WHO: Patricia Stimpson and Roger Davies WHAT: Roger to the rescue! WHEN: Today, post dementors. WHERE: Patricia’s flat. WARNINGS: Panic attacks.
Seriously, Dementors! Patricia wasn’t an idiot and knew Dementors were around, there had been incidents reported she just never thought it would happen to her. Patricia was an anxious mess as she sat in her flat on the floor, having scattered the festival as the Dementors had arrived, barely apparating home for that matter. She had been pacing her kitchen as she had sent out distressed word to her friends, hoping they were okay and her general panic of what the hell was that. They could have died!
Her spiral of panic had moved passed nervous pacing to all out doom that was too heavy to bare which was why she had plopped onto the floor trying to control her breath. Roger said he was on his way and that was at least keeping her semi-calm, for now. She felt awful to boot, she had never felt such depression.
Patricia just laid down with her arms flopped either side of her and her eyes looking up at her ceiling. Was it spinning?
Roger had checked on all his people, but was missing one in his head count. None too surprisingly, it was Patricia. Having checked both the Three Broomsticks and the WWN offices, he Apparated into her flat with a soft pop.
“Patricia?”
“Ugh,” she made a sound from her floor. “The world is ending.” She remained on the floor and flailed her arms as if to direct attention to her location. “Dementors came and I feel awful and I am freaking out because we could have DIED, Roger.” The words were not helpful because they set her off breathing quickly, which soon turned to her coughing and spluttering. Her first reaction to this was to panic more followed by bolting up to the sitting position.
“Hey.” He crouched down next to her, rubbing her arm reassuringly. “This is what Dementors do. They suck all the happiness out of us, you know?” Yes, they could have… worse than died, but he was trying not to think of that at the moment. Sliding an arm beneath her back, he helped her into a sitting position, which at least should improve her breathing. He accioed over a box of tissues, transfiguring one into a paper bag and passed it to her.
“Just breathe into this and then I’ve got some chocolate in my pocket with your name on it. Well, not literally with your name on it, but you know.”
Patricia nodded her head, feeling better with someone around for support. She at least didn’t faint, that was something right? She took the paper bag from Roger and started breathing into it. Focusing in on her breath was helping her calm though she still felt like her heart was racing and her body was on edge.
Her breathing began to slow to a more normal rhythm and she looked over at Roger with the bag still against her face. “Thank you,” she said muffled and finally lowered the bag. “Thanks,” she said unmuffled. “How am I going to make it through this, dementors on the loose, Death Eaters, Muggle-borns being tracked, the magical world is going crazy.” Patricia felt herself getting worked up against and put the bag back up to her mouth. Dementors and Death Eaters and Snatchers, oh my. It was a little like some unholy trinity. Roger patted her shoulder and considered his words.
“Sometimes it’s best just to focus on one thing, you know?” he suggested. “Looking at the big picture can be a little daunting. And working for a radio station, you don’t really get a break from things the same way. I can get up on my broom for a few hours and tune it all out.” Well, apart from the notable absence of Croppers at practices, but there were moments when he could almost manage it.
Patricia considered his words, pausing mid breath the bag crunched in on and inhale. She finally breathed out pulling the bag away. “Yeah, you’re right,” she said sounding a little woeful. “It is just hard.” Patricia tried to focus on the good things but it didn’t always work and it just seemed impossible right now. A logical person might think after affects of the Dementors but Patricia just thought she was pathetic and it made her more anxious. “I like my job, normally.” Which was true, but Roger was right it didn’t exactly give her an opportunity to clear her head of it all. “Everything sucks,” she said a little dejected.
“Everything mostly sucks,” Roger amended. Seeing that Patricia seemed to be breathing more steadily now, he finally reached into his pocket and produced the promised chocolate. “This has got green tea infused in it, so it’s like double the antioxidants. It doesn’t suck.”
A smile finally made it to her face, “No, you’re right. Chocolate doesn’t suck.” She took the chocolate from him. “Thanks,” she paused for a moment. “And I guess you don’t suck either.”
“No. I’m perfect.” A wink to show that he was (somewhat) in jest. Patricia took a mouthful of the chocolate and in spite of the fact that he, veteran of many older sister and teammate meltdowns, had been doing pretty good at the whole ‘calm and reassuring’ thing, a brief look of visible relief crossed his face. The chocolate would kick in immediately. “And G16 doesn’t suck. Oliver’s all right too, I suppose. It’s not his fault that his abs aren’t quite as good as mine.”
The chocolate did make her feel better, less doom and gloom. It didn’t hurt that Roger managed to bring out a bit of a laugh. “I’ll agree G16 doesn’t suck and Oliver’s grand. Though abs are still up for debate until this so called calendar because you aren’t supplying the evidence.” Patricia chuckled before taking another mouthful of chocolate. Okay, yes she was feeling much calmer. Less like the world was just going to cave in on her.
“It’s all for a good cause,” Roger quipped, rising to his feet and extending a hand to her. She seemed better, but it didn’t seem right to leave her alone when she’d been so upset, just a few moments ago. “Want to go for a walk? There’s got to be some decent coffee places nearby.”
“I know it is, don’t worry I’ll still buy one.” Patricia took his hand and got up to her feet. “Walk yes, coffee maybe if it is decaf.” She didn’t think it was wise for her to add too much caffeine into the mix. “I think the walk will do me good.” Though she was starting to worry that something might happen if she went back outside again, but that was no way to live.
“Yeah, think I’ll make it decaf too, otherwise I’ll be bouncing off the walls,” he concurred. “And don’t worry. You’ve got a big brawny Quidditch player to protect you.” He flexed his left arm theatrically. “And I have Angelina’s number, so on the off chance that something happens, I can hext her and she’ll protect us both.”
She smiled, that did make her feel better. “Alright promise not to worry,” she nodded her head. “I mean Angelina can definitely protect us both, so I have nothing to worry about.” Patricia started towards the door of her flat. “Thanks, again.”
“Anytime.” He smiled down at her, clapping a hand on her shoulder and reaching for the door. “Who knew that so many of our friends could cast Patronuses, eh? I say we bother them for some private lessons afterwards.”
“Uh yeah,” she nodded her head. “Like when did they learn that? Did we like sleep through a class?” She looked back at Roger as he opened the door before walking through. “Cause, I kind of recall Defence class being kind of useless in seventh year.” Damn Umbridge, Patricia thought.
“The Patronus Charm is beyond NEWT level, so probably not.” He shut the door behind them. At least it was sunny out. “Maybe Lupin taught it to Oliver? Although he’s never said aught to us. Probably his is a pygmy puff or something.” He glanced around the street. “Anyhow. Lead the way to coffee.”