alize emel neylan bente fortescue

-

    He’s always amazed, the way that Alice pulls her charm, her grace, her very aura from thin air; it’s not even magic, as so many have often attributed it to, no spellbinding and no witchcraft here. It’s simply in her very presence, and when his eyes meet hers, it’s a sudden tidal wave of calm that he knows cannot only be attributed to seeing that she and Neville - their son, their son - are alive and well. Frank has never been particularly faithful in anything; Muggles may worship a God on high, others may curse or praise the hands of fate. But the fact that she’s standing, that they all three of them are standing to see another day after all that’s happened… well, it might make an honest man of him yet.

    It might. He likes to think it will.

    (He knows that it won’t.)

    He comes to a stop in front of her, and just being in her presence is a balm and he wants more - wants to feel her heartbeat against his, wants to breathe in the scent of her hair as he’d remembered it so long ago but can still recall as if it were yesterday. He wants to show that he cares, but he doesn’t know how. Frank Longbottom wants, and that in itself is not a surprise - it’s wanting what he cannot have, knowing that it’s his own damn fault, that’s new. He swallows the lump in his throat and nods, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. “I did,” he confirms, uncertain of just how much to reveal, the circumstances of why he’d been there in the first place. Another ill-advised tryst, an itch to scratch with someone who couldn’t give a damn either way. Simplistic and base, something that twisted into a night of horror. He settles for another lie, another sin to an ever-growing list against the one person he’d sworn to himself that he’d stop lying to. “She’d left the gala early, asked me to come see her for business with the Death Eaters. Her message to me might have been the last message she’d sent before she…” It’s hard for him to say the words, and he dances around the harsh reality. “Still, it was better that I found her, and not Andromeda.” And that, he fully believes. No one should have to see that.

    At the mention of Greengrass, he stills. Frank listens to her words with rapt attention, his heartbeat rushing like the roar of a waterfall in his ears. “You’re…” He struggles to find the right word, to place how overjoyed he is to hear how she’d fought, how proud he is of her magical prowess, how ashamed he is that he wasn’t there while Greengrass was. “… incredible, Alice.” If his eyes had been glassy before, then they’re positively swimming with unshed tears now. He looks upon them both, at the way that Neville fidgets in her arms and he feels a single hot streak run its way down his face, which he wipes away with haste. Frank nods at her suggestion that they take their conversation inside, following her into her home. “How did it happen?” There’s a tightness to his voice, a note of dismay. It wasn’t supposed to happen here, he thinks. They weren’t supposed to be here. “Were you injured at all in the aftermath? St. Mungo’s has been in disarray, last I’ve heard. More sick and injured than the Mediwizards can handle…”

At the mention of death eaters, Alice covers Neville’s ear quickly. However young he may be, however little he’d remember and actually pick up from the conversation; she didn’t want him hearing it. Nothing. Nothing to do with either side. She was as strict about it with the Order or Rising or whatever it was nowadays. Confused, curious, but not perturbed, Neville cast his gaze to his mother. She looked concerned which meant he was. Alice usually was successful in monitoring her emotions around her son as it seemed he was incredibly empathic. Especially with her. And Neville didn’t need the weight of any world on him. Alice inhaled sharply. “Bunny, I’m-- Frank, I’m sorry,” she told him, earnestly. “I can’t imagine, I--” she’s struck with the fact that she doesn’t actually know what to say. As close or as alienated their dynamic was, finding someone you knew, someone who may have any kind of semblance of importance or impact on your life, was awful. Horrific. Unimaginable. She found herself nodding her head. Yes. Finding a sister might’ve been... fracturing.

A bark of surprised and disbelieved laughter pushed past her lips. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting as a reaction from Frank but calling her incredible, hadn’t been it. It took her a moment to let the shock pass; the laugh dying on her lips as quickly as it started. “I’m sorry, I---” she paused, trying to find an explanation. “Hadn’t been expecting that,” she admitted. “Thank you,” she added also, out of politeness. Alice moved past Frank towards her front door, sliding her wand from her coat pocket and tapping it on the key hole. The door swung open and she stepped inside, turning to wait for Frank to follow. Once he was inside, she closed the door behind him. The lights came on as she moved into the sitting room. She put Neville on his play mat, giving him his favourite toy at the moment which was a bunch of useless keys that he loved to rattle and use to ‘unlock’ things. “Would you like a drink?” she asked in response to him. Not answering immediately. Ever the hostest, she got herself a glass of lemonade from the kitchen which was partly open plan to the sitting room and looked to Frank.

Alice frowned ever so slightly. “I don’t know, Frank,” she told him. “I know my address isn’t a secret, but it’s not broadcast to anyone but those I know and trust. I’d understand if they’d come to my work apartment, but... I have no idea why or how they came here” she told him. The annoyance of the situation threatened to seep into her tone. Alice shook her head. “Nothing I couldn’t handle. A few cuts and abrasions from brick splitters hitting me. I didn’t let the were’s come close to us,” she told him. “Greengrass helped pull them out,” she added. “I wasn’t going to burden Mungo’s with things I could handle myself, they’re always over-crowded and understaffed,” she added; practical but most specifically to her, sensitive. She moved back into the sitting room, sitting down on the sofa, crossing her legs. She gestured for him to sit if he wished too. Despite being mad, she was mostly relieved he was okay. Overwhelmed by how relieved she was. She kicked off her shoes, exhaling and feeling she she’d finally taken a breath since Frank had arrived. She was quiet for a minute; thinking. “Frank,” she asked quietly.

“I don’t ask much of you, and I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it was necessary, but... please keep us safe,” she asked him. “I mean-- within your...circle,” she elaborated. “I know my reputation warrants protection - I’m not going to be targeted very likely. But, if you’re going to be targeted -- well, it’s us who may be at the centre of that,” she said. “Just as... I assume if someone was trying to hurt or punish me and couldn’t do it physically they’d...” she paused, because admitting this was a lot more than either of them ever said. “perhaps target you,”

Evan’s whole life was a series of masterfully constructed lies.  One might call it a house of cards, but Evan was far far more careful than all that.  It was more like a house built of brick, each one very carefully laid into place, stacked so he could lose one here or there and the whole building would stay standing.

One of the hardest parts about keeping his house of lies standing up was hiding the things that had become harder to hide.  It wasn’t even his whole double life with the order, it was his other secret life, all of the drinking and men he used to try and kill the pain.  He couldn’t have everyone in the world going around talking about how much he loved cock.  The world of the purebloods couldn’t handle that entirely, so that was when he started seeing various women about such things every once and awhile. Alice was simply one of them.

Of course he usually made an appointment, but tonight he’d nearly gotten caught outside a gay bar by one of Rodolphus’s friends, and so he’d made his way here promptly, because it was much easier to explain away being seen outside of Alice’s place of business than with a cock in his mouth outside a club.  Such as thing were.  Evan blinked when Alice opened the door and he saw her.  “Stunning,” he said as he looked her over.  “You’re prefect, love the look, I’m going to have a drink, and I’ll be out of your hair in twenty, right?  Right,” he said.

Evan didn’t need to say any more, Alice understood. She’d always understand. And her services had always been more than just sex or companionship. Of course, she’d never charge Evan for a visit like such. His sexuality and right to privacy didn’t have a price. She moved from the doorway, reaching out to press her hand to his shoulder. It was a simple gesture, one which would, to any onlooker, suggest he’d been expected. “Make yourself at home, you know where things are,” she told him. She watched him walk into the place before she swung the door shut behind them.

She moved smoothly, getting herself a glass and helping herself to the alcohol Evan had chosen himself. Precisely, she poured her drink before returning the stopper to the glass decanted. With a tap of her wand and words murmured in Turkish ( because she so enjoyed casting in both English and Turkish. And she also enjoyed the confusion it caused ), which caused the decanter to find it’s way back to it’s spot in her vast liquor cabinet. Alice held up her glass in cheers before taking a sip. Moving, she went to sit on the chaise lounge. “Come, let’s catch up,”

_____

Nellie gave her a soft smile, and nodded, “For you? Absolutely. I’ve missed you terribly, and I would very much like to know that you’re doing alright as well,” she answered. Alice had always been a calming presence in her life, and Penelope had found her first sense of sisterhood in the older woman. Seeing the two coffees float in, she gave a soft smile, picking up hers and taking a soft smile as the caramel latte warmed her tongue. “You’re an angel, you know,” she thanked, giving her a smile full of warmth. Nellie felt a sense of peace as Alice made herself comfortable in her office, knowing that it was inviting enough for her to do so. At her words, Nellie moved around her desk and came to stand in front of her, giving her a small, half smile. Leaning into the soft hands that cupped her face, Nellie gave a hum, “I’m alright, just a bit tired, but I think that comes with my job these days,” she murmured, truthful in her assessment. Between her career as the undersecretary and her job as a double agent, exhaustion came with the territory. 

During her first year at Hogwarts, Alice had been her mentor, and from there she had become one of her greatest friends. Even now, Penelope knew that Alice would always be there to provide comfort and ease in her heart where she could. They were kindred spirits in that respect, and Nellie found herself already comforted some just by the fact that she was here. 

Giving her a soft shrug, Nellie’s smile waned a bit, “I feel a little defeated at the moment, but I’m holding onto hope with both hands,” she admitted. Alice was right, she could go on pretending to be unaffected as much as she wanted, and in settings she had to, but this wasn’t one of them. It was healthy to give herself the space to breathe, to catch her breath and feel the ache in her bones for a moment at least. “I ran for Undersecretary with the knowledge that this was a real possibility. I was prepared to be in this position, but now that I’m in, I have to admit, I’m worried I’m out of my depths. I mean, I know what I have to do, but it doesn’t make me any less scared,” she murmured. Nellie leaned into the contact for a moment, her love language being sated, before sitting on the edge of her desk and taking another sip of her coffee. “It’ll be okay though. How are you doing? How’s my favorite boy?”

A warm, delighted and endearing hum left her lips as Penelope welcomed her into the room, happy to be in enchanting company. The brunette smiled softly, before throwing on her best devilishiy charming smile. “Goddess darling, I’m not nearly holy enough to be an angel,” she said smoothly, although a chuckle pushed past her lips to follow her words. She rubbed a thumb over Penelope’s cheek, a soft sigh escaping her mouth. “My father used to say you’re not working hard enough if you’re not tired,” she told Penelope. “Of course, I always thought him too work and not enough play,” she added. “I’d say you’re tired because you care and you’re working very hard right now,” she told her.

“Hey, call me hope, and hold onto me as much as you need. I’ll keep you on two feet, I promise,” she told her friend as she wrapped her arms around the other. She pressed a soft kiss to Penelope’s head. “And I’ve been told I’m lovely to get your hands on,” she added as a joke, to inject some familiar comfort to the room. Alice sat as Penelope drew back, perching on the edge of her desk, drink in hand. She crossed her feet at her ankles, knees together. “Scared is good. Scared means this matters to you, to others. Scared can be a good driving factor. It can be motivation. But it’s also entirely human, Penny.” Alice spoke. “And there’s also nothing wrong with asking for help or support from others,” she added. “But if there’s anything I know, Penelope Rosier, it’s that you are capable of anything you put your mind too. And that’s whether you pick it up straight away or have to work at it a bit,” she told her friend. “Rome wasn’t built in a night, and picking up all this responsibility and shouldering the weight, balancing it -- that’s definitely going to take a bit longer too,” 

Alice sipped her own coffee, a smile filling her features. “Neville is beautiful,” she assured Penelope. “And he wants to touch everything,” she added, a mock look of horror pulling at her brows. “I’ve had to buy a useless bunch of keys for him to jingle because he wouldn’t put mine down,” she said with a laugh. “At least he’s stopped pulling hair,” she added. “Of course, the new bob helps,”. “And, we’ve bounced back since the werewolves attacked the house, I cleared up the damage after Greengrass and I had finished fighting them off,”. Penelope has actually been the first person Alice had contact after it. Mostly because well, she was much more level headed than Lily would have been. And Frank had been unreachable. Edgar would have worried far too much in the moment.

When: The night of Alastor and Suri’s release, 11:30pm  Where: Any bar, anywhere

Sleeping at night was becoming more of a struggle. Knowing that so many of those close to him were working overtime to clean up the mess that he created was weighing heavily on his conscience – even more so was the burden of keeping the secret buried and watching innocent people be accused. Rodolphus had used him as part of his own filthy scheme and Rabastan was left to simmer in the guilt. Nothing could convince him that this wasn’t his fault; he felt like a danger to society. A monster. Just like the papers painted him.

And so he found himself at the bar, alone, ruminating in his thoughts. Rabastan had grown used to dining and drinking alone since he traveled so often. While he greatly enjoyed the company of his friends, he did enjoy the solitude every so often. He was drinking slowly, tapping his fingers against the surface at the bar, observing other patrons. As he absentmindedly scanned the crowd he spotted a familiar face and tried to shake himself from his thoughts, flashing the most authentic smile he could manage. “I’d like to say I don’t normally make a habit of drinking alone, but I do enjoy it every so often.” He gestured to the seat next to him. “That being said, I wouldn’t mind some company.” 

Alice straddled both sides of the divide in her world; the barely truly spoken about ( aside to those who shared the views you held ) divide that was so glaringly obvious but mostly just acknowledged and not spoken about to avoid the provocation of the situation. But yet, Alice sat on both sides, or rather, tucked neatly in the middle. Why? Well mostly due to her business. She held many of the most important or wealthy witches and wizards in the palm of her hand ( or perhaps, in the coil of her sheets, was more apt? ). But that wasn’t just it. Alice was charming, intelligent, well versed in ettiquette, extraordinarily compassionate, able to hold an interesting conversation, able to talk politics, or frivilous things. She could provoke, excite, entice, and be controversial. She could listen to about any conversation in existence and pretend intrigue, offer insight, or cleverly stay quiet and enjoy her drink. So really it was no surprise she could slip right into the halls of any manor and seem right at home. But similarly; she could be rowdy and gleeful and be the loudest laugh in the room. She wasn’t afraid to be ‘unladylike’ as she found the notice entirely ridiculous, which is why she could equally be seen right a home at the hearth of any pub with a friend from any and every background. Alice was aware she was priviledged in her station. Even if she’d work incredibly hard to earn that place herself. 

Tonight, she found herself with a night to herself. Her client session had ended early and she still had a few kid free hours. So she’d decided to treat herself to a nightcap and some peope watching. And yet, the familair face of Rabastan Lestrange found her gaze. She smiled. “Hello darling,” she spoke smoothly, taking the seat beside him. “I’m happy to be your company,” she told him. She ordered a whiskey sour. 

Sexual fantasy was a vast universe to explore, and Alice was absolutely open to exploring most of it with her clients. If they needed it, wanted it, were curious about it -- she would make it happen for them. It was what had lead to her current look. Head to toe, she was painted pink. Large curls were pinned with various types of flowers, all of which added to the look. A subtle statement of a crown sat on her head. Her client had a particular predilection for the Greek Gods; more specifically the controversial love affair of Persephone and Hades.

He’d asked her to read something called lore olympus to base her look off. And so she had. Alice was a professional and damn good at her job. She wore a white greek style ‘robe’ to wear.

Not expecting anyone for a few hours, she was surprised when the door bell went. Getting up to answer it. As the door swung open, Alice offered a quirked brow and a smirk on her lips. “Well you’re not my client, but I have a few hours still... what do I owe the pleasure?” she asked.

    He hears her voice, and he can’t quite explain the tidal wave that rushes over him - the relief that floods his veins, the sudden skip and rapid restart of his heartbeat until it rushes through his ears. When Frank turns to see her, with Neville - their son, their beautiful and breathing and alive son - in her arms, he crosses the distance that separates them with just two long strides. He brings himself to a halt before he reaches her, remembering himself, remembering that yes, they’ve agreed to be the parents they should for their son, but Frank is… well, he’s him, and so he maintains that distance out of respect for the promise he’d made, despite every nerve in his body crying for him to embrace them both - to feel her heartbeat against his own, to hold the weight of their son in his arms as well.

   “Been held at the Ministry,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. He weighs the consequences of telling her why: that he had been the one to find Bellatrix’s body, that he had stood accused and interrogated of murder for the last three days, that the guilt inside of him threatens to overwhelm him with each passing second. He settles for honesty; Alice deserves that, and so much more. “Auror questioning after… after I reported finding Bellatrix.” He glances at Neville in her arms, still smiling, still innocent to the crumbling world around them. Frank clears his throat. “I’m sure you’ve read the reports in the Prophet about what happened to her. They had questions, and they’ve been scrambling to clean up this mess, so they kept me in holding until they remembered I was still in one of their cells.” He remembers pacing, yelling, begging for any news of Alice and Neville, only to be met with a cold shoulder and told to wait his turn, that everyone in Wizarding Britain was scrambling to find their loved ones now. She swears, and it’s not one that he knows, but he’s heard it fall from her lips before. Another regret to add to his list: to be the cause of her distress and worry. He shakes his head. “I’m sorry,” and he finds that it’s all he can say. What other words are there, to express his remorse for the worry he’s caused - for everything he’s done, his own hand in the werewolf attack? “If I had lost you too, I wouldn’t - I can’t -”

   His legs begin to tremble underneath him as the reality of what he’d done, the horrors that might have happened because of him, begin to crash down on him. Be strong, he tells himself. Be strong for them. “I’m fine now. All I could think about was you and Neville. Where… where were you when it happened? Did you see anything?” He fears her answer as much as he needs to know. Please tell me you were protected from the worst of it.

It’s not until their eyes meet that alice’s walls, the strong ones she’s built over her life, begin to quiver. Her breath catches in her throat as she looks at him, properly. He looks tired. He looks... unexplainably conflicted. He looks how alice feels. Frank moved towards them and Alice wanted to let him embrace them, hold her and Neville for a moment, as if they were the family they should have been, but she couldn’t partly because it wasn’t a good idea and she knew it, but partly because she was mad. Instead, he pressed her lips together. 

Her lips part as he speaks, understanding settling on her brows. Suddenly, she feels somewhat guilty, for assuming the worst. But past experience had muddied her expectations. Her eyes widen, the cold brown softening and warming as she realises the implications of his words. “Did you find her?” she asked him quietly. Godric, that was... that was... horrible. Even if she had never particulary liked the woman, she knew that Frank had been close with her, sometimes closer than Alice had liked, not that she’d ever admit it, and not that she actually had any ownership over him, but she appreciated how awful that must have been.

“Oh bunny,” she whispered. Sympathy in her tone. Neville begins to wriggle in her arms, uncomfortable in Alice’s grip. She shifts his weight to a more comfortable position, which would qwell him for a moment. Alice rolled her shoulders back, standing a little straighter, nodding her head. “Yes, I read the reports,” she told him. “One of my clients worked on the brief...” she trails off, aware that information wasn’t necessary. She can’t help herself, he apologises and she feels the need to move towards him, curl into his arms and let him know it’s okay. That despite she was terrified he was dead, despite she hadn’t heard from him in days, being stuck in a cell in the minsitry was a pretty good excuse. But she’s heard his apologies before. She’s heard so many of them. 

Her expression darkens, and she holds Neville closer to her. That night was imprinted in her memories for reasons other than Frank’s disappearance. “I spent the night fighting off some werewolves who wanted to bite or kill myself and our son,” she uttered. “I’m not an incapable witch, I know how to fight, but I was lucky the Greengrass brother found himself beside me,” she told him. Although her home looks pristine, it hadn’t after the attack, but her protections had held and she could reverse the damage of spells, curses, and damage. Alice opens her mouth to say more but instead she refrains, closing her eyes for a second. “This isn’t a conversation for outside my house, I-- you can come in if you’d like,” she offers. Neville was beginning to wriggle in her arms once more, tired of waiting to get home. 

playlist: what alice listens too

key artists: miley cyrus lizzo david bowie queen abba raleigh ritchie harry styles panic! at the disco the beatles florence and the machine adam cohen oh wonder

key songs: wtf do i know; miley cyrus oh! you pretty things; david bowie boys; lizzo truth hurts; lizzo loyal to me; nina nesbit heart of glass; miley cyrus technicolor beat; oh wonder does your mother know; abba dancing queen; abba squares; raleigh ritchie lights up; harry styles moonage daydream; david bowie just dance; david bowie i want to break free; queen another one bites the dust; queen high hopes; panic! at the disco at the ballet; a chorus line hey ya!; outkast at least it was here; the 88 valerie; the zutons at last’ etta james bella note; bill thompson & george givot

playlist: about the muse

where: the doorstep of alice’s home when: three days after the full moon who: @fourtesan

    It’s ironic: he’s used to attention, thrives in the spotlight, his face and demeanor born for the stage and scrutiny - but in the days after, there’s nothing more that he wants than to crawl into a hole and stay there. Away from the prying eyes, away from the interrogated questions - and the worst of them all, away from the pity. He should be thankful, then, when he’s finally released from questioning, when the dismissal comes at long last and he’s allowed to return to the oppressive freedom of a mourning London.

    There’s a part of him - the selfish part, the boyish and petulant child in him that won’t die - that wants to hide away, to drown his sorrows in empty pleasures, but that part is silenced, quiet against the torrent of concern, of fear and worry for them, that sinks low in his stomach and cuts him like a knife.

    So here he is, three days later with hardly a wink of sleep, with another woman’s blood on the underside of his cloak and bags under his eyes, in front of Alice’s front door. He should have freshened up first; this is no way to see her. He’d promised her that he would… hide these parts of himself, the less-than-virtuous sides that he promised to them both that he’d keep away from Neville.

    But he has to know, and he cannot wait a moment longer.

    He knocks on her door - once twice thrice, in quick succession - and prays that she’ll open the door; that she - that the both of them - will be fine in the aftermath of what he’s done. His voice is a low murmur, like the skipping malfunctional rhythm of his heart, and he doesn’t realize the words that fall from his lips. “Please be alright… please be safe…”

“Frank?”

His name slipped from her lips before she even knew she’d parted them. Disbelief, but relief flooded her tone. She stood a few feet away behind him, the gate to her front garden swinging shut. Neville was in her arms, clutching the last slice of his orange in his hand. He looked at the man on the doorstep, all but a stranger to him, and yet he did recognised him. He didn’t reach out, instead wrapping a hand in Alice’s hair, but he smiled. A bag was slung over her shoulder; it mostly housed things for Neville, but also had some essentials packed away in there from a quick visit to the shops. 

She blinked, a suddenly wash of overwhelming emotion attempting to grasp her. Instead, she looked to Neville, taking in his warmth and how it strengthened her. Yet, she still spoke. “Where have you been?” she asked, a sharp note to her voice. “I thought you might be... I was told you were there when the attack occured and...” she trailed off, looking back down at Neville. He refrained her from walking wand first into situations these days. If he hadn’t been around, she’d have most probably searched for Frank herself. But that was rash and Alice was a mother now. Alice cursed in Turkish, annoyed at herself for feeling so flustered. “I thought you might be dead,” she said finally. “Do you know how that felt?” she uttered, her voice raised slightly. But she caught herself, her free hand moving up to press against her lips. 

She exhaled, closing her eyes for a moment, feeling Neville move in closer to her, sensing she needed him. “Are you okay?” she asked quietly. 

Seeing Neville, a softer smile appeared on her lips. His little wave made some of the tension she was holding melt, and Lily gave him a wave of his own. Leaning in, she kissed the top of his head, and then Alice’s cheek in greeting, grateful for the warmth she already felt at just being in their presence. “Hello Firefly,” she murmured, grateful that she was going to be able to relax with one of her closest friends for a while. Alice always brought her a sense of calm, and she didn’t know what it was about her that made Lily so comfortable, but she hoped she never stopped. Even when the world felt entirely all wrong, Lily felt a sense of right being around Alice. 

Stepping in, she kept a soft smile on her lips as she carefully took off her shoes, letting her height drop as she lost the heel. “Thank you. How are you two doing?” she asked. Lily had always held as much love for Neville as she did for his mother, which was an easy thing to do. “Do you have any wine? Maybe something a little stronger?” she asked, because while Lily decidedly did not want to get drunk, she wouldn’t mind something to help settle her. Lily curled into the other woman’s arms the moment they were wrapped around her, and she let her head rest gently in the nap of Alice’s neck. “I’m tired,” Lily admitted, knowing that Alice would understand she meant more than just in the physical sense. “Marlene is going to make a full recovery,” she relied. Alice and Marlene might not be friends, but Lily knew she would still care.

Alice smiled softly “We’re fine love,” she replied. “Neville has no idea what’s going on in the world, so he’s quite content, although he can certainly tell when I’m tense, he’s a very observant little thing,” she told her friend. “But well... “ she paused, because she really hated the subject, hated bringing him up, because, well it was all entirely complicated. But Lily and Edgar were the only people she was more truthful about it with. “I’m a little worried,” she admitted. “About... Frank” she reluctantly said. “I haven’t heard from him in days and... he checks in. He always checks in and... what with the attack on Bellatrix...” she trailed off. “I don’t know if he’s dead or alive right now and that’s... not a nice feeling,” she admitted. “But, all in all, we’re fine,” she added quickly. “Work is busy, and Neville is hitting all his milestones,” she said, pushing a smile onto her lips.

Alice listened to Lily as the curled into her arms, stroking her hair softly. “I’m not surprised at all,” she uttered. “I’ll grab some blankets and we can curl up on the sofa okay?” she murmured softly. The sound of relief left Alice’s lips at Lily’s next words and she muttered something in turkish; which was along the lines of thank god.

Alice moved to her liquor cabinet and bringing out a bottle of smooth whiskey. She pulled the top off, a satifying pop coming with the movement and placed it beside two glasses. “Ice?” she asked.

When: day after the election Who: Alice Fortescue ( @fourtesan​ ) Title: A Coffee Break

Back at her desk, Nellie wasn’t sure she had ever been this tired in her life. In front of her were several half finished coffees, a couple of power snacks, and most notably the likes of papers on her desk. The mountains of research that Nellie had started was just the first step in getting the new orders overturned. It would take the right lawyers taking them to Wizengomant before anything changed, and for that to happen there had to be an airtight case. For her part, Nellie was doing everything in her personal power to ensure that it happened, and that further orders were rejected. 

The knock at her door brought her out of her work and she quickly closed the book she was reading from and carefully stacked the papers aside to avoid prying eyes. “Come in,” she offered, giving a seemingly cheerful and easy greeting. However, her smile became genuine at the sight of Alice, “Hiya love, what can I do for you?”

“You can give me your undivided attention for say, twenty, thirty minutes? So I can make sure you’re okay,” Alice answered as she entered the room, two large mugs floating aside her. With a quick flick of her wand, the door closed behind her. The two mugs floated and carefully placed themselves on the desk; Penelope’s usual and a decaff coffee for Alice. She shrugged off her coat, folding it and hanging it on the back of a chair. Alice ran her hands through her dark hair before she held her hands out, beckoning Penelope over. “Let me look at you,” she said softly. Her hands cupped Penelope’s face and Alice looked the younger woman over; soft concern sitting upon her brows; her eyes searched to see, to make sure; that Penny was okay. Or at least relatively.

They’d first met when Alice had been appointed Penelope’s mentor at Hogwarts; to help a new student settle into life at the castle; but they’d soon realised that they were kindred spirits; bright, curious and kind girls, and a friendship was born. One which held strong, even now. 

“Things have happened, of which even the strongest of souls would be knocked down by, so I needed to check how you were doing,” Alice said simply, a soft compassion clinging to her words. “Because you are a strong soul, but it’s absolutely understandable, and I’d actually be more worried if you weren’t affected, to not be okay, or need ten minutes to catch you breath,” she added. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the girls forehead, before she released her, taking a seat and a sip of her drink.