Log: Angelina and Roger Who: Roger & Angelina When: Jan. 9-10 Monday Evening, after Roger goes in to get Registered; Tuesday Morning (Forward dated because I may not be around tomorrow) Where: Angelina’s Houseboat What: Ranting, Questions, Celebrations, and ectect Rating: PG-13 for language Open/Closed: Closed Notes: To be finished in comments
Roger knew that going had probably not been his smartest move. When so many of his friends were saying no, no, no, he should definitely should have maybe waited a week or so, tested the waters, and maybe seen what happened to other people who went in first.
That, however, was the sticking point, for Roger. He couldn’t quite allow himself to sit back and let something bad maybe happen to other people to save his own hide. He wasn’t a Gryffindor, but he wasn’t a coward, either. Sit back and wait and see had never been a favorite strategy of his.
In the end, it had turned out to be, well, sort of ridiculous. They’d greeted him, been almost frighteningly friendly, and assured him with the sort of fake sincerity he knew to be the worst acting in the world that he had nothing to worry about because an extensive genealogical search of his family records showed that he had at least two well known wizards only a few generations back, and they were so happy to have cleared up the misunderstanding for him.
He left the Ministry that afternoon, with a shiny new family record with an official Ministry seal in his hand, and feeling as if he’d been patted on the head, given a lolly and sent on his way, and all the while, expected to not see the fire for all the smoke that had been blown up his arse.
Still, he couldn’t help but be relieved. He’d seen more then one wizard or witch dragged away from the chambers crying and protesting, and no one seemed to be asking what was happening to them afterwards, and Roger honestly didn’t know what he could do about it, not all by himself. What he did know was that the whole thing made him angry. What was worse, it made him curious. There was something going on. Something very big. Cho had hinted at it. So had Ange, and come to think of it, there was the whole thing with Lee, and several other comments his friends had made. It was like there was an entire conspiracy going on, just out of the corner of his eye, and it kept flitting out of his sight every time he turned to look at it directly. It was maddening.
Now, though, was the time to celebrate. There wasn’t anyone he wanted to celebrate with more then one Angelina Johnson, actually. So he apparated near the dock she was moored at, and made his way to the rather brilliant houseboat he’d been spending so much time at recently, rang the rather loud ship’s bell as he climbed on aboard the deck. “Admiral on board,” he sang out.
To say that Angelina was worried would be a massive understatement. She’d been anxious for a couple of days and even thinking about Toad and Verity’s engagement (which was happy news) did little to make her feel better. She was shagging a moron, and said moron was making her upset and emotional.
This was simply unacceptable.
She honestly had no idea if what she’d said had actually gotten through his monstrously thick skull or not. So she’d woken up in a crabby mood, went to practice, and in her crabby mood played a tad sloppily, which did not help said mood. So she was sitting on her couch, angrily flipping through Quidditch Monthly. “What are you so sodding happy about?”
“Well, mostly I am sodding happy to see your lovely face,” he said, stepping in and swooping down to brush a kiss across her nose, and then hand her a very lovely bouquet of roses, which meant, more then likely, he’d done something very very bad. “I am also, evidently, very happy to announce that I somehow, despite having Muggleborn relatives twenty and some odd generations back, to my previous knowledge, have suddenly acquired not one, but two wizards in my family tree that I was completely unaware of but which the Ministry has kindly corrected my ancestry to properly reflect,” he said, brandishing the scroll at her, with a wry grimace.
While she did reach out for the bouquet, she gave him the stink eye, which just got stinkier and stinkier as he spoke to her. He’d done it. Her words hadn’t, in fact, penetrated that rock on his neck that he called a head. She was going to strangle him. This entire thing could have gone so badly. He could be missing right now.
That bloody idiot.
The bouquet of flowers were suddenly a weapon and crashed against his shoulder causing petals to litter to her floor. “I can’t believe you actually went down there!” She punctuated random words with hits of the bouquet. “Do you have any idea what could have happen you bloody moron? What is wrong with you?!”
That reaction... wasn’t entirely unexpected, if he was to be honest. He couldn’t help but laugh, which probably didn’t help his case any and he tried to catch her wrists with his hands, flailing a bit as she beat him over the head and shoulders with the roses. He was doubly thankful he’d got the sort that had the thorns stripped off or he’d be in a lot more pain at the moment. “Ange, Ange, light of life, will you just... stop.... hitting.... me,” he grunted, finally getting a hold of her arms so she couldn’t hit him again. He leaned in and kissed her then, hard and quick and not lacking at all in the skill department, despite her constant ribbing. It would, hopefully, give him enough time to start explaining before she started hexing him.
“Ange... listen to me, okay? You were right, alright? I listened to you, I did, and I believed you, but Ange, I couldn’t very well just sit by and let other people march in there like lambs, could I? What kind of bloody coward would I be then, hmm? All the double talk and the rumors and the nonsense in the journals, it’s like there’s an entire other conversation going on around me and I don’t know what it is. I had to know, alright? I needed to know, and I know that being curious about this is probably incredibly stupid, but no one is telling me anything, Ange, how the hell else would I figure it out?!?”
No, she would not stop hitting him. He was just so bloody moronic. He was lucky that her wand was on the table and that the flowers were the things closest to her at that moment. But he was a bit stronger than her just by virtue that he was a bit bigger. She could be scrappy if she needed to be, and probably could have gotten out, but part of her was rather relieved that he’d gotten out of there alive so when he kissed her she stopped fighting momentarily and let it happen and participated.
When it was over however she wrenched her wrists from his grasp and gave him a shove (albeit a half hearted one).
“You could have bloody well not be here right now, you know!” She sounded far more concerned than angry now, but there was still a tad bit of anger. Anger at all of this. This situation. The world they lived in, and now she felt guilty on top of it.
“But I am here, and I’m fine, and I’m officially sanctioned from the Ministry like I’m some bloody pet whom they had to falsify the pedigree for, Ange.” He shook the scroll at her again and then tossed it to the side disdainfully. “They all smiled and cooed and mouthed platitudes at me and the entire time, it was like I could hear snakes hissing in the background. I watched them lead mothers out of there crying and begging and no one dared ask where they were being taken to. I didn’t dare ask, Ange. What the fuck is going on around here?!? I don’t have a wizard in my family, I know it, but now I do?” He abruptly sat down, as if all the air had gone out of him, looking haggard and worried. “The whole time, I just kept thinking, if I get myself carted off, Ange will be right, and she’ll come visit me just to kill me,” he said, in a low voice. “All I could think when I got out was I had to come see you. Even if you kill me anyways,” he said, reaching for her with one hand, a mute appeal on his face. He needed to... touch her. Hold her. Make sure he had really gotten out of there intact.
Alright.... so make that gnawing guilt. And it really wasn’t fair. But he was just so earnest and well shit... It was equally unfair that her anger resolve was crumbling so easily. “Curiosity killed the bloody cat you know.” She said in half hearted argument not really feeling the energy to argue with him anymore.
When he reached for her she plopped down on her couch next to him. “Don’t do anything that stupid again.” She said before taking a deep breath to try to reach some sort of emotional equilibrium.
“We need booze.” She said suddenly.
“It did, but luckily, I’m a ‘Claw, not a cat, so I can fly out of trouble,” he said, but his usual glib humor was missing from the joke and it fell flat. Instead, he drew an arm around her when she sat down, and pressed his face against her shoulder for a moment, just breathing in and out for a few, quiet breaths. “I won’t,” he promised, sincere and utterly serious for the moment.
When he lifted his head though, he smilled at her, his usual mischief creeping back a little. “I have you to look after me, after all. And there should still be some unless you drank up the entire store since I left before the weekend?”
Good. Change in topic worked. At least for now, but all this entire thing has done is show her just how completely ill informed some muggleborns still were, and these were the people that needed to be listening to Lee on the radio and needed to be careful. She’d have to make sure he got that information.
She stood up. “Luckily, I don’t drink alone. Verity and I went through some the other night, but there should still be quite a bit.”
She went to the kitchen and returned quickly pouring them both a glass. “To you, still having a head.”
“A toast to which I will most heartily say ‘Hear Hear’,” he said, taking the glass from her and taking it down in almost one swallow. It had seemed very brave and noble and the ‘right thing to do’ when he’d walked in there that afternoon, but before it’d been half done, he knew he’d been an idiot. If there’d been any possible way to walk out, he would have, but it was too late then and he was in over his head. He was damned lucky Ange’s more dire predictions hadn’t come true. He should have listened to his friends. He poured himself another. “To having friends smarter then I am, who I should listen to more often!”
She smiled cheekily but felt only a tad better. “Well, thanks for admitting I’m smarter.” She swallowed her own drink and bit her lip for a second before shaking herself from her thoughts. The important thing was that he was currently alright. At least for now. They’d have to work out something later maybe.
She just couldn’t really figure out why it made her feel so bad. She was good person who’d feel for anyone in this situation, but he was driving her crazy. Completely mental. She just liked that he was around a lot and kind of wanted him to stick around, and he’d almost died. She couldn’t bear the thought. She grabbed the bottle she brought with her and poured herself another silently, she bit her lip again, and then finally broke the silence. “I think I’m in love with you or something ridiculous like that.” She said downing what she poured in a giant gulp.
“There are some things I am still smart about though. I mean, obviously, I have brilliant taste in women. And friends. Except for Lee. He’s a wanker.” He grinned at her and went to take another drink of the alcohol in his glass when she blurted out her next confession and he almost choked on it, catching himself at the last minute and turning wide, surprised eyes on her.
He swallowed, hard. Once, then twice, and then slowly, as if afraid to do so, blinked at her. “Well,” he said, a bit shakily, as he slowly began to grin a wide, delighted sort of smile. “That is one hell of a relief, considering I’ve been in love with you for weeks now and wasn’t quite sure how to tell you.”
Or something ridiculous like that. Why didn’t he concentrate on the important part of that statement? So instead she poured herself another. In the back of her mind she realized drinking these in quick succession may be a bad idea, but she was kind of at a loss as to where this conversation should now go.
“What now then?” She said not making a crack about his lack of listening comprehension.
“So, now,” he said, shifting and tugging her closer to him, trying to do what he could to get a lapful of very beautiful woman, “We celebrate the fact that I am alive despite my being an idiot, and we make this the very best day ever with some celebratory drinking, snogging, and if I’m very, very lucky, shagging, and then we worry about the rest tomorrow,” Roger said decisively.
Yes, put it off until tomorrow. This was the best thing ever to procrastinate on. After all she figured conversations about feelings might just give her hives. So she willingly let him tug her close and settled in. “Hmmm... Well, I’m not entirely sure about that plan. I may still be a little peeved off at you.” Though there wasn’t a single bit of malice in her words. She was just kind of happy to feel him beside her alive.
Roger laughed and set his glass aside but nearby and slid his hands over her hips as she settled against him, and then leaned up and kissed her again. He was going to do his damndest to make sure she forgot she was peeved at him, at least. The rest could wait for when his hands didn’t feel like shaking from what an idiotic close call he’d had this afternoon. When he stopped kissing her long enough to breathe, he chuckled softly. “What can I do to make it up to you then? Name it.”
After the kiss she grabbed the bottle from the table forgoing any pretense of manners and took a long swig from the bottle before laughing. She pointed the bottle to him to see if he wanted any. “I’m sure I can think of something.”
When Angelina woke the next morning her brain flipped through quite a few different thoughts. First was the awareness of the slight headache. Then came the chanting of ‘sleep’ in her head. She really wasn’t ready to get up. She snuggled further into her own pillow and pulled the blanket up over her head. When that didn’t work she figured she may as well get up. After all, today had to be better than yesterday.
Shit yesterday! That’s when she sat up suddenly. Oh Merlin, she hoped all that was a fucked up dream.
The arm that slid around her middle and pulled her back up against the rather long lean frame of one Mr. Roger Davies said that at least part of whatever it was she’d dreamt had been real. The same hand had a shiny, brand new gold band around the ring finger where last night it had been bare.
Roger nuzzled against the back of her neck when she first stirred, still more then half asleep and not entirely pleased when she sat up and let in the cold air, and he grumbled under his breath. “Too early to wake up. ‘o back to sleep,” he murmured.
She tossed the arm around her side off of her as if it was toxic, and she looked at it as if it would give her cancer.
No.
Oh hell no.
No.
“Get the hell up.” She said suddenly sounding a little strained. “Oh sweet Merlin. Get the hell up. Now.” And now she was out of bed as if a rodent had been in there Although really she didn’t have much cause to be too angry. She remembered last night. She hadn’t been that far gone.
Roger blinked blearily at her, because her voice was, well, a little loud and his head was pounding quite a bit and he groaned, because an unhappy Ange this early in the morning was not the best way to start his day. “Is the boat on fire, or something?” he asked, sitting up and running his hand through his hair, ending up looking more rumpled then awake. “I was asleep, I can’t have possibly dont anything stupid while I was asleep, could I have?”
“Look at your hand, you berk!” She said loudly bordering on hysteria. She reached for a large t-shirt on her floor that she’d slept in the previous night and pulled it over her head with such force that she heard a thread snap somewhere. “What did we do?!”