Camilla Greengrass has been driven to drink. (camilleon) wrote in blurred_war, @ 2010-08-23 13:37:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! [08] august 1943, camilla greengrass, tiberius ogden |
Who: Tiberius Ogden and Camilla Greengrass
When: 23 August 1943, morning
Where: The hospital
What: Post-battle discussion. Relatively non-depressing
Rating: Tame
“Good morning,” were the first words out of Tiberius’s mouth as he approached Camilla’s hospital bed. He was holding onto the string of a bright pink balloon bobbing beside him. They were said politely, he looked tired from having had little sleep for the past two nights, and his nose was red. Other than that, he appeared perfectly normal; he was even clean. The crash after the initial euphoria from knowing that the war was over seemed long and drawn out. Each piece of news was welcomed, but it was like they wouldn’t stop. And after some briefer visits and trying to learn information in the hospital, he realised it was best to lead the healers and nurse do their thing. Although he looked alert and still walked at his languid pace and usual posture, he was more in a zen-like state. His nose was oddly congested in the shower, though. At least he wasn’t squeamish, so his expression didn’t change much at seeing any of his friends’ wounds. Tiberius pressed his lips together in something that sort of resembled a smile, and he held the string out for Camilla. To put it lightly, Camilla had seen better days. In fact, she felt a little bit embarrassed by the state that she was in, covered in cuts and bruises from head to toe, including one particularly bad slash from her hair to her cheek, which was covered in paste and still in the process of healing. That wasn’t even discussing what was hidden beneath her hospital-issue pyjamas -- an acid burn, severe damage to her rubs and lungs, and the weird after-effects of the Cruciatus Curse, which caused her to twitch at random. She reached for the balloon, ready to come up with a quip about why pink, but she didn’t have it in her for quips today. Tiberius was obviously in a better mood than she was, but the truth was that she had mixed feelings about the war being over. This was her element, after all, and while she could apply for the Auror Office when she got back, she had an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach about it. She didn’t remember if Delmi had said that she wouldn’t mention how she had attempted to perform Dark Margic. She just recalled that the other girl had been angry, and that Camilla herself hadn’t exactly been in any state to convince her not to say anything. Of course, she hadn’t been successful -- could they punish her for an attempt? But even trying might hurt her chances of admission and she couldn’t get that thought out of her mind. Not that her visitor needed to know that. “You look well,” she said in response. “I suppose our places have been reversed.” Tiberius just shrugged, though that smile looked slightly pained. Camilla didn’t have to know that he was really grateful no one had tried hugging him, since he was still sore from his injuries earlier, he had had a concussion, and that her balloon was transfigured -- rather laboriously -- from a scrap piece of cloth. Well, perhaps she should know that last part. Tiberius furrowed his brow slightly and advised, “You should keep that away from your face...” upon handing off the balloon. After debating telling Camilla that she looked good, or informing her she had something on her face and gesturing at where the paste was, Tiberius settled on asking, “Is there anything I can get for you?” Camilla turned and tied the balloon to the headboard of her bed by its ribbon. Doing so hurt a bit, because of the state that her chest was in, but she didn’t so much as flinch to reveal that she was in any pain. She didn’t really want to show any sort of weakness, even though she didn’t think that Tiberius would hold it against her. It bobbed slightly before settling in the still air of the hospital, and she leaned back against her pillows. She wished that the cut on her face had healed already. It was what really made her look so bad, she thought (even though she was drawn and pale regardless -- but she didn’t realise that). “No, unless you’ve got a cigarette. That’d be a peach.” She wasn’t sure what the Healers would think of her smoking because of the damage done to her lungs, but to be honest, she didn’t really care, either. “Are we going home, then?” she asked. There didn’t seem to be a lot of point to staying here with Grindelwald defeated, did there? Although Tiberius had his hand stretched out to help Camilla tie the balloon, he didn’t move much closer, nor did he actually do anything. His hand dropped back to his side. The mention of cigarettes didn’t change his expression; he just nodded -- perhaps necessarily slowly, given that the healers had examined his head -- and said, “We are.” He made a slight face, as if to say he had no idea how they were going to move her and the other occupants in the hospital. “You may have to wait but I can ask for a cigarette, or perhaps Professor Dumbledore or Flip will transfigure one for you.” A beat. “And forget I ever said this, but I’m glad you’re all right.” His face and voice did soften slightly, but there was something about him that made it clear he had some idea how badly injured she was. Still, the words were sincere. She had long since run out of her own stash of cigarettes, and with no more supplies coming in, she had been craving one for a long time. She hadn’t really expected Tiberius to have any, but it was worth asking. Anyway, they were going home soon, and then she could have as many as she liked. And scotch. She thought longingly of the bottles lined up on the liquor cabinet in her grandparents’ home and closed her eyes. Yes, the first thing she would do when she got home was get herself a drink and a cigarette. And then some decent food, as she was tired of subsisting on powdered potatoes. “Of course I’m all right, it’ll take more than a couple of Austrians to finish me off,” was her terse response, though she recognised that Tiberius had actually been concerned and felt bad that she hadn’t been more careful about her own safety. But Camilla was eighteen and confident and thought herself immortal, and if her survival of two battles said anything about her, apparently she was. “I’m glad you’re alive. I had more right to be worried.” “What?” Tiberius asked, with some mock indignation, a small smile on his lips. A small part of him was actually offended, and he had considered offering a not-entirely-serious rebuttal, except all he could come up with was that, well, his girlfriend had blocked most of the spells and threw herself in the way of one or two, so he just ducked his head briefly and frowned at the floor. When he looked up again, he was back to normal, though his shoulders were drawn in slightly. “I’m not that bad, and you, you’re--” he didn’t complete his sentence, but raised his eyebrows and nodded his head at her hospital bed, to indicate that he was standing -- since he’d be in pain if he leaned -- while she was laying there. He also instinctively took a step back in case she swatted at him or anything. “I’m fine,” Camilla said defensively. “The Healers are being overzealous.” Which wasn’t exactly true, but she didn’t feel all that bad -- or, at least, not as bad as having the shit kicked out of you would have expected to feel. Maybe it was all of the pain potions they’d likely pumped into her while she’d been asleep. She did feel a little bit numb, but she gave a twitch as she remembered being Cruciated, which she hoped Tiberius didn’t notice. “It’s simple. If you take greater risks, you have to take greater hits as well. And I took some risks.” To say that she had taken risks would have been an understatement, and her mind travelled to the forbidden curse she had tried to use, and the lifeless body of the Austrian on the ground. She didn’t particularly feel badly about having killed him, but through the haze of medications, she did recognise that she didn’t feel entirely comfortable with it. It was somewhat difficult to take Camilla’s words seriously, and Tiberius stared at her sceptically until he noticed the twitch. His eyes did travel, but he slowly and gingerly brought his hand to the back of his now-healed head. There weren’t any bumps there now, and it seemed fully healed. That was dismissed for the time being. “Angor?” Tiberius asked, after visibly steeling himself. The use of magic, and wand work -- especially when he knew Camilla was bound to be an Auror -- still interested him, but he didn’t particularly want to discuss the fighting so soon after the fact. But at the same time, there were still things he wanted to know. Camilla closed her eyes again, wondering if she should tell Tiberius about what she had done. On one hand, she sort of wanted to get it off of her chest, and see what other people thought of what she had done -- if it was really that bad, but on the other hand, she didn’t really want to be judged, especially after how Delmi had reacted. He had been reluctant enough to talk about the Killing Curse, which at least served a practical purposes. “No, not Angor,” she replied as she lifted the back of her hand to push some blonde hairs off of her forehead. “I didn’t get a chance to do that... They just kept coming, and there were these odd things bumping spells all over the place. You couldn’t be sure who your spells were going to hit.” That had been frustrating, and she’d have liked to give whoever had thought of it a piece of her mind. “Did you?” Recalling the suggested traps at the meeting and seeing some of them, Tiberius had nodded sympathetically. "Angor?" he repeated, his brow furrowing. His hand moved from his head to briefly scratch his ear before he lowered it to his side. "No, not that one. I, erm, disarmed them..." and had intended to Stun them as well for good measure, but that didn't quite work out. "There was a giant boulder." His mouth twisted to one side as he wondered whether he should inform someone that some of these really need to be more discriminate. Tiberius’s attention had drifted to Camilla’s pillow. "Do you want your comb?" “If there’s a brush around here somewhere, that would be nice, yes,” Camilla said briskly. She didn’t really want to think what the state of her hair was. It wasn’t something she’d thought about since before the battle, and that and sleeping on it certainly wouldn’t have done it any favours. Somehow she doubted that any of the Healers’ priority would have been combing their patients’ hair, but Camilla couldn’t abide by her hair being a mess. Plus, it was probably contributing to her look of general unwell. Clearing her throat, she added, “Whoever thought of these traps wasn’t thinking about how easily they could backfire. It’s a miracle Delmi and I came out of those bumper things without much by the way of friendly fire.” “I shall get you your comb,” Tiberius replied dismissively, though he glanced around as he tried to think of someone would share a barracks with Camilla but wasn’t currently in the hospital or dead. There was so much shuffling around, he could probably just ask a female whose division he wasn’t certain of, and ask her to get the comb. He would also have to see what was being done about Arsenius’s things. Tiberius blinked hard and tried to remember the rest of Camilla’s words. While looking to Camilla again, he filed away the fact that he should speak with Delmi at some point. “Why--?” He cut himself off. “Did they help you at all?” However, he couldn’t refrain from asking, “Why were you with Delmi?” The tone was polite, though he couldn’t keep himself from sounding curious and bemused. But there was an optimistic note -- maybe she made new friends. Of course Camilla hadn’t made friends with Delmi. In fact, quite the opposite. She didn’t dislike the girl, but she did dislike the feeling that she was being judged. Plus, with the exception of Bilius, she didn’t really like Gryffindors, and she frequently told him that she only liked him because she had to. (Whether that was true or not was a point of debate.) “One of the officers told us to pair up,” she said with a shrug, which hurt the burn on her shoulder, and she winced slightly. “You haven’t spoken to her, have you?” she asked, narrowing her eyes shrewdly. Maybe he already knew and just wasn’t saying anything. Maybe all the camp knew, and the officers were just waiting for her to get better before they arrested her for war crimes or something like that. The thought made her heart-rate increase slightly, because despite her penchant for plotting, planning, and trickery, she couldn’t think of a way of getting out of the consequences of something she had done, actually, with a witness to tell everyone. Maybe it was the tiredness, or that he felt comfortable around Camilla, but Tiberius looked taken aback by the question, or how it seemed to be asked. On another day, and if it had been asked somewhat differently, he would’ve said that, yes, he had spoken with Delmi, and that she had told everyone in camp about how she was amazing and had single-handedly saved Camilla from those nasty Austrians while Camilla was out-dueled and floundered helplessly and hopelessly. As it was, Tiberius just sat down on the edge of Camilla’s hospital bed, facing her. His eyebrows seemed to meet the tips of his hair hanging over his forehead. “No. Why?” he asked while still looking bemused. Camilla raised her arm and dug the heels of her hands into her eyes. She didn’t know whether or not she should tell Tiberius what she had done, whether he would be upset, whether it was even that bad. After all, her feeble attempt at a Cruciatus Curse hadn’t worked, had it? “I’d tell you what happened,” she said slowly, “But you would think badly of me for it.” She wished that she hadn’t done it. It hadn’t gained her anything and it had made her world morally confused, which she didn’t like. Normally, she would believe that the ends justified the means, but with no desirable ends, she just couldn’t. “I mean, this is war, isn’t it? Everyone does awful things in war.” Tiberius stilled, if only for a brief moment. Despite wanting to ask what exactly she did, like they were back in school again, he nodded reluctantly. Most people’s concerns could just easily be brushed off; he knew Camilla didn’t have the most upstanding morals, but he didn’t think she was some horrible person. For a reaction like this, it must have been crossing some sort of line, even if there was the possibility that she was being melodramatic as people tend to do. “I don’t think I would think badly of you,” Tiberius began. His sentences were slowed, but when he spoke them, they had already been carefully formed in his head. “Yes, people do awful things in war and we were in a bad situation.” If they had known about reinforcements, or that they had to hold out for only about an hour before the fighting stopped, maybe things would’ve proceeded differently. Hindsight and all that. “I want to know, but you don’t have to tell me.” Lowering her arms, Camilla show Tiberius a took that said that she didn’t really believe that he wouldn’t think badly of her for it. However, then she relaxed and flopped her hands down onto the bed. She was tired, she was confused, and didn’t know if she wanted to go home or to stay in Switzerland, where she didn’t have to confront all of the problems that her family consisted of. She would be glad to get away from all of the people she had gone to school with, to move on to a life where she picked and chose which one of them she associated with. “I tried to use the Cruciatus Curse,” she said flatly. “The Austrians used it first. I suppose my temper got the better of me. It didn’t work, anyway.” Taking a page out of Ishmael’s book, she deliberately avoided eye contact, looking somewhere in the vacinity of Tiberius’s eyebrows. Unhelpfully, Tiberius’s eyebrows lowered and drew together as his brow furrowed. “All right,” he said immediately and calmly. But then he remained silent as he went through her words, their order, and any hidden meaning. To Tiberius, it had always been wrong to do, and while casting it said something about Camilla’s character, her failure to do so should mean something as well. Maybe he was grasping at straws. He didn’t like it, but he nodded jerkily. He had been avoiding eye contact as well, staring at a spot on the pillow beside Camilla. “All right,” he repeated in the same tone, his eyes going to her face for a second. She had known that he wouldn’t take it well, and that she probably shouldn’t have told him. But she couldn’t take back what she had said, but there it was. She didn’t like it much either, truth be told, but she couldn’t take that back, either, so she just had to deal with it. She would get over feeling bad about it soon enough, and people would forget. Aurors were trained in the Unforgivables, after all. It would hardly be the last time that she had to cast that spell, even if she wouldn’t actually be authorised to use it. Besides, maybe those rules would do her a bit of good in controlling her temper in the future. “Just don’t tell anyone. I don’t need Gryffindors telling me I’m a monster,” she said. She knew she wasn’t a monster, but try telling them that. She had made a bad choice, and nothing that bad had even come of it. It was not worth getting worked up over. “I’m not--” A corner of Tiberius’s mouth tightened after he cut himself off. “You aren’t a monster,” he said flatly, almost dismissively as if that were absurd. He still had reservations, but he wouldn’t voice them. Also, he remained sitting on the bed and hadn’t moved; it wasn’t as if he’d recoiled and was leaning back. When he was encouraging Camilla to ask Professor Viridian about the Killing Curse, he had meant it to be somewhat of a joke. A part of him knew she was serious, but he had put it out of the way. His eyes lowered and he flicked at a piece of lint on the hospital sheets. “How long will it be until you’re better?” Camilla knew she wasn’t a monster, so she chose not to acknowledge this whole issue any further. It was clear that Tiberius wanted to move on to other topics of conversation, and that wasn’t something she was about to object to. As for his question, she didn’t really know the answer. She wanted to leave now, but she wasn’t sure what the consequences of trying to get out of bed unaided would be, so it seemed like it would be a while. Nevertheless, she was feeling cagey in the hospital and could understand why Tiberius had been so anxious to get out of here weeks ago. “I don’t know. Apparently I have organ damage. So it’ll be too long, if you ask me,” she told him, moving so that she was laying down further on the bed. At least she probably wasn’t missing anything too exciting. “Did you see the end of Grindelwald and Dumbledore’s duel? Was it amazing?” She was sorry to have missed it -- it wasn’t like a few more minutes would have made things any worse than they already were. “Yes, yes, it was,” Tiberius replied, still mildly distracted. He, on the other hand, regretted staying for so long. Of course, it was amazing and he’d never forget it, and under normal circumstances -- the spells, the wand work, the form, the foot movement, the subtleties and the battle of wills -- he would’ve probably asked both of them what they did and to do it again, and perhaps teach him. But maybe he could’ve spent some more time with some of his friends, or something. When he looked back at Camilla, there was surprise on his face that she seemed to have moved. He was uncertain whether he should move the pillows, though his eyes kept looking from her to them. Undecided, Tiberius just squeezed his eyes shut briefly, and said, “Stunning spell.” “Well, that’s rather anti-climactic,” Camilla said, sounding somewhat put out. Stunning Spell. Dumbledore at least could have made it some fancy sort of freezing spell, but just a regular Stunner? It was kind of disappointing, for an end to the battle of the century. From under her blankets, she nudged Tiberius with her foot and said, “I’m tired. And I am sure that a hoard of my raving admirers will be here soon and I’m only allowed two visitors at a time, you know.” Truth be told, she was tired, particularly of talking. It was actually a lot more work than she had ever realised before, requiring a lot of parts of her body that had been damaged. And it wouldn’t be very long before a Healer came in, squawking that she needed her rest. Perhaps that was kind of good that she nudged him, since Tiberius had stared at Camilla in disbelief and lifted his hands, about to animatedly -- though possibly slowly and while gritting his teeth -- talk about the intricacies, the movements, and how Grindelwald positively flew. It would be Tiberius’s versions of events. But he lowered his hands to his side and stood. “I wouldn’t want to disappoint them, as tempting as it may be,” he said mildly, trying for another smile. It wavered. “I’ll get you your comb. Your journal?” “That’d be nice,” Camilla responded. “Comb and journal. At least both should entertain me.” The journal would be entertaining for obvious reasons, the comb because she was fairly certain it would take a whole day to detangle her hair, considering how messy it must have been, and how long it was. “And it would be nice if you came back with a defence plan.” She smirked -- yes, she was teasing him, but part of her wondered if she didn’t have a point. “War’s over,” was Tiberius’s response. Blase, considering that his friend was dead and he had many more friends currently in the hospital. After scrutinizing her face and the parts of her hair that was visible, he slowly extended his hand towards her hair. There was a smile on his face as he pretended that he was going to ruffle it some more. He snatched it back before he got too close and let out a wince. “I’ll drop them off shortly.” As he headed towards the exit, his shoulders seemed to droop. |