#sleepingddrabble

The fact of the matter was, Gideon needed this job. Any job that would bring in good money, really. With the lockdown enforced, his hours at Faintly Wronski were cut in half. He practically lived off tips from Friday and Saturday nights, and now that income disappeared virtually overnight. There was, of course, his weed growing and dealing business, but with more law enforcement patrolling the streets, it seemed like a much better plan to lay low for a bit. Even with an auror for a boyfriend it seemed wise to put that on hold for the time being—although Gideon wasn’t certain he even had a boyfriend anymore, given he hadn’t heard a word from Gawain Robards in days. He could kill him, really. Of all the times for his boyfriend to go AWOL, it had to be when Gideon needed him most for practice. Porn actors did practice, right? Right. 

Gideon pressed both pointer fingers to his temples, banishing the worry from his head in order to focus. He needed this money; his next move would be a loan from his parents, and Gideon was much too proud to ever ask for help. 

“Nervous?” 

He looked over to the seat beside him, the person dressed quite smartly. Suddenly, Gideon regretted the tie he chose. His tie featured a delightful array of rubber ducks, a gift from Arthur a few birthdays ago, but in comparison to this person’s red tie, Gideon felt rather immature. “Uhh... Kinda, yeah.” He flashed an awkward smile. “It’s my first time.” 

The person’s brows furrowed. “Really?” Their eyes roamed Gideon, taking him in. “They don’t usually invite newcomers to an audition. You must’ve had a hell of a CV.”

Gideon laughed awkwardly. He had, technically, fibbed quite a bit when describing his work history, but who didn’t? Actually, it was all lies, but he was desperate for the money. “Fuck. Wow. I— I mean, I reckon it’ll come naturally, yeah? I’ve had loads of experience in, you know.” He blinked once. “I mean, not so much that I’m diseased or something. But, you know. Experience.” Shut up, shut up, shut up. 

The person chuckled, a hearty laugh. “I’m sure you’ll be great, kid.” 

Before Gideon had the chance to blab further, the door opened to another room where auditions for other candidates were being held. 

“Uh...” This person looked at their clipboard, scanning names. “Gideon Prewett?” 

“That’s me!” A noise one could only describe as chirping left his mouth, and it took everything in Gideon’s power not to cringe at himself. 

“Great. Right this way Mr. Prewett.” Gideon followed, turning his head back once more to take a look at the person with the red tie who appeared to wish him good luck. Gideon would need much more than luck. 

“Should I take my clothes off now or...?” 

The clipboarded person’s eyebrows shot up. “That won’t be necessarily. Actually please, don’t do that.” 

“Noted.” How strange, Gideon thought. Maybe his tight trousers were tighter than he initially thought, cleverly revealing his whole—well—package without actually needing to see it. He didn’t understand how the porn industry worked and decided not to question these experts. 

~~~

The interview flew by; before Gideon even realized, he walked toward the exit of the studio. It went horribly, as to be expected. Not once did they ask for him to take off his clothes, which he eventually came to believe was a very bad sign. Gideon grumbled as he loosened his tie, reaching for the door to the street when—

“Mr. Prewett!” Gideon turned quickly, eyes landing on the woman with the clipboard who initially brought him into the room. Her name was Meegan, and despite her serious demeanor, Gideon proudly made her smile no less than three times during his audition. 

“Look, I shouldn’t say this but... The job, it’s yours. They all loved you. Chet’s raving about you.” 

Gideon blinked once, twice, thrice. “Are you serious?” Meegan nodded enthusiastically, flashing a smile that appeared foreign to her face. 

“Holy shit,” he screamed, followed quickly by her shushing him. 

“Stop by the WBN office later today, and we’ll talk contracts, paperwork, the works.” 

Gideon paused again. “WBN?” What did the broadcast news on the telly have to do with a porn film? 

“I know, quite the big deal.” She wiggled her fingers in front of herself. “We’ll give you the grand tour after all the Ts are crossed and Is dotted.” 

“Wait, so this isn’t, like, porn? Like a weatherman-themed porno or whatever?”

Meegan laughed hysterically; the sound resembled a hyena. “You are a funny one, Mr. Prewett. Had us all in stitches. Anywho...” She handed her card to Gideon, with the WBN’s London address typed plainly. “Stop by, say, half past three today and we’ll get this paperwork drafted.” 

Gideon nodded, overwhelmed, completely bamboozled. “Uh... yeah.” Fuck, a weatherman? Not porn? But it was good money, and wasn’t that the point of this all? “‘Course, works perfectly.” He laughed awkwardly. “I’ll keep my clothes on, don’t worry.” Gideon attempted to wink. It didn’t so much look like winking nor blinking, but rather as if he had dust stuck in one eye. 

“There’s that Prewett humor we love!” And with that, Meegan left, heels clinking against the linoleum floor. 

The list of things Betty had to get done was ever growing. As soon as she resigned from her life as a waitress, she had to go and make sure her parents had enough supplies and understood what was happening, understood that they had to stay inside, even if they wouldn’t have heard the WWN breadcast, she wouldn’t take any risks with their safety.. After all that was done, she would be sworn in as an official Auror.

She thought she might feel different about finally achieving what she had been working so hard for, and maybe under different circumstances she would. At present, she was just scared. Scared for her muggle family and friends, scared for all the students who were being ushered into their new jobs in a state of panic, scared for the possibility of war.

Emmeline began walking, took a long, slow deep breath, and then disappeared around the corner. There. They'd have no idea she was there. They were not going to follow her. She had disappeared from view. That was the only thing that mattered.

Emmeline gripped her wand with her right hand so hard that her nails dug into her palms. It was hard to take a breath. It is really hard. She looked as if she's just completed the London Marathon.

Her chest tightened as bile swelled in her throat, and she cried even more.

It was a hopeless situation. She never imagined herself in this predicament, yet here we are. Emmeline had made up her mind that she would never return to that house. The residence of her parents.

She had hoped that by finally telling the truth, she would feel as if a burden had been lifted from her shoulders. That wasn't the case, though. She cried even more because she couldn't stop the heavy feeling in her chest. A mound of boulders felt like it was lying on her chest, and it wasn't going away any time soon.

She couldn't breathe properly and clutched her wand tightly, fearful that someone would discover her in this situation and take advantage of her.

She couldn't recall how long she'd been sitting there, tears flowing down her face and her wand still clutched in her hand. She was trembling and unable to move; it was as though her body refused to move. Perhaps she was still processing or attempting to forget what had happened. The expression on her mother's face was one she would never forget. Disappointment.

Emmeline knew she would have to return home soon. A home that wasn’t her parents’ house. She didn't expect to be able to call that place her home for a long time. Although it was painful; it is what it is and she would have to live with it.

With each slow, long, deep breath she took now, she could feel her chest becoming less heavy. She was able to get out of her sitting position and loosen her grip on her wand, but she kept it in her palm to protect herself if necessary.

She wiped herself off and walked around the corner in the opposite direction of her parent's house. She took a few quiet, deep breaths before opting to return home and process what had happened in the comfort of her own home.

Whoosh! She landed outside her flat and took a quick glance around to see if anyone was nearby. No one was there. Thank Godric for that. With all of her crying, she must have appeared to be in a bad state. She rushed into her flat, locked the door behind her and sat with her back to the door.

Emmeline just wanted to sit in the dark in complete silence as she absorbed everything. She knew she'd look back on this moment and realise it was for the best one day.

She couldn't be a member of a family that didn't share her ideals, morals, or views. She couldn't face the thought of marrying someone who might be a death eater; she couldn't imagine anything worse, and the fact that her parents were happy with it made her even more horrified.

Even knowing that everything had changed, Briar somehow thought that by the time she got home, everything would go back to feeling the same.

She hadn’t really intended to be gone so long in the first place, but an inescapable itch had built up under her skin, a kind of restlessness that she couldn’t get rid of after only a month in the apothecary. Is this supposed to be the rest of my life? she had found herself thinking on more than one occasion as she checked on cauldrons or packaged orders or prepped ingredients. She had been sure no one else really noticed, as no one had mentioned or acknowledged it aside from the sidelong looks she sometimes got from her brother, and he didn’t count.

And then in the middle of August her father had handed her an international Portkey approval notice. “Go, it’ll be good for you,” he had said. And she, who was prone to arguing with anyone over anything just for the sake of it, agreed without question.

Spending two months with her aunt in Bulgaria hadn’t exactly been her idea of a good time, and it definitely hadn’t been on her mind at graduation, but Briar had to admit that there was something… freeing about it. Magic was different there, darker somehow. It wasn’t that even the majority of wizards there were practicing dark magic of some kind, but the fact that most of the local wizards had attended Durmstrang and at least studied more Dark Arts than they allowed at Hogwarts certainly showed. The lines between allowed magic and dark magic seemed less firm there, and while Briar didn’t think it was all good, it could be... strangely compelling. 

The one place where the line was firm was between Muggles and Wizards. As the news started trickling in about the statute falling in Brazil, Briar was treated to many long lectures about the importance of keeping a line between those two worlds and how magic was doomed if they didn’t tread carefully. “Mark my words, yeğenim,” her aunt declared as she shook whatever cooking utensil she held in Briar’s direction, “it’ll be just like before, and those without magic will either want to use us or kill us. There will be no in between.”

Briar had stopped trying to argue with her after the third time a lecture turned into a fight, but she didn’t stop rolling her eyes. And she didn’t stop watching the news that trickled in from other countries as their own Statutes of Secrecy took hits and then fell. Stories about wizards and Muggles deciding to live side by side in the open. 

Briar could only blame the absolute lack of change in feelings toward Muggles in Bulgaria for she almost waited too late to apply for her Portkey home. A process she had expected to only take a couple of days dragged out into a week, and then two. Just as she was contemplating how hard it would be to just find a broom and fly home (likely very), her approval came through and she found herself home just in time to witness the fall out of their own Statute.

The town where Briar grew up had always been the kind of place where weirdness was mostly accepted even when they knew a few of the local families were a bit odd, so Briar wasn’t overly surprised most of them muttered to one another in Welsh but didn’t treat her too differently or ask any questions. No, the real surprise happened when she went to visit her brother. It probably shouldn’t have surprised her that Muggle university students were suddenly so invested in the idea of magic, but it seemed that every single conversation in the pub where she and Rhys got lunch revolved around the news. Not even the football match on the televisions seemed half as interesting.

“Do you feel different? Now that it’s all out in the open?” she couldn’t help asking in the middle of filling in the blanks of their past two months of limited communication.

Rhys’ eyebrow raised as he turned his attention away from the match back to her. “Was this supposed to change things for me?”

Briar’s made a gesture somewhere between a shrug and a dismissive wave. “I don’t know. I guess I just wondered if… you were going to tell your friends. About everything. Or whatever.”

“No, of course I’m not going to tell them,” Rhys said with a scoff as he glanced up to watch the replay of a goal. “Then everyone I know will think I’m defective instead of just half.”

Briar wasn’t sure what kind of sound she made. Or maybe it was the suddenly frozen expression on her face that spoke for itself and she hadn’t actually made a sound at all. It was hard to tell with the roaring in her ears and a sudden taste in her mouth that seemed suspiciously similar to guilt. Either way, when Rhys turned his attention back to her, his own eyes widened as he realized the impact of his words.

“Briar, I--”

“No, don’t, don’t apologize,” she said with a sharp shake of her head. “Not if you--”

“I meant it as a joke, not that you make me feel defective,” he cut in with an exasperated huff.

No, you didn’t, she wanted to say, but didn’t. The words had come out too easily, felt too real. Maybe she was an exception, but it was definitely the rule. Instead of arguing, she nodded even as she dropped her soggy chip on the plate and pushed it away. “I should go. Gotta figure out where I’m going to live and all.”

His mouth opened before he closed it with a snap, rising to his feet. He led the way out of the pub, pausing once they reached the street outside. “Catch you later, brat,” he said, his tone almost testing to see if they were going to agree to forget what he said entirely  and go back to normal.

Normal, hah. She hoisted a smile on her face, wiggling her fingers in his direction. “See you around, asshole.” He huffed and rolled his eyes, but she could see his shoulders relaxing as he did a typically dismissive wave and turned to head back towards his flat. Her smile dropped as he disappeared from sight, her arms wrapping around her chest as her fingers clenched tightly in her own coat.

“Anton Morozov.” A.J. wasn’t sure which was thicker, this wixen’s accent or the caterpillar-like mustache growing above their top lip. 

“I don’t know an Anton Morozov.” The wixen chuckled at this.

“No, I don’t expect you do.” They paused for a bit, dark eyes gleaming. “I’m from the Investigation Office. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”

A.J. was absolutely certain their heart sank into their stomach, that their entire body collapsed in itself. It had been weeks since they managed to evade capture the night of a smuggling mission gone wrong. The night they sewed themself back together on the floor of Cleo’s flat. They thought enough time passed, that maybe, just maybe, they could poke their head out from the shadows and relax a little. The knot in their shoulder blades had just started to loosen, and now… Well, A.J. contemplated running. Surely this stout wixen wouldn’t be able to keep up. Unless there was more of them, hidden around the Commons, waiting for A.J. to bolt.

“I don’t have any business with the Ministry.” A.J. wasn’t sure how they summoned even a fraction of confidence, but their voice sounded authoritative. They crossed their arms in front of their chest, creating a barrier between the two.

“No, but I’d like to change that.” Anton cleared their throat. “We’re looking to hire a medical examiner.”

What? A.J. didn’t speak the word aloud, but it was as certainly, quite obviously, plastered across their face. Enough so that Anton elaborated further.

“I’m interviewing a handful of candidates. I’d like you to come in, too.”

“But... But why?” A.J. finally asked, utterly perplexed, still trying to wrap their head around the fact that apparently this wasn’t about the smuggling at all. That someone from the Ministry wanted A.J. to interview for a job. A.J., of all people, working at the Ministry. That was laughable. 

Anton’s eyes twinkled as a sly grin appeared onto their lips. “Let’s just say that I take a twisted satisfaction at stealing away residents from Mungo’s.” They reached into their pocket for a card, name and contact information emblazoned in black ink.

“Think on it.”

As if A.J. needed such encouragement. No, the gears in their mind began spinning madly, turning out countless thoughts. They took Anton’s card, glancing at it for a few seconds before shoving it into the pocket of their dark, frayed jeans. Then, they nodded; A.J. was set to finish their residency soon, and the idea of working the rest of their life at St Mungo’s was starting to feel entirely exhaustive. But they weren’t keen to abandon everything for a career at the Ministry of all places either.

“Interesting place you’ve found yourself.” Anton whistled, glancing around at the Commons.

“It’s home.” More so than any other place before, even with the fair share of odd neighbors. Anton chuckled at this.

“Don’t leave me waiting for long, Albert. I’m an impatient man.” At this, A.J.’s mouth curved ever-so-slightly into a smile. They nodded.

A.J. watched Anton leave the Commons, disappearing into the sea of wixen traipsing about Cardiff, and they could not help but wonder if today, this very moment, marked the start of a new bend in the road. An opportunity to do something wholly unexpected.

He’d just been about to leave Hogwarts, for the last time as an undergraduate, when Dumbledore approached him. Excusing himself from his family, he joined his former Headmaster in a slow walk. 

“You’ve had a very promising time here, Mr Longbottom.” Frank gave a humble nod in response, and Dumbledore continued. “The Academy will be lucky to have you. I was pleased to hear of your acceptance.”

“Thank you, sir.” Frank responded, although he couldn’t help but think Dumbledore had asked him down here simply to congratulate him, so he asked, “Was there a reason you asked me here?” He knew his mother would be getting impatient.

“There is something I’ve been waiting to discuss with you.” There was a knowing twinkle in Dumbledore’s eyes, like he was about to let Frank in on all the secrets of the world. And maybe he was. “I see a lot of potential in you, Mr Longbottom. You’ve proven to be an excellent leader, you’re skilled in all your classes. I’m sure you’ll make strides within the department.” Frank didn’t say anything, but a smug smile crossed his face at the compliments. He’d worked hard for them. “However, as I’m sure you’re aware, our world is more threatened than it has ever been. It’s going to take more than just the DMLE to protect it.” It was now Frank looked to the professor with confusion. “I’d like for you to keep your ears and eyes open, Frank. One day, I’ll call on you again, when you’re ready.” 

Frank of course, was not to know that Albus Dumbledore was slowly building a small group of people to oppose the dark forces taking on their world. That he was weaving the threads to those he knew would one day be valuable, that he knew he could trust. Nor at this point was he to know how entwined his life would one day be with this cause. So he asked, “I’m sorry Professor, I’m not too sure what you mean.” 

There was that knowing twinkle again, as Dumbledore placed a hand onto Franks shoulder. “Our world is up against a great force, Mr Longbottom. I don’t intend to sit idly by, nor do I intend to let this force be met with only the resistance of the Ministry. It’s greater than just them.” Frank frowned slightly, at that. Did Dumbledore not think the DMLE capable? “When you’re ready, I’ll be calling on you again.” He offered his former student a smile. “Now, go along. I can feel your mother’s glares from across the lake.”

15th January 1980 

Frank had never forgotten the cryptic conversation he’d had with Dumbledore on the day of his graduation. It was always there, always in the back of his mind, waiting for the moment he would have to step up. It drove him, almost. He’d always worked hard, did everything he could to be the best he could be. But it was an extra push, knowing that he might have to be out in the world, doing what he did best, but before he was fully trained. 

It was late one Friday night, and Frank was finishing up some paperwork his advisor had conveniently forgotten to do himself, when he heard his name being called from across the office. Alastor Moody. “Longbottom. My office.”

Frank was up in a flash, of course. He slipped the files back into his desk drawer before moving over to the other wizards office. The department was still bustling, the night shift had just come and taken over, but most of the other trainees had left for the day. Frank, it seemed, was the only one shadowing an Auror who didn’t know how to do his job. 

“What is it?” Frank asked, closing the door behind him. Moody waved a hand for him to sit, so he did just that. He assumed it was related to his work, or his training, so when Moody asked him if he recalled a conversation he had with Dumbledore a few years prior, it took Frank a moment to recover from his surprise. “You mean --” he started to clarify, but Moody was quick to cut him off. “I’ve been watching you. Your training. Even what you’ve done outside of the Academy. Making sure you’re ready. I was impressed with the way you handled the attack on the Menagerie.” He fixed Frank with an impenetrable gaze. Even through the compliments, Alastor Moody stayed stoney, his voice gruff. “I believe you’re ready.”

The small smile that crossed Frank’s face was one that came from a job well done. A proud, self satisfied kind of expression. “I am.” Frank’s own voice was as strong as his superior’s. His confidence didn’t waver even a bit. He knew he’d been making strides in the Academy, coming top of his class, and the department as a whole. Even since before the incident with the Menagerie he’d been noticed by those higher up, that day only caused them to pay closer attention. Frank Longbottom had big aspirations, and it seemed they were all coming to fruition. But he wanted them to believe he was as ready as they thought he was. To prove them right.