There Is Nothing I Do Better Than Revenge (terribly_vane) wrote in afic, @ 2011-08-11 19:43:00 |
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Entry tags: | character: robert stebbins, character: romilda vane, player: jenn, player: jo |
Who: Romilda and Robbie
What: Romilda finds out about the escapees.
Where: Romilda's flat, Diagon Alley.
When: Thursday evening.
Rating: TBD
Since the 'Prophet' had effectively commandeered Level Seven of the Ministry, Romilda's senses had gone into overdrive. It wasn't so much as a quest for knowledge; she never hungered for knowing a piece of information simply to spout it off and brag. That sort of intelligence was best left for Granger and The Ravenclaws of the world. Instead, Romilda liked to know things; any little thing from the fact that Pete in the departments wife was pregnant again and neither were sure how to handle another little Dunstan to the family or that Yvette had been secretly cheating on the diet pact she'd made with her mortal enemy best friend Dianne by changing all of the sugar in the office to high fat. Simple things, silly little gossipy ideas that made her feel just a little smug at how easy it was coax the information out of people. People trusted her, they opened up to her and Romilda liked to keep their secrets. Until it was useful to let something slip.
That afternoon though, as she'd walked down Diagon Alley in her favourite deep purple heels, her world had narrowed down to the task at hand; shopping. She could spend hours popping in and out of the tiny shops which hugged the lane until she found something which called to her. And today she was in the market for something shiny and bright to catch dust in her living room. The familiar routine relaxed her and it was only out of the side of her eye she noticed a crowd gathering beside one of the empty shop windows. Normally it was plastered with the latest 'miracle' beauty cream or the Weird Sisters concert but the demographics were..wrong. Something was off and as ever, drawn to knowing things, Romilda moved forward and used her elbows to get to the front where she stood side by side with a woman in a bushy brown jacket that could have been a donkey in a former life. The words were there in black and white but as Romilda looked and looked again, the words didn't register. Nothing did, nothing could touch her through the haze that had settled over her at the first reading of those names.
She didn't make it back to work. She didn't even make it any further than the flat which had become a haven for her after her release. Minutes bled into hours and still she didn't move as the evening crept into the flat and into the corner she'd stationed herself, wand in hand and eyes focused so resolutely on the door with the chair shoved underneath it. They were out. But she wasn't back at Hogwarts, this time she wasn't a child in detention with the Carrows and though the memories were all too vivid, this time she would be ready. She had to be.