When we die, we will die with our arms unbound

[rathercareless.livejournal.com]

*Fabian's glee about Umbridge has died down a bit, largely thanks to watching Gideon's reaction and realizing that perhaps his plan to set off fireworks from their roof might be a tad in poor taste. It's settled instead into a kind of sharp vindication, but it doesn't stop him having a moment of childish triumph when he finds an old activity log under a stack of parchment on his desk. He starts to chuck it out, then on second thought wallpapers his cubicle with it instead. It's part vindication, yes, but also part reminder to himself, as he sits looking at his left-handed scrawl that looks so much like his handwriting as a small child. (Mum had cried when she'd finally seen his arms; this morning he managed to do up his shoelaces without magic - a major milestone. Sometimes he can hardly breathe, he's so frustrated at having to retrain damaged muscle and tendon to do such basic things.) He's never letting anyone control him like Umbridge again.*