Emmeline "miscellaneous graph things" Vance (vancey) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2008-05-02 16:25:00 |
|
|||
Gideon awoke to early morning sunshine filtering through the tree-branches outside his window. There was even a bird twittering in the aforementioned branches. It would all have been entirely wonderful, except the room was cozy and lovely and not his. Plus his head hurt, and when he tried to roll over just a little bit to see more of the room, his everything hurt. Well, maybe not everything, but certainly everything from shoulder to hip and back again. He lifted the (very nice, if a little covered in ducks for his personal taste) quilt and peered into the gloom beneath. Someone had wrapped him quite firmly in bandages - in fact, the term "swathed" probably wouldn't be inappropriate - and there was a decided whiff of something herbal that was no doubt good for him. He rather wished it'd be better for him, because even lifting the quilt drove a spiking pain through his right side. He winced and dropped it again. That was what you got, Gideon you idiot, for tangling with psychopaths in silver masks. It was around dawn when Emmeline woke up, merely getting a couple of hours sleep again. She’d declined the Dreamless Sleep potion Andromeda had offered since she thought the others needed it more than she did. The light was still grey outside but shafts of sunlight were beginning to filter in from the east, falling on the sleeping figures in the enlarged room in the Tonks’ cottage. Emmeline was instantly reminded of the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts aside from the lopsided arrangement of hastily Conjured beds and makeshift curtains dividing the areas of the room. She grimaced slightly as she moved to pull the covers off herself, glad that she was actually mobile for one thing. Deciding that she’d best go help the others prepare breakfast, Emmeline wound her way as carefully as she could across the room. She was about to quietly close the door when she heard a sharp intake of breath. In pain, obviously, Emmeline thought as she went back in the room again. She was lucky enough to only receive a broken nose and… quite a bit of bruising but she got away easy, in her opinion. Limping slightly, Emmeline walked to the bed covered in a duck-patterned quilt, Gideon’s if she remembered correctly. She watched him try and lift the quilt again and grimaced in empathy. Emmeline gently pushed his arm back on the bed and arranged the quilt into a more comfortable, she hoped, position. "Best not to move, I think,”" she said quietly, not wanting to wake anyone else. "Getting that idea," Gideon agreed, letting himself and his bedding be arranged, not that he really had any ability to object, let alone resist. Besides, Emmeline first thing in the morning wasn't exactly horrific, though he might have hoped for slightly different circumstances. Now that he was getting past his just-woken disorientation, he was remembering precisely what those circumstances were; no, the staggering journey from Diagon to the Tonks's had clearly not been a nightmare, fever-induced or otherwise. Which meant he wouldn't be the only one waking up sore. "How're the others?" he asked quickly. "Erm," she cast a glance at the still prone figures. 'Good' wasn’t the best way to describe it exactly but Emmeline didn’t want to make the others’ injuries sound graver than they really were. "They’ve been better." She looked back at Gideon, all too aware of the many layers of bandages covering him. She really did get away easily yet instead of making her feel marginally better this idea only made the knot of guilt in her stomach twist uncomfortably. Emmeline tried to remember the events of the night before, wondering if she could have done something differently and if that could have helped the circumstances. "Are you alright?" she asked, shifting from her spot on the bed unnecessarily. Emmeline woke up the day after the whole fiasco easily enough, but a couple of the others hadn’t regained consciousness at the time. Gideon's moment of watching Emmeline's face wasn't precisely idyllic, since she was looking rather grave and maybe had a touch of a frown, but it was still interrupted by an unpleasant thought. "They are all still alive, aren't they?" he asked, with real concern. He'd missed the last time Agnes had died, he didn't want to miss it again. (Well... you know what he meant.) And she'd been in a bad way, from his admittedly fragmented and somewhat clouded memories. "Wha—yeah, they’re alive," she spluttered, a little taken aback by Gideon’s question. They were all a little worse for wear but they made it all alive. Emmeline was sure the others will recover after a while; some a bit longer than the others maybe. "Andromeda patched everyone up as much as she could," she gestured to the bandages and then to the still slightly purple bruise on the bridge of her nose. "I'm pretty sure everyone will be up and about in… time." Emmeline was about to say 'in a day or two' but decided that would sound optimistic to the point of madness. "Thank Merlin," Gideon muttered, relaxing back against his pillow, and winced; now that was entirely not fair, all he'd done was let his breath out and it twinged between his ribs. Sod this hero business for a lark. The Gryffindors were welcome to it. If only the problems of the wizarding world could be solved by thinking about them. Then again, Gideon wasn't yet entirely unconvinced that they couldn't be. "And you're alright," he noted, looking up at Emmeline. The realisation that it mattered to him - more than the average person mattered, that was - was still recent enough to him that he wasn't entirely comfortable with it, like a new shirt. "Bit of colour in your face," he added, with a smile. "What happened there?" "Don’t force yourself," she warned as she saw Gideon wince again. Emmeline thought that she was coping fairly well for someone who only got an Exceeds Expectations in Defense. Part of it was not panicking, she guessed. A wry smile spread across Emmeline’s face as Gideon observed her injuries. She had the tendency to brood on things too much and he seemed to be able to make light of some situations; she was glad that he was the one she was having this conversation with. "It's just a broken nose," Emmeline shrugged, ignoring the dull throbbing pain from the bruises on her back. She looked at his bandaged form again with a frown before unnecessarily fixing the quilt again. "And you?" she returned the question. She hadn’t been able to question Andromeda about his injuries, fearing that she’d only get in the way. Good question, really. "From memory," Gideon hazarded, "I blame gravity and some oversized chap's right boot, but to tell the truth, it's all a bit jagged and misshapen." Stringing the memories together in some sort of coherent and rational order, surely they hadn't been there for as long as it had felt at the time. Then again time, he had frequently noted, was not an objective substance. Shaking his head (carefully!) free of all that, Gideon said, "Do we know yet what happened? What were they after?" And, more importantly, had they stopped them? "All I've managed to learn so far is that the attack's been planned for a while," Emmeline answered, fidgeting with the end of the quilt. It was just incredibly disturbing to know how much time and effort the Death Eaters had placed in the preparation for the whole thing. From what she remembered, the explosions had all occurred in the shops who refused to put up the purist signs on their shop windows. "I think it's meant to show how much they can do to those who try and disagree with them." Cheery. Emmeline grimaced. Did Patrick join the fray? An unwelcome thought popped into her head: did she duel him? Was he the reason why some of her friends were now in such a shape? There was a feeble lurch of anger in her stomach. On one hand, Emmeline pitied her older brother for having to sign away his life under Lord Voldemort. But the fact remained that he didn't have to join the Death Eaters ranks (contrary to what her grandmother would say). Idiot. "I'm glad we showed up then," Gideon said, momentarily serious to the point of determined. "Those bastards should never have things all their own way." It'd be nice to think they could disrupt their plans entirely, but if that wasn't available he'd settle for just being the fly in their ointment. The unwonted moment of ferocity was derailed by catching a glimpse of Emmeline's face, however, and a frown flitted over Gideon's face. He shifted enough to touch her hand with his own (and maybe he was getting the hang of this injured thing; that hadn't hurt nearly as much as moving before, it was just all about which muscles you could move and which you shouldn't even think about). "Emm, are you ok?" She clearly wasn't badly injured, but that wasn't what he was asking about. She nodded at Gideon’s statement. At this time, people needed to know that someone had the gall to go against the Death Eaters. They needed to see that the masked and hooded figures weren’t invincible, that they too had weaknesses like any other witch or wizard; chinks in the armour, so to speak. Emmeline wished it didn’t take so long a time for the majority to begin fighting back, the Order can only hold the fort for so long. "Hm?" she had stared off into space for a moment and her head snapped back up to meet his gaze. Ignoring the prickle of pain at the back of her neck, Emmeline smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring way but her expression eventually slid back to brooding. "I’m fine," she said, returning Gideon’s gesture by holding his hand in both hers. A mixture of guilt and anger roiled in the pit of her stomach as she surveyed his injuries again. "I was only thinking about Patrick," Emmeline shrugged, "He might have been there last night. He might have caused a lot of damage to you or the others, and…" Her voice trailed off, the topic of her older brother always rendered her a little short on words. "Anyway," Emmeline cleared her throat and hastily changing the subject, "It’s good to see you’re awake now, I was worried that you’d sleep through the week or something." "If he was there," Gideon said, squeezing her hand, "then he's made his choices. It's not your fault. All you can do is make your own." And maybe if Sirius could have a little more perspective on his own family's likelihood of involvement, he'd get sympathy from Gideon too. But that was neither here nor there, right now. He was going to follow that up with something lighter about Patrick having to grow about a foot before he could've been the one causing damage to Gideon, but got distracted (again, what was this, a habit?) by her subject change. "Sleep through the... how long have I been out?" he asked, a small note of alarm creeping into his voice. The feeling of guilt eased a little at this and Emmeline nodded in agreement. It had been a difficult transition to undergo: watching someone she had always respected and even idolised become suddenly unrecognisable because of ill-thought out decisions and cowardice. She supposed she should have seen it earlier that Patrick wasn't as noble as she saw him to be, but it wasn't the time to dwell on the past now. "Yeah," Emmeline said, smiling genuinely this time; strangely enough, the thought that she stood in opposition with her entire family was inconsequential now. She stood with those who she believed had the right idea, and she didn't regret anything she did that brought her to the Order. "You slept all through yesterday," Emmeline said, frowning at Gideon's confusion. Did he lose some memory? Or maybe his sense of time was just a little knocked off. She'd have to ask Andromeda about this later on. All yesterday? Gideon blinked. "I think that's more sleep than I've had in the past week." But that also meant that... "Oh sod," he said, with more urgency now. "I missed work." He winced, screwing his face up not in pain this time but increasing annoyance as the ramifications filtered through. "I missed work the day after an attack that my boss definitely knew about, if he didn't participate in it himself." He said the words, but Gideon wasn't really sure he believed it, about the possibility of Rodolphus participating, at least. Lestrange was smart, he was controlled, it seemed impossible to imagine him blowing up buildings and aurors like some random thug. Still, evidence suggested it was a decided possibility, however little he wanted to believe it, so there it was. "I have to go today," he declared, opening his eyes again. Never mind the whole pain thing. That was simply a problem and all problems could be solved. Right? Emmeline blinked at him again, torn between trying to push him back in a resting position again and not, in case she accidentally caused him more pain. Gideon's concerns were well-founded, of course, but if he showed up the way he was at the Lestrange Library, Emmeline was sure Rodolphus wouldn't accept the excuse of having a rough night out. "You are in no shape to go to work today," she huffed in reply, sounding impatient for once. "Think about it," her tone softened a little when she realised that she probably sounded like a nagging housewife, "Lestrange wouldn't exactly think that you weren't at all involved if you showed up covered in bandages." "Besides," Emmeline continued in a rational, matter-of-fact voice, "Fabian owled that you were too sick to get to work. I think he fabricated something about a bad stomach bug. Er - or something." "I could..." Wear baggy robes. Not bend at all. Claim that mummification was the new hit fashion straight from Cairo. Gideon trailed off as suggestion after suggestion piled up in his brain, presented itself for inspection and was summarily dismissed as a stupid bloody ridiculous notion. Finally he let his head fall back onto the pillow in resignation. He'd have to check in with Fabian on this story he'd fed Lestrange, make sure he had all his details right - in lying, as in research, the devil was in the details. But for now, it seemed that there was really only one option left available. "I could stay here," he said, chastened, and quirked a faint smile. "Sorry, mistress, I'll do as I'm told." "Good." She couldn’t really say much else after Gideon acquiesced. And that small smile didn’t really help with her coherence, which Emmeline found a little disconcerting. She tore her gaze away from him and cast around to look at something else, all too aware that their hands were still touching. "Er," Emmeline felt a little foolish; she wasn’t fifteen damn it. "Well, I’m glad you’re relatively better now." "Me too," Gideon said, watching Emm not watching him and feeling the smile just linger. She really was pretty - well, he'd always known that, but really, she was, even with bruises purpling her face. Maybe especially with them. The proof that she fought for what she believed in. What he believed in. He curled his fingers tighter around her hand, fitting their palms together. "I'm really glad you didn't get seriously hurt," he said simply. The entire situation was making her terribly giddy, which was unusual for Emmeline. She did not do giddy. Not since she was in school, of course, but that seemed like ages and ages ago not a mere two years. Emmeline smiled and sat there contented with their hands clasped together. Was it possible then to still retain some vestiges of normalcy while everything around them seemed to be crumbling into disorder? "Yeah," she said quietly. Was she meant to say something about being more careful next time so she didn’t have to worry so much? No, not really. They were both in the same situation and being exceedingly careful wouldn’t help anyone else. "Perhaps next time I shall be close enough to prevent anything too serious happening to you," Emmeline chided, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. |