attn party people, frank means business (franked) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2009-02-11 14:21:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! [1980-02] february, alice longbottom (née prewett), frank longbottom |
who: Fralice!
what: Doing stuff
when: Some morning before the Order meeting? We can decide later!
where: La casa Longbottom
rating: xxx fo' sure! T for Tame
rating: In progress
Any more gardening, Frank realized, and the plants would stop growing out of sheer spite. The frost had been moderate that night, but habit forced him out of bed -- habit, and an inability to simply sleep. There'd been a moment after the fall of the Ministry where he entertained the thought of finally being able to have the fabled lie-in, but it didn't take long to realize that a solid eight hours was a thing that would continue to elude him. They were vigilantes twice-over, guerillas, terrorists wanted by this new bastardization of a government, and as all three sides -- Ministry, ex-Ministry, and Order -- bided their time, Frank could not help but feel as if he was balancing on the sharp end of a knife, (too) alert, (very) ready, and poised for a strike. Where it would come from and how -- well, if they knew that, they wouldn't be in this mess in the first place. All they could do now was wait and prepare, and employ that Merlin-damned constant vigilance that was now making it impossible for him to sleep. And so he'd risen early that morning, climbing out of bed carefully so as to not disturb Alice in whatever slumber she was managing, and shrugging into a well worn wool jumper before braving the chilly temperatures outside. Protective wards were checked, the spells that kept the soil warm and the killing frost off the veg adjusted, and by the time he was done with this routine -- he was getting so good at it that it was taking less and less time to do -- he felt as though he hadn't actually done anything, and was left scratching Shaggydog behind the ear as he thrust a shovel into the ground, where it would remain until this time the next day. It wasn't even ten yet. The constant fatigue of the first trimester of Alice's pregnancy was finally wearing off enough that she, too, was having difficulty sleeping at night. Sleeping well, at least, as she was usually tired enough that she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, only to wake several times throughout the night, tossing, turning, trying to get comfortable, trying to rid her mind of all the worries that plagued her life. She hadn't heard from her parents since the posters had been hung. This worried her and weighed on her mind more often than she thought it should. After all, they had never been proud of her accomplishments, but she did not want her family to think of her as a terrorist. The word bothered her, and the knowledge that those posters littered the walls in Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley -- places which she could not go -- made her angry and restless. She woke around nine, finding herself alone in bed and wearier than she should have been after a night's rest. Alice rubbed her eyes, then her back, which was beginning to ache from the extra weight it was carrying. It always hurt when she woke up in the morning -- even though she was trying to train herself to sleep on her side, she always ended up on her back sometime in the night, and suffered the accompanying pains. Very soon, everyone would have to know. But Alice didn't want to dwell on that, so she got out of bed, washed, changed, and went downstairs to the kitchen and put a kettle on the stove for tea. Peering out the window, she saw that Frank was outside, gardening. Gardening in February; what a thought. The kettle began to whistle and she poured two cups of tea, placing a charm on each so that they wouldn't spill. Her cloak was fastened and shoes slipped on, and she exited the house, carrying the (meagre) fruits of her labour. "I thought you might like something warm to drink," was her greeting, with a smile that indicated both a contentedness that they once again had a morning at home together, and the sadness from the circumstances under which they enjoyed it. She handed Frank a cup and saucer. Shaggydog had to be held back from attempting to bound over to Alice and drape wet and muddy paws on her shoulders; the dog managed only an enthusiastic yelp of a greeting as Frank's hand slipped from its ear to its collar in order to dissuade it from tackling her. "Sit," he muttered, "stay," releasing it after it whuffed quietly and took to its haunches. With the threat of Shaggydog contained, he turned his attention to Alice. She looked rested -- rested and tired, tired in a way that suggested that the sleep she was getting was not the sort to leave one bright-eyed the following morning. It was impossible to miss the tossing and turning, and as their duvet grew increasingly twined around their limbs as the night progressed, in his own sluggish state, Frank could only deal with one source of her restlessness -- the physical discomfort -- kneading his fingers into her back and bracing her as she drifted back asleep while lying on her side. He had no remedy for the other things that bothered her, for they were matters that he found himself mulling endlessly over himself. "Good morning," he said in reply to her greeting, smiling solemnly back at Alice. With one hand he took the offered cup and saucer; the other slid down her back, giving it a slow and careful rub as he leaned down and gave her a peck on the cheek. "We're going to have plenty of leeks soon; probably be sick of them by the time--" The war's done, he meant to say, but at the last second replaced with words with a sip of his tea, sucking air hurriedly through his teeth after swallowing the hot liquid. "How're you feeling?" Alice covered her moment of consideration to this question with a sip of her tea. Frank knew well how she felt on an emotional level -- they were experiencing all of the same things, and nothing significant had changed since the coup in January. Of course, there was the frustration that there was so little being done, that there was so little they could do... But it was easier just to answer the physical part of the question. Though Alice didn't want to worry Frank with every little twinge that she experienced. She wondered if there would be a single part of her body that didn't experience discomfort at one point or another during her pregnancy. It seemed unlikely. "I just tell myself that the backache is a step up from morning sickness," she replied, balancing her cup and saucer in one hand and using the other to scratch absently behind Shaggydog's ears. "It's a good thing that's done with -- I can't imagine leeks would be very agreeable with indigestion." There was a small moment of quiet as Alice enjoyed the cold morning and petting their dog and the smell of fresh dirt in the air. If she reminded herself of the good things that she still had, it made the losses more bearable. "We could always bring leek and potato soup to the loch to get rid of some of them, if we need to." It was cold; their breath escaped them in swirls of white that dissipated seconds later. For a moment, it really did seem as though they were just a normal couple, standing and admiring their garden on a very early, very chill morning. But they weren't -- and it was impossible to ever fully forget that -- and he was nodding away at Alice's suggestion, for there was a camp of restless, hungry ex-Aurors and hitwizards that would need feeding. In times like these, nothing could go to waste. "Look there." Frank was suddenly gesturing at the trees that grew a short way from the vegetable plots, on either side of the garden shed. "What do you think, string up a swing from that big branch there? For when the baby's old enough?" He drained his cup and gave it a light tap with his finger, sucking in the corner of his lower lip and chancing a look across at Alice as he considered the question that would follow. "When do you want to tell the rest of them?" It would have to be soon, as they were running out of time to pretend that nothing was going on. Alice smiled, picturing a warm summer day with a full garden and a baby giggling on a swing in the back yard. It was a happy image, one that made her feel contented for a few moments until the reality of the world came back. That peaceful summer days would likely be few and far between, at least for a while. She could hope that things would improve, and soon, but for now, the world was an incredibly dark place, and it would take time and planning to regain the grounds they had lost. "I think that would be a wonderful idea," she finally replied. "After all, he or she won't have many opportunities to go to parks, with their parents wanted for treason." It was meant to be a joke, but as soon as she said it, she realised it was a poor attempt at humour. She finished off her tea, too, and waved her wand, banishing both cups and saucers into the kitchen, through the door that opened at a flick of her wrist. Alice wasn't an arrogant person, and sometimes she surprised herself with the spells that she had mastered, and how easily they came to her, even small household ones like this. "We'll have to tell everyone soon," she sighed, her tone much more sober. "Perhaps it would be better to tell the Order at the meeting tonight. While everyone's there." There was a moment before she wondered if each of them was absolutely trustworthy -- after the debacle with Pepper, she had occasional pangs of doubt. But that was ridiculous. They would all see her, and at Gairloch, too, and everyone was astute enough to recognise someone heavily pregnant. As far as Frank was concerned, hiding Alice and their unborn child from the world (this world, especially) was the only real option, and, more importantly, an urge that came instinctively to him. But -- this was Alice, and they were trained Aurors and for better or for worse, they were dedicated to the cause. Broaching the subject of possibly leaving everything behind would not go down well, for not only was he certain that she'd refuse, but also that he himself would hate himself for abandoning everything when they'd gone through so much. "Well," he began, giving her back another rub as he spoke, "if nothing else, we don't have to keep running around in circles trying to remember who we've told. We'll have the Fidelius, and you have that mean Reducto of yours, and that lump of a dog of ours looks rangy enough to be dangerous -- we're not as bad off as some." A laugh at the idea of Shaggydog keeping off intruders was impossible to hold in. More likely, he would greet Death Eaters with a friendly wag of his tail, though perhaps he might slow them down long enough for Frank and Alice to take them down, if the Death Eaters stopped to give him a pat on the head. She considered whether or not he would get along with the baby when it came, but it seemed like a silly thing to worry about at a time like this. Nevertheless, she hoped that everything would be fine as she leaned into his touch, not at all minding the unrequested back rub. "It is hard to keep track of who knows, and who they might have told." Alice let out a faint noise of contentment as she ran off a list of who knew in her head -- Dumbledore, obviously, Ted, Amelia, Rufus, Lily... It was most likely that Ted and Lily had both told their spouses, which was fine, but it was more to keep track of. "It's easier if everyone knows, and I think in a few months, people will be guessing, anyway. Even without my job as an Auror anymore, I somehow doubt I could possibly gain that much weight so quickly -- and just to my mid-section." "Yeah, I'm not so sure they'll buy the story that you've been experimenting with your baking." That it was pretty horrible was an acknowledged truth between them -- even Alice's most earnest attempts to churn out a batch of biscuits that went down easily, if not pleasantly, were accompanied by one mishap or another -- but they were not so bad that the ingredients had combined in a way to make weight distribution go all funky. There'd probably be some sort of retribution down the line for making such a comment, but Frank couldn't contain the snort of laughter as he moved his hands up and began to rub her shoulders. "It's good that they'll know," he added after a moment of silently, intently concentrating on the tenseness in her muscles. "It's one secret I'm happy to tell. Then we can worry about the far more important things -- like names." Had Alice been facing Frank, she might have given him a playful swat at the comment about her baking, but as it was, she was enjoying the backrub. It also helped that she knew her attempts at anything that involved heating a stove or oven (and some things that didn't... Alice didn't think she could make gazpacho any better than the proposed leek and potato soup) were futile. As it was, she didn't acknowledge his comment about experiments with baking. "Names?" she asked. She hadn't even given names much thought, though it occurred to her now that it was likely at this point she would remember that their baby needed a name as she went into labour. "I was thinking... Hippolytos for a boy. Eudocia for a girl?" |