— WHO AM I BECOMING?

Elaine Selwyn’s funeral, and subsequent celebration of life was a well attended affair. Narcissa couldn’t decide if it was because the woman had been well liked, or if everyone wanted to give the impression that she was. There were certainly a few Purebloods that Narcissa wouldn’t have expected to see at the funeral of a woman who was well known for her pro-Muggleborn stance. Perhaps they were there to alleviate suspicions.

Did the mere act of showing up really fool the Aurors? If it did, then they were imbeciles. Narcissa was sure that just as many people were there to secretly gloat to themselves as anything else. Or to gather information. Looking around at the varied crowd, Narcissa thought this would be a good place to see who held similar opinions and thoughts to the late Ms. Selwyn. If she were so inclined. But of course she wasn’t. 

Narcissa had once been told that she seemed to float through life. The girl who told her that had meant it as an insult of course, but Narcissa hadn’t taken it as one. It was the truth, after all. She preferred to glide over problems, and remain untouched and unruffled by all. No one could accuse her of anything if her conduct and behaviour was exemplary. Not that there was anything to accuse her of. Though apparently her blood was enough to condemn her in some people’s eyes.

Sipping on a glass of wine she had been offered by a passing waiter, Narcissa looked around. She was mostly trying to figure out where Lucius had gotten to. They had paid there respects, and now she wanted to get home to Draco. There was something about funerals that reminded her of her own mortality–and more importantly, her son’s. About to move off through the crowd, someone brushed by Narcissa. She pursed her lips at the rudeness, but was willing to let it go. Until she realized that they had somehow managed to catch onto the fringe of her black wrap. 

Reaching out quickly, Narcissa placed a hand on their arm before they could move off. She didn’t want them pulling a thread loose. “Sorry, but we seem to have gotten tangled when you brushed past me,” she said, her pleasant tone no indication of her true annoyance. She held up her arm which now had several threads leading over to the other person. Had she gotten stuck on one of their buttons? A piece of jewelry? A watch? 

An affair like this was precarious business -- on one hand, Elaine Selwyn was a Sacred 28 member, and if Dorcas wanted to cover her bases -- she’d need to be on civil terms with all families, blood traitor not. On the other hand? Dorcas was grateful for this woman, deep down, and she could honor her life in her own mind, on her own terms, by just being there even if the facade she had to put on was much more a cross between detached and neutral .This world especially, of Purebloods, was a never ending chess game.  It was tiring, that for every move she made, every event she went to, she had to weight the pros and cons like her life depended on it because it did. She’d be check mated if she didn’t anticipate EVERYTHING, didn’t think at least three moves ahead in any given situation.

Running into Narcissa Malfoy the way she did was embarrassing, her shoe had decided to not support her as she ran into the other woman, immediately chastising herself ( and her shoe ) as she hated to be anything but graceful & poised around the audience she was with. Especially with how her and Lucius Malfoy had recently seemed to have a budding professional working relationship. This was not how she ever wanted to properly introduce herself and make an impression. Narcissa was the epitome of poise, perfection, she was the Pureblood Society Girl dream -- Dorcas wondered what having that sort of pressure felt like. Was it easier then the pressure she had? Was it just as precarious? Probably. Which was made Narcissa an even more intriguing & interesting person in Dorcas’ eyes.

“Oh, no, truly I’m sorry. My shoe decided to give up on me, it seems. I need to find a way to return them, ASAP,” Dorcas didn’t move, in fact, as the threads for worse and worse, she tried to think of what would’ve caused this to happen. Then it hit her -- the necklace. “I think my necklace was trying to hit on your wrap,” she began to joke. “But really, though I love this necklace, it’s awfully long and low hanging, I thought it was the perfect edition to the black pantsuit I’m wearing but I see it’s got a mind of it’s own.”

She wanted to leave, badly. To go abroad, leave the mess that had become the United Kingdom and not look back for a while. Spain had been the first thing to come into her mind, but a place even further away might just be better. She let her mind go over the options as she took off her coat, considered places like Uruguay and South Africa and New Zealand, dreaming of the Southern Hemisphere as if it was a place from a novel. The thought of running away was too tempting, but there was too much to leave behind, too much that held Emilia back from taking such a leap. Besides, she’d probably not last longer than a day on her own, with her dependency on people.

“Hmm, maybe I’ll just do a day, yes,” she said, already picturing her agenda, trying to find an empty day in her schedule. “I’ve not been there for years, it’d be nice to make another visit. There’s so much to explore there.” At the others question, she nodded. “Please,” she said, holding out her hands, which had became red from the icy wind. “Rosmerta’s usually rather good at managing temperatures, so it’s odd that it’s so cold here. I’ll need a warm drink to warm up properly. You, too? My treat.”

“So, you have been then?” Dorcas’ eyes lit up, not to it’s full capacity but to a dim light that hopefully let Emilia know that she was truly interested in her travel experiences as she took out her wand to heat them both. First, the charm was directed at her hands, for a few seconds, then the rest of Emilia’s arms, Dorcas then aiming it to her feet. She was thorough, after all. “If I could ever find some time that wasn’t work dedicated, I’d even come with you, which is a little odd to hear from someone who’s basically a stranger but I’m sure we could just explore on our own and not even have to see each other. Just in case you needed a translator, I’m here. ” She almost wanted to kick herself at what she’d said, though she was being friendly, there was anxiety about how much she’d just talked. “Do you speak Spanish?”

“I’d love one, you don’t have to pay for me, but I won’t object too much,” though, she mentally made a note then to make sure she could find a way to pay Emilia back -- Dorcas HATED owing any sort of debt no matter how small or big it was. It left her nervous, it left other people power of her in various ways. Emilia’s face was so bright, excited, it was contagious.  Finding a seat in front of the bar area, Dorcas started to move towards it, hoping Emilia would get the idea and join her. “I’ll pay for next round, then? I think I feel myself becoming one with the frost.”

As Dorcas’ face and voice entered her head, Mary found herself relaxing slightly. While bumping into someone was hardly the worst thing to do nowadays, she had dreaded a confrontation of sorts with an on edge parent, or worse, some kind of asshole who felt like they were owning Diagon Alley. There were a few of those these days. She assumed they were fighting the wrong fight.

It made her paranoid, walking in such a public space. While Mary put herself out in the world daily – be it online or physically – it would never stop but be an unnerving thing. There was a mark painted on her back, both because of RED and the Order, and the world was not made for people like her. Rebels. Mudbloods with a voice, with fight, with power. Public crimes weren’t a rarity, they happened, and while she tried not to assume that they’d happen to her, headlines of terrible occurrences still haunted her when she was in Diagon Alley. She supposed it was better to be wary than be naive these days.

“What makes you think I was going to say tits? Maybe I was gonna say toes. Or teeth! There’s more body parts than just breasts, Meadowes, get with the times,” she said, grinning a little at her friend. “I’m just running errands. And there was a sale at the second hand bookshop, and what can I say? I indulged. I’m not perfect, even if the rumours say differently.”

She always thought about how if times were different ( if she were different ), she’d have greeted Mary with a hug, that maybe if she wasn’t so emotionally damaged & detached due to occupation and circumstance, she could’ve smiled, openly been as friendly as she wanted to be. As she could’ve been. There was so much that COULD’VE BEEN -- but she wondered, would she have done anything different now that she truly knew what she was losing? What she could’ve had? Dorcas knew the smart answer was no, knew that a younger her would say no -- she did what she had to do. But was it enough? Did it feel good now? No. It didn’t. Soul sickness followed her, even if it was worth it in the long run, would Mary ( or her ) even survive long enough to see the work she put into this war actually pay off?

What could’ve been weighed on her like a second, no, third life. Possibilities haunted her as much as the horrible things she’d done did. Especially to people like Mary. “There’s more body parts than just breasts? I’ve been reading some outdated biology books, then.” For now, she felt content, she had to live in the now, even if just to have this conversation with Mary. 

At the book sale, Dorcas could completely understand -- she loved books. Adored them. Fell into their pages, losing herself in story after story as a release. Her eyebrows raised, wanting to the deets. “Which shop?” Scoffing, she almost let out a bitter laugh but rolled her eyes instead,“the rumors are terrible and cruel, but honey, most of them are true - as the GREAT Taylor Swift says. They’ve really really loved throwing your name under the bus even more than usual due to recent events.” Mary definitely knew what she meant, so she didn’t clarify further, “I’ve actually needed some new reading material if you’d care to show me where it is or do I know it already? Do they have books in different languages as well or just English?  You always find the most intriguing bookstores, quite impressive how you’re able to find those nooks and crannies.”

Peter dreaded the meetings. Both of them. The Order meetings were definitely more fun than the Death Eater meetings– purely because he knew the people. But it also made it harder. It was difficult to sit in the corner by himself and quietly listen, uncertain as to who in the room really cared about him anymore. It had been the same behavior for several meetings now, and Peter had started to get bored with the same routine every time. However– his eyes fell upon one Dorcas Meadowes as she made her way into a seat. Immediately, Peter was panicking. He thought she was a Death Eater, it made no sense for her to be at an Order meeting. 

To say that Peter ran out of that meeting was just short of the truth. As soon as the official business was over, he dipped and immediately went to retreat to his flat. He didn’t want to talk to her, he didn’t want to know, and more importantly– he didn’t want her to know. If Dorcas was doing the same thing as he was, she could do better. She could get more information, she could be more useful. 

They would kill Peter if they no longer had a use for him. 

Peter stood outside of his flat, on the verge of a panic attack, and reached into his pocket to find a crumpled up note. “Fuck me,” he muttered. It wasn’t too long later that Peter found himself staring up at the neon sign of the diner, yet again dreading another meeting. He pushed open the door and glanced around, until his eye caught Dorcas Meadowes in the corner waiting. “Fuck, fuck, what the fuck am I doing, holy fuck.” Peter whispered to himself, almost as if begging himself to turn around, as he walked towards Dorcas and slid into the booth across from her. 

“Hey Meadowes.” Peter crossed his arms and leaned against the table. “Fancy seeing you here, at this uh, weirdly named place. And um, fancy seeing you at lots of places.” Well, someone had to say it. “Places I’ve never really seen you at before.”

“It’s one of those hipster places. I found it on Instagram.” It was a slight lie, the people who ran the place constantly sent her messages on Atlas’ Instagram account asking to come for a bite. She’d gotten a few free meals before from them, which was worth it, but she’d never been there in the dark of the night. “They’ve got a ton of after midnight specials and nothing beats cheap good food. It’s like a pound for their ‘Leaning Tower of Toast’.”

Here, she hadn’t seen Peter so bold. He had beaten her to the punch, and once again, he had surprised her. It was unsettling, a feeling that threatened to make her even more paranoid than she had been before. He was obviously anxious, obviously scared, was he putting on an act? Was he scared because he was caught? Did he not realize that technically, she had been caught too? Hopefully not. She didn’t need to deal with another person KNOWING and having that power over her. 

Inspecting him for a few moments, she noticed more than she had before -- a definite mistake on her part. Had she been doing her job well? Had she? It’d been impeccable, in her eyes, she’d gotten this far but had she paid attention to certain people more than others? It was apparent then that she had as she just stared him down, hoping that the more she did the more she’d understand ( osmosis, possibly? ) -- to no avail. “But I’ll hand it to you, you’ve got BALLS, Pettigrew,” Dorcas scoffed, laughing lightly, the steely expression now broken only because it came as such a surprise that he was so forward. She felt the tension palpable in the air, the fear, and knew that this situation could south at any moment -- she needed to find a way to diffuse it first. 

“D’you like fish and chips?” Looking back down at the menu, Dorcas suddenly had the urge to buy everything on the menu. “I’ll buy whatever you want, just cool it with the cloak and dagger language nonsense ‘til I’ve eaten and I’m able to cast a silencing charm around us just in case your MESSY ARSE tracked in anyone.” Her eyes wandered to the entrances, exits, the windows, each booth, even the air vents. If someone was here, who was following him or her, hopefully they’d think it was either two Death Eaters for a late dinner, two Order members for a late dinner or just two friends possibly under the influence looking for a midnight snack. There was an urge then to think of a cover, to alert Peter to think to a cover, but he was so nervous already she didn’t need to freak him out more -- she needed to ease him into this. 

                                 DORCAS + LANGUAGES:

English, BSL/IS, Catonese, Mandarin, German, French, Spanish, Japanese, Latin, Rune, Gobbledegook fluently.

                             Many others conversationally. it’s just her thing.