Regulation and Control

Who: Fred Holden, Bill Weasley & Mircea
What: Biscuit delivery
Where: The Burrow
When: 9 am, Sunday, 13th July
Rating: PG
Status: Open;Complete

When she hadn't been busy fulfilling every man's lesbian tv repair fantasy or escaping the foul clutches of bowling alley security the day before she'd been attempting to make edible versions of the biscuits she promised Bill. It wasn't that she couldn't cook. For someone who didn't eat much more than raw meat and fish Fred had an impressive repertoire of culinary skill. The problem was she didn't eat things like biscuits and never had. Even as a kid she'd not had the taste for them. Poor Finn, the person in the house who had been human longest, was subjected to taste testing batches until she finally gave her approval. Fred tried a couple out on the kids who lived in the next house over, which was a ways over, and they gave their approval as well. This led to Fred making about six dozen biscuits. Hey, she was showing her grateful here!

Her intention was to drop off the goods to Bill, possibly check on Charlie without him knowing about it, and then get to work so she could kill off whatever remained of her stack of paperwork until it was time to break Charlie out of recovery. She'd returned the completed stuff she'd worked on while holed up at Ben's or her place earlier in the morning and she'd seen at least a few new things on her desk. Bollocks. Who assigned her this stuff when Charlie wasn't around? It wasn't like she had a supervisor other than him.

It was awkward enough going to the Burrow for Fred and she decided to try to minimise the awkward for others by wearing something that resembled clothing. Alright, honestly, it had more to do with respect for his mum should she be around. She'd dug out a skirt that actually hit mid-thigh instead of barely even making it to her thigh at all and halter top. The halter technically covered more than any of her other shirts since the neckline was higher in some areas and it covered most of her stomach aside from a strip of flesh from just above her navel to where her skirt sat on her hips. Maybe it wasn't traditional, conservative wear but you can't win them all and she was only suffering so much over the fact she might run into someone's mum and didn't want to earn that withering look of disapproval. She maybe should have toned down the bright purple and blue, both of which were nearly electric in contrast to the black and grey that accompanied them in her skirt, but Fred just didn't do dull colours well some days.

After apparating to outside of the Quibbler offices, Fred walked the rest of the way. Mentally she was going over what she had to do at work. She was pretty sure there were a couple new execution orders on her desk that she'd noticed when she'd glanced around. Something easy she hoped. Like the rabid gerbils maybe. That line of thought was interrupted as she approached her destination. How does it stay standing, she wondered as she walked up to the Burrow. Muggles would've had a field day with the defiance of gravity. She knocked on the door lightly, not wanting to wake anyone who may still be asleep in the patchwork structure.

( severely warded owl to Fred Holden )

Who: Fred Holden, Viola Marlowe, and Ben Dunstan
What: Bowling, initially, then Brawling
Where: The Trocadero, West End, London
When: Evening, 12th July
Rating: PG-13 for language and talk of Ben's use of his balls
Status: Closed; complete

( A dead man could beat you two. A dead old man with _arthritis._ )

Who: Morag MacDougal and Fred Holden
What: Setting up a DVD player and a tv set, extreme awkwardness, and breaking of emotional walls
Where: Morag's flat in wizarding Lockerbie, Scotland.
When: Saturday, 12 July, 1pm.
Rating: PG-13 for language discussion of sex
Status: Closed; complete


Morag stared at the boxes in her living room. She'd cleared a space on what had been an extra coffee table so she'd have somewhere to put the television and DVD player. Other than that, though, she'd hadn't done anything to further the process of setting them up. Well, she'd opened the boxes, but that was it.

She sat down on the couch and waited for the installation help to arrive. Thankfully there were people around who knew more about Muggle contraptions than she did.

( Owl to Fred Holden )

Who: Fred Holden & Harry Potter
What: Adopting out Harry and assorted Attacks of Spastic
Where: The Lair (Fred's house in Stapleford Abbotts)
When: Friday, 11th July
Rating: PG-13 for language (at least)
Status: Closed; Complete

Everyone else who lived in the cat nest and walked on two legs most days had jobs to attend to. Ford, Trent and Finn were all off at their respective places of employment, which just left Fred and a gaggle of felines to hang out with. It was too bloody hot for her to hang out inside even if she wished to. That wasn't to say it was actually that hot to begin with, only about twenty celsius, but to someone whose body temperature ran as high as hers naturally it was hot enough to be uncomfortable. The clouds in the sky were ominous, wavering between fluffy and those dark, heavy ones that promised wetness. That threat didn't keep Fred indoors, though.

She'd climbed her favourite tree out in front of her house, grateful as usual there weren't any houses within sight of her own so she didn't have to bother pretending to worry about what all she was likely flashing thanks to the shortness of her skirt. Her tank top barely even reached her ribs before the jagged edge that indicated it had been cut off without care of a hem. Tsvetya was still too little to climb up on her own so Fred had stuck the kitten on her shoulder for the trip upward. The kitten excelled at hanging on and Fred had the dried dots of blood on her shoulder from where she'd had punctures from Tsvetya's claws. The two had fallen asleep in the tree happily, enjoying the breeze that blew over them. Fred had stretched out on her stomach, an arm and a leg stretched along the thick branch while the other arm and leg dangled off separate sides of the branch. Tsvetya had taken up position at the small of Fred's back to curl up and doze. Eventually Jester had climbed up to join them as well and he'd made himself comfortable stretching from the top of Fred's back, around little Tsvetya, and ending on the woman's bum.

Always a light sleeper, Fred had no worries about someone breaking into the house or sneaking up on her. She didn't know when Harry would come by but she wasn't much worried about it. She'd hear him when he showed and that alone would wake her up. Knave and at least another half dozen cats of varying ages and sizes were about outside. Many of them were stretched out in patches of sunlight napping, though a couple seemed to be on patrol, Knave among them.

( Warded owl to Charlie Weasley )

( Owl to Charlie Weasley )

( Patronus message to Fred Holden )

Who: Harry Potter, Fred Holden, Charlie Weasley, Malcolm Baddock (?)
What: The doppelganger meets its end.
When: July 8th, early morning
Where: A clearing in the woods a few miles outside Ottery St. Catchpole
Rating: R, to be safe, for violence, language, and scary content

Ottery St. Catchpole was a wizarding village, and it was there that the doppelganger procured another wand. The woman was aged, and died before it could bind her to it as it had with Harry, but there was enough of her in her magic that the wand responded to its touch. It did not wear her face, but left her in her house for her ancient husband to wake to.

The night deepened, and the creature set off to the place it knew from memory only. As it ascended the hillside, the tiny lights from the village flickered, their light reaching the shadow as pinpricks only. It was alone, then.

Once it reached the apex of the hill, it was clear that something was wrong. The night was silent, but it sensed the sudden burst of magic, somewhere. An alarm?

Who: Fred Holden, Ford Williams, cameos by Trent Smith and Julian Holden
What: Lazy kittens
Where: The lawn of the Holden home
When: May, 1988, a day in the middle of the full moon cycle
Rating: G
Status: Closed; Complete

( Hours later they scented the air in unison. Once. Twice. )

Who: Fred Holden & Trent Smith
What: Sibling love (i.e. Fred gets yelled at)
Where: Their house, Stapleford Abbotts
When: Evening, 3 July
Rating: PG?
Status: open; Incomplete

The night before Fred had apparated home and collapsed in a heap. She'd had Ford set her arm so it could heal properly and he'd set her up in a sling. She'd done her best to keep the fact it was a break, and a fucking hell of one at that, from Daria and sent her into the office. She was sure the thing was injured enough it wouldn't be back for a while. Daria would be safe there and Fred would check on her later tonight. She, unfortunately, needed the human away from her so she wouldn't know how badly Fred was hurt and how quickly she'd heal from it without having seen Goldstein.

Fred was out on the lawn. The sun was high so she was naturally napping in it, having skipped the work thing entirely today. Her arm was still in the sling and her good arm was flopped over her face. More for the sake of anyone who didn't live there who may wander near, Fred wore the smallest cut off tank she owned and a pair of knickers. They were both a pale grey colour and did nothing to distract from the massive purple bruises that littered her body. Her right side, her shoulders, a fair bit of the back she was currently laying on, her entire left arm and even part of her chest was adorned with the angry, purple marks from having been beaten with the impromptu iron clubs. The cuts from the glass were healed. Though, part of the problem was that she needed someone to come home to cut the back of her right shoulder open and dig out a piece of glass her skin had healed over. It cut into her whenever she moved the wrong way when laying down and so she'd tried her best to just not move if she was on her back. The sun helped, though. It kept her warm and happy and in that state where a person is sleeping just enough for it to be restful but not enough to not be aware of what's going on around them. It helped her ignore the insane ow factor that was going on as well.

Who: Daria Kis, Fred Holden & Creature
What: Round One
Where: Daria's flat
When: Late night, Wednesday 2nd July
Rating: R for impending violence
Status: Closed; Complete

Fred tended to take to people quickly. It made things much more comfortable on her end, and it had seemed to translate easily onto Daria's at all. Daria wasn't someone she'd spoken to often. In fact, in all the time the two had worked for the department Fred could hardly recall much more than a nod, a smile and a few passing pleasantries. It should have made being Daria's personal shadow an awkward experience. From how relaxed Fred looked as she laid with her head in the other woman's lap it was more than obvious any awkwardness was completely absent from her. She was sure some of the more upright and orderly sorts would get their knickers into a twist at the sight, but it wasn't half as seemingly negligent as when the two had their lips locked together. For all intents and purposes, this was an upgrade.

She'd never smell the thing coming, she knew that from what it had said to her in the journals, but she didn't need her eyes to know if something approached. Canines had the nose, felines had the ears, that's just how it went. If it made sound she'd hear it and Fred was firm in that belief. Darkness helped. At least in the darkness she'd see it before Daria did. Honestly, she didn't understand how humans functioned with their poor night vision. Though, she supposed, they didn't really function at all in the dark, did they? Fred liked the dark, the night. It made her feel at home. She was wide awake and knew she wouldn't sleep for hours, though she hoped Daria would sleep soon. She'd begun adjusting to the hours Fred kept and those weren't very conducive to functioning in a nine-to-five type of life such as that held by the Regulators.

Who: Fred Holden, Daria Kis, Charlie Weasley
What: Filling Daria in on her shiny new enemy
Where: Fred's Office
When: Early Saturday morning, 28th June
Rating: PG
Status: Open;Complete

Fred and Caladbolg had gone looking for Daria the second she'd seen the notes from Charlie in his journal. She, of course, did not go looking for Cavanaugh as she would avoid him as long as possible lest she put him through a window when she did. She didn't see him on her search for Kis anyway. Fred also didn't find Daria, which was a little problematic. Defeat ringing clear in her head. Fred went back to her office and decided to give the other woman time to come find her before she started to hunt her down at her flat or summat.

Was it bad that Fred was slightly happy the thing had a target? Yes, likely it was. If it had a target, though, it would come for Daria, which meant Fred knew exactly where it would be eventually. She just had to be sure she was there, too. Fred waited, sitting on top of her desk in short shorts and her usual cut off tank with her shoes forgotten on the floor and Caladbolg propped against the chair she ought to be sitting in. It didn't escape her attention that it was very possibly an unhealthy attachment she was forming to the Lightning Sword, but she wouldn't risk not having it when she finally found not-Harry and she needed to bond with the weapon anyway.

Who: Fred Holden, Ford Williams and a Dead Guy.
What: She needs a holy weapon to fight a creature made of darkness. Naturally, she's going to steal it.
Where: Great Saltee Island
When: Middle of the night, 26th-27th June.
Rating: PG
Status: Narrative;Complete

( ...it seemed to crackle in her hand... )

( Memo to Fred Holden )

Who: Fred Holden & Charlie Weasley
What: Well Charlie's been deemed an idiot, kitten is so not happy
Where: Charlie's office
When: Right after receiving this order for execution
Rating: R (for language, not for all the thoughts of Charlie naked...she'll keep that to herself)
Status: Closed; Complete

Fred was in a damn chipper mood. Her general annoyance, frustration and impulse to do horribly violent things to humans after having to put down that Aethonon the previous day had passed. She was just coming back from outside where she'd decided napping in the sun was a good idea for her lunch break. Fred was bopping down the hall, earphones in and her iPod clipped to the waist of her shorts. It was a small miracle she even owned shorts, but it was no surprise they managed to cover less flesh than her skirts did. Her supposedly valid excuse was that it was hot out, and for her it was damn hot.

Bopping along, she stopped in front of her desk to find a packet of papers. Her head and hips swung widely from side to side punctuating each beat as she sang along to the song currently playing in a harmony an octave higher than Hetfield's voice, "Die, die, die my darling, don't utter a single word." And then she read what her spiffy little packet said. "What. The. Fuck? You stupid, stupid man." Fred's eyes narrowed and she turned on her heel, legs moving quickly to carry her to the stairs and up to the top floor where Charlie was holed up in his office. "Questions, my ass," she mumbled to herself. "'Hey Charlie, you fancy yourself a case of death?' Yeah, that's a question, innit?" She rapped on the door three times, quick and insistent as she glared at the door, earphones still in.

( Memorandum to Fred Holden )

( Note left on Winifred Holden's Desk )

Who: Fred Holden & Kadyriath
What: Chips & Smelling funny
Where: London Library
When: Around 5 pm, Tuesday, 17th June
Rating: PG-13 (only for Fred's inevitable mouth)
Status: Closed;Complete

Fred was feeling all lazy and slow. Truth be told, her energy level was probably closer to that of a regular, garden variety human but Fred was feeling incredibly slow, as if she were trying to run through water. "Ugh, water," she muttered and shuddered appropriately for the image. As lethargic as she was feeling the lycanthrope really didn't fancy lazing about the house. Her restlessness had gotten hold of her. She still had that nagging craving for chips, which really got on her tits. She gave in finally and got chips and managed to make a shiny new friend. A very, very cute shiny new friend. Maybe chips weren't so bad after all. At least they weren't the Devil's vegetable like asparagus.

Both of her hands were occupied with paper cups overflowing with chips. One she kept plucking them out of with her teeth to chomp on, the other remained untouched. Slipping past the ever present eyes at the front desk of the library wasn't that difficult, not even when she wasn't her most aware and sneaky. The trouble was finding who she was looking for. A breeze the night before had kicked up a scent eerily like Ky's and Fred's brothers had got on about wondering what smelt like that because humans really didn't. Fred was on a mission today. That mission involved figuring out what the hell Ky Janes was. Also it involved bringing him chips. If only she could find him in one of these bleeding aisles, anyway.