Emmeline "miscellaneous graph things" Vance (vancey) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2008-10-13 15:37:00 |
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Emmeline understood that it might have been difficult for Horatio to stay in such a small space all the time but, really, this wasn't the best timing for her cat to misbehave. After three consecutive tries at sneaking outside the flat while Emmeline was stepping out, he was eventually banished to her bedroom for the rest of the day. She wouldn't take too long, she hoped, wondering whether or not she managed to close her wardrobe door, otherwise everything would be covered with cat hair by the time she gets back. It didn't take too long to find an empty sidestreet in which to Apparate. Sundays were, afterall, often used by her neighbours to recover from hangovers. By the time she got to the Order headquarters near Bingley, Emmeline was quite sure that she missed the class for that day. She knocked once, twice, before letting herself in. Emmeline hadn't been there before so she loitered around the front room for a while before calling out, "Um - 'lo? Any one still here?" Oh, the joys of being alone once and a while. Not that Al was really expecting to be alone - he'd signed up to teach today, after all. But it was nice to be left alone for a small amount of time. Especially when he was hungry. No, Al had never been much of a cook. But all he wanted was a bacon sandwich. And considering the full moon was in two days, he didn't have any real objection to how cooked the bacon was. So long as it was warm. So over the stove, Al was poking absently at four strips of bacon with a fork. He wasn't entirely sure what they were supposed to look like when they were "done" or when it was safe to eat them... But again, he wasn't all that concerned. When he took them off, he thought they were still a bit floppy. It wasn't mum's cooking... but it was edible. So a moment later, he was taking the first bite of his culinary masterpiece (undercooked bacon on burnt toast), completely oblivious to the knocks on the door. It wasn't until he heard a voice that he moved out into the front room, half-eaten sandwich in hand. "Still here," Al said. Actually it sounded a bit more like shil heer with food in his mouth, but he thought his presence was probably sign enough. Emmeline had started up the flight of stairs, went up halfway, peered up at the landing then went back down to the living room. It was a good place to house the Order, she thought. Unassuming-looking from the outside, good wards, enough rooms. Caradoc really did well choosing the place. Emmeline scratched her head. It looked empty but she could smell cooking and she could detect the familiar scent of burned toast. Shrugging, Emmeline set her bag by one of the armchairs and began poking around one of the bookcases. It wasn't long before she heard footsteps come up behind her and hear someone say something. Something. Well, Emmeline didn't quite catch it. She looked around to see Al chewing on the remains of a sandwhich. "Hi, Alastor," she greeted politely, "How has your day been?" Emmeline stood up, pulling a small dusty book wedged between the larger tomes. "Well," she flipped through a couple of pages, noting how it was similar to the edition she found at the Department of Mysteries archive, "I've been having a bit of trouble with Patronuses, as you might have read. I thought it'd probably help if I had constructive criticism although, uh, I haven't really improved much since I wrote that journal entry." Al finished off his sandwich in another two bites - no, he really wasn't tasting it - and wiped his hands on his pants. "Er, just Al, please," he replied quickly. He didn't enjoy the formality, even in the Ministry. The Order... well, he wasn't sure yet, but he had been under the impression that there was no set hierarchy and therefore, no reason not to use nicknames. It also gave him a reason to gloss over the question of how his day was. He could feel the moon today. As she went on, Al gave a bit of a nod, absently running a hand through his hair. Patronuses. It had to be patronuses. When was the last time he'd actually conjured a patronus? Before... all this, certainly. Holding onto a good memory was a real challenge these days. Not one he'd particularly been up to. But perhaps... he could at least do theory and help a bit. "Yeah, of course," he said finally, pulling his wand out of his sleeve and clearing the floor for them. "Show me what you're doing now, then." Al stepped to the side to give her room to work. "Right, yeah, of course," Emmeline said quickly, catching on to how formal she must have sounded. "Sorry," she added apologetically, tapping the book cover nervously. Old habits die hard, Emmelined supposed. She still slipped back to addressing people like that even though she'd known them for quite a while. "Erm, oh - welcome to the Order, by the way, I don't think I managed to say that yet." She remembered when she first joined. She was seventeen. Three years. Emmeline couldn't really say that she's done more for the group than the new members; it's one of those things she liked about the Order. No one really knew where they stood so while the older members did give instructions, the younger ones at least had a say on what was going to happen. She blinked at him, about to ask whether it would be a good idea to start with the basic movements for the spell first but decided that it was probably best if she did as asked. "I've been trying to isolate a sufficiently powerful thought," Emmeline continued saying as she rolled up the sleeves of her shirt, "Which was quite difficult, to be honest, seeing that it wasn't really clear what the theory meant by sufficient and powerful. They're sort of vague, umbrella terms, aren't they?" "Okay." She pulled out her wand and began, concentrating on her first day at Hogwarts. On the lake when Dorcas first started talking to her. Right-o, Emmeline. Keep the memory there. She took a deep breath and began: "Expecto Patronum." A wavery, mist-like formation shot out of her wand and hovered in the air. "Expecto Patronum." Dorcas was saying something funny and was telling her that she was going to push the boy off the boat. "Expec--," Emmeline faltered as the memory shifted from the moment on the boat, to when the Sorting Hat had Sorted Dorcas and Emmeline's nerves were getting the better of her. The faint, silvery formation vanished in front of her. "... Yep. That's it there." Al leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest as Emmeline talked. Well of course they're fucking vague. Magic isn't just theory, or else muggles could do it if they tried hard enough, he thought a bit irritably. A second later, he felt rather bad for even letting the words enter his mind. Perhaps he shouldn't have signed up for this when he was so on edge. He kept his silence though, absently twirling his wand as he observed her make her first attempts at the charm. Mist, just as he'd expected. Al idly tilted his head to the side, eyes fixed on the spot where the silvery sheen had been a moment ago. "What sort of memory are you using?" he asked finally, turned his eyes back to her. "Or I mean... rather, what sort of feelings to you get from the memory you're using?" He didn't want to be invasive, after all. Maybe she didn't want to share her memory. "I was thinking about when I was a first year," Emmeline shrugged then pushed the hair unnecessarily from her forehead, she was sure that memory would work, "On the boats, you know, and it was when I met Dorcas." She fell quiet for a while, wondering whether or not the thought in question was too weak to use, which was a little disheartening since Emmeline considered her friendship with Dorcas somewhat more relevant than what the charm seemed to make it. "It made me happy; well, nostalgic, I guess. And... it's reassuring because I know that that moment was the start of something good, you know?" She shifted on the spot, eyes staring off for a moment as she tried to dissect what the weakness of the thought was. "But you don't get any sort of..." he paused to find the right word. "Physical reaction, I suppose," he finally finished. "I mean, I think the problem with that memory is that even though it went on to something good, the event itself was more... funny than happy. D'you understand the difference? Like... it has to be something quite vivid and it has to... well, you have to give something of yourself to make it work. We use patronuses to... to fight the dark..." He trailed off again for a moment. "So... you've got to find something in yourself strong enough to shed some light." Al fell quiet for a moment, no longer looking at her. He gnawed silently on his thumb nail before shaking his head and motioning toward her again. "Go on and try again, then." Emmeline fell quiet and stared blankly at Al for a moment. What he said was true, of course, but she was at a loss at how she could tick off all the requirements that he just said. Happy. Strong enough to shed light. Emmeline wracked her brain to find something that fit those two criteria and, for a moment, her mind flashed on a particular memory with Gideon before she moved on to something else. Something less recent. "Alright," she began, holding her wand aloft again, as she thought about that time when Patrick was visiting during Christmastime and Thursday was still a toddler, "Right, I think I got one." Emmeline took a deep breath and began again, "Expecto Patronum." Their older brother was talking about work and asking her how school was going. Thursday was huddled on Patrick's lap, Emmeline was on the floor, reading. "Expecto Patronum." The mist was back and it looked a little cloudier and denser than earlier. The memory faltered a little but she tried holding it back. But eventually, that, too, broke off and the mist was gone again. "That was better than the first," Emmeline looked at Al for confirmation, "Right?" It wasn't much of an improvement really but the spell was difficult enough to learn. Al gave a small nod. "Better, yes. But I don't think you'll be fighting off any dementors with that." And that was really what was starting to worry him. What if it came down to having to fend off a rogue dementor? Or a lethifold? How many of the Order members couldn't conjure a patronus without the fear of having their soul sucked out of their face? The pressure of the situation wouldn't exactly make the spell any easier. "What was it that time, then? Any flutters of the stomach?" "Yeah," Emmeline agreed. The mist was quite far from a corporeal Patronus. And Al was right when he said that she would be hard pressed fighting Dementors with the mist she just conjured. How did people do it? Emmeline wondered how people even managed to think of an appropriately stong thought when confronted with a Dementor. She shook the idea from her head and steeled herself. This must be done. She needed to learn how to do this properly. "It was - er - I was thinking about that time my brother visited for Christmas. And my younger sister was still really young then," Emmeline smiled, remembering how clingy Thursday was. "I like that memory. I always got along with them. Then." Emmeline coughed awkwardly. Al raised a brow, idly remembering Patrick Vance from his school days. What a fucking prick, was his initial thought. But then... a lot of people hadn't been so fond of Al's brothers either. Brother, he reminded himself. Singular. "I think... you need something more precise. And more recent. Something you can focus on and hold all the details. Because it's those subtelties that make your memory special." He stopped there, refraining from getting any more specific. Already, he was having to fight the memories he'd used before his life had fallen apart. It used to be so easy. Just a simple thought of Elle in his arms, sleepily whispering an I love you before they drifted off together.... It didn't work any more. Now it just made him sad. And that wasn't what was needed for this lesson. That wasn't going to help Emmeline right now. "Try again, then. Your wand work is fine. We just have to pin down a memory." She pushed hair off her face again without really needing to, a sign that Emmeline was becoming agitated. More recent. She could use that time when she got the owl from Augustus Rookwood, Emmeline supposed. When she started working for the Ministry. It could work. But. It wasn't really a happy thought. She was more relieved when she finally got the owl. Emmeline stared at the book she placed on the floor a few feet away before deciding what to do. If it meant that she had to open still-fresh wounds, then so be it. She needed to think of something more concrete. "Expecto Patronum," Emmeline began, throat tightening as she thought back to one of those idle days with Gideon. They were at the Prewett's flat at Screechsnap Square. He was laughing about something she'd said and Emmeline was just looking at him, snickering along. "Expec - sorry, um, Expecto Patronum." He kissed her on the temple and hugged her tighter, and Emmeline could remember how he smelled and how the room was cold. "Expecto Patronum." She could feel tears stinging the edges of her eyes now but Emmeline ignored it, grasping unto the last moments of the memory. They fell asleep and it was safe. They were safe. A whoosh of silver shot out of her wand then, and Emmeline was too startled to keep uttering the incantation. She blinked, a few tears rolling down her face. "Wha--?" Al watched in silence, only shifting a bit when the silver shot from her wand. It was most definitely the closest thing they could have gotten without actually forming the entire thing. He spied the flick of a tail, small pointed ears and four little paws. And he was just as startled when she stopped. Why the hell did you stop, that was so fucking close! he almost opened his mouth to say. But his eyes snapped to her face, catching her tears and he felt a stab of shame worm through his stomach. Immediately, Al put his wand away and crossed the room. "Emmeline... I... fuck, I'm sorry." He hesitated to touch her, hand held awkwardly in mid-air above her shoulder before he finally let it drop, hoping it was comforting. Merlin, why was it so hard to do this now? "Oh-er, it's - alright," Emmeline said, vaguely gesturing around, "I - uh - I haven't really..." Her voice trailed away into silence. She was not supposed to cry about this (him) any more. The feeling of loss was supposed to dull in time. Emmeline already had nearly two months of time to begin working around the fact that he was not just hiding somewhere, Gideon was dead. And that was pretty damn irreversible. "Sorry, I get a bit - er - well," Emmeline cleared her throat and hastily wiped her eyes, "I tried not to think about a couple of things during the past couple of months. It helps me, um, cope." She shrugged and casting around for something to change the conversation with, Emmeline pointed at her wand. "It worked though? Sort of." Al gnawed worriedly on his bottom lip and dropped his hand, shoving them both into his pockets. Merlin, could he relate to that. He swallowed hard, feeling like a prat and shitty teacher and just why had he decided that this was a good idea? At the turn of topic, Al gave a slow nod. His voice was noticibly more subdued. "Yeah, that was... that was it, really. A couple more seconds...." He shrugged and shook his head. "But that's... probably enough for today, yeah?" She fidgeted with her wand for a bit before stuffing it into the front pocket of her jeans. Emmeline felt bad for making Al feel uncomfortable, especially when the most part of the blame lay on her. "Sorry for that," she said cautiously, picking up the book from the floor and shoving it back on the shelf for something to do. When Emmeline turned to look at Al again, she felt calmer and less... weepy. "But yeah, that's probably a good place to end for now." She smiled, "Cheers for, well, the help and that." "Of course. S'what I'm here for," he said softly. "Good work, yeah? Pepper will be around a few times this week if you want to work with him on it." Because he certainly wouldn't be available. Merlin, how had it been a month already?'' "I'll see you later, Emmeline," Al gave a quick smile and then turned to head upstairs. With any luck, maybe no one else would need him today. He certainly wasn't in the mood after all that. In fact, he rather wanted to to curl up in bed with a sleeping potion. At least sleeping didn't hurt. |