These things werenât supposed to happen. He knew better to trust in promised safety, to keep a sharp eye out, but he still went. He was still trying to be part of something that was out for him. He couldnât live his life in fear, but he didnât know how much longer he could live life like this.
Because it wasnât just little day to day occurrences that got to him, that still sent him back. There were explosions and larger scale attacks. There was the constant negative reinforcement that more than some of his classmates didnât want anything to do with him. This extended beyond the walls of Hogwarts, and laying on the floor of Dervish and Banges, he knew he wasnât okay.
It didnât just apply to the bumps and bruises that had come with Florenceâs arm and pulling her to the ground with him the moment he realized they werenât safe. Heâd been staring through the large sheet of glass, about to comment on how they might want to move further in when it had blown inwards with a spray of glass. He might be cut up, but he wasnât at a point to evaluate the damage yet. He couldnât focus on anything than the immediate facts; he was shaking, he might be hurt, more could be coming, he had to get off the floor. The floor got him into trouble, and he couldnât tellâhe couldnât tell if the masked figures were standing right over him or a burred memory from that night.
He forced himself into a sitting position, tucked between shelves where he hoped to be out of sight enough to not draw attention and relatively protected from whatever curses might come in from the now very open window. His breathing was shallow, each on sharp and almost painful, and he drew his legs up to his chest, trying to be small and stable, protecting himself and curling in. He couldnât think, he couldnât process what was going on. He was in a shop and under attack yet again. He was in an alley bleeding and reeling from what was supposed to be a fresh start. He was in the dungeons, spots swirling in front of his eyes. He was sitting out on a curb, staring at the body of his sister. Unable to move, unable to do anything. Small.
He rested his forehead on his knees for a moment and shut his eyes to try and ground himself in something only to find it worse. It was so much worse. He needed the reality of the shop, no matter how hard it was to absorb that he was hear yet again. That heâd been here too many times in the past few months and that no matter how hard he tried, no matter what steps he took, he was losing.
Benjy looked around, trying to find somethingâanything in the chaos of the shop to ground him. There were a few smoking instruments that he might normally ache to get his hands on but he could only see as another potential threat to their safety. There were collapsed shelves and ruined furnitureâand shattered desks pieces strewn around and no. He wasnât there. He wasâŚhe was in a shop and there was Florence. His eyes found her and stayed locked on her. He wasnât alone this time. He wasnât sure if that was better in the grand scheme, and there was an inkling of anxiety on top of everything over the fact that he was breaking down now, but she was more than heâd had previously.
âIâmâŚIâm notâŚâ He didnât know. His thoughts were failing him which was as bad as anything. It only dug him deeper into this state. The one thing he could rely on was being able to think this through, and this series of events had robbed him of that. âWhatâs going on? Are you okay?â The words came out forced between sharp breaths, staggered and irregular. He pressed a hand to his forehead, damp. It was damp withâhe pulled it away to make sure he was correct, but he was sweating not bleeding. Not there at least. Not from his head. The inside was another matter, but he was slowly beginning the physical assessment, bit by bit with the relief that it appeared, at least, he hadnât hit his head or been cut there.
Florence was still trying to figure out what was happening. One moment, sheâd been enjoying herself, window-shopping outside Dervish and Bangesâwhich largely constituted of admiring the magical instruments and imagining dramatic and adventurous ways in which she could possibly use themâand the next, wellââ
The next, there were screams and shouts, hooded figures ripping through the village and something frightening in the air, an image that chilled Florence to the bone. Panic had whirled through her, striking her still, until sheâd caught Benjyâs eyeââand she didnât know him well, but at least they recognised each other, at least it was enough. Still, if he hadnât pulled her down, she didnât know where sheâd be. She glanced up at the gaping window, at the jagged edges of glass littering their area, and blanched. Lacerated, probably. Then again, she couldnât be sure she wasnât currently, if not to as extreme as an extent as she could have been. She couldnât look at her arms. Florence Daygust had always had a lively imagination, and she couldnât currently trust that sheâd see anything clearly.
That was a rare moment of shocking, zinging self-awareness, before suddenly she was overcome by an overwhelming, all-consuming feelingââa feeling of what, exactly, she wasnât sure, but all she knew was that it was surrounding her. In fact, more than anything, it seemed to be characterised by the fact that she didnât know what it wasââas if it was the very state of not knowing. Still, she was okay. She was okay. If she repeated it enough, it would be true.
Discarding those thoughtsâa feat in and of itselfâFlorence realised she was splayed out in a way that was not only undignified but probably quite unsafe. She scrambled backwards, hissing lightly as she found shards of glass dragging across her skin as she pulled her body back, but continued doggedlyâwhilst itâd have likely been safer, from a broken glass point of consideration, to move slowly but carefully, especially because there had been Aurors around and she was meant to trust them to keep her safe from the attacks, all Florence knew was that her fight-or-flight instinct had never been stronger and was telling her, in no uncertain terms, to move out of the damn way.
Once she was settled more against a wall, Florence looked around wildly, trying to find the Aurors, something, anythingââand her eyes came to rest on Benjy. Her sigh of relief was audible, even amongst all the chaos. He didnât look... great. She wasnât sure what it was, exactly, because she couldnât really tell much about him physicallyâshe hadnât even checked herself physically, let alone been able to focus enough to take anything in about him as she scanned her eyes over himâbut something about the look in his eyes was pounding into her, twisting her heart.Â
The second he started speaking, Florence seized upon the impulse within her and surged towards him. Sheâd never been good at not being overwhelming, and now was probably no exception, but Jamesâ Quidditch trainingââshe decided to credit it to there, given that sheâd never been especially proficient at stopping with anything beforeââhad her pulling up and halting a pace or two in front of Benjy, instead of hurtling straight into him. âI donât know,â someone said, and it took her a moment to realise it was her. Her voice sounded strange. Perhaps it was just because she wasnât used to hearing her voice in nightmares, which she supposed this counted as, for her, anyway. âIâmâI think so?â she said, voice a little wobbly, before trying to scold herself into keeping it together. You are Florence Daygust, Gryffindor Chaser, Would-Be Adventurer. You can do this. However, she was also Florence Daygust, sixteen-and-four-months year old girl, and this was the scariest experience of her entire lifeââeven if she wasnât really in danger, best as she could figure, she was shaken. She willed herself to focus on his question and scanned her body. There was some blood, a few cuts, probably from the glass, only made worse from her scrambling, and she could feel bruises forming on her arms. She licked her lip and grimacedâit was bleeding, probably from her teeth crashing into it as sheâd hit the ground. Never did learn to keep my mouth shut. Still, nothing broken. âNothing serious,â she said, trying to sound confident. âYou?â She peered around, but she couldnât really see much except for broken glass and instruments, at least not from their positions. âDâyou reckon theyâre still aroundâthe Aurors too?â