Kip Parsons had just put the finishing touches on his letter to Katarina, a sickness in his heart as he told her there was no way he could leave the country now, and his trip to visit her at university would have to be postponed. Part of him felt his chance, whatever that chance was, slipping away. He was so proud that she was heading off the find herself and to contribute to the world as an artist – it was exactly what they had been encouraging her to do since they first met her. It was only with a touch of irony that he realized now how hard it was to see her go.
He pulled on a shirt over the tank top he had been wearing and gave his hair another once over before sliding a belt on. Within a matter of moments, he was stepping onto the street, deciding to take advantage of the morning by paying Kenna a visit. Rory would probably be hungover, and Yuri and Remy off at their respective places. He liked going to the farmer’s market with Kenna on Saturday mornings, as she ranted and raved about Remy and Rory, and complained about business, and sighed about a life she was certain would never find her. In another life, he might have loved Kenna. She was sweet and simple and devastatingly clever in ways only those who loved her could see. But in this life, Kenna was a sister to him. And, in this life, he liked darker-haired brunettes.
He had just slipped into the pub and exchanged a smile with her from across the way as she conducted the morning inventory. She held up a finger and turned, and he watched as the cord of the ancient phone wrapped around her, her soft features distorting as she delved into the Scottish fury to demand a fairer price on new mugs.
Something compelled him to turn around and when he did, he spotted a familiar silvery wolfhound alighting on the floorboards. Instantly, he felt himself stand at attention as the dog gathered itself and sat down before him. For a long time, it stared at him. And then it opened its mouth and did something most patronuses didn’t do. It barked.
He knew what it meant and when he turned ‘round to locate Kenna, he could see by her tired but accepting face that she knew he had to go. Mouthing a sorry, he walked out the door, as the patronus faded into mist.
Gabby was hungover, but he had still popped by mum’s. She was shrinking, these days, and he was worried for the day where he would come only to find her to be something out a fairytale, impossibly small. All of her ailments, explained and unexplained, were all working against poor Lenora’s, who life of hardship had already rendered her weaker than most. Without Callie there to help her, Lenora would have probably been gone by now. And all of Gabby’s own personal anguish would pale in comparison to the pain of losing his devoted mother.
So he visited and sat with her and held her hand and told her some lies about how well he was doing and how happy he was. She didn’t seem like she would remember much of it, so he even attempted to talk about his reconciliation with his father (would never happen), the great times he was having with Max (not anymore, thanks Jack), and the excitement he had about his current girlfriend (no such woman). Her gentle, if somewhat dreamy, pleasure at these tidings left him feeling sick as he stepped out of her cottage to let her sleep.
He needed to get home, he knew that. But he found himself standing in the middle of her garden, smoking a cigarette. His eyes wandered to the window, where he could see Callie dimming the lights in his mother’s room, before they travelled across the way to the kids playing in their own garden. He blew smoke into the air and that’s when the patronus entered the garden.
“Oh, noooo. Leave me alone!”
The patronus walked forward, sitting down out of reach. “C’mon, I don’t want to-“ The patronus barked and he leaned forward. “F*ck off! Yeah?” The Patronus blinked and barked again. Gabby swatted out at the patronus only to have it disappear. The children were staring at him, unable to see any creature over the garden walls and he could not help but sneer in their direction.
They all happened to land outside the nightclub at roughly the same time. Kip, Keiran, Frank, and Gabby. There was no sign of Fred, odd but not horribly unusual, and of course no sign of Robin or Mira, but that was unfortunately to be expected. There was that all too familiar rumble of men greeting each other in their civil, all-too-casual way before Gabby squinted. “Isn’t showing up here at day a bit against the reasons we use it as a cover.”
“She’s leasing it out for business functions in the day,” Kip explained, opening the door. Indeed, inside was some sort of mixer, a makeshift table here or there, and it all seemed a bit jarring when one knew the grinding and gyrating that had happened the night before.
Kip led the way upstairs and to the room that served their purposes, right past the room no one was allowed into. Kip stepped in and barely managed to suppress a grin. My, she had to make an impression didn’t she.
All the boards were up, with pictures of known criminals plastered everywhere, as well as some other pictures the Kip couldn’t even hazard a guess to their relevance. Maps, maps, everywhere, as well as random words he supposed they were supposed to use to generate ideas. On top of that were articles and articles, spanning the length from potions to werewolves, to Hogwarts to quaint village activities. At the center of the room was a round table with plush chairs. And she turned around as they all spoke, facing them.
“Come on in, gentleman,” Jack Dyllan said…
…maintaining her austere demeanor for only a second before she smirked. “Okay, c’mon, that was pretty badass, right?”
Gabby poked Kip. “You’re related to that.”
@Frank Longbottom @Keiran Hayes