☆ here comes the sun ☆

Where: Rosa Lee Teabag 

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Edgar fixed his glasses as he read over the daily prophet. The paper was sprawled across his tiny table, his cream-cheese bagel and oat milk latte scattered across the pages like feature images. 

He was reading an article about medical advances at St. Mungo’s when someone bumped into his table, spilling the coffee all over the writing. The words tried to scurry across the page but were bound by the article box they were trapped in. 

“Uh excuse me.” he said, slightly annoyed. “Could you maybe watch out next time?” Whilst Edgar was slowly getting accustomed to loosing Amelia, he was still more edgy than usual. 

Who: @augustusmabbott​

The last thing that Sersh remembered was a flash of green shooting her way before she was left cold and unconscious on the floor. The next? Lying in a hospital bed as her sister carefully applied a healing potion to the scraps she’d scummed to on her fall. Her body felt heavy- exhausted from the stunning spell that had left her bones feeling cracked with magic that coursed through them. The witch scrunched her nose in discomfort as she winched, wiggling in her bed as she stirred from yet another nightmare. Jolting awake, a shaky breath fell off her lips as her hand went to drag through her tangled long blonde locks. As exhausted as she was, rest wasn’t easy when her mind still felt wired awake after the night before. Almost as if she was still in fight mode, her adrenaline coursed through her with every sound leaving her on edge and uneasy. 

Though that fear and discomfort eased when her eyes pulled onto a familiar figure hovering in the corner. Blinking through her eye lashes across the room at him, her shoulders sank with a shaky breath of relief at seeing her best friend; a light half smile pulling onto the edge of her lips despite herself. “Gus-” Sersh uttered, her voice cracked as she tried to push herself up from where she was lying with a scrunch nose. “Ye all okay- I didn’t see ye when everythin’ happened- I was tryin’ to find ye but then well- everythin’ went feckin’ mental.”

Augustus shouldn’t have let go of Saoirse’s hand as they swirled around the dance-floor like two idiots lost in a world of their own. He shouldn’t have allowed them to get separated by friends pulling them apart. The need to be present for his friends consumed him, Gus was delegating his time. Spreading himself between those he held closest. All of whom had a  traumatic time at the Summer Solstice Ball, a fate that Gus had managed to avoid. Apart from grief and guilt. He had spent a majority of the evening bathing in his own self-pity. Too entangled in the words of Rabastan Lestrange ( @youngestxlestrange ) to enjoy the rest of his evening with those he loved. When Gus had ran into Orlaith in the corridor of St Mungos and got told that Saoirse had been injured, he was in bits. Finding himself stuck to the armchair beside her bed ever since, unless Gus was pacing. A vice that seemed to piss both Marianne and Orlaith off, as they excused themselves to the canteen as soon as Gus started again.

At the sound of Saoirse’s shaky breath, Augustus was pulled from his thoughts. His reflexes causing him to be over at her side within a matter of seconds. Even his eyes were watery at such a sight, he couldn’t help it. Every sense he had succumbed to worry. “Hey hey…” Gus murmured, easing her back into sitting back. “I’ll come to you, blondie.” Taking her hand into his, grazing his thumb over the back of her hand. “Things aren’t alright…but they will be.” It wasn’t a lie instead Gus was choosing to leave the heavier conversations until Saoirse was a little less groggy. His features were soft yet tired, the bruising around his eye now a lighter shade of purple. As a friend, he chose to omit those details until later on. Augustus wanted to protect Saoirse from that darkness, even just for a few more hours. “I’m sorry that we got separated. I was trying to find you too.” Stopping his voice from cracking with upset. “but we’re here together now, at least.”

“Fat feckin’ chance if ye think I’m lettin’ ye out of me sight any time soon.” The witch spoke, her hand clutching onto his a little tighter. Almost for a second to stop the slight tremble at her finger tips, but also because for one of the first times the roles were reversed. Saoirse had always been the strong one for the pair. Defiant in the face of adversity, she’d battle anything they needed to keep them both safe and together. Looking out for Gus was always what Sersh had done, so much so it was in her nature at this point. Telling him stories and playing music to drown out the sounds of his parents, to holding his hand tightly in moments of silence or dragging him down empty corridors in hogwarts for an ‘adventure’ when she’d seen one of his brothers coming just to spare him the heartache for another day. But now? It felt like for one of the few times the roles had shifted. She wasn’t looking out for him, but rather looking to him for comfort. While Augustus Abbott had always had a softer sensibility where just his presence was able to bring her a sense of happiness; Saoirse had always been defiantly independent. Looking to herself for stability in moments of uncertainty as she helped others, yet she hadn’t realized the only real ease to her fear she’d found was when his hand laced in hers. For a second it felt like they were back in Ireland, like she was somehow home even if they were far from it. That somehow everything would be okay in the end. But then again, it was never the place that made a home, it was the people. “Yeh.. we’re here together now ay- all that counts. ‘Till we’re sixty-four-’ ” The witch spoke singing in a murmur despite the croak in her voice the line from the Beatles song.

“Someone landed ye a corker ay-..” The witch mumbled with a furrowed brow of concern as her head tilted back on the head board, nodding lightly at the light shade of purple around his eye. “Or did Orlaith try and practice a new look on ye?”  Her free hand that wasn’t holding onto his, facing to brush over his cheek with a frown. “Who the feck did that? I’ll deck ‘em ye hear that much-” Sersh murmured, nose scrunching protectively as she moved to shift only to winch slightly and begrudgingly settle back down despite herself. “Ye look knackered Abbott- How long ye been here for?” She asked with a frown, her mind automatically going to the rest of the members of the misfits; hoping they hadn’t found themselves a bed amongst the sick aswell. “Everyone alright? Sybil? Eve? Edgar? Tilden?”

where: St. Mungo’s

Making his rounds at the hospital, it only made sense to stop by and see Saoirse as well. He hated to think about it all. How much damage the Death Eaters had caused. How his best friend was dead. This- here... It wasn’t the place to think about it. He wasn’t sure if he believed in concepts like energy, but there were so many Muggles out there who would think the very idea of something like magic laughable, so he supposed he should stay open minded. So instead, once he moved from Alastor’s room, he went to find Saoirse next. 

He remembered it all very well. A part of him wished that he had just left after she’d caught him reading his book. For how helpful he’d been, he might as well have left. He would have gotten the news about Amelia eventually, but he would have gotten to exist in a world he believed her to be in for just a bit longer. A few more hours where he wasn’t quite so haunted. 

Stop it, he chastised himself. Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door and forced a cheerful expression. “Hey, Saoirse. Up for some company?” He didn’t want to linger if she needed her rest, but it was important during times like these to show that a person cared. 

Not here, Fabian reminded himself. It wasn’t about him. “Well, I stopped to see Moody, ran into James in the hallway, and that’s about it so far. Kind of irritating how many good people ended up here, but I hope they’re taking good care of you lot.” He can’t imagine how much the St. Mungo’s staff’s workload has increased after the ball, but he was willing to bet it hadn’t been pretty. “I’ve just been trying to help where I can. These are the times I wish I’d gone into healing instead of the Ministry.” You could really throw yourself into healing work. “And you? Got any requests from the outside world I can help you with?”

"I got Marianne checkin' in on me every feckin' hour- ye know what's she's like. Ain't exactly gunna let her sister mope in a bed by herself if she can help it." Marianne had always been the best of them. Despite her occasional vanity, the simple love she possessed for people was unmatched; a caring soul that’s she’d no doubt picked up from their mother. “Reckon they’d be up for volunteers if ye asked round- from what I can gather they need all the feckin’ help they can at the minute.” The witch mused, her eyes turning down cast do her lap at the idea that St Mungos was that over run that they needed outsider help. “Bring us a good book will ye? And not any of this romance bullshite- I want some adventure, somethin’ worth merit.”

James thought he was tired before. Now he was exhausted. Long hours, the fear of a similar thing happening again and the fear of losing people he loved. He didn’t know what he could do at this point but he wanted to help in every possible way. Whether it was going to visit friends in St Mungos or trying to find anyone who wore a mask during the battle. So he took a seat at the bar ordering what he thought was a well deserved beer. Normally he would be in the mood to be around people and chat, but the air was stagnant almost everywhere. James almost always felt more at home when he was around the people he cared about now. When someone sat beside him he didn’t acknowledge it, taking a sip before finally speaking up. “Hey, fancy seeing you here,” he gave the other a small charming smile as to appear normal. “I’ll buy you a drink if you can guess my last name.”

who: @emmelinevancx​

Honestly when Marianne had said that an auror was heading around the hospital gathering information and statements from the night, Sersh honestly hoped they’d either skip her room or wait until Gus came back. For a witch that was normally so sure of herself and strong in difficult circumstances; Saoirse felt far from it. That’s why she couldn’t help but internally groan as an unfamiliar woman came into the room, instantly, she could feel her body tense. “Don’t know how much help I’m gunna be to you lass- I ain’t slept in a feckin’ while but I can give it me best go and all-..So what was it ye wanted to know?” 

To be honest, just looking at the girl, Emmeline knew that she probably wasn’t going to be up for answering many questions. She already felt bad about doing it right now. Last night had been traumatic, and she honestly was exhausted herself. She’d have much preferred to go home and nap, rather than interview someone. Emmeline just smiled at the younger woman. “Downfall of having a healer as a sister….” She mused, trying to lighten the mood. “Good to have good friends though….” She continued with a nod. “How are you feeling?”

"She ain't all bad- worst thin's ye know? Just doin' it cause she cares. Rather she did that, than not at all ye know?" Sersh spoke with a light shrug of her shoulder. She was used to Marianne fussing over all of them, truly when hadn't she in all of her years of living? She was a natural care giver, a trait that only seemed to intensify when it was regarding someone she treasured. "Feel like I've been whacked over the napper with a - feck knows what, frying pan? Run over by one of them Erumpent thin’s. I can't exactly go dancin' and jumpin' on me bed and all." The witch notes, scrunching her nose lightly with discomfort as she shifted where she sat." Ye doin' alright? Can't be fun chasin' folk round this place."

Who: Open!

Too much had happened but also not enough. Everything that they’d worked for seemed to be just out of reach but getting farther and farther away. 

She’d left the apartment, looking for fresh air and a place to think. That’s how she’d ended up sitting on a bench in Diagon Alley, watching the shops close up as the day came to a close. 

It felt peaceful. It wouldn’t feel like this for long. She closed her eyes, letting the calm settle and breathing deeply. 

Suddenly she felt the presence of someone else. She opened her eyes, moving to make room for them before she even saw their face. “Sorry,” she offered quickly. 

Maren accepted the paper gratefully. “Thank you.” It wasn’t anything special, just an advertisement for some promotional event. “I appreciate it,” She exhaled, looking up at her. “I’m okay. I’m alive. That’s got to count for something, right?”

“Do you have something you’d like to get off your chest? I’d be happy to think about anything else,” she admitted. All she could think about recently was the Order and what to do next. It would be nice to hear about someone else’s problems, especially if those problems weren’t life or death.

'I'm okay, I'm alive-' the simple words sat truer than any as of late. While granted she'd been one of those unfortunate enough to end up in St. Mungos- it wasn't drastic or something she was unable to heal from in time. No one came back from death- the fact that there had been fatal moments at the ball made it even more over bearing. "okay and alive-.. seems about right and all given everythin-" The witch agreed with a down cast expression and small sigh passing her lips. Mind drawn briefly to her best friends sister who unfortunately hadn't been so lucky.

"Reckon the shite I wanna get off me chest lass, probably to do with what ye don't wanna hear about." Sersh mused with a light shrug of her shoulder as she nudged a small rock with the edge of her battered green converse. "Would say I'm lookin' forward to Halloween but I ain't sure how true that is anymore." While it had once been Saoirse favourite holiday, with the anniversary of Booker Bagnolds death looming, it was something the witch would rather not think of.

who: @emmelinevancx​

Honestly when Marianne had said that an auror was heading around the hospital gathering information and statements from the night, Sersh honestly hoped they’d either skip her room or wait until Gus came back. For a witch that was normally so sure of herself and strong in difficult circumstances; Saoirse felt far from it. That’s why she couldn’t help but internally groan as an unfamiliar woman came into the room, instantly, she could feel her body tense. “Don’t know how much help I’m gunna be to you lass- I ain’t slept in a feckin’ while but I can give it me best go and all-..So what was it ye wanted to know?” 

Emmeline felt bad disturbing people when they weren’t feeling great. But she knew that the longer it went since the event, the more of the finer details that people would forget. She was used to interviewing people. So she knew what to do. But this felt strange. It felt different, and she knew why. It was her emotional involvement. She wanted to get Amelia justice. And if it meant getting statements now, before people forgot things then she would. “Have the healers not given you anything to help with sleep?” The brunette murmured, needing to check on the girls well-being before she even considered the need to get the statement.

"Oh I em-" The witch murmured, blinking at the other with tired drawn eyes as it took her a second longer than normal to gather a sentence. "No yeh- me sister, she's a healer here, she came and offered me some but I didn't want it. Didn't fancy bein' stuck in me dreams when they ain't exactly grand at the minute ye know? Me mate Gus- he'll be back soon.. I got some sleep when he was here." Sersh explained with a light nod of her head.

Who: Open!

Too much had happened but also not enough. Everything that they’d worked for seemed to be just out of reach but getting farther and farther away. 

She’d left the apartment, looking for fresh air and a place to think. That’s how she’d ended up sitting on a bench in Diagon Alley, watching the shops close up as the day came to a close. 

It felt peaceful. It wouldn’t feel like this for long. She closed her eyes, letting the calm settle and breathing deeply. 

Suddenly she felt the presence of someone else. She opened her eyes, moving to make room for them before she even saw their face. “Sorry,” she offered quickly. 

where: St Mungo’s cafeteria  when: the week after the solstice

Alastor cursed as he made his way through the large dinning hall in his wheelchair. His arms worked hard to push himself forward. He wished he knew a spell that would cause the chair to move by itself, perhaps he’d asked someone once he got back to the office. He peered through the glass display that housed multiple pies and an assortment of treats. He then cursed again as the automated service counter was too high for him to look over. Why was St Mungo’s so inaccessible? He looked over to the only other person in the room and called out to them. “Excuse me. Could you uh –” instantly feeling a little awkward, his pride faltering as he needed to ask someone to do a task he should have been able to do independently. “Could you perhaps buy me a pumpkin pastry? Here are the sickles, I just can’t reach the counter.” 

“‘Cuse me,” Jonathan spoke up from behind the person currently standing in front of the shelf ahead of him, “I just need to grab that bottle of murtlap essense beside you.” Losing a few days to prepare for the upcoming full moon due to the events of the solstice had left Jonathan with only a few days to hurridly prepare. With the short period he had spent unable to get wolfsbane during that time, he could already tell this wouldn’t be an easy transformation; the tense way he held his posture seemingly betraying whatever neutral tone he tried to keep. The shopping basket he was currently holding was already filled with an assortment of potions, from calming draughts to wound-cleaning brews.

fenrir’s flat 22nd june @ open 

The events of the ball had the Death Eaters in a fairly strong position. They’d killed off a rival and managed to shift the blame onto somebody else, at least for now. Fenrir hadn’t had the hugest part to play, but fancy parties really weren’t his forte anyway. People usually sought him out for the more unsavoury tasks, not that he was above doing them. Even before his involvement with the Death Eaters, Fenrir made a name for himself by getting his hands dirty with other people’s problems. So in the aftermath of the ball, he was sitting in his little flat and twiddling his thumbs. In the midst of making his fourth cup off coffee for the day, Fenrir was startled by a loud knock at his door. His address wasn’t exactly a secret, considering the werewolf could sufficiently protect himself, but he did not normally get unexpected guests. “What do you want?” Fenrir shouted curtly through the wood, wishing his flat had a peephole. “'Cause if it’s not important or interesting enough, then I’m busy.” 

where: St. Mungo’s

Making his rounds at the hospital, it only made sense to stop by and see Saoirse as well. He hated to think about it all. How much damage the Death Eaters had caused. How his best friend was dead. This- here… It wasn’t the place to think about it. He wasn’t sure if he believed in concepts like energy, but there were so many Muggles out there who would think the very idea of something like magic laughable, so he supposed he should stay open minded. So instead, once he moved from Alastor’s room, he went to find Saoirse next. 

He remembered it all very well. A part of him wished that he had just left after she’d caught him reading his book. For how helpful he’d been, he might as well have left. He would have gotten the news about Amelia eventually, but he would have gotten to exist in a world he believed her to be in for just a bit longer. A few more hours where he wasn’t quite so haunted. 

Stop it, he chastised himself. Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door and forced a cheerful expression. “Hey, Saoirse. Up for some company?” He didn’t want to linger if she needed her rest, but it was important during times like these to show that a person cared. 

It felt like she had barely slept since that fateful night. Ears wired as a precaution, despite her sister Marianne urging her to take a sleeping potion to ease her anxiety; Sersh refused. The idea of be stuck in a turbulent nightmare and not being able to wake more frightening than the lack of sleep itself. She’d managed to get a little with her eased nerves when Gus had been here, but Saoirse was exhausted from the after effects of the stunning spell and adrenaline of the night as it was; let alone insomnia to top.

Pulling out of her spinning mind by the sound of a voice, the witch drew her eyes from her notebook up to a familiar face. Her shoulders sinking with relief as a soft smile pulled onto her lips. “Company sounded feckin’ grand- take a pew Prewett-” The witch nodded as she pushed herself up in bed with a wince and scrunched nose. “Who ye here seein’? Reckon if ye hang tight ye can catch Marianne- she keeps comin’ in every once in a while- bit it’s a bit manic out there to say the least.” The witch spoke as she leaned back against the head board with a puff of air from her cheeks. “Ye hanin’ in already mate?”