“That’s … probablyillegal,” she said slowly, trying to crush the thought how hilarious it would be to watch him go out of his mind over the subjectfor quite a few hours.
“You have apoint there,” he replied as he crossed his arms behind his head and narrowed hiseyes as he kept staring at her. “Make a suggestion.”
“I usuallydo,” she said as she rolled her eyes at him. She had put up with his ideas for ages, throughout school, auror training,a war and then school again. In her humble opinion, this likely qualified her foranother order of Merlin.
“Wipe that smug smirk ofyour face, eagle eye,” he groaned before she laughed, once again, because the lasttime he had called her that had been whenshe had still been seeker and captain of her team and he had been beater of his.
“Probablycaught it from you, you know,” she said as she swatted at his form, feeling oddlyrelaxed at the idea of how easy it wasto revert back to their usual bickering. Or better said: the bickering that hadbeen normal when they had been a decadeor more younger.
When theystill had two legs each and not two legs between them. She had been somewhat luckier— after nearly dying and ended up with a full memory wipe, she had been foundby muggles and they were a good deal moreadvanced in terms of prosthetics than the wizarding community and so her new legwas better fitted to her than Gildarts’ was to him.
(She hadbeen trying to convince him to undergo muggle treatment ever since her memory hadbeen restored and she had returned to her old life but he had been frustratinglystubborn.)
(And itwas her who was the pureblood between them.)
“Unlikely,ya know, since smug smirks are a disease that’s transferred by kissing and unlessI missed something, that never happened,” he scoffed and she rolled her eyes athim. He had a point, however, and she had been through enough to know when she wasabout to get herself into a difficult position and so she decided to drop it. However,it was not like he got the memo on that because he grinned even more infuriatingthan usual. “You’re, of course, more thanwelcome to catch my smirk.”
“You temptme to push you off the roof,” she said as she averted her gaze for a moment whenher cheeks grew unusually warm all of a sudden.
“Ah, c’mon,Ur, you know you love me,” he laughed and it was the carefree sound she had notheard in a long time, the carefree sound she had not realised she had missed sinceit had disappeared somewhere in the war. Perhaps this was what made her a littleless sharp in her response.
“Supposethat’s why I’ve stayed this long — thanks for clearing that one up for me,” shesaid, without the usual venom in her voice. She was not necessarily tired of theirbanter — she doubted that she would ever grow tired of it — but she was tiredof being mean. “Anyway, about the bet — when I win, you help me with the Christmas decorations this year. Iknow your charm work isn’t as bad asyou like to make it sound.”
“True — though I’ll never be quite as charming as you,” he replied and she groanedbecause it was not like she had heard this cheap line a trillion times at this point— because this was the price she had paid when she had become one of the youngestcharm masters to ever exist which had been a title she had downplayed when she hadreturned from her involuntary exile.
“You’rereally on a roll tonight,” she said but she allowed herself a small smile. Thishad been his usual behaviour, a long time ago, but the war and the terrors theyhad seen had made both of them harder and their softer sides had been tucked away,rarely to be seen again.
“Don’thear you complainin’, flower brain,” he grinned and this time, she kicked him withthe leg that was the proof of just how well muggles worked without magic and shehuffed when he flinched upon the impact. She had lived through years of being calleda variety of nicknames that had been usually derived from her house but she hadalways drawn the line when sometimes had dragged her family name into the mix. Thatwas the limit, everyone knew that.
“That reallyhurt,” the wizard said but Ur just rolled her eyes. If she had been any less drunk,she might have turned him into an animal — perhaps a lion cub, she idly mused— but for the moment, kicks had to remain the sole disciplinary measure.
She sighedinwardly. She did not like hurting people — which was ironic, in a way, becauseshe had fought a war and she had taken out quite a few death eaters — and shedid not like hurting friends. But she was sensitive when it came to this nickname.“Sorry,” she said as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Back to the bet?”
“Sure, if Ilose, you get to order me around when it comes to the Christmas decorations,” hesaid as he tapped his fingers against the roof.
“When you lose,”she said smugly.
“Oh, shut up,” he muttered. “Ravenclaw isn’t even thatgood this year.”
“Excuse me?” she asked sharplyeven though she knew that he had a point. Even without being vain, she had beena far better seeker than the kid who was filling the position these days. The onlythings that kept them afloat were a keeper who knew what he was doing and chaserswho seemed to be one inseparable unit, sharing one mind.
“When youlose the bet, you gotta help with the duelling class for the sixth years,” he saidand she rolled her eyes because she had had signed up for that particular activityhalf a year ago, “and since that’s actually something you’d find hilarious, youalso owe me a dance at the winter ball.”
She laughed at this and thesound was oddly reminiscent of a bark. “As hilarious as that would be, I have utmost faith in my students,” she said asshe prayed that they would not disappoint this faith. But even if they would lose,there was at least one foot that was safe from taking damage in the event Gildartswould step onto it.
“I thinkthat you secretly bet on your own house’s defeat so you get to dance with me,” hesaid and she scoffed at that. He was not the only one she had had bets without alongthe years and he was not the first to raise the stakes on her either. He was justthe first one who got a little too close to the truth, as it seemed.
“You’resometimes a real idiot, Clive,” she said as she wrapped her arms around her legsand rolled her eyes at him.
“Whateveryou say, queen,” he muttered and she sighed as she got up and held her hand outto him. “Huh?”
“You knowthe rules — I cut you off and make sure you get to bed safely once you start callingme that,” she said as she tried her hardest to pull him to his feet. The rule hadbeen established somewhere along their auror training and she had stuck to it throughthe years.
“You’rereally one of a kind,” he said as he let her drag him back into the castle.
hit me with gildur 'things you said in your sleep'
collection fragments meme ;; accepting
Her daemonwas curled up at her feet, the white fur the brightest thing in the room. For amoment, Ur liftedher head from the book when the snow leopard moved — jumping from where it had rested moments before to the top of the bookshelf.As odd this behaviour was, it was nothing new for the scientist. Gwen hadalways been two things: vigilant and protective. And these two aspects had beenwrapped into the shape of a hunter, of someone who was equipped with the teeth andthe strength to tear others apart.
But then,the daemon calmed down and her stance lost all tension before she curled up atopof the shelf, overlooking the room. For a brief moment, Ur considered to ask whathad caused the sudden shift in attitude or to perhaps remind the manifestation ofher soul that they were in a library and that this was not a place to jump around. Beforeshe could ask, however, a lion strolled into the room, followed by what seemed tobe a tired and wary Gildarts Clive.
“Gildarts,”she greeted as she closed the book she had been reading for a moment and tappedher fingers against it, her gaze trained onto him as he waved lazily before he slumpeddown on the other chair, his lion daemon, Oz, slouching next to him. “Oz.”
‘Where is Gwyneira?’the lion asked, his voice deep and yet light-hearted as always, as he looked around.
‘Up here,’the other feline replied drily, her voice implying a lack of patience — somethingthat was likely connected to the usage of her full name. Much like Ur, Gwen had never really felt a connection to the name she had been assigned when she had cometo be and much like Ur,she had renamed herself when she had been nine years old.
“Don’t lether goad you into a fight, old boy,” Gildarts said lazily as he opened his lefteyes, yawning once again before he dropped his bag. He had been around for longenough to know that while Urwas unlikely to tempt another into a friendly competition of strength, the samecould impossibly said for her daemon.
‘And therehe goes again, thwarting my plans,’ the leopard said with an exaggerated sigh asshe jumped off the shelf again, landing without making a sound before she nudgedOz’ side, quietly demanding to make room for her next to the fireplace — or soit seemed. Ur, whoknew her daemon, her soul far too well to be deceived by her guises, knew that Gwen was rarelyfeeling the bite of the cold — something that made them such an excellent match— but that it was company the feline often craved. And Ur knew this because itwas something they shared, even though neither would admit it.
“You shouldn’tcomplain all the time, Gwen,” Ursaid as she rolled her eyes and opened her book again. She was not sure whetherit was Gildarts’ presence that made the room warmer, more comfortable all of a sudden, or if it was the way Gwenhad somehow managed to end up resting next to Oz, combing his messy mane with herclaws. Both would be a logical explanation, in her opinion.
Gwen was, after all, themanifestation of her soul and Oz was thevery essence of Gildarts’. This thought led her to a path she would rather not godown while she was doing research and so she scoffed and went back to reading, allowingherself to simply soak in the atmosphere— she would have to go back to her boring life soon enough because even runawayheiresses had certain social obligations to attend to, once in a while.
‘Urania,’Oz started before Gwen hissed at him.This wasnormal, in a way. As Gwen corrected everyone who dared to use her full name, she did the same with everyone who did thesame to her other half. What was not quite normal was the way Oz simply rolled hiseyes before he corrected himself. ‘Ur,’he said with a long-suffering sigh that was as exaggerated as always. ‘You probablywonder—’
“Why you camehere rather than to head to your apartment, yes,” the human said drily.
It was notlike she minded their company. If anything, she enjoyed it. But this did not meanthat she was not confused. The university library she had sought out as soon asshe had returned from her last trip was on the other side of town. Both the trainstation and Gildarts’ apartment were faraway from the old building she spent most of her days in.
(She would never not findit annoying that men were permitted to travel and make discoveries while she, whohad been top of her year, was bound to a city, unable to go out and look at theworld she was studying.)
‘We saw a daemon die on our way back,’ the lion said andnext to him, Gwen flinched. It was an unpleasant topic but sadly, it had occurredmore frequently as of late — and each time, it had left both Gildarts and Oz rattled.Mostly because the circumstances of each of the incidents had been both fascinatingand terrifying, even for the most fearless duo Ur had ever encountered.
The idea of dying daemons, of daemons that burst into acloud of golden Dust, in itself was sad but not particularly worrisome. It happenedeach time a human died, it was not nice but it was no reason to start a throughoutresearch in the library — which was what Ur had done after she had first heardreports about daemons who had been torn away from their humans and who wanderedthe wilderness until they suddenly died.
Usually, thiswould ‘simply’ mean that the human the daemon had belonged to was dead but as Gildartshad confirmed in one case, the human did not die until after the daemon had fallen victim to a sudden attack.
(And that had been the casethat shaken all of them because the victim had been the dean of the university.)
Ur was quiet for a moment beforeshe lowered the book and focused her gaze on Gildarts. This new case explained hisfatigue, she guessed. They had taken on the research project because they had wantedto find out what was happening — and how they could stop it but so far, all theycould find were dead ends, remarks in the margins of ancient tomes that indicatedthat it had happened before, that this was no new phenomena.
‘Second timethat I see that look on a face,’ Oz said but for his standards, the joke was barelythere. And Ur couldnot blame them. Her rage and frustration was solely her own but Oz had to deal withGildarts’ anger and the researcher was the one who had seen it happen — again.
“You can’t fault us for gettinggradually more furious with all of this,” the black-haired woman said drily as sherose. Usually, she would have started to pace around, to walk in circles to gether blood going while her mind started her thought process again, from scratch sothat she could get of old assumptions that had proven to be fruitless. This time,however, she did not even make it to the fireplace — luckily, in a way — becausethat was where two felines were still curled up, where Gwen was still trying torearrange Oz’ mane as she was unusually annoyed by its state.
Instead,she followed Gwen’s example and threaded her fingers — slim and ink-stained, asusual — through Gildarts’ hair. She did not like to see him frown. She had notliked it when they had been students, she had not liked it after they had graduatedeither because a frown always seemed so misplaced on his face. “Sorryfor getting you into this mess,” she muttered as she remembered how enthusiastic she had been when she had beengranted the opportunity to work on something this important.
‘It’s notlike he’d ever complain,’ Oz said grimly and for a moment, Ur could have sworn thatshe felt a vibe of hostility coming from the lion but when Gwen shifted, it ceasedinstantly and the golden daemon sighed deeply. ‘Sorry ‘bout that.’
“You have a point,” Ur said as she frowned, herthumb pressed against Gildarts’ forehead as she tried to smooth out his frown, anaction that was doomed to fail and she knewthis. “Just whatam I supposed to do with you, Clive?”
Aside fromGildarts, there was hardly someone in the entire Society of Scientists that managedto confuse her on such a profound level. She liked to think that she was intelligentenough to sort out most problems — or perhaps even all problems safe for two:the mysterious death of daemons all over the country and the eternal mystery thatwas Gildarts Clive.
Behindher, Gwen laughed softly before she stopped when Oz swatted at her and nearly knockedher over. A coupleof years ago, Ur had been worried when this had happened but at this point, sheknew that Oz held no grudge against the slimmer feline and that, if anything, itwas training for both of them when they swatted at each other.
The wordsa friend had spoken earlier resounded in her mind — Layla had perhaps had a pointwhen she had mentioned that it would make Urhappy to leave town for a while and to get her hands on some new impressions from the world behind the confinesof the city.
Gildartsshifted in his seat, adjusting his position even though this would hardly do himany good — the chairs had been made for scholars with slim frames and unless shewas gravely mistaken, he had been too broad-shouldered for the chairs in the librarya year and a half before graduation. She sighed as she grabbed her coat from whereit had been covering her bag and bundled it up before shoving it under his shoulder,oddly surprised when he did not wake up from this.
“You reallyneed some sleep, hm?” she muttered as she took a step back before she was pulledforward again. She stumbledover her own feet and would have fallen face first against his chest if she hadnot twisted herself around in the last moment, ending up as a pile of limbs thatwas held tightly against his chest.
Oz washowlingwith laughter at this and Ur rolled her eyes at him for this — didn’t he knowthat he was a lion and not a wolf? — before she strained her ears to catch onwhat Gildarts was muttering in his sleep. She had known him to talk in his sleepsince shortly after they had been assigned to be study partners and she had nevercommented on it, no matter how tempting it had been because sometimes, he was sayingthe most hilarious things while he was asleep and it was surely a shame thathe was missing out on this.
One time, for example, Gildarts had recited half the poem they had been analysing in theirAncient Languages class and Urhad had trouble meeting his eyes for half a week, mostly because she had worriedthat she would say something that would give away that she knew. Another time, hehad talked about wanting to eat potatoes in his sleep — this had amused her andOz had chuckled knowingly when Urhad passed the bowl with the mashed potatoes to Gildarts later that day at dinner.
This time, he was neither reciting poems in dead languages, something thathad fascinated her for strictly scientificpurposes — mostly because he had stumbled over the same words when he had beenawake half a day later — nor was he asking for potatoes. This time, he was humming what sounded like one of the songs they had listened to theother day when they had attended the farewell celebrations for the dean of the languagesdepartment — a near impishly small old man with an unfortunate knack for innuendosthat tended to annoy Ur like nothing else.
She hadasked him, once, why he had enrolled in the university rather than to become someonewho just travelled and he had shrugged and fed her some line about wanting to understandthe sights he saw before asking her why she had chosen the university over marriage— “I know that you get offers, Rosenboom, everyone knows.” — and she had pointedly ignoredhim for two days before telling him that knowledge lasted, in her experience, longerthan love and she would never settle for anything lesser than love in the unlikely eventthat she would actually marry.
(She knewfor sure that she had lied but she was nearly completely convinced that he had nottold her the truth either.)
Aroundher, the room started to lose its clear contours. Instead, it grew a little hazyand she quickly could no longer make out the titles of the books or where the goldof Oz’ fur stopped and where the snow white of Gwen’s began — the largecats had long ended up curled into each other in front of the fireplace becauseOz had never cared much about proper daemon behaviour and Gwen had always been arebel at heart — as it all was blurringinto one another as she was overwhelmed by a deep sense of inner peace — somethingshe had not felt in quite some time.
And then,right before she fell asleep as well — there was only so much reading of old booksa woman her age could handle in a day — she could swear that she could make outwhat he was muttering amidst his humming — and once again, he managed to add tothe usual degree of confusion she was constantly in when it came to him.
It didnot help her level of overall confusion that he was apparently talking about hislatest findings — he was physics, she was biology and some other stuff — andshe had always had a weakness for listening to him when he talked about somethinghe cared so much about — whether he was awake or not mattered little, it seemed.
[ gives her a bouquet and pats her head for putting up with jellal ]
She mightthink that she deserved more — a lot more — than a couple of flowers for puttingup with the necromancer brat but she was not going to complain to the cyborg aboutthe nuances of how much she was currently deserving of. Such wouldbe impolite and she had been brought up to be a lady. A witch, yes, but a well-manneredone — something that had left her confused with the customs of the current timeand age at times.
The paton the head felt somewhat belittling — it was something her teachers had donewhen she had gotten an especially complicated spell right on her first attempt orwhen she had managed to brew a potion that had been especially advanced. She doubtedthat it was his intention to make her feel like a child but she could not changethat for a moment, she truly considered to kick him for making her feel like shewas seven and barely capable of grasping the magic that was in her veins — themagic that had killed, according to some, her mother.
Flowers,however, did not confuse her.
She wouldhave been a rather pitiful witch if she would not appreciate all sorts of floraand yet, she was rather sure that while some of the flowers could be used for potions,they were not intended for this purpose.
He had saidit like it was just a fact and not a bomb, a bomb he had just thrown at her feet.
In general, people did not care about her. And usually, this was for their (andher) best. People who cared about her were people who grew too close to her, peopleshe would inevitably hurt, sooner or later.
For a moment,she just stared at him, nearly as if hehad just revealed the greatest truth of the universe — even though he had ‘simply’spat out that he cared. They wereboth still angry — ironically for the same reason. She had yelled first (she usuallydid) because he had pushed her out of the way and he had yelled back, leading tothe point when she had questioned hisreasoning and he dropped the bomb.
She exhaledas she shook her head, feeling nothing but remorsefor a moment. Of course, ultimately, it was his choice. It was his decisionto care — but it was her responsibility to warn him, to tell him that he mightnot like the results of this, that he would come to regret it — the the way mostpeople did. She was bad news, misfortune had been following her for as long as shecould remember, it was like a shadow she could not get rid of.
“You really, really shouldn’t.”
But hewould and she knew this. She knew this because there were always people who wentagainst what would be smart and sensible. And hewould drag her down with him because this, too, was something people like him did.And the worst part was that she would not even mind it.She had seen this before — and evenworse, she had seen where this sort of thing found its end. She had watched, foryears, how her grandmother had visited more and more gravestones, trying to findapologies for things she had never done right, trying to make amends for mistakesthat had never happened.
She feltoddly … defeated. It was still an foreign concept that people would willingly spenttime with her. To accept the idea that someone might actually care about her asa person and not just as a vessel that contained immense magical power. A partof her wanted to say something, wanted to tell him that she had warned him and that it would not be her fault if something bad happenedbut then, she stayed silent.
And soshe said silent, ignored the sharp reply of ‘don’t tell me what to do’ before shegrabbed his right hand with her left, unclenching it. She did not want to fight,not over something like this. She was not obsessed with peace & harmony but she could not deny that she was rather fondof silence.
The moment,short as it was, was quite odd because for a second, she felt a wistfulness thatcould impossibly her own. It felt like she was standing on her own grave and sheflinched back, dropping his hand as if she had just burned herself.
