attn party people, frank means business (franked) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2008-07-07 03:20:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! [1979-07] july, alice longbottom (née prewett), frank longbottom |
Who: Alice and Frank Longbottom
What: Angsty with a dollop of almost-schmoop of the Fralice variety
Where: The Longbottom house
When: Sunday evening
Rating A for angsty and adorable
Status: Complete
Cloak, vest, tie: these were all loosened and deposited in an unseemly heap on a chair a moment after Frank Flooed into the house. His wand, of course, remained in its usual spot under his sleeve, pressing against the length of his forearm a pressure that was, in a way, comforting, as though a physical reminder that it was in easy reach. These days, it was a prudent reminder to have, although it was, in every sense of the word, wrong to have to remain so conscientious about security in one's own house. Such were the demands of war. As he always did upon arrival, Frank moved immediately into the kitchen after checking the state of several wards, his footsteps quietly dull against the floor. Without a doubt the kitchen was the most usable room in the house, and certainly the warmest and most welcoming; time and time again, the wooden table placed in the center had had maps and parchments of scribbled diagrams and schemes spread across its surface, as Alice and Frank had made the area their main meeting room. Most of their important decisions were made here. Now, the table was empty, bare of both papers and dishware -- and regarding the latter, would continue to be so, as far as Frank was concerned. It'd been a long day, and after an immeasurable intake of tea and a hastily downed lunch, he had no appetite left to speak of, only a faint need for something warm and comforting to drink. In an absent, almost automatic motion, he reached for the kettle, stopping only when he heard the unmistakable sound of Alice's shoes against the kitchen floor. "Cuppa?" Alice never had a need for an identifying code for Frank -- she knew him well enough to read all of his signs. It was a distinct memory -- that time in Auror training when Pearson downed a bottle of Polyjuice Potion tainted with Frank's hair and fooled everyone with his spot on imitation of Frank's mannerisms, only to be outed within fifteen seconds by Alice. He did, after all, button all the buttons on his suspenders. It was a widely known fact that Frank only buttoned one. Or perhaps she was being a little too observant. Regardless, that had earned her the gold star of the day, and Alice was well inclined to believe that nothing could trick her in regards to Frank. And there he was, in the kitchen as usual, fussing about like he normally did. It was unmistakable, that was Frank, and she heaved a slow breath to steady her mind in preparation of what she was about to say. In her mind, she was perfectly reasonable with herself -- He should be expecting this anyways, regarding her actions as of late -- but deep in her heart (or at least the pit of her stomach), she was uneasy. Another breath to steady herself, but that was all she let herself take. She should be stronger than this. When they joined the Order, they agreed to sacrifice everything for the cause. "No, thank you. But --" she paused for a second, wondering if perhaps getting a cup of tea may have been a better choice, to calm her nerves, before continuing "-- do you remember what we agreed to when we first got married?" It was a hesitant question, almost as if she did not want him to remember. For a moment, it was almost as though Frank hadn't heard her: he remained with his back turned toward Alice, reaching for a mug and dropping in a tea-bag as he waited for the water to come to boil. As the kettle began to whistle, Alice's reflection in the window before him caught his eye -- she was everything he currently wasn't, robes neatly buttoned, hair swept up without a single strand out of place; in short, so pristine in her appearance that her oddly quiet voice sounded out of place -- and he allowed himself a second or two to simply watch her before his eyes moved a degree to the left to take in the sudden strain that added a certain worried tightness in his own expression. Only when the whistling had become a painful scream did he move, pouring the water and taking the mug in hand, seemingly oblivious to the heat now seeping into his palm, and finally turning around. "Yes." And he did. If there was any better way of identifying Alice as Alice, Frank didn't know of it, as this agreement of theirs was known only by them and a scarce handful of incorruptible others. It was an agreement he'd prayed they'd never have to act on -- yet with the commotion of the past days, it was becoming readily apparent that it might very well need to resurface to the forefront of their minds and be executed as had been planned. The Order came first. And right now, he wished it didn't. "You think it's necessary now?" Her breath was caught in her throat at his directness -- he seemed to know exactly what was coming -- why wouldn't he? Given her stupid choices, Frank would have to have been even stupider and foolisher than her to not expect this. Still, she wished for some sort of regret in his tone of voice, some sort of symbol or something. She kept her face grim and serious, however, not letting any of her thoughts surface, instead practicing that perfected poker face instilled in all children of Ignatius and Lucretia Prewett. She opened her mouth to answer, and for a second a fear struck -- what if a quivering sound emitted? What if she revealed too much, just from sound alone? No, she was an Auror, she was trained not to let petty clues like that reveal things. She shook her head slowly, and with an even voice answered simply: "No. But the time will be soon." Standing was beginning to leave her mildly breathless -- or was it the idea of having to use that? "If you don't mind," she said courteously, before pulling out a chair at their dinner table and sitting down. It may have been too telling though -- she chose the chair where she could sit with her back facing him, taking up one of their salt and pepper shakers (a marriage gift, two simple shakers that were incredibly useful) and flipping the cool porcelain in her hand. Of course, she did not forget to be polite -- "Would you like to sit as well?" she asked, her tone still even, and waving a hand at the chair next to her, but she did not turn to look at him. As Alice spoke, Frank's gaze remained fixedly on her. The perfectly blank slate that was her expression told him everything he needed to know, everything she wasn't saying to him: that she was this close to breaking point, and that she too wished with every fiber of her being that resorting to this particular plan of theirs wasn't necessary. He should've said something when he'd answered her original question, displayed something other than the clinical detachment with which he carried out most of his Auror and Order related responsibilities -- but the very thought of the plan affected him like a vicious kick to the gut, and the associated nausea, breathlessness and physical ache felt more real than he would've liked. As Alice moved to a chair, his gaze dropped down and refocused on the tea in his hands. He watched as the joints of his fingers became steadily paler as his grasp on the mug tightened in reaction to Alice's chilly politeness -- but then, at the stiff offer to sit, up snapped his eyes again, narrowing as they took in the sight of Alice's back, lips tightening as he decided that this -- the forced iciness and poker expressions -- was not how they were going to cope with their decision. "Alice." He stepped forward as he said her name, and set his tea down on the table before placing his hands on his wife's shoulders in one uninterrupted series of motions. "Alice," he said again, quieter now, as he leaned down, pressing his forehead against her temple as his fingers exerted gentle pressure. Frank's touch did the exact opposite of it's intentions -- she was sure he could feel every muscle tense up under her skin as her body clearly rejected that which normally would have soothed her. Normally this simple action would have calmed her, would have helped her, but today she was determined to remind herself why exactly she was in the Order -- for the greater good, and if their relationship could endanger the greater good, so be it. She would sacrifice it. That was the decision they had made when they were married, and a decision she was intent upon carrying out if the need arose. But she was such a fool then, thinking that it would be all okay, that the plan would be easy enough to carry out. They were both fools -- young and ignorant, not understanding how much this could affect them, or at least her. She was, however, mildly consoled to see that Frank appeared to be as distressed as she was -- No. She could not weaken now. No, she had to strengthen herself for the Order. She had to strengthen herself for her cause. "Frank," she said quietly, her voice not as chilly and seeming to have regained some of its original strength -- his touch, though tensed her, still had its familiar effect -- it allowed her to think clearly, to know for sure what she was doing. Turning, she gently lifted his hands off her shoulders, holding both hands of his delicately. Her eyes lingered upon his hands for the shortest second before she lifted them to look at him, her lips curving to form a smile -- the smallest, saddest smile yet filled with a strange sort of hope and strength -- before they changed to form words. "It's not --" she said with the same not-quite-so-chilly tone. "But it might be, soon." A single nod signaled his understanding. Without removing his hands from hers, Frank scuffed his feet two steps to the side, hooking one around the leg of a chair to pull it out from under the table. As he lowered himself onto the wooden surface, he said, simply, "I understand," his voice sounding unnaturally flat even to his own ears, completely at odds with the steady deterioration of what had been a calm, if more than a little weary, expression. It was as if by offering Alice comfort, he'd been robbed of whatever composure there was left to him after a long day, week, year -- and now his eyes slid away from Alice as his head drooped in defeat. As one hand tightened against hers, the other was pulled abruptly away and brought up to slide across his face, as though his palm and outstretched fingers could hide the collapse of his emotions. They wouldn't, of course, not from Alice, but it was a gesture that, despite its futility, served a purpose. However long he'd been sitting with his face in his hand -- seconds, minutes, Frank lost track -- he did finally remember that Alice was still holding him, and he her; and after pressing angrily against his eyes with thumb and forefinger, he looked once again at his wife, returning her faint smile with one of his own. "When?" In silence Alice watched as Frank deteriorated from his normally stature to his current state -- she could not deny it -- it was her that caused this trouble for them. She could not push the blame on anyone -- as much as she tried to tell herself that had Agnes refrained from using the Crucio, perhaps they would be in a better situation, she could not fully convince herself. Her mind had already rehearsed the scenario of Alice opting to not turn Agnes in, instead making up a lie -- it would've been easy, wouldn't it? To simply go to Rufus and say: "Tabitha Pryce took Agnes's wand and casted a Cruciatus on a passerby." It would've been so simple, it would've been such a perfect solution to everything, yet Alice chose a different path. It was her fault. She had to bear the consequences, and it was only her greatest regret that Frank would suffer as well. A hand lifted to provide a sort of comfort, perhaps peel back Frank's hand that was covering his face, but the moment she considered it, her hand curled into a small, loose fist. No -- she had to let it alone, she knew, and allowed him to sit in silence until he spoke. She understood as well -- their marriage was something they would possibly need to sacrifice, and with her recent mistakes, it was inevitable. Thinking back, she realized that the usage of this plan was inevitable -- perhaps they should never have been married in the first place? A selfish choice, a selfish mistake -- something she must remind herself to avoid. "Not yet --" she stopped herself from saying I hope -- "I presume, though I feel that preparations may need to be made." Sometimes, sometimes, Frank wished they behaved like any other couple. There'd been innumerable occasions where, after penning a resolute yes, I would carry out the task even if my wife was bleeding on the floor next to me, and I'd hope she'd do the same with me, he'd had to restrain himself from striking it all out in a horrified reaction to what what he'd revealed. Anything for the cause, because it came first... but, Merlin, how much colder would they have to become in order to fight this fight and win? At work, their chilly professionalism with each other allowed them to operate unhindered, but that it had spread into their very house to the extent that they now questioned the wisdom of their very marriage? It was barbaric. Now, he wished they could express themselves properly. He wished, in a half-unrealized way, that Alice had reached out and pulled him from his posture of defeat. "I'll have a scenario prepared for you after tomorrow's session." The smile disappeared, replaced by the thin press of his lips that served as his default expression. His chin was nestled in the heel of his palm, and once again, he pushed his fingers into the inner corners of his eyes, as though to alleviate an ache of sorts. "Who'll be in on it? Albus, Alastor?" His simple, businesslike answer procured a simple, casual response -- Alice's original breakdown was replaced with a sense of calm strength, only brought by the conclusion that the decisions they make and the sacrifices they make will only bring them closer to the greater good, to the defeat of the Dark Lord, and to their envisioned better tomorrow, and with this sense came the grim yet satisfactory realization and understanding that yes, her life had a meaning, and yes, she was willing to do anything for this meaning. It was a sense of euphoria highly out of place in such a grim and serious setting, highly contrasting with Frank's unspoken distress, yet it existed in a way she could not believe possible. She smiled gently at his decision -- yes, even if they would realize that this particular plan of theirs would not be needed (and she dearly hoped so), if the preparations were put in place early, the plan could be all the more convincing. The unspoken connection still existed -- she was sure that Frank could also understand her inner thoughts. "You forget," she said gently, smiling with an angelic sort of patience. "Albus already knows -- he agreed to the plan. Alastor, we can tell. And Ted? I know you two are on close terms, even if it is solely because of the dog." If the subject at hand had been markedly less serious, Frank would have corrected his wife with a dry, "Not solely," while sparing a glance for said dog. Instead, Alice's inquiry was met with a single shake of his head, and although her smile was currently wasted on him -- his eyes were still squeezed shut, warding off a headache he could feel approaching -- her tone affected him as his presence often did her, soothing the distress. "The more contained it is, the safer." Their fingers were still entwined; Frank gave hers a brief squeeze before drawing his away to reach for the previously abandoned cup of tea and dragging it across the surface of the table so that it was positioned before him. "But we'll decide these things once we've settled on our story. Right now--" the hand he'd pressed against his face was brought down to settle on the edge of the table, allowing him to open his eyes and turn them toward Alice, "sleep. I could use a few hours." A quiet nod -- small, a mere tilt of the head that was almost undetectable -- was all that Alice could offer his words -- it all seemed so simple, so businesslike, and here she was, as if this were a normal passing -- the marriage was a business deal, was it not? It was simply a joining of partners, only to expedite things. Only to make things simple, to make them easier. The breaking of their hands left a sort of odd emptiness in her heart before -- stop. Think. She took a breath, a deep one, before the patient smile renewed itself to its former glory -- or at least a decent vestige of the old one. "Yes, sleep," she said quietly, before she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead -- a very chaste one, like a mother, kissing her son goodnight. "You can sleep first -- I still have work to do." And it was true. The aftermath of the past days events left her with a pile of paperwork at her desk, which she was now heading for. She wouldn't be sleeping tonight. Not for a long while. |