Pepper is the sword-arm of crazy (pickledpepper) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2009-01-13 12:02:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! [1980-01] january, millicent bagnold (née macfusty), octavius pepper |
Peppermill!
Who: Pepper and Mill
When: sometime near the end of The Longest Monday
Where: The bluff over Loch Gairloch
What: A discussion about information and mad foreplay
Rating: PG
Status: Complete
Though it was certainly tempting to stay in the tent with Jo, watching her be enamoured by the kitten, Pepper couldn't deny that it'd probably be better to have a conversation like this in person. It was just easier, to be physically present, to study body language and expression, and though the journals did at least afford extra security, part of him still didn't want to have this in writing. Paranoia is the encouraged state of mind, he'd told Severus, and it wasn't entirely facetious. He tugged his coat back on, wrapping it around himself for warmth as he ducked out of their tent, pausing for a moment to get his bearings before ascertaining the correct direction and heading off that way, keeping an eye out as he did so for anyone else who might be lurking around. The scattered pairs and small groups petered out as he approached the bluff, though, and by the time he reached Millicent they were in complete privacy. Despite the uncomfortable cold, he could appreciate why she'd be up here - the view was nice, in its way. Lonely, completely separate from what he was used to, but nice. "Not exactly where I thought I'd end up," he commented, moving to stand next to her and gazing out over the loch.
It wasn't that the rock Mill was sitting on, one foot pulled up with her arm wrapped around the knee, was particularly comfortable. Sure, the view was pretty spectacular, but she wasn't really taking it in. Mostly, she was here for the privacy, just her and her journal and the last, slowly-savoured cigarette that she'd brought with her. After this, no more. No more indulgences at all. So she was taking her time, lingering over the drags, watching the exhaled smoke make patterns that faded into the rising mist and lowering clouds. She'd taken her gloves off for it, and the tips of her fingers were pale with cold, but what the hell, they'd be warm again soon enough.
"I kept saying I should spend more time in Scotland," she said quietly. "Not quite like this, though." She turned to look at Pepper; not a passing glance, but a proper once-over, as though she were taking specific note of him being here, now. "What's up?" she asked, lifting the cigarette for another drag. Not that much left of it, now.
Abe had been right about the smell of cigarettes; even just having been standing here a few seconds he was itching for one, though by the schedule he'd set himself, he wouldn't be allowing himself another until before he went to bed. He curled his fingers into a fist, indulging in the craving for two, three seconds before pushing past it. "Information," he said, summing up a good portion of what was on his mind in one word. "I... am not really the most trusted person around right now. Especially, you saw how everyone reacted to Higgs leaving. Any Slytherins who stay are going to have a bitch of a time, even worse now. So anything I say is going to be under scrutiny. The thing is.. considering who I went to school with, and living on Knockturn Alley, I know people. And they're not exactly going to be up and passing me critical information all the time, but some of them probably wouldn't want me to die, and if they hear things, they might tell me, and I need someone to know in advance so we can figure out how to use it without the more-- reactionary people throwing around accusations." That was perhaps nicer language than he might have been inclined to use, really, but with the situation how it was... he probably did need to think about actually getting on with everyone. Even Alice Longbottom, as impossible as the task sounded.
Mill exhaled, long and slow and steady, until the urge to say, "Fuck them and their petty concerns," diminished. The urge to just grab Pepper's wrist and walk into the wilderness. Further into the wilderness. Problem was, she didn't know if it would be the best idea she'd ever had, or hiding.
Breathe out; breathe in. "Bring it direct to me, if you want," Mill suggested, voice flat. "I'll take it to Rufus. I trust you. Fuck the rest of them." OK, diminished but not entirely gone, apparently. Mill flicked the ash from the stub of her cigarette, one corner of her mouth twisting into the cynical baby cousin of a smile. "We don't have the freedom to coddle anyone anymore. We need every inch of advantage we can get. They can like it or lump it."
That was pretty much the sentiment Pepper wished he had the luxury of indulging, really, but... group politics were tenuous at the best of times. Too many strong personalities in one place with no hope of release, and god knew if anyone was going to acknowledge the need for fun around here. That could wait until things were settled though - as far as he and Jo were concerned, they had their cats, they had silencing charms on their tent, they had alcohol. He could afford to wait until everyone's tempers were fraying from stress before bringing it up. The point was entirely off-topic, though, and he pressed his attention back to Mill, rubbing his hands together for the blessed warmth of friction. "The over-reaction to Higgs leaving should lead to one good thing though. We need this place under Fidelius. We have no idea whether or not the leak came with us."
It wasn't something he liked saying. It wasn't something he wanted to consider at all, really, but it needed to be mentioned. All of this would be completely useless if someone just went and told the Death Eaters exactly where they all were - all of them, sitting pretty as one big, mostly undefended, target, with too many people badly injured still to move quickly.
Mill didn't even swear, just rubbed at one eye, looked consideringly at the smouldering remains of her cigarette. Really only one drag left. "Chances are good he did," she said evenly. "Or she did. Undetected all this time. I'd send him along with us." This preternatural calm would pass, she knew that, could see the turmoil ahead, ready to suck her back in. She'd made the Ministry her life. A husband who would be halfway to Australia by now. A daughter she couldn't see again for the safety of both of them. Nothing but the low, slow burn of her anger. Nothing but the fight. Easier not to feel, right now.
With a sigh, she stepped down from her rocky perch, next to Pepper. She didn't say, "We'll catch him," or any other meaningless platitudes. Not right now. She just smiled up at him, cold and bleak, and took the final drag on her cigarette, deep and purposefully.
And then she fisted one white-fingered hand in the lapel of his coat, tugged him down, and kissed him.
That, Pepper had not been expecting. Clearly, sometime in the last few days the universe actually had turned itself upside down, most likely a few scant minutes before Death Eaters had waltzed into the Ministry barely over seventy two hours ago. This, though. This was a much more welcome insanity. He didn't require any hesitation or thought to return the kiss, to shift as much closer to her as the difference in their heights would allow - for warmth in the cold winter air, of course. And it was cold, enough that as he moved a hand up to slide lightly around the back of her neck he marveled, in a vague sort of way, at the extreme difference between the warmth of her skin on one side and the chill of the air on the other, and he was doubly glad now for the privacy of the bluff, the curve of the land making them invisible from the camp. It was still a bad idea to be doing this here, to take control of the kiss from her and to curse the lack of anything decent to push her up against - a wall, a bench, a desk - but hell, he'd take that risk. He'd tell Jo what happened when he got back anyway, and she was the only one who really mattered.
Mill, actually, had never cared less about who saw, or what they might say. She dropped the butt of her cigarette - or more, it fell from fingers no longer interested in anything but digging into Pepper's coat, in clinging as she went up on her toes, dignity be damned, to get closer, to kiss him hard and hungrily and the way she'd refused to even contemplate doing approximately six hundred and fifty times since the first day she'd seen him in basic training. What the hell did any of it matter now, when she was raw and aching and--?
Merlin, he was married.
"I'm sorry," she gasped, jerking back. The first step almost tipped her over the rock she'd been sitting on, her second step more out to the side to steady herself. "I shouldn't have..." Words seemed to fail her, and Mill just shook her head, turning away. Turning to leave.
Why was it that so often, fantastic things like that were followed with apologies? One moment saw him practically holding her up, holding her close, nothing hesitant or careful about it - the next, his hands were suddenly empty, and he blinked, trying to clear his mind of the delicious fog that had been settling over it. "Wait." The demand was half-instinctive, as was the reach to grab her arm to stop her, and there was a moment's pause as he tried to figure out exactly what he was supposed to say here. But then, things between them had never exactly fallen neatly into the realms of "supposed to". Quite, quite the opposite. "You're not sorry," he said, tone of voice just daring her to argue. You didn't kiss like that if you were going to be sorry about it.
Mill did wait, pausing in turning away and looking back at him, not quite over her shoulder. She didn't turn back, though she also didn't argue. Maybe she wasn't sorry - and she wasn't - but that didn't change the fact that, "I shouldn't have done that." Meeting his gaze wasn't the best of ideas either; she looked away, out over the water and the wooded hills. Here came the storm, the avalanche nudged loose by one tiny pebble. Fair enough.
"Talk to me tomorrow," she suggested, glancing back at him once, fleetingly, before she turned to begin picking her careful way down the bluff.
Shouldn't was entirely subjective and hard to argue, and Pepper let his hand drop as she pulled away, watching her leave with an unreadable expression. Hell, he wasn't even sure what he was feeling, really, except for a faint sense of emptiness where she'd been standing. He shoved his hands in his pockets, looking around for... God. This whole situation was fucked.
Sighing, he ground the remains of her cigarette further into the dirt and grass with his heel before starting to slowly follow her back to the camp.