gideon "not here to sell cookies" prewett (tweedlegid) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2008-06-11 17:27:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! [1979-06] june, emmeline vance, gideon prewett |
Who: Emmeline and Gideon.
What: Commiserations and consolations.
When: 10 June 1979, night time.
Where: Emmeline's flat in Camden.
Rating: PG for references to sex and death
Status: Logged.
The six o'clock news was playing on the small colour television set placed on a corner of the living room. Small house fires. Something about Gilbert and Islands becoming independent. A cat that can play the piano. Emmeline wasn't even paying attention to the moving images she found so fascinating when she first began living in the Muggle World. The information that she often found amusing and ludicrous didn't even warrant the usual disbelieving snort or chuckle. The Order meeting, Edgar and his family, Mal's involvement in the whole thing--she revisited each topic, one flowing easily to the other, occupying her mind with thoughts about the War.
It didn't help that Lawr and Riley were fast becoming restless with work because, in all honestly, what good did they do locked up in the Ministry's basements day after day? Emmeline would have known exactly how frustrating it was if she wasn't a part of the Order. The fact that she was at least doing something for the organisation helped ease the restlessness a little.
Good things about visiting Emmeline: her place was in a Muggle area (no curfew worries) rife with dark alleyways (plenty of places to Apparate). Of an evening the street was filled with music or general raucous pubbishness from the place opposite Emm's building, and Gideon was quite fond of taking a peek inside to see what was going on. Not tonight, though.
Tonight he went straight to her door, glancing quickly over his shoulder at the sound of broken glass (nothing to worry about). Took the stairs two at a time, but then hesitated a moment, leaning his forehead against the door before he straightened and rapped his knuckles against the wood, four slow, two quick, one slow: hit me with your rhy-thm stick.
She blinked as if waking at the sound of knocking. Emmeline peered curiously at the sliver of light underneath her door and went ahead to open it. She didn't exactly know what Gideon meant about the cryptic message on his journal but she assumed it was a song of some sort; he liked Muggle music a lot, she noticed. Casting a wary eye over her living room, Emmeline deemed it tidy enough and began undoing the security wards she cast over the door before pulling the it open.
"Hi," she smiled, although Emm was quite sure that she even looked a little sad doing so. She waved aside morbid thoughts of Edgar and the Order and the high possibility of death. Her smile floundered a little as she leaned forward to give Gideon a kiss on the cheek before standing aside to let him in.
Gideon's answering smile was probably likewise sad. It certainly didn't feel very convincing from where he was standing, despite the fact that he was, actually, very pleased to see her. More pleased than he could conveniently put into words, in fact, which was not by any stretch of the imagination a common state of being for him. But this just welled up, a warm, comforting wave that pushed aside his anxieties and brought him closer to tears than he'd been in at least the past day.
So he didn't even try words, just stepped in as she stepped back, eyelids dropping closed and one hand lifting to her cheek as he kissed her properly.
She wasn't one for grand romantic gestures, Emmeline had never been inclined to them. Nevertheless, the odd mixture of melancholy, elation and relief that washed through her when Gideon kissed her drove all else from her mind. The warmth of his lips on hers as they continued to brush and part was enough for Emmeline to forget for one single moment that danger didn't loom over them, that death could touch them, that there was somehow nothing to fear. Gideon's hand on her cheek and her hands, which had moved to clasp themselves behind his neck, were the only things that anchored her to this seemingly safe space.
It was a long moment, with his other hand tucked against her waist where it just seemed to fit naturally and her breath and his sharing the same air, but it couldn't last forever. Gideon rested his forehead against Emmeline's for a moment before easing back, saying, "You should close the door."
But he said it with a little gust of breath that might be something almost like laughter, and a smile that was much more convincing this time.
She gave him a small smile in response. Emmeline felt almost sheepish as she moved away from Gideon to close the door and cast the same wards again. The moment of blissful forgetfulness was gone but the slight lift in her mood stayed as she watched him move around her flat. Was it so foolish of her to feel so much affection towards a person? Emmeline didn't exactly care. All that mattered, for once, was that they were together and they were (relatively) safe. She smiled, more genuinely by far, and held out her hand to lead Gideon over to her almost broken down old couch.
Gideon slipped his hand into hers, and let her lead himanywhere she wished. As he dropped down onto the couch beside her (carefully! There had been incidents before now) he sighed, if not quite as though all the weight of the world were on his shoulders, then still with a fair vehemence. He slouched down on the couch, head tilting against the back as he looked over at her with a faint and wry smile. "Afraid I'm likely to be rubbish company, sadly," he said. "I'm apparently even getting on Lestrange's nerves these days."
Perhaps it was because Emmeline was so absorbed in them that even the usually loud music from the pub next door and the incessant babble of voices from the television show that proceeded after the news were somehow diminished, as if someone had turned down the volume on all else. Emmeline dropped down on the couch beside Gideon and lay there unmoving until he spoke. As if to reassure him, she moved to give him a hug, resting her head on his shoulder. "It doesn't matter," Emmeline said, a tinge of amusement in her voice. She doubted anyone was good company at the present time, especially after what happened last weekend. "So long as you're here."
Hugs were grand, her head on his shoulder even better; slinging an arm comfortably around Emmeline's shoulder to keep her there was a no-brainer. Gideon tilted his cheek against her hair, which smelt faintly of things she wouldn't be able to tell him about were he to ask, so he didn't. Just breathed in and held onto her and pushed aside all the crowded, unwelcome thoughts of Rodolphus Lestrange and the bickering Order, of all those who'd died and all those who'd killed them, even the unwelcome fragments of memories of the last girl he'd felt this comfortable with. Didn't even compare; Emmeline knew who he was, what he fought for, and stood beside him.
"How are you doing, anyway?" he asked.
Fine would have been the generic response, a word to fob off any further questions and stop the conversation from continuing to that path. But after all that's been said and done, what else did Emmeline have to hide from Gideon? They were both under the same stress and both shared the same worries and fears, the need for duplicity was long extinguished. Emmeline seemed to consider his question for a moment, her hands fidgeting with the frayed fabric of the couch. "I'm not bad," she said, emphasising the last two words. She shrugged a little as if trying to convey all that's happened in the past week into a single gesture. "Could be worse," Emmeline muttered.
She fell silent again, contented with the comfort of having Gideon near. "You were at Edgar's...?" She didn't exactly know what she was going to ask and she didn't want to force him to talk, but Emmeline wanted him to know that she was willing to listen. Almost involuntarily, she drew herself closer to him, as if by getting rid of the space between them, Emmeline would get rid of the uncertainty and the empty, unsettling feeling that easily consumed her when she let her thoughts go unchecked.
"Yeah," Gideon confirmed. He played with her hair unconsciously, threading his fingers through it just enough to feel the resistance of it against his knuckles, and letting that be just enough comfort to remember Saturday afternoon. "Earlier in the day. Molly and Arthur and the boys as well. Thank Merlin the twins needed to be put to bed, I guess." Bill hadn't wanted to leave, had thrown the sort of tantrum only a nine-year-old just coming down off a sugar high could, which had set Charlie off as well, and offering assistance in bundling off distraught armfuls of redheaded children was probably the only reason Gideon and Fabian hadn't been there.
If they had been, would it have mattered? Could they have been the difference? Would Edgar be alive still? Would Lena? The children? Or would they be dead now as well?
With a blink, Gideon realised he'd been staring at the flickering images on Emmeline's muggle amusement box for... well, he didn't even know how long. "Sorry," he said quickly. "Told you, rubbish company."
His sister's entire family was there, and Fabian too. Emmeline untangled a hand to push hair out of her face, still leaning on Gideon. She considered the alternative to what had happened: another four children added to the din, two more frightened parents. But Gideon and Fabian could have helped at least. Emmeline glanced up at him, regarding his blank expression as he stared at the television. The thought that they could have saved the people there or even alleviated the harm that the Death Eaters inflicted upon the victims clearly weighed down on Gideon more than she could have fathomed.
A frown formed on Emmeline face, marring the previously placid expression she had. The silence seemed to have solidified around them as they both contemplated different circumstances, different outcomes. Her eyes snapped back to his face when he spoke and she gave another sad smile. "It's okay," Emmeline said, kissing him lightly on the temple. "It's okay." And the second time she said it, it seemed almost as if she was saying it to herself.
There were a few responses that presented themselves for Gideon's consideration. He could agree, and maybe it really was okay, despite how decidedly un-okay it felt at present. Or maybe it would be okay, could be okay, and that was what they were fighting (hoping) for.
He didn't like any of the options, frankly, and even Gideon Prewett could admit that there were times when words were just far more trouble than they were worth. So he didn't say anything, just drew Emmeline closer and kissed her again and let it be okay.
She had a sudden urge to cry when Gideon's lips met hers again and she let out a heavy sigh when they parted for a split-second before moving together again. Emmeline wanted to erase everything, to re-do everything so they wouldn't have to feel these things that they wouldn't have to feel otherwise. She wanted to have Gideon feel guiltless and above all she wanted the certainty of normal times. 'Normal' times when families didn't get torn apart and children didn't get pulled into adults' business; when people didn't get murdered in their beds.
But the truth was they could only work with the society they were given, and Emmeline had to accept that fact and she had to continue to believe that all that they hoped for (and fought for) was somehow achievable. Her hand drifted to Gideon's cheek, as if to hold him closer, and deepened the kiss, wanting to put so many unsaid things in a single gesture.