chaos & revelry

There was truth in what he said, even if she didn’t want to admit it aloud. Holding on to even the smallest piece of the past meant she was still bound to it. She exhaled softly, offering a faint, thoughtful smile. “I’d move,” she said finally. “Find somewhere new. Start over. I’ve got a few ideas.”

"Starting over can be daunting, trust me the move from being a Quidditch player to a commentator was not easy." Anthony pointed out, shrugging softly. "But eventually, I began to enjoy the change."

The months hadn't been easy, nor had the pregnancy. She'd dealt with terrible morning sickness on top of a broken heart. Still she'd pushed through, playing her part and doing whatever necessary to keep going. She told herself that the busier she kept, the easier it was. The loneliness not sinking in until the evenings when she was home alone. She was punishing herself, and though others might have worried over it, told her to let it go. She hadn't been able to. Though she tried for the little one growing inside her. The baby deserved to know nothing but love.

It felt good to be out, to be around others even while she felt on edge. She was content as she sat on the bench, a fond expression on her face as the baby seemed to grow more active in her stomach with the introduction of the ice cream. Then a familiar voice. And though she was sitting she suddenly felt as if she were falling from quite high, her stomach sinking. She looked up, cursing inwardly for the tears that sprang to her eyes as she saw him, taking in every little detail. God how she'd missed him. "Anthony..." Her own voice choked.

What could she say? There was no hiding the truth, not that she would want to. Without thought, her hands went to her stomach, ice cream forgotten. "I..." At a loss for words, unable to look away from him as panic seized her. "I wanted to tell you...but I wasn't sure.." Her words fell off as she scrambled for what to say to him. "I didn't want you to feel obligated." A poor excuse.

Irregardless of how Anthony felt, heartbroken and scorched. Mira must've been experiencing that tenfold, Anthony could only assume she was as broken as he was. Despite how little he knew about their situation, and how their relationship was built on unsteady terrain. Anthony did believe the emotions between the pair were real, it all felt too natural. Either that or Mira was a very good actress. But even Anthony had to give her the grace that the feelings were real. His eyes flickered over Mira, hovering on her bump, before catching her eye. She must've been terrified, finding out on her own, going to every appointment alone.

Anthony's heart was in his stomach, beside himself with his own shock and anxiety at the looming life that was imminently due and the guilt of hiding out at his family's house while Mira went through everything alone.

Perhaps not meaning to be such dramatic, Anthony found himself sitting down on the seat beside Mira with a slight stumble. Glancing over at Mira, his gaze softened. "It's alright, Mira.." His tone quiet with a slight waiver in his throat. "It can't have been easy, being on your own."

Reaching over, Anthony placed his hand on top of Mira's free hand. "I'm here now, I promise." He reassured, "and not through any sense of obligation...but I'll be here for you, the baby." A shaky breath, "Our baby." It even felt surreal to say out loud.

“I… I...” Her voice faltered, and she drew in a steadying breath before forcing herself to go on. “It’s the last piece of me from that life. I do love it here, but it’s always there… a reminder.” The words were honest, though a knot of guilt twisted in her stomach as she spoke. “If I really want a fresh start, I suppose it has to be in every part of my life.”

"You don't have to part with it completely," Anthony shrugged, glancing around the bakery. Alara had made a name for herself amongst the baking scene, it seemed hasty to part ways with it completely. "Would you never move? Or change the name? Start fresh?"

In some ways Mira had found that her life had changed since she'd gone to the Order. In big ways it certainly had. And yet, in small ways it felt much the same as it always had. The loneliness for instance, felt much the same as it had before. She continued to keep to herself, trying to find a new routine, to find where she fit. It had got to a point where she'd no longer been able to keep up the ruse with the Death Eaters. The Order agreed it was time for her to be pulled from spying and for her to move. Her stomach had played a large part, no longer able to hide the pregnancy from anyone. Yet only Alara knew who the father was, others had long ago given up trying to draw that information from her. The heartbreak continued to be a constant ache in her chest, even knowing she carried Anthony's child.

Her life had become limited, her time spent either at the hospital or with the Order. She'd debated even going to the fayre, telling herself it would be best to stay home. But she'd been out so little, and there was a small hope that perhaps with such a busy event, very few would pay attention to her. Which is how she'd found herself moving through the crowded streets, unable to help the smile on her lips in such a cheery atmosphere. The dress she wore did little to hide the baby bump, but she tried to reassure herself that no one was staring. Even when it felt as though all eyes were on her.

Spotting a cart of butter beer ice cream, she couldn't help herself as she stopped to get some before finding a bench to settle on. Even as she ate she surveyed her surroundings. She couldn't help but to watch the children as they chased each other around, giggling and playing games. Feeling a kick, she put a hand to her stomach and smiled softly. "Finally a food you approve of then little one?" She spoke to her stomach, her voice quiet yet fond.

But in the weeks after Anthony and Mira's split, he found it impossible to find comfort from his family, and friends. Anthony longed for Mira, irregardless of the betrayal. Trying to drown out his emotions, his grief, with late nights and spending far too many nights in Rosmerta's pub. Self-destruction hadn't erased Mira from his heart, nor had the solitude in Kent. Irregardless of everything, Anthony missed Mira. Anthony loved Mira. Weeks had been spent mulling over their argument, analysing every single word, every action, everything that he regretted saying. Perhaps Anthony had been too hasty, too quick to assume, to discredit everything. But he was hurt.

His eyes were too focused on the window of a shop, deep in his thoughts. When a familiar silhouette passed behind him in the reflection. Eyes catching the back of her, the soft curl in her hair. Turning on a heel, his eyes watched as the crowd began to close around her. If only they could talk, but it had been months without communication. Anthony could only assume Mira had moved on. His last words had been harsh, cutting, a nail in the coffin. It was understandable that Mira hadn't reached out, Anthony hadn't either. Anthony's eyes scanned the crowd, keeping an eye on Mira as she walked towards an ice-cream cart. Thoughts racing as he thought of multiple ways to approach her, how to open a conversation. Thoughts that froze as Anthony caught a glimpse at Mira's frame. Mira was pregnant.

Feet froze in the ground, his heart began to beat in his chest frantically. Mira was pregnant with his baby. Only spurred out of his panic by a man bashing his shoulder against him. Anthony could only mumble a quick apology. Steps taking him towards Mira instinctively, she didn't notice him standing in front of her as Mira muttered to her bump about the ice-cream. "Little one?" His voice a mere croak. "You're pregnant?"

The thought had been lingering at the back of Alara’s mind for days, quietly nudging until she couldn’t ignore it anymore. It wasn’t heavy so much as persistent, and now, sitting there, she let it slip out.

“What if I sold the bakery?” she asked softly, looking up at the person across from her.

It was nice to escape, to bask in the quiet for a month or so. To step away from the self-destructive traits he had picked up in his last few weeks of being in London. Anthony knew that he had to face it all again, his job had thankfully allowed him a bit of time off air. And he had managed to avoid the Order for as long as he could. But it was time to return to London, and where better to throw himself in at the deep end than Little Tart Bakery, owned by Alara.

Anthony hadn't alerted anybody to his presence in London, and now when Alara glanced up, he was well aware that his cover was blown.

"Why would you sell the bakery?" Anthony stumbled over his words, shifting on two feet.

Something was off about him, his demeanor and appearance seemed downcast although she did not think it was her place to mention anything so she would do the tactful thing and pretend not to notice.

"Thank you." She was beginning to come around to the idea, not having much choice but to do so, but she supposed she could focus on the positive sides of her situation. "I do not like this restlessness one bit, I have to admit. I am not good at giving up control to other people."

"It's all for good reason, and if I know you. You'll manage someway to be back in play in record time." Anthony remarked, but his tone was warm.

He laughed at the whistle, still mildly alarmed by the time period. "Yeah, yeah, I'm old and I know it. Got all the wrinkles to prove it, too." Only half a joke. He regularly spent a few extra minutes per morning peering at the new lines and grey flecked hairs in his reflection. The years and the war were aging him. But he remained young at heart, fuelled by his family and his love for them. His glance softened, becoming something more grateful as Anthony assessed Nymphadora. A moment later, it became more rueful. Ted was always honest. This was no exception, and he wasn't ashamed, happy to speak about his life and its challenges. "No, we didn't. It's the hardest thing I've ever done, staying with Andromeda. I love her with all my heart, but I know what it took for her to leave. That weight, the sacrifice... it's not something that ever goes away, and we were afraid for a long time, even though we had each other. People came after us. People judged and shunned us. We can't afford to be afraid now that Dora's here."

"Ah, I wouldn't worry about wrinkles. You've still got it, Tonks." Anthony reassured with a laugh, "You've still got a bit of time before you have to start looking for the heavy-duty wrinkle potions." His tone jovial, it was obvious that Ted Tonks was a good looking man. While Anthony's gaze was fixed to the Quidditch Pitch, Anthony listened intently to the other's mans words. A reassurance washing over him that Ted and Andromeda had worked it out through difficulties. Sure, Anthony and Mira hadn't stumbled across any blockades just yet, but that didn't mean it couldn't happen. Anthony would have been naive to believe that the Selwyns would be happy for Mira to date him, but perhaps he shouldn't paint them with the same brush. Mira was in the Order after all.

"At the end of the day, outside factors don't really matter. But they can rear their ugly heads when the want to." Anthony acknowledged with a nod. "Even with daily life, it's hard to balance it all...but the war, and everything that comes with it. You guys have overcame some serious tribulations, and to still have each other throughout it? Well, that's a testament to you both." His tone genuine. "And while raising a daughter, and doing a good job at it. Merlin, Ted, i'm exhausted even thinking about it."

When she heard the knocking at the door, she told her husband that she would open up the door. When Cress opened up the door, she had not expected to find a very, very sad young man standing in front of her and a bottle of wine, but without a girlfriend in sight.

And by the way Anthony spoke, he already had a lot of wine - or other alcohol - in his system. "Only you?" The woman repeated before she stepped aside to quickly let him in and she closed the door behind him. She gently nudged him in the direction of the living room before she made her way over to Tib there. "I have no idea what is going on but it is just him and I think he has had quite something to drink already. Do you have any idea what's going on?"

He glanced up from where he'd been checking on the food when he heard the knock, returning to his task when Cress called that she'd go to get it. He frowned at how quiet it seemed to be, glancing up as Cressida came back into the room looking worried. "Only him?" He repeated, glancing into the living room before cursing. "Merlin he looks like shit." He shook his head. "He hasn't said anything to me but I reckon it isn't good.

He made his way into the living room, clapping Anthony on the back even as he seemed to sway on his feet. "Alright there Anthony?" He glanced around the room, as if to double check that he was alone before his eyes went back to his friend, concern showing on his face. "What's happened then?"

Standing in the middle of Tiberius and Cressida's living room, his eyes scanned the decorations, the etchings of love dotted across the room. From photographs, to trinkets, evidence of them picking out a home together. Perhaps this was too much for him, Anthony's hands shook slightly as he looked around. Pulled out of his thoughts by Tiberius slapping him on the shoulder, Anthony attempted to regain his balance swiftly. Stumbling slightly towards the sofa.

"I'm sorry, I probably shouldn't have came." Resigned, Anthony decided to sit down. The past few days, Anthony had kept it bottled up. His mind playing a game of back and forth, weighing up every possible little moment that Mira could have been hinting towards her allegiance. But Anthony was too happy, too in love to think that it was even a rogue possibility. Anthony wanted to talk, he needed to talk.

"Mira..." He started, barely even able to utter her name before his lip began to quiver. Anthony took a deep breath, "It just...felt like the first time that something truly good was happening to me. Since the accident..." He paused, eyes looking to the ground. "I haven't had much to look forward to, or any direction."

"Of course, that doesn't mean I've not been happy....I have you guys, my family, friends." Anthony trailed on his words, "but I actually thought for a moment, this is it, this is where the rest of my life is."

"I loved....I love her." Acutely aware that he wasn't quite making sense as he spoke. Instead, he had shown up to their house, a drunken mess. Rambling on about the position of his life. Glancing up to look at Tiberius, "but turns out....she was spying for them all this time. That's the only reason Mira joined the Order." A guttural scoff falling from his lips as he finally said it. "Probably the only reason she entertained me."

@cressxmclaggen @tiberiusxmclaggen

Beatrice moved; a bar stool grabbed to sit on with a sigh. “I fully understand why you might dislike the idea; I don’t fault you for that.” For once her expression lacks a smile, that usual gleam of mischief of joy. This was anything but a joke, nothing fun but the life they all lived in their own way. Everyone had to make that choice. “I have my reasons for joining, just like everyone else does.” All kinds of people joined the Order, from all kinds of backgrounds.

Ros knew her sister and she knew that Bea was going to be hard to be convinced to do otherwise. She took a deep breath. "We know that you want to join. We understand that you have your reasons. But you can understand our reasoning on why we would appreciate it if you stay out of it."

A sigh escaped Ros when her sister mentioned on moving to why they got together to start with. "Alright, fine. But this subject is not finished yet." Ros was going to argue against it until it wasn't possible anymore. She turned towards Anthony. "Was there something you wanted to tell us?"

His eyes flicked between his two sisters as they spoke, Rosmerta ultimately deciding that the conversation about the Order was over. Anthony though, did feel he had something to mention. Holding up his hand to stop the conversation from moving on. "Please be careful, Bea." He resounded to resignation, "we all want to help, but don't let the Order put you into any dangerous or stupid positions. They might be our friends, but the organisation is always going to want results. As much as we want to help out, this is a whole lot bigger than us."

Anthony blinked as Rosmerta carefully diverted the conversation in his direction. He had something he wanted to tell them, he did but he didn't quite know how to actually say it. As close as the siblings were, Anthony always tended to keep his love life in his own hands, and as close to his chest as possible. "Ah yes," He paused, "I have a girlfriend? Kind of have done since November."

She couldn’t blame him for the harsh questions, ones she’d already asked herself. If it hadn’t been for Anthony would she have ever even cared or thought to leave the Death Eaters? To stop what she was doing? She was selfish, and she recognized that she had not been a good person. She could try to fix it, to do right going forward. But it would never forgive all she had done before. “I know.” She said weakly, wiping at her eyes as she looked up at him. “I know there is no excusing what I’ve done, the consequences of the information I’ve shared. I know it’s unforgivable.” She wasn’t playing the victim, didn’t expect sympathy. The witch had merely accepted the consequences of her decisions and what it meant for her.

“I understand if you don’t….I know I’ve ruined that trust.” Her throat felt constricted, her voice hoarse with emotion. She winced at the detached tone of his voice and shook her head. “It wasn’t about tying up loose ends. I wanted to prove that I meant what I said about changing, righting my wrongs even if it is impossible. The order could have turned me into the Ministry, shipped me off to Azkaban and I would have accepted it.”

This wasn’t how she had wanted to confess her feelings to him. She had never cared for anyone the way she loved Anthony, and she’d wanted the first time she told him to be perfect. No matter that she meant the words, now they would only come out false, laced with the poison of her actions and her past. If he even believed she meant it, she wouldn’t blame him if he thought her reaching for anything to make him forgive her.

At the question she sniffed, wiping at her eyes. “It was just meant to be a job, my duty to the cause. Don’t get attached, don’t get close to anyone. I was meant to go in and gather information, put in minimal effort and get out and report it back.” She shook her head. “I’ve always been the sort to prefer solitude, it seemed simple enough to stay detached as I always have and do whatever was necessary. But it got harder the longer I was involved, the more I came to know everyone. I was battling myself, everything I’d been taught and raised to believe…But I knew I couldn’t do it any longer.”

He didn't know what to do or where to look, looking at Mira just seemed to deepen his own hurt. Anthony didn't enjoy to see her upset, and in distress. Of course not, he loved her, and despite how tainted that now felt. Anthony knew there was no use harping up on the past, partly as it wouldn't change anything and also because of how upset Mira seemed about it all. He couldn't understand it, and perhaps he never would, but it wasn't doing much good going around in circles.

His hand swept over his face once more, collecting anymore tears as a sigh rattled from his chest. Trying his upmost to collect himself, every part of him felt exhausted, drained.

"What-" He paused, taking a breath. And in truth, it was more of a question that he wanted Mira to answer than one for him to figure out on his own. Being the one to ask for space just felt too cruel, and callous. But Anthony had to remember, it was him that had been betrayed, no matter how much Mira reassured him. How much could he really believe?

"What do you want me to do? What can we do now?" Anthony continued, his voice quiet, defeated. "Is this even what you want?" He questioned, gesturing between the pair.

Emma's pregnancy announcement and interview with Rita Skeeter had been published in the daily prophet just days before and she could feel eyes on her as she set foot into her favorite store as she was running low on broom polish. It was different than the looks she got due to her fame of being a professional athlete, she noticed people's linger on her stomach, trying to see a bump that was not yet visible. Emma had wanted to keep playing but she'd been overruled, the state of her baby's health too fragile should she fall off her broom. Apparently she should have stopped as soon as she had found out about her pregnancy, but she had not been ready to do so. It's not like she was planning to fall of her boorm. She was no fool, she had not fallen of her broom in years. And yet here she was, only allowed to fly up to a certain speed and height, effectively forced to take a leave of absence from the job she loved. "What?" She sighed before even looking at who was standing behind her, feeling their stare. "Do not look at me like that. I'm just here to buy broom polish, not a new broom."

For the past few days it had felt like he was living in a dream, moving from one task to another without processing what he was doing. Getting into a routine of not leaving bed until the afternoon, and tossing and turning throughout the night. In a bid to ease himself into a bit of normality, he made a trip to Diagon Alley, in pursuit of purchasing a new pair of Quidditch gloves. Just for recreational use, of course. Hoping that people could ignore his unkept appearance, not typical for Anthony Abbott.

Catching glimpse of Emma Vanity, it was perhaps the first thing to bring a smile to Anthony’s face in weeks. She was a close friend to him in his Quidditch days, albeit an intensely fierce rival too. So, when he read of her pregnancy announcement in the Daily Prophet, he made a mental note to write a congratulations card. A mental note that quickly disappeared after he slipped back into his thoughts. Anthony breathed a laugh at Emma’s defensive tone, “Don’t worry, I’m a kindred spirit. It seems we’ve both been exiled from the league.”

“Congratulations, by the way.”

"That's quite the change, what brings you to London?" He perked up, grateful for some other topic of thought. "Often enough, Ros is my sister. I'm Anthony Abbott, pleasure." Albeit his tone was slightly slurred.

"I get that," she said with a small smile. "The quiet… the peace, it sounds nice, doesn’t it? Sometimes it feels like it’s just the calm before the storm, though." She was grateful for the company. "Remus and I finally got the flat sorted. Took a couple of months, but it’s starting to feel like home."

"It almost seems too good to be true," He remarked, perhaps that was a negative tone to take. However, with such a war on their doorstep, it was key to appreciate the moments of quiet. . For the first time in a long time, Anthony felt quite content. He was happy with Mira, and work had been good. "Decorating eh? I reckon that sort of stress can either make or a break a couple."