sunkissed

          “morning, sybill!” bright smile alights her face - it’s good to see people outside of work, be it for the ministry or order. charity has almost forgotten what it’s like to have time off. it’s nice to not be behind a desk or drowned in parchment and quills, fingers stained with ink. “i’m visiting my mum and aunts and realized you’re in the neighborhood. i hope it’s alright that i stopped by?”           people always called sybill odd in school. charity knows people gave the other girl a wide berth, whispering mocking words under their breath. all that did was make charity want to be her friend more. she knew what it was like to feel out of place and isolated in her common room. it was something she wouldn’t wish on anyone, and if she could make sybill feel a little less alone, of course she would. even if sybill didn’t usually seem to mind what others said about her.           “this place is lovely! it’s very you.”

          “thank you, liam,” god, when did she become the voice of reason? lithe fingers push strands of hair that has escaped pins back behind her ears as she looks to the room at large, most fallen silent instead of bickering with each other. “if we’re finished arguing like a gaggle of second years arguing over potions work instead of adults in a war, i suggest we take liams advice and either find a way to scry or discover another way in. maybe a team can polyjuice into a patrol of known death eaters, act like it’s a routine check of the area, or - something. ‘till them there’s no use being at each others throats about it.” with that she moves forward and slumps into a chair.           “how about we call it quits for now? take a night to cool off before someone does something we’ll all regret?” it’s a suggestion, not an order. for a group of people calling themselves agents and rebels and members, not many here appreciate being told to do things. too many cooks in the kitchen. everyone with their strong ideas and indomitable wills not wanting to admit someone else might have a better idea. hands shift to pile of parchment on the table and she begins rolling up maps and plans.           “ - really, liam, thanks for being - willing to explain. i know people aren’t always especially interested in listening to ideas that aren’t their own around here.” she offers it quietly as people seem to take her advice, breaking off to gather in corners or apparate back to their homes.

          “what’s your idea, then, liam?” charity’s voice isn’t sharp. it’s tired. they’ve been arguing for so long her head is utterly spinning, heart hammering in her ears. if every conversation devolves into an argument, what’s the point? “i don’t think anything we’ve heard tonight has been anyone’s best, but complaining about the plans while not offering your own isn’t at all constructive. we didn’t get together to argue with each other for hours. we got together to discuss.”

          “it’s mostly muggle parents expressing concern for the safety of their children in the wizarding community, nothing worth taking an auror away from their job,” she shuffles an inkwell off to the side of her desk so it won’t fall to the ground. damned inkwells and quills. charity loves all things wizarding, truly she does, by why can’t they use damned ballpoint pens? she has a package of them in a drawer for when she doesn’t have to use the thick parchment that doesn’t take so well to the thinner ink. a small sigh passes her lips and she shrugs one shoulder, “i can either lie and tell them their children are completely safe or tell the truth and have them all pull their children from schooling. it’s - a lot.” eyes fall to the drawer and a soft laugh falls from her lips. “alastor, anyone can open a locked drawer here. doing it is just giving myself a false sense of security.” like everyone else in the ministry is left unsaid and she starts towards the door. “c’mon, times a-wasting.” voice has a little bit of forced levity, contracting the rather downtrodden tone of just moments before. everyone in this department is wearing thin.

          ink-stained fingers rest against her temples, eyes shuttered closed against the onslaught of parchment on her desk. charity truly isn’t being paid enough for this - still working her way up to a proper position in the ministry even while she does a great deal of the work that comes through the muggle relations branch. not that she blames her coworkers here, they are woefully understaffed in the division and everyone knows it. eyes crack open and lips set in a line turn to bright smile, hands falling away as she glances to her watch. “well, one of us has to at least try and work through lunch. it’s tradition.” charity speaks even as she brushes a stack of parchment into a drawer and closes it with little regard, getting up from her seat. “it’s lovely outside today and i’m sick of being cooped up in here.” she scoops up the foil-wrapped parcel and smiles at alastor, slinging her jacket off the back of her seat and onto her shoulders. “thank you for getting this for me. i probably would’ve forgotten entirely.”

          charitys laughter only increases when emma laughs with a mouthful of champagne and she has to hide her mouth behind a hand. “oh, god. shut up, emma. you look lovely, even if you still act like you’re on the pitch.” there’s no bite to the words, giggles pealing from her voice as she shakes her head. fingers wrap around those of her friend and she gives a soft squeeze back. “please. thank you for inviting me. i never get invited to any of the fancy ministry parties, and the few i’ve been to were boring as hell. this is lovely.”

          “emma!” she hides a grin behind the lip of champagne flute, giggle on her lips as she brushes strand of honey-colored hair from her face. “didn’t he fall from his broom in his third game that season in that horrifically embarrassing jumble? cried on the green for half an hour over a twisted ankle?” charity nudges emma’s side slightly and takes a sip from her glass. “anyways, the wasps are dreadful.”

          “it’s just me,” soft, clear voice replies, hands lax at her sides. she hadn’t expected to run into peter here again. in truth? charity wasn’t expecting much of any reaction to her being here. she’s in general pretty good at blending in, at looking like she belongs wherever she is. it’s something to do with the set of her mouth and the look in her eyes, she thinks. and how she holds herself. people just don’t question her existing in places she maybe shouldn’t be.           one of the girls she had helped heal in the little shop she had turned into a makeshift medical center had forgotten her wand. charity is determined to find and return it. “is there - something you’re looking for?” this place has her hair on end, heart hammering. everything smells like soot. it all looks wrong.

          what happened that night is a blur, one she sees every time she closes her eyes, burned into the backs of her eyelids with frightening accuracy. blood on her hands. the sound of healing spells falling from her lips with the same veracity of desperate prayers over a death bed. what she does remember of it was the half grateful half not look in persephone dolohovs eyes after charity hooked fingers ‘round her wrist and pulled her away from the commotion. it was enough of an oddity to remember - the older woman vanishing before her eyes before charity returned to the horror of the night to aid those hurt.           it’s odd to see her in this context, too. small smile graces pink lips and she takes the seat across the table with a slight shake of the head. “you don’t owe me anything. i just did what any decent person would do.” charity shrugs a shoulder, rolling any idea of debt off her shoulders. she doesn’t like people thinking they owe her anything, especially when the deed was as simple as pulling someone from the line of fire.

          “hey, maybe time is flying for you! are you having fun?” she jokes with a wide smile, glad to see peter, even if he’s stuck in some ministry-approved booth for the day. charity touches a hand to the scarf, gathered by her throat, and shares a sort of smile that implies some kind of secret. “i like to pull it out to make all the old-school purebloods uncomfortable with the fact i graduated with them.” she admits with a one-shouldered shrug.

          “oh, god,” the words come out under her breath, small and private, before charity gathers the girls blonde hair up and away from the wound on her head. head wounds aren’t good, testy things even with magical interference. ok. ok. charity can do this. she’s no trained mediwitch but she always took to healing magic well enough. “thanks for bringing her here, professor,” charity does her best to keep her voice even and strong, for the frightened children inhabiting the room more for herself. they don’t need her inner worry added onto their own panic. a quick tergeo cleans blood from the wound and charity lets out a breath. at least head wounds always look worse than they are. wand is pointed gently to the gash and spell is murmured, the edges of the wound beginning to knit together slowly but surely. it takes longer than it would a professional, but within a minute or two the wound is healed to smooth skin. “i - she should be alright. do you know where her parents went?” there’s some level of dread in her voice even as charity asks the question.

          “there’s nothing else i can do for him - i’m sorry,” it’s a kid. a kid. can’t be more than eleven years old, bleeding from broken limb. it’s sick. charity scrubs a hand across her forehead, managing only to replace soot and beading sweat with a dark smear across pale skin. the door of the shop she’s holed up in with groups of weeping and injured people creaks open and wand is pointed to the noise without a second thought - body binding spell stuck on her lips. it’s lowered slightly and she squints to make out a face in the wavering light of bursting panic that flickers through the windows. “are you hurt? i’m doing my best to take care of injuries in here. c’mon.” she motions for the person to get in, get down to the level people are sitting and crouching at, and close the door.