Emily Hopkins has not yet begun to fight. (emptystreets) wrote in absolutionrpg, @ 2012-01-15 21:13:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! (not so) secret santa, ! 1998 december, ! complete, ! log, emily hopkins, npc: andrew vane |
WHO: Andrew Vane and Emily Hopkins
WHAT: Fixing stuff. "Christmas Crackers" challenge.
WHERE: Grace Hopkins's flat
WHEN: Backdated, A few days before Christmas?
RATING: PG
"I'll be back by noon, Em," Grace Hopkins reminded her sister, looking through some of her scrolls. She slipped on her shoes and drank the last of her cup of tea, hurrying as usual. Grace always seemed to be hurrying, Emily realized idly. The younger girl sat at the table, glancing at the Daily Prophet and nibbling on her toast. "I'm taking a half-day. As soon as I get back, we can get to shopping--I know you must have lots to do. Noon. I promise."
With that, Grace straightened her things and headed out the door to work. Emily sighed. She loved her sister, she really did, but it was nice for Emily to be alone for a while. She didn't often get that chance, and she decided she was going to make the most of it.
She began reading another story in the Prophet when the front door opened again. "Oh! I almost forgot! The landlord's sending someone up to fix that leak in the bathroom sink. I'm not sure what time he's coming, but let him in when he gets here, yeah? Thanks, sis!"
Emily rolled her eyes as the door clicked shut again. Oh well. Surely a leaky sink wouldn't take too long to fix--she could still have most of the morning to herself. She finished reading the paper and went to get a few supplies she'd hidden from her older sister. She spread out a few things around the table and set about making Christmas crackers for the family's celebration. They'd decided not to buy any new decorations or spend more than they had to this holiday, but Emily didn't want to lose all of their traditions. Homemade Christmas crackers were better than nothing.
She'd been working for about an hour when she heard a knock at the door.
It was a fairly normal working day for Andrew Vane. He did all sorts of things in the course of an average day, but most of them were water-related. A leaking sink was pretty routine - leaks were fairly easy to for an average witch or wizard to stop temporarily, but spells tended to wear off, and so when something a little more long-lasting was needed, even magical folk needed plumbers. He apparated to the Hopkins flat around mid-morning, bag stuffed with all the equipment he could possibly need, including some muggle tools for particularly resistant jobs. He knocked politely at the door, always feeling a little like he was intruding on people’s privacy, even when they had sent for him.
“Hi,” he said with a smile when the door opened. This was something he went through many times a day. “I’m Andrew, I’m here to fix the sink.” He scrabbled in his pocket for ID, found it, and drew it out, holding it up by his face.
Emily gasped a bit at the name and a flash of panic and sorrow crossed her face, but she pushed it away. Andrew's a common name, she told herself. And you're going to have to get used to that. She forced a small smile to greet him. "Hello," she said politely, opening the door wide enough to let him in. "Ah, thanks. Come on in, it's just this way."
She'd never been particularly good at making small talk, so she didn't say much else as she guided him through the flat. It didn't take long; Grace's place wasn't exactly expansive. "It's that one," she added lamely, as there was only one sink in the room. "Uh, but I guess you probably figured that out."
The initial reaction, though brief, was marked enough for Andrew to notice. He considered asking the girl if she was okay, but she seemed to want to move on and he didn’t wish to pry. He gave an uncertain smile back and followed her into the flat. Andrew wasn’t a terribly chatty person either, so the lack of conversation didn’t bother him in the least.
When they entered the room, he did indeed figure out which of the sink in the room it was. He gave Emily a smile.
“I gathered, yes,” he said, but not unkindly. Andrew walked up to the sink and squinted at the pipe beneath it. “Hmm,” he said thoughtfully. “So what’s it been doing? You have any idea what’s wrong with it?”
"It drips," Emily began. "That kind of consistent, drive you nuts when you're trying to sleep in the next room kind of drip. We've tried tightening everything, and Grace--that's my sister, this is her flat--had it charmed for a while, but that wore off too. Plus she's at work all the time, and I'm usually at school, so we haven't..." she trailed off, realizing she sounded rather silly. She hardly needed to explain to him why they hadn't managed to fix it themselves. "And there's a leak underneath. There's, ah, a little bowl underneath to catch it all..."
The plumber nodded. “Alright,” he said. He squatted down next to the pipe and began to run his wand up and down it, muttering a spell under his breath to reveal any sizable holes or perforations. Finding nothing, he instead pointed his wand at the base of the pipe to stop the flow of water so that he could work on the problem without flooding the place.
“So are you at Hogwarts?” he asked conversationally, since she had mentioned school. “You look too old. I don’t mean - oh Merlin I never did get the hang of not insulting women - I don’t mean you’re wrinkled or anything, just that you seem very mature.”
Emily wasn't quite sure how to take that, though at the least she decided it wasn't meant as an insult. She decided to brush it off. "Well, we've all been through a lot in the last few years," she said quietly. "I imagine most of us are more mature than our ages suggest. Besides, it's my last year anyway."
She wasn't sure of the proper etiquette for this scenario--should she stay and chat with him, or leave him to his work? She was almost done with her Christmas crackers, and knew full well she wouldn't start her holiday homework until after Christmas at least. She figured she would follow his lead. If he kept talking, she'd stay; if not, she'd head back to her own work.
Nobody ever seemed sure about the etiquette of this situation, and Mr Vane was use to it being awkward. Some people stayed and talked, others didn’t - he didn’t really mind which.
He gave a bit of a sympathetic grimace. “True,” he said gently. Andrew himself hadn’t lost anybody he was close to, but he knew people who had - Romilda being the main one. It was rather a horrible feature of the war that so many children had died in the final battle. If their parents could have died in their place, he was sure they would have, but that option was never available. Then, of course, there were people he knew who had been wandless, or gone to Azkaban, or on the run... there were a myriad of different ways for the last year to have been horrible, and it felt a little like prying to ask which of these Emily had been through.
He paused for a moment, not sure what to say but not wanting to end the conversation like that.
“Which house are you in?” he asked, because it seemed safe enough.
Emily was relieved--that was a safe question, and she always preferred those. "Gryffindor," she said with a small smile. Though it hadn't always been the easiest place to be, she still loved her house and was proud to be a part of it. Harry Potter or no Harry Potter, it was still the best house in the school. She almost mentioned being Head Girl, but decided against it; she didn't want to come across as bragging, and it wasn't like this was a resume or anything. "The best house, naturally," she did add, trying to keep things light.
Andrew smiled back. He had been a Hufflepuff back in the day, and happy enough there, but felt - in a rather Hufflepuffian manner - that all the houses had their merits. “You do all like to think so,” he replied. “My daughter’s a Gryffindor and she’s convinced there’s no other house worth being in. Oh, maybe you know her actually, she’ll only be a couple of years below you. Romilda. Romilda Vane.”
Emily was almost taken aback by the news. This was Mr Vane? But he seemed so … normal. Where on earth had Romilda come from, then? "Sure, I know Romilda," she said. "I think everybody knows Romilda," she added with a small laugh, then blanched. "I mean, not because of--" she cut herself off, not wanting to mention the younger girl's injuries, though that certainly was part of why everyone at school knew her. "I just mean, she's got that kind of personality, you know, she likes to be known." She felt embarrassed and awkward and hoped she hadn't offended Mr Vane in any way. "She's nice," she added, lamely.
It wasn't until Emily tried to clarify her position that Andrew even considered that she might be referring to Romilda's condition. He winced slightly. Somehow he managed to fool himself that it was okay, that no-one would.... well, of course people would notice, but that it wouldn't concern them. She had become like that in battle, after all. It was heroic. However, as Emily continued to explain herself he relaxed. Romilda did indeed have that sort of personality. He even managed a smile.
“She's got a heart of gold,” he agreed. “Although, I'm not sure 'nice' would be the first word to come to my mind to describe her.”
He racked his brain trying to remember if Romilda had ever mentioned an Emily. She mentioned a lot of names, and he had always concluded, in his biased way, that she must be very popular. He couldn't keep most of the names straight, however. “Emily...,” he ruminated aloud. “Are you Headgirl? I think she mentioned an Emily was Headgirl. Or was that Emma? Romilda was very excited to have Headgirl and boy both from Gryffindor, I remember.”
Emily hesitated before answering. There wasn't really a reason to, but she felt odd about being so eager to share that news. It felt vain, and she didn't like that. "I am actually" she said quietly, "yeah. And Declan McLaggen." She wanted to try for self-effacing and almost added 'I think they just felt sorry for us,' decided against it.
"I'm not sure how Romilda feels about us anymore, though," she did admit. "She's not always happy with us, I don't think. But that's alright. I mean, it's good to hear that sometimes, you know? My sister--not Grace, one of my other ones--calls that Constructive Criticism."
Andrew Vane wrinkled his forehead. "Well, she never said anything about that," he said, continuing to work on the pipe as he spoke. "But I don't think there's many people she's always happy with. Romilda can certainly do criticism, and some of it must be constructive." He reached into his toolbag and drew out a new washer, which he proceeded to fix on where he had just removed an old one.
"Does she give you a really hard time, making mischief?" he asked. "She gives me a hard time, so I'll be most offended if she keeps it all for home."He looked up at Emily and smiled.
Emily wasn't sure how to proceed. She didn't really like the idea of 'tattling' to Romilda's father; on the other hand, maybe this was just friendly conversation. "I guess she does keep us on our toes, a bit," she said with a small smile. "I mean, nothing major, usually, just little things. Well, I'm sure you know."
She shifted her weight and leaned against the door frame, subconsciously deciding to stay where she was. She stayed quiet for a moment, then when she spoke again, spoke softly. "She's lucky to have you," she said. "She talks about you sometimes. Even through her Romilda-language, it's clear how important you are, to her."
He nodded along at first. Yes, he knew, just little things - there was little to no malice in Romilda, and she could usually be reasoned with. Then Emily went quiet, and spoke again, and Andrew became quiet too - quite a feat considering he wasn't talking in the first place. He nodded again, but it was a smaller, sharper sort of nod. This moved into more personal territory for him.
"Well it's just the two of us," he said. "So I'll be important to her just as she is to me. We're all the other has." He busied himself again with his work, not wanting to look at Emily or rather, not wanting Emily to look at him.
Emily crossed her arms and looked down, apologetic. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have..." she stopped, not sure exactly what she was sorry for. For making the moment awkward? For stepping over that polite conversation line into a more personal comment? For being even a little jealous of the relationship she perceived? She missed her own mother terribly, and her father had been so distant... She pushed the thoughts away. "I mean, that's not really mine to talk about. Even if it is true. Erm..."
She waited a moment, trying to think of what she could say that would move the conversation back into the polite conversation mode. "How's the sink doing?" she finally asked, lamely.
He certainly wasn't angry or upset, but, in common with a lot of men, Andrew Vane was not very comfortable talking about his emotions.
"It's fine, really," he said eventually. "You don't need to be sorry." He sat back on his heels and looked at the sink, as though he needed to check to know how it was doing. "I'm about done," he replied. "You had the right idea, tightening everything, but sometimes when parts get old, they don't tighten so well. That shouldn't be a problem for a while now." He began to pack bits and pieces back into his toolbag, not bothering to use magic for such a simple task.
Emily nodded at the explanation. "Thanks. Gracie'll be thrilled, it's really been bothering her for a while." She waited, ready to show him back to the door when it was time; after that, she'd go back to her project. After all, Christmas was right around the corner. "And um, it was nice to meet you, Mr Vane."
He smiled then, and did look at her.
“Nice to meet you too, Emily,” he said, walking with her to the door. As they reached it he held out his hand for her to shake. “Take care.”