RP: Washed Up When: February 16, 2004 Who: Lavender Brown, Cass Vaisey, Dawlish [NPC] Where: Richard and Lavender's flat, Clink Street Private/Public: Private Rating: All ages? Warning: Language, character deaths Summary: Lavender makes a gruesome discovery.
Possibly Lavender had too much energy at this time of the morning, especially for a Monday morning. Monday mornings were all about the disappointment that this was the longest time possible before the weekend. As it was barely after five o'clock, it was now a very long time before the weekend. This morning, though, there was a definitely bounce in Lavender's step as she cradled her second cup of tea in one hand, wandering around the open space of the flat as she contemplated an outfit for today.
Entering her room, Lavender bopped a little to the tune she had stuck in her head. It had just been there when she'd woken up, and now she couldn't get rid of it. It was going to have to get snuck onto today's playlist, maybe just before the news at nine. Even after standing in front of her wardrobe for five minutes, the only thing Lavender had done was throw her new skinny jeans on her bed. She had debated whether she could wear them and still manage a fry-up from the café across the street from the studios. Best sausages anywhere. Good times.
Just a little exasperated at having too much choice, Lavender dug out a t-shirt from last year's Glastonbury festival and decided on her ugg boots. There. Easy enough for a Monday morning, especially when you worked in radio and hardly anyone actually saw you. Oh, yes - and still time for a cigarette before she had to get dressed. She was smoking a lot less these days and she supposed it helped that she wasn't out at pubs and bars much. With Richard around and his interest in fitness she was starting to pay a bit more attention to her own health.
Lavender drained the last of her tea, depositing the empty cup on the table beside her bed and grabbing the half-empty packet of cigarettes she'd left there. They'd decided on no smoking in the flat, but it was easy enough to work around that when the back doors opened right up onto the Thames.
A cigarette hung from her lips as she unfastened the door, prickling slightly. It was a bit odd, as though there was someone outside, she thought. Rich had all his wards to let him know when people were about but, when it was still enough, it was amazing what her sense of smell could bring up. People smelled and that was a fact of life, something that went beyond perfume or body odour.
Lavender's stomach lurched as she looked down, the cigarette tumbling lightly to the floor.
They were half in the water, half not, completely tangled up with each other. Bound together. Completely dead.
Lavender dropped roughly to her knees, skinning them on the gravel. No, no, no. Bodies didn't just wash up out of the Thames onto their doorstep, this just didn't happen. Lavender grasped roughly at sodden clothing, gasping for breath as she pulled them more firmly to land. The man's head lolled back onto her lap and Lavender found herself staring into a pair of empty blue eyes. So very blue. Eyes that girls had swooned over at Hogwarts. Disbelieving, she touched a cold cheek.
Ask Wood to show you why he walks with a limp some day. He made it through the whole fight without a scratch, then a wall fell on him, almost killed him.
Lavender gasped for breath. Even though she didn't want to, even though she was afraid of what she'd find, she pushed back dirty blonde hair from the woman's face. She swallowed down the bile that threatened to rise up in her throat when she recognised Alicia Spinnet, the gravel pressing harder into Lavender's bleeding knees as she did her best not to throw up.
The numbness that seemed to spread over her suppressed that reflex, though. Feeling like she couldn't stand up, even if she wanted to, Lavender pressed her hands to her mouth. No. She'd just touched them. Bodies. Dead bodies. She probably shouldn't touch her mouth, but what the fuck was she supposed to do with her hands now? She shook her hands, whimpering, as though there was something physical on her skin that she could shake off. Oliver's head was still on her knees.
It hit her suddenly that she was alone, even if the world seemed blindingly huge in the grey morning light. "Rich." A murmur was hardly going to reach him in Hong Kong, though - he'd been gone for business meetings before she'd even risen this morning.
It was a few long moments before Lavender had the nerve to move, gently laying down Oliver's head and her knees stinging as she stood. A couple of minutes later and an owl was headed for the Ministry. Lavender went to her bathroom and washed her hands. Three times. She needed a cigarette. She needed more tea. But all she could do was sit on the sofa, hugging her bleeding knees and watching the two bodies as though they might start moving if she took her eyes off them.