Margaret Shield (sophist) wrote in epiloguesic, @ 2015-05-18 00:00:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log, character: geoff wagtail, character: maren cuffe |
WHO. Geoff & Maren
WHERE. On the street in Hogsmeade.
WHEN. Backdated to the day after the 11/5 attack.
WHAT. Maren is on the run. And Geoff will not be moved.
RATING. PG.
STATUS. Complete.
****
Potion ingredients could be procured through underground methods, food could be grown and cultivated, clothes could be made. But there were elements of life (elements of revolution) that could not be procured from the ground. As much as she could infiltrate the Muggle world, as much as copper wire, motherboards and radios could be obtained, it was the elicit spell which would pique it into life.
Purloined out of Hogsmeade - difficult, for one still perfecting the idea of Apparition; a knapsack full of supplies (scrolls, lacewing fly, a name and a stone) slowed Maren down. And as much as she was careful, as much as she regularly attempted to stay out of sight, when she gained a tail it brought a trill of fear down her smile.
Then, she broke into a run, meaning to slide down an alley and between two buildings to hide within the forest until her heart could fall back to a temperate enough rhythm to attempt escape.
His days off were supposed to be relaxing. They were supposed to be free from stress or anything related to work.
It never quite worked out that way, but now and then, Geoff tried to distance himself from the mounds of paperwork. He didn't really have any reason to be in Hogsmeade; he just wanted to get out of the house and try to find something to do to stop thinking about his job or the Ministry or anything else. He stopped to have a drink, he stopped to browse bookshelves, and he was thinking about heading home when he spotted a flurry of brown hair running in his direction.
These days, people only ran because they were running from something or someone. His eyes flicked away from the running figure to the street behind her and back. He considered turning around and pretending to look at the window display in front of him, but as she got closer, his curiosity got the best of him.
It happened quickly: one moment she was passing him, and the next he had her pinned against the wall in the alley. He could get a good look at her face now, and he blinked. "You."
“ … you!” it was a hiss, knuckled down through clenched teeth even as she went still in his grip. Any woman could be meeting a sweetheart in a darkened alley, it would be a struggle that would bring the hounds to bear.
“Let me go.” A pause, as if civility were second nature. (Perhaps here, when made a hunted thing, it was.) “Please let me go.”
"No," Geoff stated simply. "They'll catch you." He knew this town like the back of his hand. Eventually, someone else - someone not as nice as he was - would step in to detain her before she could get away.
He remembered what she'd said about him, and how she'd accused him of being just like everyone else. Just like all the other hitwizards she'd ever encountered. That had caused the hairs on the back of Geoff's neck to stand up. He was angry: that someone would see him that way, and that because of who he appeared to be, they'd never know the truth. What Maren was up to had piqued his interest already. Seeing her now solidified that, and maybe if he could gain her trust, he'd figure it out.
He turned his head a little, listening for incoming footsteps, and then he leveled his gaze back at her, a little crease between his eyes. "I'm going to kiss you. Pretend to enjoy it or they'll figure us out."
“Right --” Did he not know that one’s existence, predicated on some element of theatre or another, could be thrown into these little gestures? Threading her fingertips in his unruly hair, she pulled his face down to mash her lips against his. Anything could be made to look real, what with her free palm sliding down the small of his back and the cool brick digging into her thighs. Anything could be whatever they needed. And when the hounds who had been after her paused, gave half a look into the alley, and ran on, she counted herself clever. Or at least convincing.
Because, when she broke away from him flushed and panting, her brow furrowed. Why help me.
“What’s your name?”
For a second, Geoff wondered if he'd actually walked into something he couldn't get himself out of - that she might take off, and redirect the attention to him instead. It would have been smart.
Instead, she understood what he was trying to do. Reckless as it was, it worked. No one ever gave a second thought to a couple snogging in the dark when they were only looking for one person. When they didn't see that one person's face - or even most of her figure - it was easy to convince themselves that she'd given them the slip already.
The kiss wasn't bad, either.
Geoff took a step back to give her some space. They shouldn't linger here, just in case someone came back around to double check. He might not be able to help her get out of it a second time. "I'll tell you if you tell me why you're running."
“Invariably, and inevitably, I was bloody well seen. And as I’m supposed to be languishing in re-education, I suppose it was determined that it would be easier to catch the hare than to let her go on running …” From her narrowed eyes she looked at him, taking in the long length of his measure. He was well-built, strong and solid. He didn’t need to know her work with a wand was mediocre at best. He didn’t need to know she couldn’t punch to save her life.
There was a great many things he didn’t need to know.
“Maybe he kept it out of the papers, or maybe he didn’t. But maybe you remember hearing about the Muggleborn girl who passed for a couple years as an American halfblood --?” She shrugged. “That’s me.”
"I remember." He remembered the story, and he remembered thinking that it wasn't fair that someone felt compelled to lie just in order to have a life. He remembered thinking that it didn't excuse what she'd done, either, but in the end, he'd seen much worse. She hadn't killed anyone, and yet...
His instincts were usually right on target, and something had told him to step in with her, even before he knew what was going on. He was glad to hear he wasn't far off the mark here. She'd needed help, and despite what people thought about the Ministry and about his colleagues, he was there to help people, no matter who they were. That just didn't always seem to line up with what he was supposed to do lately.
He crossed his arms over his chest. "Geoff Wagtail, at your service." One side of his mouth twitched upwards in a smirk. "I'm not going to turn you in, before you ask."
“Maren.” Maren Cuffe, once. Maren Warren, far too long ago. A last name was a sense of place, an understanding of what home meant. She had none of those things. Just a group, a fight and a prodigious need to run. Her brow arched.
“ … so what’re you gonna do, Geoff Wagtail? Cover me?”
That was a good question. Geoff hadn’t thought his idea through when he stepped in. He didn’t have a plan, which wasn’t really like him. He wasn’t usually reckless anymore, but what he’d done with Maren had been just that. It was exhilarating, and would cost him a lot more than just his freedom if anyone found out. He’d do it again in a heartbeat.
Slowly, he nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I’m gonna do, Maren.” He inclined his head towards the alleyway beyond them. “You should probably get going.”
He was right. And if he would cover her (if, fumbling with the wand in her pocket, she considered what it meant that a stranger would set himself between her and danger) -- then, what was her problem? Why did she stare at him for a moment longer than necessary?
“Yeah.” A swallow. Had she been wrong about this one? “Thanks.”
He shrugged. "Don't mention it." His smile widened just a little, for just a second, before his face smoothed out again. "Literally, don't. But you do owe me now, you realize."
She seemed to be stalling - or was he? - so he reached out and gave her shoulder a gentle shove. He wouldn’t have minded more time to talk, but now that he’d taken a chance on her already, he was hesitant to jump in head-first again. He had dozens of questions - why had she masqueraded as someone else, where did she really come from, what had really happened to her, what was she doing now? - but those were all things to be asked in private, and he wasn’t about to ask her back to his brother’s house already. Maybe in time. Geoff could only handle so many rash decisions in one day before he started to feel untethered. "Go on then. Just remember we're not all what you think, all right?"