Temptations of Trouble on My Tongue

Emmeline sighs as he pulls away. It’s what she wanted, and yet she can’t help but feel a twinge of something settle beneath her ribs—guilt? regret? Emmeline isn’t sure what the feeling is, but it’s an uncomfortable one. She might not be able to see his expression after he turns away, but she doesn’t miss his own sigh, a thing so unlike the Fabian that she’s come to know that it strikes her immediately as wrong. There’s a lot that Emmeline is yet to learn about him properly, but she’s confident she knows enough to say he’s not usually the sort to let something minor drag him down. But as for what could have caused such a reaction, Emmeline is clueless.

Each new drink he seems to get through causes her frown to deepen, and she’s still wearing the expression when Fabian turns to her again. His words hit her sharply, stinging like a well-placed hex. Of all the things she expected him to say, that hadn’t been it. At least it answers some of her questions from earlier; clearly she’s the problem, but why her dismissals would seem to bother him this much still eludes her. It’s not as if she’s ever really, openly returned his flirtations after all, even during their night together. “That depends,” she answers, voice carefully blank. “If I do, will you stop downing drinks like water and being so… so strange for the rest of the night?”

Ministry Cafe, lunch time.

Frank & Fabian @originaltroubletwin

It was a day where Alice wasn’t in the office so Frank was left finding someone else to pester join during his lunch break. Being rather friendly left him with several options but there was no stopping his feet from moving when he spotted the familiar patch of red hair from across the room. 

A low sigh escaped before Frank claimed the seat across from Fabian, promptly tilting his head upon spotting the forlorn expression on the man’s features. “I can’t believe I am the one saying this,” He sighed then shifted his foot to gently kick him from beneath the table. “But you need to turn your frown upside down. It’s unbecoming and has me questioning who I need to hex.”

There was a brief pause then Frank quickly shook his head. “Uh let’s not tell Liss I’d be willing to hex someone if it means getting you to cheer up. I told her my fighting days were done.”

~

There’s a silver lining to be found in the fact that Gideon doesn’t seem to have noticed just how much tension is hanging over them, but how much longer that will last is anyone’s guess. “No need,” she responds. “I’m planning on this as my last drink.” She’s never been a big drinker to begin with, but ever the night that she’d gotten a little too drunk and fallen into Fabian’s bed, Emmeline’s been determined to reel it in even more. She’s not about to let herself show that level of vulnerability again, no matter how much she enjoys a glass of nettle wine now and then.

She flinches slightly at his hand on her thigh, uncertain of how to respond in the face of such boldness. His forwardness isn’t a new thing by any means, but she’s never really been in the firing line of such targeted affection. It’s hard not to notice the warmth of his hand, but Emmeline desperately attempts to brush aside the tingle it leaves in its wake. It’s increasingly clear that she’ll have to change tracks here, and with a tight smile, Emmeline shifts to stomp on his foot as discreetly as she can manage. For the majority of the gala, she’s been cursing the fancy shoes she’d felt compelled to wear with her formalwear, but now she finds herself a little thankful for the heels. Tilting her head towards him so that only he will hear her next words, she quietly mutters under her breath, “must you be so difficult?” 

~

If Emmeline had been debating making an escape before, she certainly is now. She’s always prided herself on her ability to maintain a good poker face, but that’s easier said than done in this case. She gathers the walls around her just a little closer, determined to make it through this night one way or another. It’s a resolution that lasts for all of a few moments, shattered as Fabian continues to speak. 

As much as his warmth is endearing, it’s doing little to help her keep up the pretence that everything is fine. She shoots him a particularly pointed look as he continues on from Gideon’s compliment, hoping that the flush in her cheeks isn’t quite as noticeable as it feels. She’s been doing her best to simply act like nothing had happened, like they hadn’t gotten wine drunk and fallen into bed together. It’s been a difficult task, and Emmeline’s struggled to keep up the act on the few occasions where she’s run into him since then. The awkwardness of it is only compounded by Gideon’s presence, especially given Fabian seems to have no qualms about alluding to that night. 

“Well, not all of us are party people,” she responds, perhaps a little too curtly. She can’t quite help it though, and she can only hope that Fabian will get the hint to drop it.

The evening has already been a uncomfortable one for Emmeline. She’s never been at home in the world of fancy frocks and tiny canapés, and getting dressed up for such events is far from a familiar thing. For hours now she’s been wondering if she can slip out without anyone noticing, and the urge to vanish only grows stronger when she spots two familiar figures headed her way. 

Part of Emmeline considers making a quick escape before they reach her, because she isn’t sure if she can handle even more awkwardness and uncertainty. Gideon isn’t the problem, and Emmeline manages to greet him in return with a small smile and a quiet, “it’s nice to see you, Gideon.” The problem is the way her breath catches when Fabian leans in, the way she still can’t look him in the eye after the night they spent together. It had been so completely unlike her, and while she doesn’t regret it, it doesn’t mean she’s any less embarrassed about it. Emmeline tries to keep her gaze elsewhere, but really, all that does is draw her attention to his formalwear. ( And she’s not blind, she might not be the most adept at these kinds of things, but even she can admit that he brushes up more than okay. ) 

She clears her throat, fiddling with the stem of her wine glass. “Yes, fancy that, meeting me at an event run by my employers.” 

Just the proximity to her had him struggling to keep his mind clear. It was easy, so easy, to allow flashes of their night together to play in his head. His hand roaming down her thigh, her hair falling over her naked shoulder, the way his name sounded whispered in the dark. It was a far cry from the way she sounded now, which was a little more reserved and a lot more guarded and uptight. Funnily enough, this was actually more familiar to him. This was the Emmeline he had grown up with of course. “You might sound just a little more excited to be here, you know, even if my name being placed next to yours causes a ripple in your evening.” He was speaking very lowly, not needing to be overheard by anyone. “It’s a party, Emmeline. Everyone loves a good party.” He gestured with his hand towards what had been made a dance floor. People looked like they were thoroughly enjoying themselves. He was interrupted by his brother, who leaned in to tell Em how lovely she looked. Fabian smirked a little but tried - uncharacteristically for him - to hide it. “He’s not wrong of course, you do look ravishing. I’ve just seen you look far lovelier lately.”

☽✧･ﾟ:*  🐺🐀🐶🦌  *:･ﾟ✧☾

James watched the scene with amusement, hardly able to believe that the target had taken the drink without even considering questioning what they had been given. It was part of what made pranks so successful when people simply trusted in other people but now that he was out of school and very much acknowledging the war that he found himself in, it highlighted all how easily some people could be duped. Best not to dwell on that, however, and he much preferred to laugh when Fabian took the drink back and instantly explained what it did. “Call yourself a prankster?” he asked, through his laughs. “You’ll never get anybody that way. And if you were Voldemort, you’d have to be pretty stupid to announce it.” He ignored the reactions from those around them. He agreed with Fabian that the whole name thing was silly. People would forget he was just a wizard (albeit a powerful one) soon. “We’ll have to go somewhere else now to get someone to fall for it, but I’m all down for seeing someone clucking about Diagon Alley. In the name of morale, of course.”

Fabian rolled his eyes at James. “Easy, Potter. You and your pals have a reputation of your own, yes, but Gideon and I are older and wiser and far more experienced in our pranks.” He winked playfully at the younger man. Truthfully, Fabian thought very highly of James and his friends. Like himself and his brother, they seemed to have a knack for the amusing. Taking things lightly instead of with too much weight. “Suppose Voldy is actually that smart then?” He raised an eyebrow. “Powerful and smart aren’t always synonymous and I happen to believe the man is, well, ruddy bonkers and a bit of a nitwit.” He slid across from James and grinned widely. “Well you know, there are always a good deal of unsuspecting patrons at Honeydukes.”

☽

“Or maybe I just felt sorry for you always being shut up in the castle never getting to see the sunshine,” Emmeline replies. Their school days feel like worlds away now, almost like a different life. Things were simpler then, when detentions and homework were the only things to worry about and not an actual war. The casual touches are still a little jarring, but they’re grounding in their own way as the conversation takes a slight detour in darker topics. “I know, you’re right,” she concedes with a small sigh. “I see the good every day in my colleagues, it’s just…” She shakes her head. “Never mind me, I’m probably just being overly pessimistic.” Emmeline has never been good at these kind of conversations, they’re always too raw and vulnerable. Even as she takes another sip of her drink, she blames the wine for loosening her tongue. Better to try to backtrack to lighter topics now, before she says too much. “Well, everyone else used to tell me what a stick in the mud I was at school. I might as well get paid for it now, right?”

Fabian scoffed and rolled his eyes. “We weren’t locked up all that much. No one wanted to spend more time with us, thus, less detentions. Possible they all thought we might cause mischief in their classrooms, save for McGonagall.” He considered what she was saying for a few minutes and then shrugged. “There’s a lot of bad going on, it isn’t pessimistic to acknowledge that, but you have to allow the light in where you can. Smile more often and laugh louder if only because it annoys the enemy even more.” He gave her a sideways look and then shook his head. “Please. You’re not a stick in the mud, you just need to allow yourself to actually have fun for once. If you even know what that word means anymore.” He teased playfully. “You need relaxation. A massage and one of those bubbly bath tubs that the muggles use.”

☽

“What makes you so sure I won’t? Attractiveness is subjective after all,” Emmeline hums, allowing herself a small, indulgent smile. “Besides, I don’t think that negates you unleashing a random potion on innocent members of the public.” The physical contact makes her stiffen for a moment. It’s not something she’s used to, not with her tendency to keep others at arm’s length, but it’s not entirely unwelcome either. It’s a nice reminder that others still want to be around her, even with all her walls. Emmeline’s quiet laugh at his next words isn’t a particularly happy one, and her smile turns just a little sadder.  “That’s easier said than done,” she says instead, “it’s not always easy to see the good when you spend so long having to face the dark.” His optimism is appreciated nonetheless, especially now when things have been so grim lately in her line of work. “Don’t even think about trying that. I think I had enough practice trying to wrangle the pair of you at Hogwarts to be able to tell the two of you apart now.” 

“Please. You totally dig me. Let me out of enough detentions to prove it, Vance.” He flashed her his very most charming smile and sipped his drink. They were older now, actually adults living in the world with jobs. No longer students trying to get through exams. Now there was a war and there was a lot more to think about than tonights tomfoolery. Em’s serious reply made his face fall just a little and his hand came up to rub her back softly. “It’s not all bad, Emmeline. You focus too much on the dark, but there’s a lot of light. A lot of good people like us stepping up to fight for what we know is right.” He shrugged a little, pulling his hand back to brush her cheek and then rest in his lap, taking another sip as if such touches were casual. “And now you’ve taken to wrangling people as a career, isn’t that charming? We must have inspired you.”

☽

“Are you actually going to let me answer this time? You seemed to have no trouble talking to yourself just now,” Emmeline half responds, half snorts. She might be well known—and self confessed—for being too serious or uptight, but she’s not without any kind of sense of humour. At the very least, Emmeline can appreciate when someone has the kind of personality that allows them to let loose, to have fun. At times, on her darker days, she might even quietly admit to being a little envious of that warmth and unguarded way of living. “Then again… maybe you should quit now while you’re ahead. If you keep talking about poisoning people with chicken wing potions, I might just have to arrest you.” 

Swinging his long legs over the stool beside her, he grinned widely. “You wont arrest me, I’m too pretty for Azkaban.” He winked at her and shoved his flask back in my pocket. “Plus, poison entails some sort of negative effect, and maybe some people like running about as chickens. You don’t know. Don’t judge them. Not to mention the effects wear off fairly quickly.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her, then leaned in so his chin rested on her shoulder. “Loosen up, Em, the world’s all sort of crazy, doesn’t hurt to have some laughs about it.” He pulled back and ran a hand through his hair, gesturing for the barkeep to bring him a firewhiskey. Then he eye’d her with a little amusement. “Really though, I might be Gideon, you never know, he’s the evil twin you know. Dastardly fellow.” He chuckled softly at this un-truth. His brother was just as genuine as he was, the both of them unquestionably on the side of goodness.

“You look like you need a drink, can I offer you one?” Fabian pulled his flask from his pocket and handed it over, but right before the other could take a sip he snatched it back with a giant smile on his face. “Now, had I let you drink that you’d have been running about diagon with chicken wings for arms for the next few hours. It would be a right funny sight to see, certainly but, I don’t imagine you’d think so. Shouldn’t take drinks from a stranger, should you?” He gave a wink. “I know what you’re thinking - You aren’t a stranger, Fabian - and you might be wrong but these are strange times, are they not? I might be Fabian, I might be Gideon and I might be Voldemort himself!” A couple passerbys gasped at Fabian’s reckless use of a name that had recently become Taboo. “Ah yes, yes, right, the name thing. Silly, but alas, people are uncomfortable these days. Maybe someone ought to go clucking around town for the sake of Morale, what do you think?”