*The last thing Davey wanted to resemble was a sorry pain in the arse that didn't value work. He simply had a hard time keeping them thanks to his big fat mouth.
Nevertheless, he feels rather reluctant standing around Diagon Alley, right hand twirling his wand between his fingers. He didn't reckon it was nerves. Rather, Diagon Alley seems to be bad luck regarding his occupations. But he supposes he should feel thankful that Emmeline is helping him on this quest of sorts. Frankly, he's thankful that Emmeline didn't kick him out of her flat after the snogging incident. In fact, she tends to act as if it never happened, and Davey doesn't know if he's relieved or irritated beyond fucking belief. But he decides to leave the matter alone for now. She doesn't fancy him, and that's okay. Or, rather, he's telling himself that it's okay.
He turns to Emmeline to see her raise her brows, mimicking her in return. Gnawing on the inside of his cheek he shrugs.*
Somewhere that doesn't insult my intelligence.
*A sudden bought of chill overtakes him, causing him to visibly shudder and cross his arms.*
*Emmeline's expression doesn't change at his mockery. Instead, the tone of her voice edges on incredulous, her words simple as she turns to face the nearest store.*
Is Potage's Cauldron Shop mentally stimulating enough for you?
*Drawing her robes to wrap more firmly around her body, she shrugs.*
Must be an early morning - *The dulcet tones of a man screaming hoarsely interrupts, Emmeline's head snaps to look quickly at the direction, although she can't see anything with the crowd still congregated in that area. She reaches for her wand from her right pocket.* What was that?
*Davey's wrinkles his nose at the cauldron shop when he, too, hears the scream. While Emme has her wand at the ready, Davey does nothing but stand, stock still, staring owlishly in the direction of the commotion. His wand twirling ceases.*
*The commotion is taking place on the other side of Diagon Alley, and now Davey's quest for job hunting is pushed to the far recesses of her mind as the confusion is amplified. She's frightened, but manages to keep the calm in her voice.*
Well, let's go see.
*As Emmeline begins to walk down the street, her positive emotions gradually dissipate with every step she makes. A middle aged woman is running away, pushing past other pedestrians and hitting them occasionally with her purse.*
*Davey is right behind her, his stomach becoming heavier and heavier with dread. There are a few more people running in their direction along the rather sparse road, some tripping over their cloaks. Seeing that simply adds to his long list of reasons as to why cloaks are shit.
His mood quickly turns from fearful to dark as the cold passes through him once more.*
Emmeline, I know that we should know what's going on but I've got a really bad feeling about this.
*Emmeline bites her tongue before she can snap at him for pointing out the obvious. Her gaze drifts back to the looming shadows on the edge of a building, as they approach the halfway point between Ollivander's and the Leaky Cauldron. Quickly deducing the present situation in her head, her expression becomes an uncharacteristic one of panic. Her usual, carefully crafted facade falls away, leading to a string of curse words and mutterings.*
Bloody hell. Why the hell are they here? Who let them in? Fuck.
*Turning to Davey, she brings herself together, masking her fear with grim resolution.* You should go back to the flat, I'll stay here.
*He's momentarily frozen as he witnesses the dementors gliding towards them. His exhales come out in clouds of grey as the air becomes cooler. Emmeline's advice barely registers but he knows it is even shittier than cloaks. He takes hold of her wrist and shakes his head, still unable to take his eyes off the dementors.*
*Emmeline's mouth opens, before falling shut a moment later. Argument is futile, she'll just have to drag Davey along, which was a right pain. Also, she didn't have time to teach him a complex spell in an instant.*
Then stay behind me and don't let go.
*She continues down the road towards the Dark creatures, becoming steady colder and more depressed. Doing the best to stave off the effects, Emmeline can't avoid them much longer. A dreadful memory of her mother shaking her eleven-year-old self by the shoulders, before breaking out tears in occupies her mind, the distant words of her father in the background. Disappointing... that we had such an ancestor. Emmeline drops before somebody that has fallen over, trying to pull him up by the shoulder, while watching a dementor blindly make his way through the feast before him.*
*Davey draws his wand, feigning self-assurance. But in reality he's never felt more useless holding one. He can't focus, eyes darting from Emmeline, to the man on the ground, to the Dementors, to Emmeline's back, to the Dementors, to a woman's body on the cobbled street...
Each breath chills his insides.*
What's the spell that gets rid of them?
*It comes out hoarsely, trailing towards the end. He feels foul, like complete shit, even as he tries to ward off the inevitable: the bad memories. The sound of blaring sirens creep into the forefront of his mind, ringing in his ears like a distant echo. Then the Alley becomes irrelevant, because how can it matter when rain is splattering the window and there are people shouting while a man Davey only knew for a couple hours is motionless in the corner with belt around his arm.
Davey shakes his head and realizes where he is now. The Dementors are slowly, but surely, advancing. He can't stand the feeling, it has to end.*
*Davey's yelling breaks her out of the daydream. Instinctually, she whips out her wand and points it towards the Dementor, who slowly glides towards the three, the dark expanse in place of its mouth widening. She shuts her eyes to concentrate, pushing taunting echoes filled with bigotry against Muggleborns to the back of her mind. Instead, she replaces it with a vibrant memory of her brothers pestering her about the tantalizing idea of Wizard sex shops as they rode in a car through Ireland. A faint smile plays at her lips, and she cries out the spell firmly,*
Expecto Patronum!
*A grey wisp erupts from her wand, taking the form of a Peregrine falcon, who flies swiftly towards the intimidating creature.*
*The Dementor swiftly ceases its advance, gliding backwards now instead - its tendril like robes curling in front of it like kelp. However, it is not alone, and even as Emmeline's patronus pushes one back, two more fall in place from both sides, attracted by the trio's emotional beacon. Together they draw in long rattling breaths, manoeuvring quickly before the silvery falcon can come back for them.*
*Davey is panicking, feeling out of his element and incredibly frightened. He could vomit, really, as numbness tries to paralyse him. He flicks his wrist, aiming his wand at a Dementor.*
Expecto Patronum.
*Nothing happens. The tip of his wand glows silver before dimming.*
EXPECTO PATRONUM.
*Again, nothing. He knows there is something he's forgetting. Something so fucking obvious that he could kick himself for not remembering.*
It's not working. It's not fucking working. Shit.
*He takes a step backwards, falling over an abandoned handbag.*
*An even bigger problem for Emmeline is the wizard lying in her arms, so distraught with grief over a memory, repeatedly groaning the name 'Valerie,' reaching out towards the dementor as if it had took on her form. Grimacing, she drags the man behind an abandoned stall, the surroundings around her reaching full-fledged panic mode with all the screaming and running around her. After her first initial trial, Emmeline is now remarkably pulled together, determined to help in anyway possible - this was why she had joined the Order in the first place.
Standing up as she blocks the man from the dementors, the witch recalls the day that she received the letter announcing her newly minted status as a Prefect before the fifth year, shouts the incantation, and another silver visage of a falcon glides towards the pair. The man grips her ankle, and she yells thunderously at Davey over the chaos.*
*Shadows are closing in, drowning out everything but the hooded figures before him. Happy memories...how the hell is he supposed to think of anything remotely happy when all he feels is sick with sorrow. He can't explain it, he can't fathom it, but he feels lower than he has in ages. His adrenaline is pumping but not towards fight or flight. He is frozen from the inside out and he hears those bloody sirens again. And now the shouting.
Nevertheless, he feels rather reluctant standing around Diagon Alley, right hand twirling his wand between his fingers. He didn't reckon it was nerves. Rather, Diagon Alley seems to be bad luck regarding his occupations. But he supposes he should feel thankful that Emmeline is helping him on this quest of sorts. Frankly, he's thankful that Emmeline didn't kick him out of her flat after the snogging incident. In fact, she tends to act as if it never happened, and Davey doesn't know if he's relieved or irritated beyond fucking belief. But he decides to leave the matter alone for now. She doesn't fancy him, and that's okay. Or, rather, he's telling himself that it's okay.
He turns to Emmeline to see her raise her brows, mimicking her in return. Gnawing on the inside of his cheek he shrugs.*
Somewhere that doesn't insult my intelligence.
*A sudden bought of chill overtakes him, causing him to visibly shudder and cross his arms.*
Cor, it's chilly, yeah?
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Is Potage's Cauldron Shop mentally stimulating enough for you?
*Drawing her robes to wrap more firmly around her body, she shrugs.*
Must be an early morning - *The dulcet tones of a man screaming hoarsely interrupts, Emmeline's head snaps to look quickly at the direction, although she can't see anything with the crowd still congregated in that area. She reaches for her wand from her right pocket.* What was that?
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I...the fuck if I know.
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Well, let's go see.
*As Emmeline begins to walk down the street, her positive emotions gradually dissipate with every step she makes. A middle aged woman is running away, pushing past other pedestrians and hitting them occasionally with her purse.*
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His mood quickly turns from fearful to dark as the cold passes through him once more.*
Emmeline, I know that we should know what's going on but I've got a really bad feeling about this.
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Bloody hell. Why the hell are they here? Who let them in? Fuck.
*Turning to Davey, she brings herself together, masking her fear with grim resolution.* You should go back to the flat, I'll stay here.
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Don't be stupid, I'm not leaving you.
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*A woman runs into Davey's shoulder, and he feels his feet backing up ever so slightly.*
NO. I haven't had a fucking reason to! But I can, er, try. Charms. I'm fucking good at charms.
*Reassuring oneself does little to actually boost confidence when whatever confidence you had is slowly being drained out of you.*
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Then stay behind me and don't let go.
*She continues down the road towards the Dark creatures, becoming steady colder and more depressed. Doing the best to stave off the effects, Emmeline can't avoid them much longer. A dreadful memory of her mother shaking her eleven-year-old self by the shoulders, before breaking out tears in occupies her mind, the distant words of her father in the background. Disappointing... that we had such an ancestor. Emmeline drops before somebody that has fallen over, trying to pull him up by the shoulder, while watching a dementor blindly make his way through the feast before him.*
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Each breath chills his insides.*
What's the spell that gets rid of them?
*It comes out hoarsely, trailing towards the end. He feels foul, like complete shit, even as he tries to ward off the inevitable: the bad memories. The sound of blaring sirens creep into the forefront of his mind, ringing in his ears like a distant echo. Then the Alley becomes irrelevant, because how can it matter when rain is splattering the window and there are people shouting while a man Davey only knew for a couple hours is motionless in the corner with belt around his arm.
Davey shakes his head and realizes where he is now. The Dementors are slowly, but surely, advancing. He can't stand the feeling, it has to end.*
WHAT'S THE FUCKING SPELL, EMMELINE?
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Expecto Patronum!
*A grey wisp erupts from her wand, taking the form of a Peregrine falcon, who flies swiftly towards the intimidating creature.*
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Expecto Patronum.
*Nothing happens. The tip of his wand glows silver before dimming.*
EXPECTO PATRONUM.
*Again, nothing. He knows there is something he's forgetting. Something so fucking obvious that he could kick himself for not remembering.*
It's not working. It's not fucking working. Shit.
*He takes a step backwards, falling over an abandoned handbag.*
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Standing up as she blocks the man from the dementors, the witch recalls the day that she received the letter announcing her newly minted status as a Prefect before the fifth year, shouts the incantation, and another silver visage of a falcon glides towards the pair. The man grips her ankle, and she yells thunderously at Davey over the chaos.*
DAVEY, CALM DOWN. THINK ABOUT HAPPY MEMORIES.
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"He's dead. Fucking dead."*
I can't.
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