They told me this is a free country, but now it feels like a chicken factory.

[blankrevolution.livejournal.com]

With the sun shining bright on this spring afternoon, Diagon Alley is bustling with people.

And Davey can't fucking stand it. All they do is push and shove as if the shops are closing at two in the bloody afternoon. Florean's is packed so he can't get a chocolate fucking ice cream cone (or a small container of the mint chocolate chip Emmeline fancies) and he's in no mood to wait for a cold butterbeer in the Leaky. So he strops off down the road, cigarette in hand, a satchel full of new books on his shoulder, a scowl on his face, and sweat on his brow. He's about to get out of the hell hole when he spots Xenophilius outside of Madam Primpernelle's.*

Oy, Xeno!

Comments

[mindtheplums.livejournal.com]

*Xeno has only just given his notice at the shop. Madam Primpernelle wasn't exactly pleased, but nor was she all that surprised. He's been off his game for months, and busier and busier with the Quibbler, and the shop's second apprentice has made no secret of hungrily eyeing his spot. She's a sharp-faced feathered blonde and very fashionable and Xeno can sense the tenor of the shop will change when she takes over, and not necessarily for the better. But he doesn't mind all that much. It's a little bittersweet but this feels right: he's embarking on a new chapter of his life, and the Quibbler is growing, and it is a lovely spring day.

When he sees Davey, his face splits into a wide and sunny smile.*

All right, Gudgeon?

[blankrevolution.livejournal.com]

Can't complain about much besides the crowd. Sun comes out and everyone acts like there won't be any until next year. Welcome to England, yeah?

[mindtheplums.livejournal.com]

Indeed. I was about to head up to the roof of the shop, actually, and take in the view.

*The roof gardens of Madam Primpernelle's are as lovely as the shop interior, and there is a private nook overlooking Diagon Alley in which Xeno has spent many a lunch hour in the company of his own primary cash crop. Perrine herself has given this habit her blessing, but the new apprentice. . .well, not so much. But Xeno doesn't give a fig for what she thinks. With a jerk of his chin he indicates the alley stair leading to the roof.*

Join me?

[blankrevolution.livejournal.com]

*Davey shrugs with a smile.*

Sure why not? I've got time to kill.

[mindtheplums.livejournal.com]

*Without a word, Xeno leads him up the winding alley staircase and out onto the roof, winding expertly between the neatly labeled rows of flowering plants. Once they're settled on the bench overlooking Diagon Alley, he produces the neatly hand-rolled thing from one of his many pockets and lights it with a careless flick of his wand. The smoke is sweet-smelling, faintly purple, and he smiles through it at Davey as he passes the joint over.*

It's been too long. How are things? And your ladyfriend?

[blankrevolution.livejournal.com]

Still a fucking hippie.

*Davey says this endearingly, remembering times back in Hogwarts when he and his friends were a rag tag group of fourth years trying to get into the good graces of sixth years like Xeno for grass. About a decade later, this situation feels like familiar territory, but they're older with jobs and responsibility and a bloody war on their minds. Davey takes a hit, holding in the smoke for a while before exhaling with a huge grin.*

Ha, Emme?

[mindtheplums.livejournal.com]

Fuck you, Davey. Sit and spin.

*But he's laughing, exhaling a huge plume of purple smoke.*

Yes, Emme. The posh one.

[blankrevolution.livejournal.com]

*Davey is unaware of the fact that he's donning a grin that looks comically goofy even for him. And it's not the drugs.*

She's good, man. Working like a maniac as usual when she's not going on shopping sprees. I still think it's funny, you know, how we ended up...being whatever we are.

[mindtheplums.livejournal.com]

*Xeno grins widely, thinking of Clover-- the prettiest girl in school, easily, willowy and elegant and a fair bit taller than him, and he was, well, Xeno Lovegood, and not widely considered a catch. The memory doesn't hurt as it sometimes does--often does-- doesn't press on his chest or catch in his throat. It just is, and his smile doesn't falter.*

Well, sometimes it works like that.

*Maybe it's the memory, or the look on Davey's face, or the massive toke he's just taken, or the beauty of Diagon Alley stretched out before them in the afternoon sun, but whatever it is, Xeno sighs hugely, another faintly-purple cloud.*

You love who you love.

[blankrevolution.livejournal.com]

*His fingers reach for the joint when Xeno says this. He considers the smouldering end, the strong aroma, and the bits of acrylic paint stuck to the crevices of his nail beds.*

I—

*He takes a short drag and hands it back to Xeno with a crease between his brows. He can't say, "I don't love her" because he knows it's rubbish. But he hasn't properly admitted it to himself, and any thoughts vaguely resembling such an admission have only come to him when he's been to tired to leave her bed at night and finds himself staring at the bare skin of her back for far too long. He's felt deep waves of love for her, surely. But to be "in love" is something new and strange and frightening all together.*

I don't know if I'm—she doesn't—

*He sighs for a moment before continuing, feeling quite young as he mumbles.*

How do you know? You know, if you...are or not?

[mindtheplums.livejournal.com]

*Xeno only laughs, long and hard, and the purple smoke almost hides his face.*

[blankrevolution.livejournal.com]

Oy, don't laugh! It wasn't a joke.

*His cheeks are positively burning, and Davey very rarely blushes.*

[mindtheplums.livejournal.com]

Of course it wasn't, Davey. That's why it's funny.

So you love her, yeah?

[blankrevolution.livejournal.com]

I—we're really different.

*It was bad decisions and a stroke of luck that brought the two together in the first place. But he wonders what it is that's keeping them together. They aren't even officially boyfriend and fucking girlfriend, and Davey sometimes can't help but wonder what is keeping Emmeline from kicking him out. They've plenty of things in common: they're Muggle-born, they're anti-Ministry, and they both enjoy watching the nightly news. She makes him laugh, he makes her laugh, an the sex is fucking phenomenal. The only thing that worries him is this constant feeling of tension. One wrong move and he's out.

Davey realises that this tension may only exist in the recesses of his mind, and all because she won't call him her fucking boyfriend. He's petty, and he knows it. And yet, he imagines that superficial titles offer some sense of security that laughing at news casters together and snogging in the middle of baking don't. It's fucked.

But as a gust of wind flits through the rooftop sanctuary, it carries the smell of the smoke and fleeting epiphanies. His lips stretch into a dazed smile once more.*

I had to take care of my nan for a week back in Manchester about a month ago. I love my nan but the whole time I felt like a knob because all I wanted to see her. Unless I really have to take a piss she's the first thing I think of when I wake up. I think about her when I shouldn't, and she makes me laugh. She's got a brilliant mind, too. And she's...beautiful and I don't know if I'm just lovesick or in deep like or...fuck.

*It hits him as he looks at the toes of his scuffed Docs, and he's not sure what "it" is but he suddenly feels lighter, and his lips are tugging his mouth into an even bigger smile.*

Yeah, I reckon I love her.

*This confession feels strange on his tongue, but with it comes a feeling of excitement and a silly sensation of boundless opportunity.*

[mindtheplums.livejournal.com]

Good. Best let her know if you haven't already. Time is of the essence, mate.

*He frowns, a little. That's the one truth that has become clear to him in the raw new months since Clover's disappearance, when he'd spent night after sleepless night wondering why he hadn't told her he loved her more often, he'd had so many opportunities to, so many seconds he'd simply let pass by--and what wouldn't he do to have only one of them to do over again--

This time there's that familiar press in his chest, and his voice just catches.*

I mean, we may not have very much of it.

[blankrevolution.livejournal.com]

Fuck. Mate, I'm sorry I shouldn't have...fuck.

*He scratches the back of his neck and looks at Xeno sheepishly. Here he is, talking about his love life to a man who just lost his wife. Knob.*

I'm sorry.

[mindtheplums.livejournal.com]

*Xeno only shrugs, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand.*

Me too. Don't worry about it.

[blankrevolution.livejournal.com]

I'm sure she was something special. Not everyone can say they've had someone like that in their lives.

*Davey's grin is wry as he reclaims the joint and takes a long drag.*

She'd have to be a right saint to put up with your fucking Birkenstocks.

[mindtheplums.livejournal.com]

*Xeno bursts into a peal of rough laughter, coughing another plume of smoke. When he speaks, it's a little weakly.*

Yes, she was! Fuck you, Davey. Sit and spin.

[blankrevolution.livejournal.com]

*Davey laughs too, glad to cheer Xeno up at least a little. Then he nods, eyes steady on the rooftop silhouettes in front of him.*

But I'm going to take your advice. You know, when I feel the time is right. Not sure if she'll say it back. Emme's a bit of a odd duck. I'm an overly sentimental basket case compared to her. We'll see.

[mindtheplums.livejournal.com]

It is what it is. I asked Clover to marry me fourteen times before she said yes.

*But he's smiling, now, as he stubs out the joint and Vanishes the blackened butt of it.*

Sometimes you've got to let your ass hang in the wind and see what happens.

[blankrevolution.livejournal.com]

Yeah, I reckon you're right. Though she's seen me make an arse of myself enough times already. One even made it in the paper if you remember.

*It was a shit article that Rita Skeeter wrote about his altercation with the Minister for Magic, but he's got no regrets about what he actually did. He just wishes that they'd left Emmeline out of it.*

[mindtheplums.livejournal.com]

Prophet's not worth the paper it's printed on, Davey, you know that.

*This is said with a shrug, and a certain amount of professional pride.*

[blankrevolution.livejournal.com]

True. It's worse than shit, really. How's that one of yours coming along? That Lily Potter mentioned it to Emme, who mentioned it to me.

*He refrains from mentioning that Emme thought that it was rubbish, save for the bit of anti-Ministry related articles.*

[mindtheplums.livejournal.com]

It's coming along. I've just quit the shop, actually, the Quibbler's keeping me so busy.

*What he doesn't say is that he also seems to have lost his knack for it. The women who come into the shop are ashes to him in a way they weren't, exactly, before, and the unique and undeniable beauty of each--and the ways to bring it out--don't interest him the way they used to. But the truth is also that the Quibbler has been doing well, and between that and his savings, he doesn't need Madam Primpernelle's anymore.*

Ah, I'd been hoping that Lily would write a piece. I know activism is her bag, Muggle-borns and such. We're always looking for submissions.

[blankrevolution.livejournal.com]

Yeah, she's got a bit of a collective going on. I've tried to get involved as much as I can but I think we've all been busy.

Which is no excuse, really. I ought to be in the streets every fucking day until my voice is heard, yeah? All they talk about on the wireless and in that shit of a daily paper are about the Minister and murders. Nobody is talking about how the treatment of Muggle-borns is getting worse with the increase of violence or the fact that these fucking terrorists systematically attack Muggles and Muggle-borns. Sure, not always, sometimes they use some fucking Dementor to spice things up, but it's us that they want rid of in the end. So we're enemies of these fucking terrorists, society, and the government. I don't give a fuck if Crouch doesn't hate Muggle-borns. As long as he does nothing to directly combat our concerns, he's just as bad as the rest of them.

You know what I mean?

[mindtheplums.livejournal.com]

Yeah.

*He raises his eyebrows a little at this sudden tirade, but it's in an impressed sort of way.*

Sounds like you should be the one submitting.

[blankrevolution.livejournal.com]

I don't know. I wouldn't want to get you into any trouble. You'd be publishing the writings of an "extremist."

[mindtheplums.livejournal.com]

I already publish an awful lot. No one's taken much notice of me yet.

Knock on wood.

*He actually does rap with his knuckles on the bench--an old habit he'd gotten from his father--and shrugs. His house is warded to within an inch of its life and there is a not-quite-legally bewitched shotgun filled with rose quartz and rock salt right by the door, should any unsavories come to call. Xeno's gentle, but he's not an idiot.*

[blankrevolution.livejournal.com]

Huh, maybe I'll take you up on that then. I wouldn't mind getting a few things off my chest for more people to hear than Emmeline.

[mindtheplums.livejournal.com]

You know where to owl.