Tracey Davis (brakingcharm) wrote in afic, @ 2011-08-21 00:31:00 |
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Entry tags: | character: harold dingle, character: tracey davis, player: jo, player: sue |
WHO: Tracey Davis and Harold Dingle
WHEN: Sunday 21 August, 2005 very early morning
WHERE: Quality Quidditch Supplies, Diagon Alley
WHAT: Harold drops by for a visit
RATING: pg 13 language
There was very little still keeping Tracey on her feet. The trial had nearly killed her with the amount of emotions brought to the surface. It was too much of a shock to realise what Theodore had done. While she couldn't have stopped it, she wasn't happy. She was terrified for her friend who was so desperate for a structured and organised life. She feared this would kill him but never, never would she admit that out loud. Theodore Nott was one of the strongest people she knew. He may not have known it, but she could see what he was made of and he would survive this. She hoped.
And Blaise was alive. She could get by without him for two weeks. Two weeks in a place slightly less horrifying than Azkaban. Again, she hoped.
She'd been keeping an eye on his club, giving his muggle partner a vague excuse about Blaise being away, watching over the orders and reviewing the financials. The in/outs were above par, the staffing appropriately scheduled. It seemed like a business that practically ran itself as long as there was music and liquor available. Tracey knew it was much more than that and had spent some time in Blaise's office making sure she wasn't missing anything. Pasting a smile on her face, she'd adjusted the short hemline of her skirt and mingled with the patrons and staff until very early morning. A couple of the bar maids she recognised well enough to have them spread the word that she'd be available if they needed anything. They each gave her their mobile numbers, which she had little clue what to do with.
By the time she flooed back home, she could barely stand up. She kicked off the strappy heels and did everything in her power to keep the memories of the day's events from invading her mind again. The few hours lost in the large crowd and the music had been cathartic. Something else she felt guilty for. She just wanted to crawl in bed and cry herself to sleep, but the sound of something within the cellar brought back the fear of escaped Death Eaters. For a moment, she'd almost forgotten about that.
Pulling her wand, she held it pointed at the door and slowly released the catch on the knob.