golden days ;

Until then, they were going to drink. They were going to drink until the path became clear (and they were going to drink because it was the only way they could stay sane these days) so they kept tapping their pen against their open notebook, waiting for the path forward to reveal itself. It would, if Gideon gave it enough time—and whiskey. 

“Yeah, I know. There’s only so much I can do.” It was something that Andromeda told herself, and others, frequently. It was being more common – staff members walking around almost as if in a daze, completely exhausted but refusing to go home. She saw it in Lily more than others and understood it all too well. Being a Healer was incredibly rewarding yet the most difficult thing she had ever done. The desire to help everyone, to do something for every person that came through the door – it was consuming, and she wasn’t getting better at stepping back. The opposite, if anything.

“It’s just… hard, I suppose. I became a Healer so that I could help people. Yet there are so many times when I can’t. Whether I’m not there or there’s nothing that I can do when I am, it never gets easier.” They said it did; the person who trained her swore that she would adjust. She hadn’t. She wasn’t sure she ever would.

Looking at Gideon now – she was more certain of it. How could you look at someone who was in pain and be okay knowing there was nothing you could do for them? Her throat tightened at the thought as she tried to shake it off. This wasn’t about her; none of this was meant to be about her. Navigating it was tricky – trying to avert discussing Fabian while also trying to not appear entirely selfish.

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.” A quick grin, because she never could lie to them. “I quite miss your coffee. It was… unique. An interesting way to start the day.” Between Gideon, Ted, and her own personal stash that was one thing Andromeda could say – she was never deprived of caffeine. Thankfully.

It was advice that Andromeda had given them often—there’s only so much one person can do. Gideon couldn’t blame himself too much for not being able to get there soon, for not being able to save Fabian—there was only so much he could do on his own. But what about all the other people there? What about every single person who could have done something and didn’t? Gideon was having a hard time forgiving anyone for what happened at the Ministry. The only reason other people hadn’t quite picked up on that yet was because Gideon was too busy directing all that anger on himself. 

“It’s hard to know if anything you’re doing is actually making a difference,” Gideon said. “I mean, you could heal a ton of people and still not know if it even made a dent or a difference in the long run. It sucks. All we can do is know our impact right as things are happening and even then it’s not really all that clear.” 

Gideon found everything to be muddled and confusing those days. It was impossible to draw connections between things, to know how they were supposed to act or handle things. It was impossible to know how what they did was going to affect people in the future, how what they did was going to make any sort of change in the world. They wanted to believe that they were doing all the right things. They had no way of knowing if they actually were. 

He wrinkled his nose. “You can go ahead and say it. It’s poison and it nearly made me throw up.” For someone who had an incredibly high caffeine intake, Gideon was incredibly bad at making coffee. 

Zach felt like he was going fucking crazy. He hadn’t felt like this since he was about sixteen. To say he had a one track mind the last few days was a goddamn understatement. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. He’d run half a dozen checks on himself to see if someone had slipped him a potion or put him under a hex, but all of them acme back clear. It wouldn’t fucking relent and it wouldn’t stop.

He’d asked Ted if he knew of any herbs that could help–and after a shocked Ted laughed and stuttered that he didn’t–Zach had taken it upon himself. He’d tried his hand at brewing his own potion–verbena, lavender, mint, gurdyroot, sacred water, and a touch of marijuana–by every evaluation Zach had it absolutely should have worked. But it hadn’t. He was still horny as well and now he had to go to work.

Work, which was filled with people who were drinking, girls who it would be easy enough to talk into wanting something they didn’t really. Or slipping something into a drink. It would be too easy. And he had to remind himself not to. As soon as someone sat down across from him at the bar at Leaky Cauldron, he couldn’t help his eyes skimming up and down their body. Shit they were hot—no, stop, jesus, stop it he yelled at himself. “So, uh, anything I can get for you?” he asked then not being able to keep it down. “You know has anybody ever told you you have really fucking pretty eyes.” He stopped and turned around, groaning and mumbling to himself. “Jesus fucking christ Zach, get it together, what is wrong with you.”

Gideon didn’t know what came over him, but suddenly, nothing was enough. They already didn’t have a lot—quitting your job usually led to a depletion of your savings, not growth—and the tiny flat that they were staying in wasn’t enough to satiate this craving. Gideon had never grown up with a ton of wealth, but they hadn’t ever felt like this, like they couldn’t handle going with a little less. It was insane. 

They needed to figure out something new, and quickly, otherwise it was going to be unbearable to continue living like this. They certainly needed something that was entirely their own, rather than the flat they were slowly combing through to decide what needed to go where of Fabian’s things. It wasn’t tenable. It was like a hunger had opened up in the depths of their stomach, and they were never going to be able to satisfy it. 

“Whiskey,” Gideon said, holding their fingers about two inches apart as they sat at the bar. He wasn’t even aware of Zach’s gaze on him, nor was he in any state of mind to care very much about it at all. They took out their notebook and opened it to a fresh page, tapping their pen against the paper quickly. They needed a new story, and fast. Mostly, they needed to get paid. 

She was almost transfixed, as she looked at the glittery liquid move from side to side in the small bottle. It said it was mood nail polish, much like the cheap muggle rings boasted to be, but this one was charmed to actually change between more than two colors, triggered by much more than body heat. Probably. She wasn’t entirely sure. Not that it mattered much. Her fingers rolled the bottle in her hand, biting her lip as she glanced around her, reaching it toward her purse. Gianna jumped as someone called her name, dropping it into the bottom of her bag before she turned with a bright smile. “Hey, stranger.” She greeted cheerfully, walking away from the display. “Long time no see; how are you?”

“Yeah, long time.” Gideon didn’t want to move on, but he knew that he would have to at some point. Now seemed as good a time as any, and spending time wandering and writing definitely seemed like the best way to ease into it. Gideon shoved their hands in their pockets, their shoulders drawn up to their ears as they seemed to try and look small, despite their tall, lanky frame. “Can’t complain.” They could complain, sure, but they didn’t want to. “I’m glad to see you out and about; I was starting to think that you never leave work.” 

“How would you feel about a country vacation home?” Edgar’s head tilted. He knew just the one– it belonged to his Aunt. She was probably the only member of the family he ever talked to more than once in a blue moon. When her brother, Edgar’s father, announced himself as a Death Eater, Aunt Helene separated herself from the family and started a new life completely on her own. Edgar would’ve gone to her after running away from home at eighteen, except for the fact she was conveniently pronounced deceased once Edgar discovered his dad’s secret. Whenever he needed to lay low after a job, he’d go to her old cabin and hide out for a couple of days.

Edgar nodded quietly, kissing their cheek several times as he held onto them. “I understand.” Edgar wanted to allow Gideon to cope however they needed. He wanted to give them all the time in the world to deal with this before either of them were to get hit with something else. Edgar was still keeping the truth from them– he wanted to tell Gideon the second he came back but he couldn’t bring himself to it. Not when Gideon was slowly getting to the cusp of coping. “Yeah? Ice cream and some cheesy muggle films sound like a date tomorrow night?” Edgar looked down at Gideon’s hands, “Would you prefer boyfriend or uh– something more like partner? Or lover.” He teased before growing serious again, “I– I just wanna make sure you know you’re very important to me, Gid.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize we were old money,” Gideon teased. The idea of a country home was somewhat appealing, if only because Gideon liked to travel and leave things behind every once in a while, but he wasn’t interested in being the kind of people who had a country home. It seemed all too quaint, all too neat and tied up in a bow for how Gideon was feeling. They couldn’t even think about the future too much; it just brought up a feeling of something being off, of something being horribly wrong. They were barely able to live in the present. Thoughts of country homes and putting down roots with ed had to be halted. 

Gideon let out a slow sigh, bringing both arms up to hold onto Edgar as well, nestling in against him and closing their eyes. It was good to know that at least they could count on Edgar to be patient while they were dealing with everything that was going on. They worried about making everyone wait. They worried that no one would—that everyone would just move on and they would be left behind in the memory of their dead brother, left behind to suffer the consequences as the war raged forward. “Sounds like a perfect date,” he replied, letting his head fall onto Edgar’s shoulder. “I don’t care, as long as you call me yours.” 

Ted had decided long ago to try and not allow himself to get into the habit of being horribly overbearing – least of all in times of grief. It didn’t matter how young he had been when his father passed, he remembered. Each moment was worse than the last and more than once, all he wanted was to be left alone. To sit and work through things on his own. Even having an experience of his own, it was difficult to remember sometimes distance was what anyone wanted. He may not have made being overbearing a habit but the worry never stopped. And he worried about Gideon.

He had sent – god, what a cliche, one he had despised at that – food. It was a copout, pathetic, but Ted knew them well enough to know. Unless there was something edible prepared and at the ready, they weren’t going to eat. And that was if an appetite came at all. But he hadn’t gone to see him, in part from respect and the other … no matter how practiced he was in this, what could he do? Still, if he hadn’t heard anything soon, he was going. Gideon would press a high-sensitivity self destruct button any minute under the guise of feeling better, if they hadn’t already. Even if Ted couldn’t stop it, he wanted to be able to help the aftermath.

The unfamiliar sound of a knock drew Ted away from his work. Herbs were spread across his counter and the dining room table, as they always seemed to be. Always bringing his work home. It was, oddly, what helped him sleep. It wasn’t that visitors were a strange occurence, but few people had clearance in his protective wards. Ted wasn’t an idiot – he was a muggleborn. To not have his home (and his mother’s for that matter) under protective enchantments would be foolish. Wiping his hands, he crossed the small distance.

Relief to see Gideon was instant. Then concern. Hurt. Hell. And then gratitude he didn’t mutter it out loud. “Come on,” he spoke with a quiet sigh, pushing the door open and bracing an arm around their shoulders to help them stay upright get inside safely. “I’ll get you taken care of, Gid.” He promised in a mutter, albeit mostly to himself. 

Gideon was already terrible at taking care of himself, even without the added burden of guilt and grief on his shoulders. It was enough to make him lose weight, even in the couple of weeks that had passed since the Ministry and that day, enough to make Gideon look gaunt and their eyes sunken; Gideon was certainly worse for wear between the lack of sleep and the inability to take care of themself properly. It was alarming to most people, which was why Gideon hadn’t gone to see anyone, not even Molly. They felt guilty about it, but after Molly asked if Fabian had been afraid in those last moments, Gideon couldn’t go back there. 

The burden of guilt had already weighed Gideon down too much for him to be able to bear questions like that. Molly didn’t understand; she wasn’t a part of the fighting the way that Gideon was, and she couldn’t understand how Gideon felt like Atlas carrying the world on their shoulders because they hadn’t been there to protect Fabian. They wanted to curl up in a ball and give up. They wished they were dead, but they knew that death was far worse for the living than it was for those who died and Gideon wasn’t about to inflict more pain on their family. 

They leaned against Ted gratefully, their feet tripping over each other as he tried to remain upright as best he could while cradling his hand against his chest. Perhaps Gideon was making up for the way they hadn’t been there at the Ministry; getting into fights could prove that Gideon could have held his own, that he could have done something to save Fabian. It was far too late to be thinking about the woulds, the coulds, and the shoulds right then, but Gideon couldn’t stop their mind from spiraling into those dark places. 

“I’m sorry,” they mumbled, eyes practically shut as they just let Ted guide them through. “I’m sorry.” He wasn’t quite sure what he was sorry for. Maybe he was sorry for all of it. 

“How cute, the blood traitor has teeth,” Bellatrix chuckled, her amusement plain. If they were hoping to rile her up and provoke her, then they were going to be sorely disappointed. Even when they called the Death Eaters stupid, and suggested they may have killed Amycus themselves… the only hint of her irritation was a very slight narrowing of her eyes. “I think we both know better than to believe it was just friendly fire.”

“Always have,” he replied. “You shouldn’t underestimate me.” Gideon raised an eyebrow, tilting their head to the side. “I don’t know who you think would have killed him, but even scum like Amycus would have belonged in Azkaban, not dead.” Gideon paused. “And if you’re intent on believing that it was us, just remember who forced our hand.” 

Andromeda wanted to do more. To do something, to help Gideon and ease whatever pain was being felt. She couldn’t imagine, couldn’t even come close to it. She never even spoke to her siblings, but hearing of their death? Inconceivable. It would be like losing a part of herself, and Gid has lost a twin. That sort of loss… What could even be done about it? How do you get over that? She had no idea. She hated that she had no idea. Mysteries, puzzles, questions; they did not appeal to her. Answers, solutions, that is what she sought.

Yet there was no answer here, no solution to this. It just… was. You couldn’t reverse loss, and you couldn’t take that pain away from someone else. Healing was a journey, of that she knew, and the best she could do was go along with Gideon’s. To be there, in whatever form was needed, whenever she could.

So if not talking about, if speaking about the hospital was the preferred thing right now – she could do that. To help Gideon she would do anything. “Absolutely.” A deep breath was let out, the whoosh sound easily heard by the pair of them. “I mean… days there are never dull, but lately? It’s a lot, and it’s hard because I want to help everyone. I want to be there and look at every single person that comes in but… I can’t. I’m just one person.” A fact that she hated to admit, but it was reality. There was only so much she could do, and if she didn’t take care of herself to at least go home occasionally, she would be of no help to anyone.

“I actually think I’ve drunk more coffee this past week than I had all last month.” Which coming from her was definitely saying something – she was convinced that caffeine now ran through her veins. If ever she was the one on the hospital bed, put coffee in her IV. It would be more effective. “It happens though. I mean… I knew it would be like that when I took the job.” Perhaps not to this extent, but it just reinforced her decision.

Gideon wanted something, but they didn’t know what they wanted. It was difficult to figure it out; they didn’t have any guidebook, any manual for grief. The most Gideon had ever grieved was when their grandfather died, and this felt 10 times worse than that. This was going to affect him every day. This was going to be a constant feeling in his chest that something was missing. There was going to be a constant reminder that the one person who had always been there, the one person Gideon always relied on, the one person that Gideon had promised he would protect, was gone. 

There was nothing to stop it, nothing to help the feeling in his chest that everything was going horribly wrong. He kept trying to figure it out, trying to numb it and trying to act like everything was going to be okay, but he knew that it wasn’t. Gideon was sinking in deep water and there was no bottom that could be reached before they drowned. 

“We’re all just one person, in the end,” Gideon replied. It was a painful reminder, but the sting didn’t hurt as badly—maybe Gideon had just grown accustomed to the pain. They didn’t know what was worse, being in this kind of pain forever or growing numb to it. Gideon didn’t think they would ever be able to let go. “I think you’re doing as much as you can,” they added. “We all are.” 

A crooked smile curved at his lips. “And it’s probably better now that I’m not staying here and messing it up every time. I know you charm it so it will taste better every time I make the coffee,” they said with a soft huff of laughter. 

Rita nodded, tossing the remains of her salad in the trash can next to her bench as she stood. “And we’re nothing if not cool kids.” She grinned as she stretched lightly, fighting a yawn. It felt good - no, it felt great. She’d been spending so much time at her desk, both at work and at home. Her back ached, her legs were stiff, and she’d had a neck ache for days. She deserved a break. They both did. She snorted, shaking her head. “We did not….almost….” Rita huffed a sigh. They were right. “Alright, whatever.” She paused to stick her tongue out at him before continuing. “I have to swing by Diagon Alley for a new quill - this one keeps misquoting. Maybe we could get some ice cream, do some frivolous, completely non-work related shopping at the same time.”

Gideon nodded. “The coolest kids.” He wrinkled his nose for a moment, tilting his head. “It seems a little cliche that you want your gay friend to go shopping with you, but I’ll accept the cliche,” they replied, standing and dusting the crumbs off their hands and pants. “I do need some new dress robes. I spilled firewhiskey all over my other set at Arthur’s brother’s wedding and it’s way too late to clean them now.” And Gideon hadn’t done anything for himself for a long, long time. He deserved something nice after months of working himself to the bone, right? And an afternoon with Rita sounded much better than going back to the same depressing shit that Gideon was dealing with every day. 

Seeing her friend like this - it brought forth a strength Rita didn’t know she had inside of her. She wasn’t a caretaker, she didn’t go out of her way to help people. She was selfish at her core, and she knew it. She used it to her advantage, it was her strength, her shield and armor against the world. But this was Gideon, and that changed everything. They had broken her walls down long ago and she would do anything to make them feel even an ounce better, if it were within her power. So there she stood, with two spoons and the most expensive pint of Neapolitan ice cream they had in the store. 

She watched him as he sat back down, hovering awkwardly by the couch, still not entirely sure how to navigate this situation. But then they were holding the blanket open and she climbed in without hesitation. Leaning into his side, she popped the top off the ice cream, holding it out to Gideon to take the first bite. “Really?” Rita perked up at their words subconsciously, a slight excitement coloring her words. It was one of her guilty pleasures - bad monster movies. Any bad muggle movies, really. It was something she hadn’t shared with anyone since leaving home. Not even Gilderoy. “They’re absolutely horrible, you’re gonna love them. I promise.” She turned her head, a tentative smile playing on the edges of her lips. Rita wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do, but maybe taking their mind off it for at least a little while might help. Or even just sitting there in silence, so he wasn’t alone. Either way, she was here for the duration. “You’ve never seen any?”

Gideon thought that they wanted to be alone—they thought they would be happier that way, that they wouldn’t have to deal with all the shit that was weighing them down if they didn’t have to talk about it, but about two days into that, it didn’t work anymore. He only felt worse and and lonelier the more hours went by, but Gideon had never been good at reaching out for help—even then, they hadn’t reached out to Rita at all, she had just arrived. He hoped that other people would pick up on what he needed too, without him having to reach out; instead of being alone, he’d rather be anything but, and he’d rather think about anything other than Fabian. 

A crooked smile curved at their lips for a moment. “I didn’t realize this was a thing. I have been learning a lot from muggle tv today.” He gestured at the television. “Did you know that they show something different almost every hour?” Gideon, while not on the level of his brother in law, had a mild fascination with muggle objects, and it was something that brought him at least some joy at this time. There wasn’t much that could do that; there wasn’t much that wasn’t darkened by memories of Fabian. Gideon thought they would always have their brother, and when they found out they wouldn’t, they regretted doing everything with him. Fabian was ingrained in almost every part of Gideon’s life. “I like things that are terrible in good ways,” he replied. “Remember that time the Prophet published that terrible style piece about how transparent robes were the hot new thing? I think I still have that saved somewhere.” 

“This town really isn’t big enough, it’s so bloody crowded.” Edgar’s nose wrinkled. His family home was out in the countryside, he liked it that way. It was quiet out there– he didn’t have to worry about the bustling noise of traffic right outside his window. Sure he could charm the walls to be soundproof, but there was something different about living deep in the hills and away from everyone. “You’d look like a kiwi.” Edgar laughed as he kissed the side of Gideon’s head, “an adorable kiwi thought, I might add.” He assured them.

Edgar nodded, “I could be able to live with that. I’d honestly have a boyfriend over a roommate– boyfriends cuddle you when you’re cold and make you laugh with their sleep talking in the middle of the night. A roommate can’t pick his bloody socks off the floor in the bathroom.” He smirked, wrapping an arm around Gideon to hold him closely. “You’re welcome as often as you’d like, and I was kidding about the couch thing. I very much like you sleeping next to me.” Edgar wanted to keep an eye on Gideon… keep them safe. He figured if Gideon lived here, Edgar could protect him better– but he didn’t want to be pushy about it. Edgar had yet to hear about the repercussions surrounding his father’s death, he didn’t want bad people to come looking for him and find Gideon as well.

“I like it here!” Gideon had loved growing up outside of London, sure, but when it came to living in the city, he found that he had been able to find a slice of life here that accepted him as he was. He hadn’t gotten that when he was a kid, and when Gideon went back to his family home, he still didn’t get that. It wasn’t that his parents were cruel to him; it was just that they didn’t understand. Gideon’s mother was still having a hard time not calling them son. It was enough to drive Gideon up the wall. 

A grin spread across their features. “Mm. I figured as much.” Gideon leaned forward to press a small kiss to Edgar’s lips, dropping their long legs over his lap so that they could pull themself even closer to Edgar and remain completely wrapped up in his arms. “Besides, I’ve, uh...” Gideon paused. “I’ve been staying at Fabian’s, anyway. I like being there.” It was melancholy, sure, but Gideon wanted to wallow in the melancholy for a little while. They wanted to pretend that Fabian was coming back at any moment. They wanted to imagine that they were just waiting there for Fabian to come home from work and they’d sit and talk late into the night or they’d go out and cause a ruckus in the streets together by getting into a couple of brawls. All that potential was gone, and Gideon wasn’t ready to accept it yet. “You could come over, too, you know. We could do the real boyfriends thing.” 

Edgar charmed the stove to turn off before flopping down on the couch right next to Gideon. “You really think you’d fit in my king sized bed?” His brow raised before he let out a laugh and leaned over to kiss Gideon’s cheek. Edgar was lonely being by himself, and he didn’t really have any family he could retreat to when he didn’t want to be alone. He hadn’t yet built up the courage to see his mother after leaving home when he was eighteen, and he and Amelia had only been communicating by letter for the last eight months. Really, there was only Gideon that Edgar found peace in surrounding himself with. Of course, he could always bother Gia at the Three Broomsticks or even Ted if he felt like it. But Gideon knew Edgar better than anyone.

“You should’ve just shaved your head after that honestly, you’re hair did not grow back evenly one bit. At night sometimes I can still smell the char.” Edgar twisted the ends of Gideon’s hair in his fingers. He smiled softly for a moment, allowing it to be silent for a moment before speaking again, “So what do you say, roomie? Or is this a boyfriends situation? I think roomie has an adorable innocence to it.”

“Oh, I would. But you won’t. What’s that thing they always say in those muggle Westerns?” Gideon paused for a moment, thoughtful as they chewed on a mouthful of food before the light of recognition sprung up in their eyes. “This town ain’t big enough for the two of us.” He leaned forward to put the bowl, empty save for the last few dregs of milk, on the table in front of him before scooting over to nestle against Edgar’s side. Their knees were still drawn to their chest, their hood still tightened around their face, but they were looking up at Edgar with bright—if slightly puffy—eyes. He wrinkled his nose. “Can you imagine me with a shaved head? It was a lose-lose situation, Ed, and I picked the more bearable of the losses.” Besides, Molly had been able to charm it to look somewhat normal after a couple of weeks, when it had at least somewhat grown out. 

Gideon was thoughtful for a moment, just looking at Edgar before bringing a hand up to play lightly with the collar of his shirt. “If we’re boyfriends, I can’t live here,” Gideon said gently. “You understand why, right? I—” Gideon paused, shaking their head. “I’m not ready for that. I think you know that about me.” It didn’t mean they were less infatuated with Edgar; in fact, it was the opposite. They were trying desperately not to go too fast and fuck this up. 

Gideon had a nasty habit of driving relationships like sports cars—he’d go too fast and end up crashing.