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@the-tenacious-auror
What is your first thought when you wake up in the morning?
Usually I think about my routine, what I need to do or accomplish. Sometimes its about my nightmares if they were particularly potent, but lately...well that's really my business little Grey.
I sit alone and watch the clock trying to collect my thoughts and all I think about is you
That was weird. Frank eyed the note and then shook his head and threw it away. Some things just didn't need a response. He fed the owl and then sent it on its way.
Mending Fences || December 27, 1978 || Amelia & Frank
The tea was having a calming effect that was summarily ruined when Frank walked in. She felt like she was back in Hogwarts, waiting for Professor McGonagall to dole out punishment for some wrong doing. Her fingers tightened around her teacup as he took off his coat and sat down, her voice strained as she returned his greeting. She was spared from having to say more by the waitress returning, but after all too brief a reprieve she was gone and they were alone again.
He studied her face for a moment and she felt the need to say something, but he spared her by stating his surprise at her letter. Her face flushed and she dropped her gaze to her tea, still struggling to find her voice. It wasn’t often that she was flustered or tongue tied, but it wasn’t often that she asked favors from people she’d verbally abused either. There was a long, awkward silence; at least it felt awkward to her, Frank seemed rather comfortable with it. Merlin’s beard, don’t just sit like a lump, say something!
Amelia opened her mouth to apologize or explain or both but closed it again when Frank spoke. He was apologizing to her? What the hell for?
"You don’t owe me an apology, Frank," she said, finally forcing out words. "I’m the one who ought to be apologizing to you. I apologized to Alice a long time ago, and I should have written you as well…I behaved horribly and I’m so sorry."
Her knuckles ached from her death-grip on her teacup so she set it down, folding her hands in her lap and making herself meet his gaze. “I never should have allowed myself to get so carried away… And now, here I am asking for a favor.” She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, her tone full of self disgust. “I’m sorry to have to ask this of you, truly I am. If I thought there was anyone else in your department who’d speak to me, I would have continued to leave you alone. Kingsley just hasn’t been around and I know Moody would tell me to fuck off…” Pursing her lips, she dropped her hand away from her face and met his gaze again, “I’ll be as brief as I can, promise.”
He sighed softly when she waved aside his apology. When she admitted to apologizing to Alice, he was at once bitter and grateful given that he wasn’t exactly feeling rainbows and puppies about his ‘wife’. Licking his lips, he chose to focus on the gratefulness. “I’m glad. That was the only true offense in my opinion. You were right about the attack after all.” He glanced down, rolling his lips between his teeth for a moment before he admitted, “I apologized to Mr. Karkaroff. I’m not sure he cared for it, but I did make the effort.” He took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders back. “It’s the right thing to do when you’re in the wrong, and I was.”
He sat back as the waitress appeared with his hot tea, nodding his thanks before he dragged the sugar over and picked up his spoon. He was quiet as she explained why she’d owled him, and his surprise gave way to mild amusement. So he hadn’t been her first choice, just the only one left. Ahh well, he couldn’t really be sour about that. If he’d been in her shoes he wouldn’t have wanted to deal with him either after their last encounter. A jolt of anger lashed along his spine at the mention of Moody, but he stifled it, shoving it back into the dark recesses of his mind. This was no place to ponder the potential reality of his boss and wife’s duplicity after all.
“There’s no need to rush unless you’re in a time crunch Amelia.” He said quietly, glancing back up at her over the table. “I’m in no rush, and contrary to what you may think, I really am happy to help if I am able.” He set aside his spoon and took a careful sip of the hot tea, closing his eyes as the warm liquid pooled in his stomach. It was amazing how pleasant a hot drink could be on a cold day.
“Since you mentioned in your note that this was about your grandfather, I took a moment to stop by the office before coming here. As I suspected there was very little in the file. A few interviews, random evidence that cannot be attached to anyone in particular. Did you have something to add or a possible lead to follow?” he asked curiously.
On the Loose | Frank & Vulcan || Flashback: February 23rd, 1978
"I would normally have advised against engaging in a duel with aurors," Wensley whispered, "but it seems as though one of them’s got one foot in the grave and the other just about fell out of his cradle this morning." Vulcan turned to see the quintessential Wensley-Adams-smirk plastered across the man’s face as he locked his eyes on their opponents across the street. He hadn’t noticed that he’d drawn his wand the moment Vulcan sent the trash bin flying into the street, hence the slightly patronizing question from the older auror and silly demand from the younger.
Vulcan turned back to face the ever so tempting bulls-eyes opposite him. “We haven’t done anything wrong, sir,” Vulcan countered, his attention mostly on the younger auror who, come to think of it, didn’t look quite as young as Wensley had observed. Wensley just liked looking down on people, a trait Vulcan greatly admired. It made competition much more rewarding.
"Is there a reason you lads are out this late in the evening?” Wensley added in his perfect received pronunciation. He kept his wand raised, though it was held as more of a display than a direct threat. Vulcan had no doubt that Wensley could easily win a duel like this single handed based solely on the way he held his wand. This was bound to be an excellent learning experience.
If there was one thing Vulcan was very very good at, it was manipulating fire. His pyromania had led him to get lots of practice in what he considered the art of fire. He looked down at the pile of what used to be garbage and moved his wand sideways in the tiniest of twitches. The fire spread out laterally, creating a two-foot high barrier of flames that stretched to the end of the block in both directions.
"Now, now, lad," Wensley said. "Let’s give them a little bit of a chance.” With a wave of his own wand, Wensley made the flames slow in their dancing almost to a stop. Vulcan had never seen fire burn in slow motion before. The sight was breathtaking. He couldn’t feel the heat anymore, either. “That’s better.”
He wanted to know what they were saying. He was sure it was nothing good, but they were still too far away, and with the way the bigger man had leaned toward the first, it was obvious he hadn’t wanted to be heard either. Frank gnashed his teeth and glanced at Leland, who looked as indomitable as ever. It was an appearance he knew he lacked, but one he hoped to acquire. Shifting, he lifted his chin, but kept quite as the first man wizard addressed them.
Frank opened his mouth to answer the rejoinder, but Leland stepped forward in an obvious movement of dominance as he said, “Jus’ patrollin’. Lotsa’ dangerous folk about in muggle areas lately. We’re jus’ doin’ our jobs.”
The fire was mesmerizing. He watched it eat up the ground, and wondered why he’d never dedicated much time to fire spells. There was something beautiful about it. Leland shifted beside him, and he glanced over at the older auror, silently asking how much more taunting they were expected to ignore, though he wisely refrained from giving voice to the question.
Leland pursed his lips, his old brown gaze flickering over the flames before locking on the two wizards opposite them. “I’m thinkin’ ya made yer point. Why don’cha jus’ head on back to where’er ya’ call home for the night then?” He asked evenly, determined not to let the situation escalate if he could prevent it.
A frown had begun to furrow Frank’s brow as he realized the flames hadn’t stopped moving outward. They were slowly circling, and if he and Leland didn’t move, they would be surrounded by fire, and the heat was already more than a little annoying. Without thinking he aimed at the increasing ring of fire and doused it, determined to keep it from wrapping around them. Leland couldn’t argue with that surely.
Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree || Narcissa & Frank || Secret Santa Reveal
Narcissa stood silent for a moment, trying to figure out what would be the best thing to say. In a world like this, words were power. Though she didn’t much care for him, appearances and her attitude was still important. She took a deep breath before Narcissa’s gaze softened slightly, her defenses still just as high.
"I apologize for my tone. It was a very nice gift, Mr. Longbottom, and was certainly accurate. I hope that your Christmas brings you joy."
She turned to walk away before she inhaled, knowing that she would regret further engaging him. ”Children are precious indeed. Maybe one day you and Alice will know the joy. Know that I was not displeased with the gift, it just came at a rather… inopportune moment.” She offered a small smile as consolation. ”Might I ask what you received?”
He considered her silently, and for not the first time, regretted that the war had made enemies out of so many strangers. There was something in her eyes, and it made him wonder about her. What kind of woman was she? He didn’t know. Couldn’t even guess. He knew that she was a Black, but how much of that reputation was fueled by hatred and gossip and how much of it was based in reality? He didn’t know, and he didn’t expect he ever would. They belonged to different worlds now.
He almost grimaced at the well intentioned wish. Right now the only thing he wanted to do with Alice was shake her. Shoving back that desire, he managed a tight smile and nod. He did want kids after all, just not with Alice. With Mary? He looked down as the thought slammed into his gut. It was way too soon to think of things like that, but it made him smile nonetheless. Mary would be an amazing mother....
He glanced up at her question and said, “An owl. I’ve been needing one and it seems my Santa knew it.” He’d decided that he was just going to ignore that initial secret Santa gift. Now that he knew it had been Marlene and she’d given him the other, the remembral and journal didn’t seem worth remarking on.
Dissolved Boy || Frank & Vincent || Christmas Ball 1978
Frank Longbottom was likeable enough, Vincent had decided. Not nearly as arrogant and frustrating as those other Order Members, like Sirius and Gideon, who so delighted in taunting and frustrating him. Though he was starting to get annoyed at how absolutely boring Frank was being. No potential information was being offered up, only small talk. Though he did appreciate the chance for more advertising. Merlin knew he could use shop business when it wasn’t the pre-Christmas last minute rush.
"Toys, yeah. I stock Gaudium Toys in Diagon Alley," he explained, smiling slightly at the interest. "I also do freelance stuff, if you have a kid or something and would like to order." If anything, perhaps Vincent could get another order before the Christmas rush died. He could hike up the prices for custom pieces, and it would pay for his Christmas dinner to be slightly above average. Merlin knew his parents weren’t sending ‘round money like the other Purebloods.
As Frank mentioned the follow-up, Vincent got curious again. The statement did seem intentionally vague, and his mind once more began to whirl with possibilities of Auror triumph or breakthroughs that he might want to know about. He did hate to be left in the dark. As Frank elaborated, Vincent barely repressed a sigh. It seemed like there would be very little for Longbottom to share.
"An owl? Nice. Seems right useful, ‘specially at times like this when you might want to send out word quick," Vincent observed, nodding. He was almost jealous of Frank, to have someone willing to buy something as nice as an owl. They were quite expensive, at least by his standards. "Patrol trinkets? Like what? Didn’t think Aurors used much other than their wands."
It was probably a futile line of questioning, but Vincent didn’t quite see it that way. In fact, he was growing more curious by the minute. What does it take to be an Auror?
“No, no kids at the moment, but friends with kids.” He explained, trying to remember when he’d last been into the toy shop that Crabbe had identified. “And good to know. If I think of something I want that they don’t seem to have, I’ll look you up.” He shifted, his thoughts scattering as he looked up from his nails to watch the gyrating crowd. Get a grip. I don’t know anything, and I can’t do anything tonight anyway. It’s supposed to be a holiday, not the time to start shit.
He frowned faintly at the mention of the owl. He was ecstatic of course, but he was worried about Marlene. She was the kind of woman he’d always believed had her head firmly situated, and yet her actions tonight had been so…not Marlene. At least from his perspective she’d never seemed the type to punish without verifying. He would have been prepared for a frontal assault and accusations than a hateful gift wrapped up in secrets. She did tell me the truth though. Which was like Marlene. So why the first? Did she believe Rita? God that fucking woman was going to be the death of his sanity—and his social life apparently.
“Yes, I’m very grateful, and excited. I’ve always wanted one.” He admitted, searching the crowd a little more intently, hoping for a glimpse of Mary. He hated that she looked about as miserable as he felt, and a twinge of guilt coiled in his gut. That is my fault. Bastard that he was though, it wasn’t enough to make him want to withdraw or change the course he’d set. He needed Mary.
Forcing himself to pay attention, he glanced across the corridor at Crabbe. “Every once and a while they come in handy. Besides the trinket is more for the lull of patrol than any particular fights I might encounter.” He didn’t care for Larsten, but he’d been involved in enough rumors and hateful gossip. He wasn’t going to subject the obnoxious man to that. So he didn’t bother to mention that the trinket was so he could ignore said partner. It wasn’t something the man across form him needed to know anyway.
Hide Me! | Frank & James | 12/16/78-Just Before Party
James frowned at the other wizard in confusion, lost for a moment by the sudden subject change. Then he realized what he was talking about. It wasn’t all that hard a thing to figure out really. James had been pretty fucked up the last time that he’d actually had occasion to speak with Frank Longbottom.
Which wasn’t to say that he wasn’t still pretty damned fucked up. It was still a pretty much daily struggle not to let his emotions get the better of him, and with the reading of the will looming, that only made things worse. But at least he was learning to hide it better.
He straightened in his seat and managed a smile and a vague wave of his hand, “M’fine. Right’as rain me,” he said as he took another sip of his drink. The lie was probably about as believed as it was believable, but it slipped from his tongue easily enough. All he had to do was focus on making Christmas as fantastic as possible. Everyone needed to have a great Christmas with fantastic presents and spiked eggnog and a huge meal and all of that other rubbish.
So long as he focused on that, he wouldn’t have to think about them.
And then a far more interesting topic occurred to him and he suddenly met the young Auror’s eyes, “Hey. Have ya found any new information on that tosspot that attacked Lil back in July?”
Frank sighed inwardly, but made no effort to argue with the assurances that he was fine. No you’re not. You’re not any more fine than Alice was. He understood though. They were friends, but they weren’t the confiding type. He was certain that like himself, James had one person (two if one were to count Lily) that he shared with. So he just nodded and took a drink instead. Inside his gut twisted with anger.
There were so many reasons to hate the war and all that it entailed, but it was moments like this that rage bubbled in the pit of his stomach like an untapped volcano. To know that the people he cared about, people he considered to be friends were hurting because of the fucked up propaganda and unnecessary hatred of the Death Eaters and Voldemort in particular never failed to fan the flames of anger in his heart.
He glanced up at the sudden shift in topic and his brows furrowed faintly. He hadn’t forgotten that night in June though he wished he could. The damage that had been done to Lily—Is that what happened to Alice? Does that even compare? Somehow he knew it didn't. Alice was scarred, but what had been done to Lily had healed as far as he knew.
Shaking his thoughts, he glanced at James, his lips compressing for a moment. “Not really. Moody has a file on him I think, not sure. He just took my statement and filed it away. I can only assume it wasn’t the first time the bastard had attacked, but more than that I don’t know.” He admitted, wishing he’d been able to work more on the case. He’d tried, but Moody had diverted him pretty quickly to something else. Given his status as a Junior Auror, he hadn’t really been able to argue it.
Are you a howling canoodle or do you dream of genie? What's the secret way to peel your orange that you always do that I can't?
I think I'd rather dream of genie than what I normally dream about, and I roll the orange on the table first. helps break the peal away from the fruit. That pretty much covers it...
Why are you sooooo mischievous when it comes to planting mushrooms about the overprotected? God! You just ruin a good time when we're all just trying to queer the clear.
Bells Will be Ringing || Benjy & Frank || Christmas Ball 1978
Frank truly did not look well. The more he looked at the man—even in the dim lights of the ballroom—the more pale he looked. Even his eyes seemed to be hazy and glazed over and not in the way that alcohol could affect them. Something terrible had happened to Frank and if they didn’t get away from the lingering fumes to which muggles would attribute to dry ice or the crowd of people making the air hotter than it should be than the poor lad may pass out.
He was a bit shocked at how quickly Frank agreed to the fresh air, but did not slow down as the other man set down his drink and hightailed it out of the room. Benjy was hot on his trail, keeping an eye on the way that Frank was moving just in case he had to catch him should he end up fainting. They finally made it out into the chilled albeit fresh air and he leaned against the wall to catch his breath for a second.
They weren’t exactly dressed for being outside on the wintery night, but that could be easily rectified. Benjy did a quite heating charm around the pair of them before slipping his wand back into his jacket where it remained safely near his chest next to his pocket watch. “Not to worry. The crowd can certainly be overwhelming. I can only be among them for so long before I get a bit anxious myself.” Benjy tilted his body against the wall so that he was facing Frank who still looked worse for wear.
At least there was color in his cheeks again, most likely due to the bitter cold night. Either way, it was nice to see the healthfy flush even if it was caused by the weather. “Are you sure you’re alright? I really don’t want to pry or anything, I’d love to help if I can at all.” They weren’t exactly close friends, but Benjy did consider Frank to be a companion and an overall nice guy.
The icy cold was a welcome balm to the fires consuming his being. Every time he closed his eyes, he was treated to another moment he’d dismissed and he was now questioning. How long? Two stupid words that continued to reverberate in his mind, and like an unchecked shout in the mountains, the avalanche that threatened to overwhelm him shuddered with every repetition.
At the Benjy’s repeated question he glanced up, hazel-gold eyes locking on the friendly face for several heartbeats before he shook his head. “Ahh no. Really I’m…I’ll be good now.” He said, twisting to peer out into the swirling snow. As much as what he’d seen was tearing through him, there was no way he’d share it. It wasn’t even that he didn’t trust Benjy. The younger wizard had good intentions, it was just that this wasn’t the kind of thing to talk about with a man you barely knew.
Blowing out a slow breath, he tried to force his mind to come to terms with the stark reality of what he’d seen. Part of him wanted to rationalize—to cling to the idea that it was just a moment of drunken celebration and nothing more, but he couldn’t shake the expressions on their faces, nor the way Alice’s fingertips had dug in. No there were too many subtle nuances to dismiss what he’d seen leaving him with nothing but a cold gnawing anger in the pit of his stomach.
Is this about her? Your heart was never in this relationship.
So many words… questions… thoughts… And all of them felt like the pinpricks of a blade. There had been so many chances to be honest with him. So many ways she could have let him go. He wouldn’t have liked it, but it would have been better than this. It would have eased that lump in the pit of his stomach when he thought about her. But no—she’d accused him instead. He closed his eyes and forced the rage back, turning back to Benjy with a faint smile that was more teeth and anything asked, “So how is your Christmas so far?” He could do this. He could push it back. This wasn’t the place to deal with it. Not here. Soon, but not now.
Frank Longbottom || "He really was beautiful. I know boys aren't supposed to be, but he was."
Presents Under the Tree || Mary & Frank || December 25th, 1978
As tempting as his suggestion was, and she would never ever deny him some Christmas sex, Mary was excited to see his reaction. His gifts had been so perfect that she was afraid he wouldn’t like hers, but she wasn’t going to allow that to ruin the moment. Shaking her head, she pushed his hands away and laughed at the adorable look on his face. “You’re way too cute, Longbottom. But not enough for me to cave in. Now, open your presents first. You can open me later.” She winked at him playfully and walked away to take a seat on the sofa.
Her fingers tapped on her bare thigh in an anxious manner as her eyes followed his movements. Of course they had exchanged presents every year, but as friends. Now everything was different, and that thought had her grinning like an idiot. If she had the way to make one wish come true, it would definitely to spend every single Christmas with him. The word forever hadn’t been used and she wasn’t ready to, even if she was sure this was exactly why she had wanted for so long. Confessing it would make her sound pathetic and she didn’t want to scare him away, but there was no way she could help the wonderful feelings growing inside of her.
At his words, she released a sigh of relief and smiled at him. The messenger bag had been her favourite and she was so glad he had liked it, and his excitement made her heart jumping with happiness. A laugh escaped her and she shrugged. There were many reasons why she had chosen that book and why she wanted him to read it, but they had nothing to do with him being a gentleman or not. “You know me, I don’t need to give you subtle hints to make you see my point.” To be honest, she didn’t even know how to do such thing, not when the words always found a way out of her lips before she could even think about them first. “Jane Austen is one of my favourite authors and it would be nice if you read her novels. I’ll read anything you want in return.”
She rested her hands on his shoulders as she got lost in the kiss, forgetting they were in the middle of something important. That was the effect he had on her, and she wouldn’t change and single thing. Just like she had explained in her letter, this was happiness and there was nothing more perfect than what they shared. After a few moments, she broke the kiss with a gasp. Frank was making so difficult for her to concentrate and she wanted to take him back to bed. “Good, because gentlemen are boring. I want you, just the way you are.” Mary pressed her lips to his in a quick kiss and grinned.
"Wait," she ran a finger along his lower lip. "Aren’t we supposed to have a Christmas breakfast? Isn’t that tradition? It’s our first Christmas together, Frank. We have to make it right or whatever so we never forget it." It had to be perfect. There was nothing she wanted more than to make him happy, even if she had no idea what she was doing most of the time. He had been married for years, but she had never been in a serious relationship before. They hadn’t discussed what they were and she didn’t need it, because it was real and she was happy, they didn’t need a name for it.
But he was heaven and she was weak, so she pressed her lips to his jaw and trailed kisses down his neck as she hands caressed his back. “Merry Christmas, Frank,” she breathed against his skin. “No, wait. Ugh, I mean it. Stop being so wonderful because it’s Christmas and we should celebrate.” Even though they had to stay inside the house, that didn’t mean they couldn’t do something fun like watching a Christmas movie or— she sighed and ran a hand though his hair. “What do you want to do?”
He knew it wasn’t his kind of book, but he’d certainly give it a try if she wanted him too. Anything to better understand he mystery consuming his world bit by bit was welcome. “I’m sure I have a few things.” He mused, tilting his head to play his lips along her jaw and down her neck, delighting in the goosebumps that trailed along her skin. He grinned when she assured him that a gentleman was not what she was after, accepting the kiss she pressed to his lips with an eagerness he couldn't even pretend didn't exist. He was already shifting to try and pull her closer, fully intending to deepen that exploration when she stopped him.
He chuckled softly, sinking back so he could peer up at her. “Mary, I can assure you I’m not going to forget a moment of this Christmas. More importantly, traditions cater to what we want.” A wicked grin tugged at his lips as he pulled her down off the couch and onto his knees. “Who says it has to be breakfast? Could be brunch…” He cajoled, closing his eyes as her lips feathered along his skin. There weren't words to describe how wonderful it felt to be held and touched by her. He could have received no gifts at all and been completely content so long as she was in his arms.
He laughed, fanning his hands down from her waist over her firm derriere, not even making an attempt at stopping this time. “Trust me sweet…I am all for celebrating.” Enjoying the way her fingers felt in his hair, it took him a moment to register her question, then he just grinned at her. Pitching their bodies forward, he laid her down in the chaos of wrapping paper (she’d had to unwrap a lot of boxes to get to her gift after all) and ribbons, his mouth finding hers with ease. “You.” He purred.
He enjoyed kissing her for another minute, hoping to seduce her senses as much as she managed to cloud his. Unfortunately he couldn't ignore her desire to actually do something on Christmas, so he reluctantly drew back. “Alright.” He said, not quite able to make himself stop nuzzling her lips. “I’m going to go make us breakfast. I want you to go get your morning shower, and no singing. You’ll distract me and I’ll end up burning the food and you’ll never let me cook again. I’m not sure how we’d survive without a house elf at that point.” He teased since they both knew her cooking was atrocious.
He started to pull away, but her body felt so right beneath his that he didn’t quite manage it. After one more lingering kiss he finally sat back and pushed to his feet. Catching her hand, he pulled her to her feet and stepped back. Swatting her playfully on the rear, he headed for the kitchen, leaving Oreo to pounce around in the remnants of their gifts.
Hide Me! | Frank & James | 12/16/78-Just Before Party
James blinked at the other man, frowning around the glass of whiskey he’d lifted to take another long pull before he realized he must be talking about the basement. He winced, shivering a little as he said, “Honestly mate I just… trust me, ya don’t wanna know.”
The way that Frank looked extremely introspective and far too interested, however, made it clear that the Auror did want to know, and he was definitely speaking to Auror Longbottom right now rather than his friend Frank.
He sighed and looked around again uncertainly, attempting to make sure that Yaxley wasn’t nearby. He threw back the last of his drink and signaled for another before finally sighing and pulling out a fag. He offered the pack to Frank and lit his cigarette with a quickly muttered spell before he finally said, “I honestly thought the chit’d be the worst of it. I mean, s’bad enough for a man ta take ya to a prostitute when ya didn’ blood well ask ta see a prostitute. But the next thing I know he’s pullin out this blood crup an he’s tellin me I can’t leave unless I-“
He clammed up when the waitress arrived with a refill and quickly took a long pull of the liquor, shaking his head as he said, “Honestly mate… it’s too… just… trust me. If I never have ta have another chat with Joshua Tristan Yaxley again, it’ll still be too soon.”
Lips pursed, Frank toyed with his napkin as he puzzled through that statement and its implications. Had there just been kinkier things in that basement, or had more happened than James was letting him know. Was it something he needed to be concerned about? Or was this just the typical embarrassment that accompanied a person when they entered a shop like that?
As it turned out, he didn’t even have to probe more. His blatant curiosity must have been enough. He blinked with some surprise at the mention of the prostitute his brows flying upward. For a moment amusement flickered through him and he had to bite his cheek as he thought of brazen James facing off with a dirty-minded shop keeper and his scantily clad prostitute. At the mention of a crop and a refusal to let his friend leave, Frank sat a little straighter. Now that was unusual.
Before he could pursue it the waitress was back, so he kept quiet, and then James was attempting to brush it off again. Frank debated pursuing the subject but finally remembered that he wasn’t an auror all of the time. James was his friend, not a witness or suspect. He’d just have to check out Mr. Yaxley on his own time.
So after a moment or two he said, “So other than playing hide-and-go-seek in Diagon alley, how are you doing?” He tried to make the question light, but there was sincerity in his tone as well. He hadn’t forgotten how devastated Alice had been, and he knew he’d be no better if his own mother were taken away in such a horrific way.
Thistle & Weeds || Fabian & Frank || November 30th, 1978
He envied Frank many things, but right then, he couldn’t help the pity that came with understanding. The man must’ve been a good decade younger, but war didn’t really give a toss about things like that. Suffering broke the generational divide. He wanted to say something. I’m sorry. And he was. But what would it do? What good did Fabian’s empathy do? It didn’t bring the man back. Didn’t help Frank sleep. Didn’t suddenly render those potions he was carrying useless. But he said it anyway. For lack of other, more effective options, he apologized on behalf of a world that’d seen fit to kill his friend. “I’m sorry.”
He wanted to say more, all sorts of comforting words and reassuring phrases hanging in the void between them. To tell him his partner was a brave man, a good man. Even guilt him a little, maybe, talking about living in his stead, making his sacrifice not in vain, etc. But he wasn’t that sort of bloke. So he opted to say nothing, letting the heavy silence speak for itself. Respect for his friend.
Fabian was still gripping the empty cup. He was torn between sharing more and shutting up. He still had a story to tell, one that could either help Frank see that he understood…or sound like a pity party, whereby each attendee tried to make their suffering seem the greatest. It wasn’t like that. Not at all. His suffering wasn’t Frank’s…was a whole different kind of pain. Grief wasn’t comparable, in that sense, and if it had been, Fab’d be the first to admit Frank was, by and large, the clear winner (if you could call it that). And for all the things they’d dredged up, he couldn’t help wanting him to know.
"I killed a man, once. Not a Killing Curse…just a hex gone awry. Didn’t deflect it right, I suppose. Aimed it a little too well, maybe." He paused, still gripping the mug for lack of anything else to do. "Worst part is…I don’t regret it anymore. Dunno if that’s even what it was, after the fact. Guilt? Shame? But I don’t care that I did it. Aurors didn’t care either. Good riddance to bad rubbish, basically." His gaze met Frank’s. "It’s funny how that works…take a killer out of the world, and put one back in their place. I took him out, and yet here I am.
"I wonder sometimes…what makes me different from them? I see what they do, the pain they cause, and I don’t feel…human anymore. No empathy. No compassion. Not even vengeance or revenge, sometimes. Sometimes I just want to end it. End them, and end it. I know…I know what it’d cost me. What I’d be, when it was over. But I’m already broken, you see. Bits are missing. Lost to the void, and no matter how I try to reassemble myself, I’ll never be put right. I’ll never be what or who I was before all of this. So why not make it worth it?"
Perhaps he’d gone too far. Shared too much. He barely knew this man, socially, yet somehow he felt he knew him better than he did some of his own friends. He’d held it in for too long, ready to lay it all out, just waiting on an excuse. On someone who could be impartial, at least to a point. But he couldn’t help wondering if he’d crossed some invisible line.
He acknowledged the apology for what it was--an acceptance of things that existed beyond their control. Things they didn't want others to suffer and yet were unable to prevent. It wasn't guilt, just a disquieting knowledge that it probably wasn't going to be the last time, coupled with an understanding that all they could do was share the burden, if only for a little while.
He was grateful that the other man didn't try to convince him of all the things he had to be positive about. It wasn't as though he didn't know how fortunate he was. Just the mere thought of the Halloween tragedy was enough to remind him that at least he hadn't lost a child, and despite how his marriage had crumbled, Alice was alive and safe again. There had always been the possibility that she might never rejoin them after all. His thoughts lingered on Mary. Another source of hope, and he was tempted to cling to it blindly, but it wasn't fair to Mary. She had burdens of her own after all. He needed to be a comfort, a rock for her, not another burden for her slender shoulders. Knowing all of that wasn't enough to dim the nightmares though, and he was fighting them in the only way he knew how.
Licking his lips he glanced up, not really regretting that he'd finally shared with someone, but hoping it didn't stop Fabian from sharing as well. He did not see his troubles as any greater than anyone else's after all. Relieved when the older wizard began speaking again, he remained quiet, listening intently.
Even when Fabian had finished, Frank remained quiet, his thoughts remarkably clear. It occurred to him that for all the things that they were taught at school and in training, death was not something anyone dared delve into, and yet taking a life had the kind of repercussions that never disappeared. It imprinted the soul as surely as a tattoo could stain the skin, and it didn't matter what manner of person, or how deliberate the kill was. It was a permanent blotch, and all a person could hope for was that with time, it would fade and blur.
At long last he said, "I believe that every culture has a warrior avatar. Men and women that step up to defend their beliefs, and the people they claim as their own. They become tools--weapons wielded to protect what they cherish. They don't kill because of some inner desire for power or out of hate. They kill only when they must. That is what separates soldiers from those that fall at their feet."
He frowned his thoughts still twisting Fabian's words slowly through his mind. Like the other wizard, he made no attempt to offer words to make him feel better, or to reassure him that he was a good man. They both knew the reality of their situations. Instead he murmured gruffly, "We're all broken mate. I think the real trick of the mind is realizing that we were broken all along and that we can't be fixed...not alone. The only way we ever get to be whole is to fill the the cracks and chinks with the people that give us a reason to keep going. Some people make up more pieces than others...but it’s a way to remember what we're fighting for."
And when you ran out of people...when life took more than you had to give, you learned to be hollow...but you didn't live. Not really.
