Alastor "Agent 04041953GU" Gumboil (loose_cannon) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2008-09-09 10:56:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! [1979-09] september, alastor gumboil, dedalus diggle |
Who: Al and Dedalus
When: 9 September; morning.
Where: Gumboil residence.
What: Dedalus puts a roof over Al's head.
Rating: PG.
Status: Completed log!
As Dedalus stepped out of the house that morning, he briefly wondered if he should have let Alastor know he was coming. Ottery St. Catchpole was out of his way, and though he was certain his old friend wouldn't mind an unexpected visit, he was concerned about how he would react to his intentions. Dedalus knew Alastor was going through troubled times he didn't deserve, and Dedalus, of course, wanted nothing more than to assist him in the best way he could. Alastor broke his heart whenever he read his entries, as compressed as they were, and he wished his state was one that could be reversed. Approaching the familiar residence, Dedalus knocked firmly on the front door, preparing himself to greet whoever answered with a big smile. Alastor looked up from his breakfast of bacon and toast at the knock on the door. Dad was at work. Mum was sleeping. She seemed to do a lot of that these days. He didn't really blame her. If he could sleep without a potion, he would too. With a low grunt of effort, Al pushed himself up from his chair and moved through the house to get to the front door, trying to soften his footfalls as as neared the entrance. It could be anyone, after all. He tightened his grip on his wand as he checked out the window and then the peephole. Dedalus. Automatically, he felt some sort of sense of relief. A friendly face. Certainly, that would do him some good. Hopefully. But a sense of caution over took the relief, and before Al opened the door, he called through it, "The night Elle was kidnapped... What sort of tea did you give me?" Better safe than sorry. And anyone that wasn't Dedalus wouldn't know he'd spiked it with sleeping potion. Dedalus had nearly forgotten about the precautions that needed to be taken in these present days. His mind had naturally been focused on other things, and as such, there was a short pause before he responded to his question, hoping his memory wouldn't fail him. "I believe it was lemon, ginger and a bit of sleeping potion," Dedalus said. "I don't think I ever apologised for that, by the way." At the answer, Al unlocked and opened the door. "You don't have to apologize," he said softly, stepping back to let Dedalus in. "It was what I needed, whether I knew it or not." He shut the door behind his best friend and awkwardly ran a hand through his hair. "Hi, Dedalus," he said finally, shoving his hands in his pockets. Alastor did look old and he did look different, but Dedalus knew the reasons behind that had to do with more than just being bitten by a werewolf on the full. He hesitated for a moment, though it was more internal than external, and in the next second, he had wrapped his arms around Alastor to embrace him in a hug. "It's good to see you, Alastor," he spoke, trying his hardest to act like everything in their lives was as usual. As it should be. "Well, it's always good to see your face, but right now in particular. Have you been eating properly?" Al automatically stiffened in Dedalus' arms, an embrace that had almost been routine before suddenly feeling alien. But the feeling was over quickly, and he loosely hugged him back, fighting a swell of emotion. It had never occurred to him that maybe all he'd needed since this fiasco had started was a hug. Desmond had been a hugger, nearly as much as Dedalus, and more often as they had been brothers. For a moment, Al strained his memory for the last time that he and his brother had embraced. It had been that morning, before he'd left. Quick, routine and gentle instead of rib-cracking. Des had been good like that, mindful of injuries if they were there and adjusting accordingly. "Good to see you, too, Dee," he answered truthfully, motioning vaguely toward the living room to sit. His next answer was exponentially more vague: "I've been eating." Al lowered himself onto the couch, grimacing less, but grimacing all the same. Sitting down across from him, Dedalus studied his face for a moment. He knew very little about werewolves, or about what the transformations entailed, but he could tell Alastor was changing, outwardly, and he hoped to God he would remain the same person on the inside. "Full meals?" he couldn't help but press as he folded his hands in his lap. If he was changing, he barely noticed, besides obviously having lost a few pounds. The hospital food wasn't really all that edible to begin with, and if he was honest, Alastor wasn't hungry very often any more. Before, he'd had something in his hand almost constantly - now it was rare to see him at meals. He'd take them to his room, nibble for an hour or so and then simply leave half the plate full. With his metabolism, that wasn't such a great idea. But it was what had been happening over the past couple weeks, and he was skinnier for it. So he was vaguely uncomfortable under his friend's gaze, shifting in his seat. He'd never been a brilliant liar - it wasn't something he was accustomed to, least of all to Dedalus. "No, not quite," he answered after a beat, talking to the floor. He was worried, but didn't want to worry him more than was necessary. If Alastor didn't agree to coming to stay with him for a little while, he would find another way to ensure he was eating and taking care of himself. "It's all right, old friend," Dedalus smiled, nodding and waving his hand at him. "I'd like for you to eat a little more, but if you feel you're getting enough, I suppose that's fine." Al nodded idly and shifted again on the couch, trying to find a comfortable position. "Thank you for the concern though, Dedalus. You're a better friend than I probably deserve." He frowned off at the wall before finally glancing back. "Not that... you really need a reason, but is there one, for today? For being here, I mean." "Well. I suppose there's no use being coy," he said after their eyes met, and an expression of concern and apprehension replaced his bright smile, putting it to rest for now. "I'll get straight to it: there are multiple reasons for why I'm here. I want to help you, first of all." Al blinked and then fidgeted, absently running a hand through his hair and dropping his gaze. "How do you intend to do that?" "In any way that I can, Alastor," Dedalus replied, speaking in a way that was slightly matter-of-fact. Part of him didn't understand why Alastor looked so melancholy when things could have been a lot worse, but he knew it wasn't his place to question how he was reacting to what happened to him, and that the only thing to do was to offer as much support as possible. "First of all, though you might not want to hear it right now, I feel compelled to remind you that Elle really cares for you. She cares for you. Think she might still love you." Al winced at the thought of Elle, not wanting to think about how to talk and deal with her. It was true, he really didn't want to hear that right now. He could barely make his brain comprehend that he'd never be pounced on by Desmond to be woken up again. And as much as he loved and cared for Elle, well... she's rather fallen by the wayside recently. She'd been the one to leave after all. "That's what she tells me," Al replied offhandedly, with no real conviction. "And she means it," nodding assuredly, Dedalus offered Alastor an empathetic smile, In reality, he wasn't sure how exactly Elle still felt about him, but in his heart, he knew it wouldn't be that easy to let him go. He was certain she still had strong feelings for him, even if they weren't romantic. And though he felt a little bad about randomly bringing her up, he didn't regret it. "What kind of woman wouldn't be in love with you?" Al quirked a brow at Dedalus' question. Was he serious? Really. He narrowed his eyes the slightest bit. "Uh, Dedalus, I don't know if you've noticed, but it isn't as if I've got women throwing themselves at me. And you know, there's that whole werewolf bit that is apparently a bit of a turn off." "The werewolf bit doesn't bother me," he replied happily, hoping his cheerful and obliging disposition would remove some of the tension out of the air. "That isn't the only reason why I came to talk to you, though, as I've already stated. I want to help you, and to make sure you're safe and secure. I believe, at least for now, you need a friend to directly assist you through this, and as such, I think you should move to Kent with me." "No, of course it doesn't, Dedalus," Al said with a sigh, vaguely amused. "You're a good friend." At the suggestion though, Al blinked and clenched his jaw. The suggestion wasn't entirely unwelcome. He couldn't stay here certainly. Not with the looks his parents shot at him when they didn't think he was looking. But... after what had happened to his brother... "Dedalus...I.. that's going to make you a target. They'll... they'll go after you, too." There was a deep sadness in his eyes when he looked back up at his friend, the recent pain of losing his closest brother apparant. "I won't put you in that position." "If they came after me, it wouldn't be because of you. You know those evil people are heartless, senseless bastards who will hurt anyone they can get their hands on," he shook his head at his friend, to show him there was no reason to worry. "So you want to give them more of a reason to come after you?" Al furrowed his brow and shook his head. But in the back of his head, there was the slightest inkling that maybe Dedalus had a point... And maybe this time, Al could protect him if something were to happen. He was fully aware of the danger now. Al frowned and tried to think through this... because right now, Dedalus was living alone. Would going with him increase the danger? No one would know. Not many people would know, anyway. He would simply disappear, as far as his parents were concerned. Hopefully. Al chewed on his thumbnail, frowning at the ground. "...But... I don't know, Dedalus," he went on after a moment. "If you, of all people, get hurt because of me..." he shook his head, trailing off. Although the Death Eaters obviously knew where he lived, there were enough wards on the house to keep it completely hidden from unfriendly eyes. There was no place to live that was entirely fail-safe; Dedalus took a risk by heading to work every morning. "I won't get hurt," he said firmly. "If they do come after me, we'll draw them off together." Al was quiet for a long moment before he finally, slowly, nodded. "All right. It.. can't be any worse than here, anyway." He eyed the room around him and then turned his eyes back to Dedalus. "But I want to put more wards up... and honestly, I know it's a bit complicated, but if we can put up a Fidelius charm, that'd be fucking brilliant." He'd take every precaution that he could at this point. He wouldn't make such a big mistake again. And especially not with his best friend. "Anything you want, Alastor," he smiled softly. "You'll wake up every morning to a freshly cooked breakfast, and you'll have the house to yourself in the afternoon as well as the early evening. You won't have to worry about me being in your way too much." Dedalus deliberately spent a lot of time away from home. He returned only to sleep, eat and other mundane things. Al made a vague gesture with his hand. "You've never been in my way, Dedalus. And don't feel like you'll have to leave me alone or something. I... don't especially want to be alone." A frown pulled at his lips and he ran an absent ran through his hair. "No one should have to be," was his reply, pausing to look around the room they were in. He was relieved Alastor wasn't putting up a fight, which is what he had expected. Hopefully, with Alastor in Kent with him, it'd give people some peace of mind about his safety. They could watch over him, and prevent him from being tempted into getting involved with the wrong side. "Your mother and father. How are they doing? Are they well?" A dark look crossed Al's face at the mention of his parents and after a moment, he shook his head. "No, not especially, no. They were better while I was in the hospital I think. It was a more a question of my survival then. But... Dad's parents were killed by werewolves... and after Desmond... they blame me as much as I blame myself. They're letting me stay out of obligation, but... I don't know. We don't... feel like a family any more." His eyes wandered toward the family picture on the mantle of the fireplace. That one had been taken a year ago. All five of them, smiling, arms around each other. Al's chest felt constricted and he hurriedly looked away. "All the more reason to get you out of here," he said, massaging his chin with his hand. Dedalus' eyes briefly followed Alastor's, but he quickly turned his attention to his friend. The room suddenly seemed a lot smaller. "You don't need to have them dampening your spirits. It's not worth it. Perhaps this will give them the space they need to understand what's exactly going, and why none of this is your fault. If they can't comprehend that, and if they don't wish to, then they're not the people I thought they were." Al's gaze suddenly hardened and he very nearly glared. "Family is always worth it, Dedalus. I'll give them space if they need it, but don't tell me that they're not worth it." So, perhaps he was still attached to his family. And could one really blame him? He was the youngest. His life had revolved around his older brothers and his parents. They were his heroes growing up, and they were his stability when things were difficult. At least that was how it had been before all of this. Dedalus was thinking about the consequences of his parents not fully understanding the situation. It seemed clear-cut there could eventually be an unavoidable, emotionally driven result to all this. The last thing he wanted to see happen was for him to allow them to break him down, steadily, until he was angry enough to 'transform' into someone else to satiate that anger. His parents were worth it, in the end, but right now, Dedalus felt he didn't need to be around such negativity. "That isn't what I'm trying to tell you, old friend. You just need to be away from this." Al dropped his gaze and finally simply nodded, avoiding Dedalus' eyes again. He suddenly felt bad for snapping at him. It hadn't been his fault. Dedalus was just looking out for him, and he shouldn't have lost his temper for that. But being angry was so easy these days. It was so much easier than having to feel and hurt. Anger was easy. It was natural, and having never been the most level-headed of men, it was almost preferable. It was running away, in it's own right. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "I'm sorry, Dedalus. You're right, of course. You're right most of the time, and I don't give you half the credit you deserve." "You don't ever have to apologise to me, Alastor," he waved his hand at him. "Remember. I'm here as a service to you, and though I've never been in any sort of familiar situation, I want you to know that I'll be doing my best to understand. This war has changed each and every one of us, and I suppose it's our job to make those changes for the better." Al nodded, understanding and accepting, at least for now. He was glad Dedalus was here and offering this avenue to him. He was suddenly more thankful than ever that Dedalus was his friend. He really could be a lot worse off, even if it didn't seem like it most of the time. He could be stuck here, or having to find somewhere else. For a moment, his thoughts wandered toward Greyback, but he quickly pushed that away. He didn't want to become that. He didn't want to have any part in that, not for a moment. He let the silence stretch for a moment, before glancing back up at his friend. "I suppose I ought to get to packing then, yeah? I don't think it'll take very long - just let me know when you're ready for me." Dedalus stood, deciding that he should leave him alone to gather his things without him there to make things more uncomfortable than they might have already been. He looked at Alastor and was able to feel his sadness, but in his heart, he knew it would eventually get better. Alastor would one day be able to smile and laugh again, if only because he deserved a little happiness. "It was wonderful to talk to you face-to-face, Alastor," he smiled at him. Al too, got to his feet and idly wandered toward the door. "It was good to talk to you too, Dedalus. Really. It's brilliant to see a friendly face around here every now and then." Normally, he would have cracked a smile after that. Instead, he just looked sombre, completely serious. "Should I just floo in tonight, or d'you want me to wait until morning?" Now that the idea of getting away from here, of going somewhere there wasn't going to be long, tense silences and angry glances, he was rather looking forward to it. He wasn't sure how he was going to tell his parents - or if he was going to tell his parents. But he felt a sudden surge of affection for Dedalus for offering him a way out. "Whenever you're ready. I get up early in the morning, so I don't mind at all if you decide to come then," he reached for the doorknob, pulling open, but looked over his shoulder once more. "Don't give up, Alastor. This all will end. Wars don't last forever." "Send you an owl then." Al nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets as he stood back from the door. "I'll... I won't," he said with more confidence. No, he had never really been the quitting type. Not even now, when he wanted to just hide away from the world - he wasn't sure anyone would really notice anyway. Dedalus, was right. Every war came to an end, eventually. Al just wasn't sure who would still be alive to see it, and whether if it even mattered at this point. So much damage had been done already. "I'll see you later, Dedalus. Have a good day." He shut the door behind him and then slowly made his way up the stairs to start packing. Maybe he would dare to hope that things would get better. They can't get any fucking worse... |