layla 'double betrayla' fairbourne (boundless) wrote in disorderic, @ 2018-06-02 11:24:00 |
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Entry tags: | layla fairbourne, percy weasley |
WHO: Layla Fairbourne & Percy Weasley.
WHAT: Percy’s got news from the battlefront.
WHEN: Backdated to some nebulous time within 48 hours of the BoH.
WHERE: The Savage Murderhouse
Burns still freshly pink and shiny with ointment, Percy finally took a shift away from the hospital to sleep and shower. Within that space of time, however, he knew that they also owed it to Layla to inform her of the news. Perhaps some part of it would be obvious from her Dark Mark, but the situation and the particulars ought to be shared. So, if nothing else, Layla could prepare herself too. He knocked on the door to announce his intention to enter and with three more books under his arm, slid through the door and sat them on the kitchen table. “Hey Layla?” he called. What Layla could only presume was the ending of Lord Voldemort was rough. She’d found out precisely what happened if one ignored one of his summons. The waking nightmares of memories of her brother playing over and over had gone on for what felt like hours. “Hey,” she greeted, throat and voice still hoarse from the screaming and (likely) sobbing she’d been doing during that time. But what had felt like the world was ending even more turned out to be something completely different when her arm had gone ice cold, the tissue around the mark scarred and stopped moving. The connection was gone, and that must have meant — But she was tired, too, just as Percy looked. She learned against the table without sitting down. “I admit I’m a little hungry for news as to how this—” she pulled up the sleeve of her shirt to show her scarred forearm “— came about. I assume it’s… over?” The last worst seemed almost hesitant, as if that might have been too much to wish for. Percy’s mind flooded with a thousand questions. And, in the midst of it, he longed to stride forward and fling his arms round her shoulders to offer (and take) what comfort he could. He nodded. “We finished it, He’s dead. Potter managed it after all.” A pause. “Can I sit?” “Thank Merlin,” Layla said, breathing a sigh of relief nonetheless even if that’s what she’d assumed happened. “Yeah, of course.” She backed away from the chair she was leaning on, and kicked it out some with her foot. She had too much nervous energy bubbling under the surface to sit herself, it seemed. “How is… well, everyone?” Letting himself fall into the chair he kept his gaze trained on Layla. “Casualties on both sides, though the Death Eaters saw more. Fred’s unconscious and my dad lost his foot.” Percy pushed a lock of hair from his forehead. “Graham Montague’s unconscious, too. We found them at the same time.” He opened his notebook, scrolling down a list of the dead. “Gerald Avery, Yaxley, Ignatius and Thea Travers, Clement Max - all confirmed. We can’t find Dante Avery or Victoria Mulciber.” “Merlin,” Layla said softly, leaning heavier on the table as Percy listed the injuries to his family. “Are they — what’s the diagnosis like?” There was unconscious and doomed, and there was healing, at least in Layla’s mind, and she doubted Percy would be here if Fred wasn’t likely to recover. “They’ll be alright, you know they’re really strong.” But then Percy kept going about Death Eaters,, and Layla actually rolled her eyes. “I don’t care about —” She stopped. She definitely didn’t care about Montague, or Avery, or Yaxley or Ignatius Travers, but Thea brought her up short, shut her up entirely save for an “Oh” and a flicker across her facial features. To cover that, she pressed on with, “I’m sorry your family got hurt, again, in all of this.” And she did care, she just also cared about Thea Travers, dead Death Eater. “They’ll be fine,” he agreed, knowing that he could trust his family. Fred, Arthur, Lee … they would survive because they had to. He was thinking of providing more information before he noticed her visibly deflate at the mention of Thea Travers. He waved her last comment away with a quick strike of his hand. “Hey. What is it?” “I should have fought harder,” she admitted slowly, dancing around the biggest issue in the room. She really didn’t want to lament right now, not in front of Percy with his family in the hospital because of Death Eaters, which is what she and Thea were at the end of the day. “She wasn’t a Death Eater when we were together or when I was exposed, even. And I didn’t fight her hard enough to talk her out of it.” She deflated further. “I didn’t really try, I didn’t want to tell her how to live her life and I should have.” That hung in the air longer. “And I liked her. I could say what I really felt around her and she didn’t judge me, and that was so important. Like how you and Oliver and Katie listened, too.” She scratched the back of an ankle with a toe for lack of a better thing to do. “I really don’t want to load more onto you, it’s nothing that you need to take on, ever.” “ … you lost somebody, though.” And the somebody had tried to kill (actively) other people he loved. He wasn’t sorry that Thea Travers was dead. He was sorry she was ever a Death Eater. That was the only way he could empathize with this very complex situation at all. “I think the moral here is really that we have to be better to one another. And that’s so easy to say, right? But it’s all about being just.” Layla would have to experience that justice soon. He didn’t really want to mention it to her but he felt like it was coming up before long. “I’ll always listen.” He paused. “How’s your writing coming along?” “I did, but,” she gestured again, waving it off. They both knew what the issue was here, and there was no sense in her mind having this conversation now. Maybe in the future, maybe when things were better and Percy’s family was healed and all was well. Because it could be well now, right? With a little work? Not from her, mind you, there was only one ‘office’ she was going to have. “I know you will, but let’s just… save that for later, when there’s not people still in the hospital.” She wanted to ask about Francine’s poor mum, too, but she didn’t. “There’s several chapters if you want them now.” “I would, that,” he said eventually. It was odd, seeing this thing between them. This victory that had been hard in birthing and still hard in coming round fully. The truth was Percy didn’t know if winning was the right word for any of them. Maybe they’d deserve the word in ten years when they weren’t chasing another war. “We should talk about publishing.” He paused. “I think I’m going to work on a memoir, too.” What was winning, anyway? For Layla all she had to look forward to was prison, but she’d take the knowledge that the people she’d cared about had survived and now the Dark Lord was gone and dead. It was confusing, convoluted, and hard to process. “Well, I’ll give you what I have and you can decide whatever. This is your area of expertise after all.” She ran a hand through her hair and began to pace around again, the nervous energy building further. “People will want to read that. The inside story, and what you’re doing to correct it.” “ … Layla.” Percy took a breath and leaned forward, fingertips brushing against her hand. “Let’s look at it. We can enter it as evidence against some of the captured Death Eaters, certainly. But keep writing. Build the case for Liam’s Law. “ He took a deep breath. “Keep writing,” was the refrain. It wouldn’t get her out of prison. But it might free her in other ways. There was no getting out of prison. Layla knew that much, had known that much since well before she’d turned herself over. It wasn’t her intention, either. She did the crimes, she could do the time as the saying went. It wasn’t going to make her look forward to it, but she’d had time to come to terms with it. “I will, I didn’t say I wasn’t going to.” She gave Percy a small smile at that anyway. “We’ll look it over, and of course, I still have information that can help to that anyway.” With that hanging in the air, she nodded at him again. “Thanks for taking the time to come, with everything going on no less.” “I couldn’t leave you hanging,” he said, drawing his hand back and giving her a tight nod. He felt their relationship change in that moment. But it had always been changing, hadn’t it? Ever since they’d discovered one another’s allegiances. “I imagine you’ll be having lots of company soon enough. And if you’re ok with it, I can continue to come see you.” What Layla had done was irreparable. She could try to make amends, but she knew herself that there was no going back to what she had. “Thank you all the same, and… yes, I’m sure. I’m more than alright with that, Percy. Whenever you want to or works for you, or if you need something from me, just ask.” It wasn’t like she was going anywhere. “Okay.” He rose, offering one more nod of his head. He bit his lip briefly, as if he wanted to speak further, then ducked out through the door and took several deep and settling breaths. He felt like his war was only beginning. But for Layla, her war, and life, felt like it was at an end. |