And so it goes; chapter two
In case you've missed the first two episodes: rabastan lestrange has switched alliances and is soon to stand trialforthe murder of three death eaters. In the meantime, frank and Alice longbottom have yoput the pie es of their lives and themselves back together.
And here is chapter three: before the trial
((Frank.))
Frank Longbottom has a headache.
To be fair, it is the same headache he has had since the moment of his rebirth in a trauma ward at St Mungos Hospital, but he can't help but feel that the present circumstances are somehow aggravating it. In the pocket of his robes is a flask of potion that offers some nominal sort of relief, but that has its own side effects: dizziness, sleepiness, even a touch of giddiness. The mediwizard who prepared the latest batch looked down his nose over his spectacles at Frank, warning of the hazards, warning how easy it is to get addicted to the simple pleasure of not being in pain, and Frank gravely promised to save it only as a last resort.
The flask is heavy in his pocket.
He closes his eyes, pinches at the bridge of his nose, and listens to the sound of his wife being ill in the washroom. Before the trauma, the last time she'd been so ill was when she was expecting Neville, he thinks -- remembers kneeling at her side, holding back the infinite waves of her hair, whispering reassurances. It was a rare moment of weakness for Alice: in their lives together so far, she'd always been the strong one. He is terrified by this sudden fragility in her almost more than anything else about the entire ordeal.
Almost.
--a pain in his head so sharp it's almost blinding and he opens his eyes to see the visage of Bastan Lestrange beaming beatifically down at him and for a moment he is sixteen again drowsing blissfully in a summer garden with the first love of his life, if not for the pain and the smell of death and burning flowers; he can't keep his eyes open, he feels lips at his brow, a voice whispering "go back to sleep the Aurors are on their way" and all he can think of is all the things he's lost as he surrenders back into the darkness --
And here he is, a grown man, caught between the boy he was in love with an eternity ago and the man who'd lost his heart to him and the woman he's made vows to, his wife his strength his safety, and a million wrong decisions clouding everything.
And Alice doesn't seem to be that woman anymore.
It seems as though his lips still burn from an adulterous kiss from the stubbornest man in the world, two weeks gone yet still guiltily on his mind.
--warm breath in his ear "you know wolves mate for life Frank" teeth catching at his earlobe and goosebumps raising all down his arms a rush of heat through his core straight to his groin and then the other is striding away leaving Frank alone as always with shame with secrets --
The washroom door slams open and Alice wobbles out, unsteady on her feet, wearing only one silver high-heeled shoe; interrupted by nausea halfway through the task of putting them on. Frank automatically reaches out to wrap an arm around her waist, steadying her; she flinches as though burned, then forces herself to relax, bring up the left foot, fasten the buckle. "Thank you," she murmurs, in her new voice, a scared little girl voice nothing like that that used to belong to the most accomplished female Auror in the history of the force.
"Of course," is all Frank replies, smiling sadly at his Alice, his wife, his crystal girl, his salvation. Was there really a time when he thought that marrying her would solve everything, wipe away his sins, reconcile his past and redeem his future? She is beautiful as ever. Her shoes are the same silver-grey as her new dress robes, the same hue of the soft spikes of her growing-in hair. For a moment he is nostalgic for the days when he could brush away the heavy waves of her hair, press a kiss to the nape of her neck and hear her sighing in pleasure. She is beautiful as ever but suddenly so vulnerable she is all but a stranger.
They can't both be fragile, yet they are, Frank thinks, and it frightens him. They've taken to sleeping in separate rooms, to keep from sharing nightmares Alice says, after that night when just one of his arms carelessly flung across her sleeping form was enough to wake her screaming, hyperventilating, lost in panic.
[It is safer this way, Frank thinks; on the occasions he's not having a nightmare but rather one of -those- dreams, boyish fumblings and fields of lavender, stolen kisses and it's enough to wake him aching with need and it's just better all round that Alice sleeps in the guest bedroom now.]
"Why are you staring at me so, Frank," Alice asks in a whisper. He hadn't been aware of it, caught up as he was in his thoughts.
"Marveling at you, so strong and so beautiful," he answers truthfully. "I won't deny you've changed, but you're still so beautiful. Like an avenging angel, all pale and shimmering in those robes, beautiful but dangerous, about to smite down evil."
Alice smiles shyly. "I always -was- good at smiting down evil," she murmurs. For a fleeting moment it's like old times, but then she's flinching, whispering "I think I'm going to be sick."
He wants to hold her. He knows he can't.
---and maybe you don't deserve to, hisses a traitorous voice in his head, a voice like the feel of teeth on skin, the scrape of stubble against soft flesh and a million shameful secrets---
"Alice, you don't have to do this, you know. He's a war criminal. He's murdered three people, at the very least, right in our parlor. You were being tortured, and I'm afraid if you testify, it'll cloud everything, and you might start feeling worse."
Her lips narrow into a thin line and he eyes flash furious. "He saved our lives, Frank, yours and mine and Neville's. I don't care what else he might have done," and she pauses here, gives her husband a searching look. "I can't just let him go to Azkaban without even -trying-."
The doorbell rings.
Alice shrieks.
In the next room, Neville hears his mother and, instinctively, starts to cry.
"It's just Emmeline, come to mind Neville, remember?" Frank says, in a voice meant to be soothing but he fears is closer to exasperated. Alice is shaking, then she sighs, manages a smile.
"Of course. I'll bring her in."
Alone again, Frank takes his head in his hands.
The flask is heavy in his pockets.
[[He palms it up, removes the stopper, drinks deeply.]]
And here is chapter three: before the trial
((Frank.))
Frank Longbottom has a headache.
To be fair, it is the same headache he has had since the moment of his rebirth in a trauma ward at St Mungos Hospital, but he can't help but feel that the present circumstances are somehow aggravating it. In the pocket of his robes is a flask of potion that offers some nominal sort of relief, but that has its own side effects: dizziness, sleepiness, even a touch of giddiness. The mediwizard who prepared the latest batch looked down his nose over his spectacles at Frank, warning of the hazards, warning how easy it is to get addicted to the simple pleasure of not being in pain, and Frank gravely promised to save it only as a last resort.
The flask is heavy in his pocket.
He closes his eyes, pinches at the bridge of his nose, and listens to the sound of his wife being ill in the washroom. Before the trauma, the last time she'd been so ill was when she was expecting Neville, he thinks -- remembers kneeling at her side, holding back the infinite waves of her hair, whispering reassurances. It was a rare moment of weakness for Alice: in their lives together so far, she'd always been the strong one. He is terrified by this sudden fragility in her almost more than anything else about the entire ordeal.
Almost.
--a pain in his head so sharp it's almost blinding and he opens his eyes to see the visage of Bastan Lestrange beaming beatifically down at him and for a moment he is sixteen again drowsing blissfully in a summer garden with the first love of his life, if not for the pain and the smell of death and burning flowers; he can't keep his eyes open, he feels lips at his brow, a voice whispering "go back to sleep the Aurors are on their way" and all he can think of is all the things he's lost as he surrenders back into the darkness --
And here he is, a grown man, caught between the boy he was in love with an eternity ago and the man who'd lost his heart to him and the woman he's made vows to, his wife his strength his safety, and a million wrong decisions clouding everything.
And Alice doesn't seem to be that woman anymore.
It seems as though his lips still burn from an adulterous kiss from the stubbornest man in the world, two weeks gone yet still guiltily on his mind.
--warm breath in his ear "you know wolves mate for life Frank" teeth catching at his earlobe and goosebumps raising all down his arms a rush of heat through his core straight to his groin and then the other is striding away leaving Frank alone as always with shame with secrets --
The washroom door slams open and Alice wobbles out, unsteady on her feet, wearing only one silver high-heeled shoe; interrupted by nausea halfway through the task of putting them on. Frank automatically reaches out to wrap an arm around her waist, steadying her; she flinches as though burned, then forces herself to relax, bring up the left foot, fasten the buckle. "Thank you," she murmurs, in her new voice, a scared little girl voice nothing like that that used to belong to the most accomplished female Auror in the history of the force.
"Of course," is all Frank replies, smiling sadly at his Alice, his wife, his crystal girl, his salvation. Was there really a time when he thought that marrying her would solve everything, wipe away his sins, reconcile his past and redeem his future? She is beautiful as ever. Her shoes are the same silver-grey as her new dress robes, the same hue of the soft spikes of her growing-in hair. For a moment he is nostalgic for the days when he could brush away the heavy waves of her hair, press a kiss to the nape of her neck and hear her sighing in pleasure. She is beautiful as ever but suddenly so vulnerable she is all but a stranger.
They can't both be fragile, yet they are, Frank thinks, and it frightens him. They've taken to sleeping in separate rooms, to keep from sharing nightmares Alice says, after that night when just one of his arms carelessly flung across her sleeping form was enough to wake her screaming, hyperventilating, lost in panic.
[It is safer this way, Frank thinks; on the occasions he's not having a nightmare but rather one of -those- dreams, boyish fumblings and fields of lavender, stolen kisses and it's enough to wake him aching with need and it's just better all round that Alice sleeps in the guest bedroom now.]
"Why are you staring at me so, Frank," Alice asks in a whisper. He hadn't been aware of it, caught up as he was in his thoughts.
"Marveling at you, so strong and so beautiful," he answers truthfully. "I won't deny you've changed, but you're still so beautiful. Like an avenging angel, all pale and shimmering in those robes, beautiful but dangerous, about to smite down evil."
Alice smiles shyly. "I always -was- good at smiting down evil," she murmurs. For a fleeting moment it's like old times, but then she's flinching, whispering "I think I'm going to be sick."
He wants to hold her. He knows he can't.
---and maybe you don't deserve to, hisses a traitorous voice in his head, a voice like the feel of teeth on skin, the scrape of stubble against soft flesh and a million shameful secrets---
"Alice, you don't have to do this, you know. He's a war criminal. He's murdered three people, at the very least, right in our parlor. You were being tortured, and I'm afraid if you testify, it'll cloud everything, and you might start feeling worse."
Her lips narrow into a thin line and he eyes flash furious. "He saved our lives, Frank, yours and mine and Neville's. I don't care what else he might have done," and she pauses here, gives her husband a searching look. "I can't just let him go to Azkaban without even -trying-."
The doorbell rings.
Alice shrieks.
In the next room, Neville hears his mother and, instinctively, starts to cry.
"It's just Emmeline, come to mind Neville, remember?" Frank says, in a voice meant to be soothing but he fears is closer to exasperated. Alice is shaking, then she sighs, manages a smile.
"Of course. I'll bring her in."
Alone again, Frank takes his head in his hands.
The flask is heavy in his pockets.
[[He palms it up, removes the stopper, drinks deeply.]]