(no subject)
Title: To read him like a book
Prompt: to the last syllable of recorded time
Author: apostrophe_ess
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JKR, I merely gain from playing these games in her playground.
Pairing/Character: Alice Smythe and Frank Longbottom
Word Count: 678
Rating: G
Summary: Something is wrong with Frank and Alice wants to get to the bottom of it
Author's Notes: Written for my fifth Alice/Frank prompt at the 7spells fanfiction challenge. My prompt table is here.
I've never written Alice or Frank before, so this will be a series of seven short pieces each between 500 and 750 words.
To read him like a book
The date meant nothing, she’d not even noticed it this year. It was only when Moody called her into his office and told her who she’d be working with for the final year of her training that Alice realised the significance. This time next year she’d be a qualified auror. There’d be nothing they could prohibit her from doing then.
Recently there’d been more and more times when a group of them would leave the office en masse and return later looking drained, grimey, and sometimes a little bit damaged. Every time Frank went out as one of those parties the second hand on the clock seemed to slow so it was hardly moving. They were long minutes, yet alone hours. The time dragged.
The two of them still had coffee together in the mornings, a few quiet words before they each went their separate ways for the rest of the day. Then two or three times a week they’d either go straight from work to eat together, or they’d go home to change and go out for an evening.
Saturday nights were usually dancing somewhere or another, and much to Alice’s pleasure Frank always kissed her goodnight long before he took her home. Occasionally these days her parents would retire to bed before they got there and she could invite him in for coffee. Coffee and cuddles. Alice loved those times, close together on the settee when they could talk quietly, and relax.
All the signs were that they would have the use of the sitting room tonight. Her mother was complaining of a headache, and her father had to leave early in the morning. The positioning of two coffee cups and a plate of biscuits covered in a freshening charm on the work surface in the kitchen was another clue.
Exactly on cue, right to the agreed moment, the front door knocked, her father opened it and Alice walked into the hallway for an evening out with Frank.
She’d learned to read his moods over the months. She could tell from his walk if he was chirpy, or worried over work, or tired. She could tell from his voice if he was excited about something, perhaps a theory over someone they were hoping to catch or the news that a play they were hoping to see was going to be on stage soon at a time they could get there. She could tell from the squeeze of his hand if he was going to let his coffee get cold as his lips spent more time on hers than the cup, or if he was just pleased to sit with her. In fact Alice Smythe could read Frank Longbottom well. And, like a favourite book that she went back to again and again, the more she knew the fonder she became.
It was difficult to read him tonight though. His hand on hers told that he needed to be with her, yet his voice was telling her there was something wrong. His eyes looked into hers and they seemed to swim a little as if he couldn’t quite take her in, and yet his step told of reluctance.
There had been rumours in the office that some selected aurors were to be sent on a secret mission, away with no contact to friend or family for an indefinite period of time. Moody had briefed them on some dark activities that were concerning everyone.
It was only when they were back in the comfort of the Smythe family front room with two steaming cups on the coffee table that Alice, not wanting to ask him straight out if he was going away, began to enquire what the problem was.
Her head buzzed with confusion at his reaction, though she couldn’t imagine she’d ever forget the moment if she lived to the end of time. Frank Longbottom dropped to one knee on the floor of the room, took one of her hands between both of his, as his voice quavered while he spoke.
“Alice. Would you be my wife?”
Prompt: to the last syllable of recorded time
Author: apostrophe_ess
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JKR, I merely gain from playing these games in her playground.
Pairing/Character: Alice Smythe and Frank Longbottom
Word Count: 678
Rating: G
Summary: Something is wrong with Frank and Alice wants to get to the bottom of it
Author's Notes: Written for my fifth Alice/Frank prompt at the 7spells fanfiction challenge. My prompt table is here.
I've never written Alice or Frank before, so this will be a series of seven short pieces each between 500 and 750 words.
To read him like a book
The date meant nothing, she’d not even noticed it this year. It was only when Moody called her into his office and told her who she’d be working with for the final year of her training that Alice realised the significance. This time next year she’d be a qualified auror. There’d be nothing they could prohibit her from doing then.
Recently there’d been more and more times when a group of them would leave the office en masse and return later looking drained, grimey, and sometimes a little bit damaged. Every time Frank went out as one of those parties the second hand on the clock seemed to slow so it was hardly moving. They were long minutes, yet alone hours. The time dragged.
The two of them still had coffee together in the mornings, a few quiet words before they each went their separate ways for the rest of the day. Then two or three times a week they’d either go straight from work to eat together, or they’d go home to change and go out for an evening.
Saturday nights were usually dancing somewhere or another, and much to Alice’s pleasure Frank always kissed her goodnight long before he took her home. Occasionally these days her parents would retire to bed before they got there and she could invite him in for coffee. Coffee and cuddles. Alice loved those times, close together on the settee when they could talk quietly, and relax.
All the signs were that they would have the use of the sitting room tonight. Her mother was complaining of a headache, and her father had to leave early in the morning. The positioning of two coffee cups and a plate of biscuits covered in a freshening charm on the work surface in the kitchen was another clue.
Exactly on cue, right to the agreed moment, the front door knocked, her father opened it and Alice walked into the hallway for an evening out with Frank.
She’d learned to read his moods over the months. She could tell from his walk if he was chirpy, or worried over work, or tired. She could tell from his voice if he was excited about something, perhaps a theory over someone they were hoping to catch or the news that a play they were hoping to see was going to be on stage soon at a time they could get there. She could tell from the squeeze of his hand if he was going to let his coffee get cold as his lips spent more time on hers than the cup, or if he was just pleased to sit with her. In fact Alice Smythe could read Frank Longbottom well. And, like a favourite book that she went back to again and again, the more she knew the fonder she became.
It was difficult to read him tonight though. His hand on hers told that he needed to be with her, yet his voice was telling her there was something wrong. His eyes looked into hers and they seemed to swim a little as if he couldn’t quite take her in, and yet his step told of reluctance.
There had been rumours in the office that some selected aurors were to be sent on a secret mission, away with no contact to friend or family for an indefinite period of time. Moody had briefed them on some dark activities that were concerning everyone.
It was only when they were back in the comfort of the Smythe family front room with two steaming cups on the coffee table that Alice, not wanting to ask him straight out if he was going away, began to enquire what the problem was.
Her head buzzed with confusion at his reaction, though she couldn’t imagine she’d ever forget the moment if she lived to the end of time. Frank Longbottom dropped to one knee on the floor of the room, took one of her hands between both of his, as his voice quavered while he spoke.
“Alice. Would you be my wife?”