charles longbottom (ecologist) wrote in daysthatwere, @ 2012-11-13 17:46:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | augusta longbottom, charles longbottom |
rp log: charlie & the most badass mum ever.
Who: Charlie & Augusta Longbottom (and a cameo by a sleeping Neville)
When: This is actually ~forward dated~ to December, roughly a month and change after Frank & Alice end up in St Mungo’s
Where: Francis & Augusta’s home
What: Charlie tells his mum about his plans for the near future.
Rating: S for SAD and T for TEARS.
There were still days where Charlie had trouble getting out of bed in the morning, where he had trouble focusing on his job, on anything that wasn’t his brother and his sister-in-law. Even after a month -- the longest month of his life, it seemed -- things didn’t seem any better. More Death Eaters were locked up and on trial, headed for life sentences in Azkaban, but Frank and Alice’s condition hadn’t changed. Charlie couldn’t even bring himself to sit in on any trials. It was too much. Charlie had never considered himself a strong person. That had always been Frank, and it had always been Alice. Charlie didn’t have the fortitude for Auror training. That was why he’d tucked his tail and fled last year, when he thought he might have been putting Mel in danger for being with him. Now, it would have been funny if it hadn’t been so damn sad. It hadn’t been him at all, nor had it been their blood. It’d been Frank and Alice, and it’d been Benjy. And now, he couldn’t even be angry with them. They were all gone. They’d left him and Mel behind, Neville and Hope and their parents and everyone else who’d loved them. He was proud some days, but mostly sad -- sad that they’d sacrificed themselves for their cause, sad that they weren’t around to see the final outcome, sad that they wouldn’t get to see the people they fought so hard for pick up the pieces and make their world better. Charlie wasn’t one of those people. Without Frank and Alice, he felt lost at sea. He couldn’t go to the Ministry without feeling a deep sense of betrayal closing in on him, and he certainly couldn’t help fix anything. That’d been Frank’s job, not his. It’d taken him a few weeks to realise that he couldn’t stay at the Ministry any longer without it eating him up inside. He wasn’t even sure he could stay in the country. The one thing holding him back was Neville. He’d talked to Melissa, who was just as lost and angry as he was. What they needed was a fresh start. They needed to find somewhere new, somewhere quiet, where no one would look at them with pity because they knew they’d lost all their siblings, where no one would tell them how sorry they were for their losses and how much they were hoping things would get better. “Mum?” Charlie peered into the room, looking hesitant. “Can we -- are you busy?” The days since Alice and Frank had been attacked had been the most difficult of Augusta's and Francis' lives. He'd had to come home from New York--he would have had to anyway, for the trials--but now they had a grandson to care for at a time when they should have been contemplating Francis' retirement. While she'd had so many offers of assistance, Augusta found herself unable and unwilling to let her grandson out of her sight for more than few hours at a time. She had done everything she knew to help the victims of Death Eater crimes through SPELL. Never had she thought she'd need the same for herself. At least, she told herself fiercely, she had an intimate practical knowledge of what to do, and what not to do. Charles' visits were a small light in a dark time. She stood up from her sofa, leaving her sleeping grandson where he'd been lying beside her, and came to hug him. "Of course not, Charles. What is it? Come in, sit down, and we'll have some tea." Charlie's smile was weak and tight, but that didn't mean he wasn't happy to see his mother. It was just difficult to bring himself to be happy about anything when his brother was gone. It was difficult to feel happy when he understood what Mel had been going through. It wasn't the same, but Charlie almost thought it was worse, the limbo between life and death that Frank and Alice were stuck in. No one could find any resolution, and they were just blank slates of the people they used to be. "Tea'd be nice, thanks," he said as he pulled away, eyes drifting over to where Neville was. "How's Neville doing?" "He's fine, as well as can be expected." Augusta wondered sometimes how much Neville knew or understood, whether he'd remember anything about Frank and Alice if they never recovered. She couldn't entirely give up hope, but realistically, she had to assume that she and Francis were going to be in loco parentis for Neville until he reached maturity. "Keep an eye on him while I make the tea, please." She went into the kitchen, where she was still able to keep an eye on the boys, and put the kettle on, bustling about as she set out some biscuits and prepared the tray. "How are you, dear? And how is Melissa?" "Sure, okay." As his mother turned towards the kitchen, Charlie turned to the sofa and his sleeping nephew. He sat down slowly, careful not to disturb him. He reached a hand out to brush his fingers over Neville's soft baby hair, feeling the lump in his throat grow larger. It wasn't fair that Neville would have to rely upon everyone else's memories of his parents. The same was true for young Harry Potter, and all of the children who'd lost their parents at the hands of the Death Eaters or the Dark Army. It wasn't fair, and nothing the Ministry could do now would fix that. When his mother came back, he pulled his hand back, retreating into himself some. "We're --" Charlie hesitated, trying to find the right words. "We're getting by. We're trying, anyway. It's… some days are better than others. What about you and Dad? Do you -- do you need any help with Neville?" There was no good answer. The truth was, Augusta needed Frank and Alice, and she could never say to Charles that he was an inadequate substitute for Frank. It wasn't true, and it hadn't been true even when Frank had been himself. She waited until the kettle whistled to answer, settling finally on, "We can always use your help, if you want to come by. But we have things under control. You needn't worry." It took her a few moments to come back round with the tray full of biscuits and the teapot, with a warm bottle for Neville. "Your father's been very busy with the trials, and I have been working with SPELL." Augusta hadn't been able to bring herself to go, not even to Lucius Malfoy's trial to see Narcissa and Walburga and Druella all humbled. Purple Hats was crumbling and even women she'd never thought to see at SPELL were turning up, tails between legs, to support a good cause. Augusta would have given it all up to have Frank and Alice back. "There are a great many still in need. I do not think we will see it all dealt with in my lifetime." Although he knew how busy his parents were, hearing it made him feel guilty. Guilty for not helping more, guilty for not wanting to stay. Charlie didn't know how he could leave when there was still so much to be done here at home, and he didn't know how he'd be able to sleep at night knowing he left Neville behind when Neville had already lost his parents. He didn't know how he could stay, though, when everything felt so wrong. Charlie was quiet, but he nodded to show he'd been listening. He reached for a biscuit to give his hands something to do, something to distract himself with. He tried to take a bite, but he wasn't hungry. "I don't know what I'm doing here anymore, Mum." Charlie's forehead was creased with a deep frown. "I don't know how to help. All I do is -- I feel like I'm just going through work every day in a fog, rushing around so I can get to St Mungo's, and --" The emotion and keen sense of loss was evident in his voice. "Nothing's going to change, is it?" It was a good thing Augusta had already set the tray down when Charles asked her the question, because she might have dropped it. She was silent for a half-second, her mouth working to frame an answer. It came out: "No," and Augusta burst into tears. For as long as Charlie could remember, his mother had been this strong, formidable force in the world around him, so much so that every now and then, he forgot that she was hurting just as much as he was. All of a sudden, she was the one crying and Charlie almost didn't know what to do. It only took another second for him to stand and put his arms around his mother's shoulders. He couldn't tell her that it would be okay, but he could do this one thing for her. He could try to be the strong one for a change. Charlie just wasn't sure how well he'd manage it without his big brother there to look to for guidance. "I love you, Mum," he whispered, not knowing what else to say. Augusta leaned against Charles for a long moment, one arm around him, breath hitching, clearly struggling not to sob. He could feel when she got herself under control: her shivering stopped and two or three calming breaths later, she straightened and raised her tear-stained face to look Charles. She had always been a tall woman--Frank and Charles had both inherited their height from her--but Charles had grown to match her in adolescence and now it seemed that she had shrunk a little. "I love you too, Charles." She wiped the tears from her eyes and moved away to settle on the sofa. Neville hadn't wakened during her brief outburst and she moved to soothe him a little, in case he might be considering. "I don't know," she finally said, "what any of us are meant to do now. Go on, I suppose, day by day. But it will be terribly difficult; they tell me at St Mungo's that it will get easier, but I'm not sure I believe them." She pressed her lips together to keep from saying things she knew better than to say: she envied Callista and Honoria. At least they'd known; they'd buried their sons and had an ending. Augusta and Francis would never have that. With his mother back on the sofa, comforting Neville, Charlie was left standing there alone again. He could see why Frank and Alice had wanted their parents to take care of Neville instead of him; his mother was so much better at it than he ever would be. She knew how to hold herself together. It hurt, briefly, to come to the same conclusion that he knew his brother had, but that wasn't their fault. "I don't think I believe them either," Charlie admitted as he sat down in a nearby chair, resting his arms on his thighs as he leaned forward. "And I don't know how to go on here. I know I should find a way, for you and Dad and Neville, but --" Despite as hard as he and Mel were trying, they were both still so grief-stricken. "But I don't think Mel and I can, not right now. Maybe if Frank and Alice…" Charlie cast his eyes up towards the ceiling, trying to hold himself together. If Frank and Alice were better, things would be different. Augusta shook her head in the negative. With Neville safely back to sleep, she looked up at Charlie, really looked at him. When was the last time he'd slept well, she wondered? Probably before Frank and Alice has been tortured, and possibly longer than that, with things the way they were for Melissa. "Maybe," she said, "but they won't be." There were still tears in her eyes, but Augusta blinked them away. "If you're going to tell me you're leaving, you have my blessing. You're young. You have a chance to start over, and you should, you and Melissa, away from all this. You will always have a home here, if you want it, so long as your father and I are here. But don't let us be a millstone round your neck now. Someone should be happy, and I want it to be you." Somehow, his mother had read his mind, but Charlie wasn't surprised. He smiled again, and although it wasn't as bright as his smiles had been just a few short months before, there was relief in his eyes. He'd been worried that leaving her would saddle him with more guilt than he could handle, but in the end, she'd found a way to wave the guilt off and relieve him of the burden. "Thank you," was about all he could say at first. He was so tired of just barely holding himself together, and he knew Mel was too. They had to find a way to be better; as much as it hurt, he knew that their brothers and Alice would have told them the same thing his mother was. "I've been in touch with some people… Canada, the United States. Australia. But I think we've settled on New Zealand. Mel wants a sheep…" The thought made Charlie laugh and shake his head. It didn't even sound outlandish at all. It sounded just like her. "We're staying through the holidays," he added, "for Neville, and you and Dad, and her parents, but then I think we'll go, in the new year. We need a fresh start, and Neville'll be okay with you, so…" He could feel himself getting choked up again, so he took a moment to settle himself. "So we'll write. All the time. And send pictures. And I'll come back to visit whenever I can." "Of course you will." There was only the slightest quaver in Augusta's voice. "Of course you will, and I'll want owls from you, every week, to read at Sunday dinner to Neville. And photographs to show him. And I'll send the same to you. It will all work out." Her sons were grown, Augusta knew. It was time, finally, to let them both go. She blinked, fiercely, once more, and smiled. "Your father will be home in an hour or so. Will you stay to dinner?" Charlie's smile brightened and he nodded. "Every week, I promise." It was the least he could do when he was leaving his parents behind to tend to their grandson, son and daughter-in-law by themselves. "And yeah, I can stay for dinner. I should tell Dad about all this, anyway, and spend some more time with Neville." He was going to soak up every second he could until they left, and then one day, after he and Mel had found their way again, they'd come home. |