Things You Wish You Didn't Know

Things You Wish You Didn't Know

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Things You Wish You Didn't Know

Post by Avery Bishop on Fri Feb 19, 2016 11:49 pm

It was shockingly nice to be living with her mother again. Avery could admit that. But what was stranger? She was calling herself a Bishop again. The Bishop girls were large, and Claire at least was in charge. So Avery counted it. Ariadne was now called Sophia for the sake of both distancing herself from the pain but also from anyone who might know Robin when she wanted to pick their brain for information. At any rate, the one-year-old was at home with Else, and although Avery missed her during the day, it was now a requirement that Avery worked. She had the rights to all of Robin's things, considering he had been declared "likely dead" after being gone for six months. But it didn't feel right. She had no proof, and someone telling her that they thought something was true? It didn't make it so.

She just needed Keiran to come back. If there was anyone she trusted not to give up, not to let her down, it was him. She had her own mission of sorts to take care of at home. And at least Keiran knew that he had Millie to watch their kids, as well as Bridget and his friends. She just didn't know what would happen to Sophia if something happened to her, even with the family connections she now had.

A month ago, the Missing Persons notice had gone into effect. The Prophet had reported, had speculated. And it would be unfair for her to pretend like it hadn't been fairly offensive. Not many people knew the Ivanovs, really. Folks at work noticed, and the notice Avery had turned in was posted. But the Hayes man had been involved in so many things over the past few years that it was difficult for people to ignore it. Avery could admit that it felt like wishful thinking to tell herself that, but it probably helped that the Hayes had contacts higher up in the Ministry than Avery or Robin did.

But it would probably be fine. Keiran was looking for him.
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Re: Things You Wish You Didn't Know

Post by Melissa Finnigan on Sun Feb 28, 2016 6:46 pm

She was dimly aware of Peter’s voice, hovering coarsely on the fringes of her consciousness. The door slammed and she heard the crackling beginnings of a cry from Darcie. Her calves strained to go to her but though the muscles burned, the need did not lend to movement. She was rooted to the too-soft cushions of the couch, staring almost through the items that were in her hands, bare scraps of him.

The cries were quieted but more talking went on. Doors opened and shut and then she was sure she heard Baldric’s voice and the accompanying chimes of delight at the sight of him from the twins. Footsteps retreated, another door crashed shut and then warm arms were around her, bathing her senses in the familiar smells of the man whose presence had become the only constant in her world since he had gone.

It was then that the tears came. The sobs that ripped from her chest left gauges behind. Her whole body shook, the picture and the bits of wand tumbling out of her quaking hands and onto the sofa. She fisted large handfuls of his shirt into her grasp and clung on for what felt like dear life as her anguish howled into the air. Peter squeezed his eyes shut and let go of a small, startled gasp of his own, his eyes prickling with moisture.

The grasp of the elder man tightened around the young witch and she felt herself being lifted into his lap and then, as he rose, up against his chest. His mouth was at her ear, mumbling feverish apologies that did little to lighten her heart. The guilt he felt was running off of him in tsunami-like waves. If he had screamed I should have been there, it wouldn’t have been loud enough.

Somehow, half-stumbling but determined not to lose his grip on her, Peter found the witch’s bedroom. After kicking off his shoes, he lifted his leg up and stepped onto the bed. Finding a spot in the middle of the lush duvet, he sank down and cradled her close to him. At some point, the duvet wrapped around them. At another, their exhausted bodies finally crumpled against the pillows. At a later one, they both awoke, amusement filling them both for a second before they remembered, and remembered with stunning, painful clarity, what had happened.

“I need to go and see mum,” Peter murmured, reaching forward to wrap a delicate curl behind the blonde witch’s ear. She nodded, exhaling shallowly as her long fingers reached for his, larger, but no less nimble, streaks of flesh. He laced their grasps together and smiled a little before pulling her into his chest once more, turning over onto his back so that she was laid over him. Once again, her head found that little nook under his chin but this time there were no tears.

“Peter it’s not true, is it?” She whispered, her breath warm against his skin, brushing over the Azkaban inmate number that was still starkly emblazoned there. He fought off the shiver he felt rush up his spine. He didn’t want to believe it. Something in him twisted uncomfortably, urging him not to: that it couldn’t be true. But Peter dealt in reality. He had to, for the sake of his son. She lifted her head and their eyes met. He watched as the hope in her large, blue pools dimmed, seemingly having found the answer in his own gaze.

“Mills,” he endeavoured softly.

“No,” she shook her head, slipping off of his chest and back down onto the mattress. “No.”

That, he knew, was his cue to leave.

After that, she spent a lot of time with the pensieve his brother had bought her. Though she would not neglect her obligations to either her students or her children, Peter couldn’t help but feel as though she was always rooted to the same spot, the bowl in her lap, lifting silvery threads from her left temple with her wand. He wasn’t certain what she was doing but he had never understood Seers. They had their own practises. They were stranger than the rest.

Once the pensieve lost its pleasure, its waters thick and gloopy with memories, she could be found sat bathed in natural light, poring over Tarot Cards or Diviner’s Runes – looking for what, he wasn’t certain. A sign, he didn’t doubt. He said little to her during this time, focusing instead on trying to squeeze into the role of both parents as, increasingly, the warmth of her touch cooled and a disassociation with her surroundings set in. She was alive, but not living.

He put his foot down when the room filled itself with levitating crystal balls, all bearing images from something or another but his neutrality, verging on distaste, for Divination had never allowed him to fully appreciate. He had them vanished, with a spell he had learned in Azkaban from smugglers if they were in a pinch and needed their wares hidden. He hadn’t practised it since first leaving the prison and it felt odd to say the words. Once the crystals were gone, though, he felt infinitely better.

“He’s dead, Millie! Accept it!” The savagery of his shout, old temper raring in a way he was surprised by even in the moment was nothing compared to the slap that he received for it.


“When death permeates the life of Melissa Finnigan, she runs away,” Cael informed Peter logically later on that day after Baldric had contacted him. “After her father died, she ran away, did she not, Baldric?” The Gryffindor nodded. “She has three children. She can’t run away. The Divining is her escape, Peter. And, moot though it might all seem to you,” he chuckled as he pulled the stitch through, “she’s still got her fire.”

She didn’t talk to him for a week after that. The first words that came out of her mouth were a glib assessment of his behaviour. “You were a real bastard.” He couldn’t apologise enough. Her hand found his face, a half smile quirking at the side of her lips as she ran her fingers over the skin that was rapidly deepening into scars. She, too, apologised. Then, all at once, they both declared the same thing. “I miss him.” And he hugged her. He held her with everything he had left in the tank. And, exhausted, they fell asleep curled up on the sofa with Bean laying haphazardly over them both.


A visit to the Ministry provoked her return to reality. She was meeting James for lunch. It was tame enough. Elijah had returned from his less than pleasurable sabbatical and had contacted her to ask how things were getting along. He’d heard, of course. In their circle, a tree did not fall in the woods unheard. His words were tactful and respectful without losing their roguish charm. He offered to buy her lunch, dinner, and anything else she fancied. She told him she just wanted time with her friends. Thus, James was brought along for the ride, too.

These boys were better than the others at bringing her out of her shell. For the first time since that day, she laughed. Elijah kept the drinks, smartly non-alcoholic, flowing and made light of flirting with all of the waiters and waitresses who wandered by their table. James’s laugh was brash and loud and he planted a sloppy kiss on the blonde’s cheek when she spiked at the Bulgarian with the pointier end of her wit. The trio were breathless and happy when it was all over. Happiness, the feeling she had thought she would be bereved of forever.

And then, like that, it was dashed once more.

“Avery,” she murmured, pausing before a sign directing newcomers to the Department of Fluffies.

“Millie…” Elijah’s voice was warning and James’ fingers, which had been looped loosely through hers as they’d wandered back through the Ministry, tightened.

“Don’t do it, Mills.”

But something they both should have known well was that telling her not to do something was the catalyst for getting the witch to do just that. She wrenched her hand out of James’, spat a withering look in Elijah’s direction and stormed into the department. The boys exchanged a worried look before hurrying after her, the man in the pale blue jumper breaking into a jog while the other, in the three-piece suit, hastened to extend his gait.

The Hayes woman didn’t bother knocking. Such trivialities were to be dispensed with the moment the reporter was in her house. It was a wonder she hadn’t already taken out her wand. The duplicitousness of her thin, ropy limbs was evident in full force. The door was thrown open and the ensuing bang of the door handle hitting the wall behind shocked both men to a stop outside, seemingly paralysed to watch the goings on as though it was on a television screen.

“Why did you make him go?!” She shouted, her voice carrying out into the hall. “Why couldn’t you go and find Robin?”
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Re: Things You Wish You Didn't Know

Post by Avery Bishop on Mon Feb 29, 2016 9:55 am

The door flew open and Avery let out a cry of surprise which was really more like a yelp, curling back into her chair as her gaze whipped up from her paperwork. "What-?!"

Millie Hayes looked like she felt the world was ending. Or feared it. Avery wasn't sure which. Behind the young blonde stood two very curious men. Elijah, who always was assumed to be older than he truly was, surprised Avery less than Peter's appearance did. At least Elijah worked at the Ministry and had excuse to be there. Avery didn't know him very well, given her decision to stay out of Keiran's adventures after Sophia had been born. But Peter. Avery had heard enough, despite only meeting him in passing.

Millie's words caught Avery more off-guard than she expected them to, upon hearing them. Which didn't make sense, entirely, she supposed. But lack of previous attacks had led her to fall into some sense of safety as far as the lady half of the Hayes duo was concerned. The violence in her movements and voice probably added to that shock, though, because there was a bizarre desperation behind it. Bizarre, Avery realized, was a terrible word to use. Of course Millie was hoping Keiran would come back. But wasn't Avery feeling the same about Robin, who had been gone even longer than Keiran had?

It sent a dark cloud over her features as she stood, resting her palms on the top of the desk to support her. "Keiran offered to go! He didn't want to leave Sophia with strangers if I went. You're doing this now? You should have told him not to go if you were going to lose it on me!"
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Re: Things You Wish You Didn't Know

Post by Melissa Finnigan on Mon Feb 29, 2016 2:22 pm

Elijah closed his eyes, desperately wishing that the itinerant alcoholic beside him had not been reduced to such woeful impotence. He considered himself, briefly, and then decided that it may have been a trifle arrogant of him to merely blame James. Placid though he was. Over the top of his thick-rimmed glasses he was staring, mouth slightly agog, at the witches who, Elijah suspected, were not too far from blows. He swallowed and plucked up the courage he had left before pressing forward, entering the room.

“Mills, you need to just leave it,” he warned softly, his fingers brushing against hers.

She ignored him. He didn’t expect anything less, really. She had been looking almost fanatically for a reason. Peter had told them all as much. Elijah had peeked at the evidence on his way to visit Theodore who had found himself, once more, drowning in school paperwork when it became apparent that the Irish witch was no longer going to hold his hand on such matters. Grief was a funny beast.

“Because I really have that power!” Millie’s voice was high, sharp and bit out at the air, making Elijah shrink back a little. “Saving Robin … helping you … it made top of the list. Who the hell was I to tell him no?”

James entered the room, his hand curling around Elijah’s bicep. Elijah didn’t move to argue. He fell back quickly, almost into the Potter, and the pair stumbled back to the relative safety of the door. The liminal space. Neither in the conversation nor out of it. They weren’t certain which side they wanted to be on.

“You let him get it into his head that this was a mad adventure worth going on and now guess what? You and me? We’ve both got kids without fathers!”

James felt the air leave his chest. His grip on Elijah slackened a little but he let his head tip forward resting his forehead against the back of the Bulgarian’s neck. Neither of them had been told by Millie. They had had it relayed to them by the others. Like she had. There was no sense of discovery. There was no big reveal. It just was. It was something that had happened, something that only affected them because the evidence they had of it was circumspect pieces of his life and the gulf he left behind.

It was an easy thing to believe. And they’d taken it. They’d been spoon-fed it. His absence had been something they had all grown used to, after a fashion. Then, when it became permanent … it was easy to feel. Yet, hearing it aloud. Hearing her subsequent assertion that her husband was dead. Keiran was dead. It was that double-blow that they hadn’t realised what they were capable of feeling. Elijah mutely wondered whether Peter had said it aloud himself. Allowed himself to believe it. They’d all heard about the altercation between the witch and wizard but not even Baldric knew if he’d squared it with himself, that his baby brother was, in fact, dead.

“I …” Millie broke off and crossed her arms over her chest, her gaze dropping to a patch on the floor as she felt the words waft over her tongue and sour in her mouth. She had said it. She’d acknowledged it. Did this make it real, then? Was this it? Was this her life? And was she going to keep going in a glut of bitterness? The rational part of her mind reminded her softly that Avery was mourning too, technically.

Her husband was gone, too. If not dead.

“The reporter who came … who said … he…” her lips twisted into a sardonic smirk and James wondered if she was going to laugh. “He … he had the conscience … or enough of one, reporters don’t have much, to tell me first. He felt that I might have had the right to know first, rather than the entire wizarding public. That somehow it might be better to hear it from a stranger rather than a newspaper.”

She didn’t know what she would have preferred in the end.

“And I wonder … why did this happen? Why did this have to happen? And there you are. So, thank you for all that you have done.”
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Re: Things You Wish You Didn't Know

Post by Avery Bishop on Mon Feb 29, 2016 3:44 pm

How horribly, dreadfully ironic. Just when Theodore was preparing to bring in a new little boy, the man who was his friend as much as his cousin... was gone. Of course, the thought only registered briefly among the other thoughts flailing through her mind. Sure, over the past year, Robin had become her best friend as much as he had been her husband, but it would have taken a literal catastrophe for Avery to have given up on Keiran. She had lived in his home, spent Christmases with his parents, made it through years of exams and work problems. They had made it through more than she properly registered in the moment.

Instead, she turned her head as if it would protect her from hearing Millie's words. She had no reason not to believe it, technically, but Avery couldn't let herself settle into the idea, couldn't accept the truth for fear of the pain sinking in. But what about Robin?

The reporter, apparently, had not mentioned her husband. Avery wasn't sure if she was glad about that or disappointed. She would have liked to know something about Robin, but perhaps hearing nothing was better than being told the same thing that Millie had learned. How long ago had she heard this? Avery didn't know for sure, but it did seem like the ache and the aggression had festered in order for it to get to this point. Or perhaps it was just so sudden that the woman couldn't help it.

As Millie explained the way she found out, Avery felt a tear escape. There was something hollow to the younger woman's voice and Avery hated it. But did she really have any right to complain?

When the blame was turned on herself once again, Avery lifted a hand, dashing away the wet spot on her cheek. As soon as the outward display of grief had been sent away, fury took over. She turned back to Millie, stalking around the desk to face her head-on.

"So you're telling me," she began, voice dangerously quiet, "that it is somehow my fault that my husband was kidnapped. You're saying that your husband, who has never been closer to anyone besides myself and Robin, was brainwashed into going to rescue his best friend. Baldric saved Keiran's life at least twice, but Ben wouldn't have asked him not to. If it had been someone you gave two shits about, would you have told him not to go? If it was Kelly or Liam or Darcie? Or Theo? Elliot?" Avery shook her head firmly, frowning down at Millie.

"I sincerely doubt it. It was never lost on me where your loyalties were centered, but I did believe that you would respect Keiran enough to let him make his own choices and try to save someone he cares about. If you had been the one missing, you know Robin would have gone."
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Re: Things You Wish You Didn't Know

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