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Post by Bentley Fenwick on Aug 22, 2012 21:57:43 GMT -5
[/sup] ; credit[/center] It fucking sucked when you had big news that you wanted to share with someone and then you couldn’t because it was ‘confidential’.
Fenwick had received such news. After helping Evans with the Death Eater, his life seemed to have taken a turn for the considerably more-exciting. Professor Moody – bollocks, he wasn’t really a professor, but Fenwick was used to addressing his elders as such by now (those he respected, at least) – had approached him after giving a lecture about vigilance, saying that he’d heard he’d been a bit useful to Miss Evans a few days ago. Instead of answering Fenwick’s question of how the hell he knew, Moody instead quizzed him on everything that had happened. Hesitantly, Fenwick had told him everything.
And then Moody had handed him a small slip of parchment with an address written on it; Fenwick had stared at it in confusion for a moment, but Moody had said to go there. ‘Caritas’, it was called – whatever that meant. Fenwick had gone, and for a long while thought he was lost: Caritas was nothing but a field and barn, though he was greeted by a dog who growled at him until Moody’s voice bellowed “Phoenix, down!” And then Moody was beside Fenwick, telling him about the Order of the Phoenix that Dumbledore had set up – and the address, Fenwick realised, was in Dumbledore’s writing – and how it was a secret organisation to fight the Dark Lord. Fenwick had always believed he’d do what he could against Death Eaters – he was training to be a Hit Wizard, after all – but he’d always assumed Aurors and Hit Wizards were automatically going to fight. Then again, they were run by the Ministry, and the Ministry could get incredibly corrupted. Having a secret organisation for the sole purpose of being against the Death Eaters was wise, Fenwick decided. Moody told him a bit more about the Order, but Fenwick had already made up his mind: he was in.
All his life, Fenwick had never been a part of anything. Sure, he’d been a Gryffindor, but he’d been a bit of an outcast – his own fault, really, for deliberately being an asshole to everyone. His aversion – oh, all right, his fear of heights kept him off the Quidditch pitch, and he all but went out of his way to not join any other clubs at school. Although he’d kept himself separate, there was still a part of him that envied those who were on a team, or in a club, or had that clique of friends. But now he was part of something real, something that could make a difference. Now he was a member of the secret Order of the Phoenix, and he had a purpose: to find as many of those Death Eater bastards he could and bring them down.
It was exciting.
It was just really too bad that the one person he actually wanted to tell about it, he couldn’t. That was the thing about secret organisations: they were secret. So as much as he wanted to tell Clementine all about it, he couldn’t.
Clementine Knight was… she was one of the only people that didn’t annoy the utter bejesus out of Fenwick. She wasn’t one of those girls that was airheaded, always smiling, always giggling and bouncy – but she wasn’t constantly a Debbie Downer either. She was normal, which Fenwick appreciated. Despite himself, he actually liked her. He found her to be interesting, and considered her to be more mature than other girls her age. She was tough and stubborn, competitive and physical – and attractive on top of everything. Not that Fenwick thought of her in that fashion; she was a little bit like a… not a sister, no… Clementine was more like the cousin you were oddly attracted to even though you knew you really shouldn’t be. But Fenwick tried not to think about that.
In any case, it was around that time of the month for the Hogsmeade weekend, and Fenwick had a fresh bottle of Firewhiskey just for her. It was in a brown bag, but he had put a bow on it that he’d had left over from Christmas, just to spruce it up a little. Ordinarily he didn’t do things like that, since the booze wasn’t technically a gift, but he was in a particularly good mood after the whole initiation to the Order of the Phoenix and didn’t mind doing it this once.
He waited in their usual table at the Three Broomsticks, just behind the stairs, leaning back in his chair and balancing on the back legs. He had already ordered himself a Firewhiskey and Clementine a Butterbeer, which he’d gone ahead and paid for – again, unusual, since he normally made her pay for her own drinks. And when he saw her approach, he actually smiled, though he didn’t fix his chair or get up or anything. He was happy, sure, but he wasn’t exactly a gentleman.
“What took you so long?” he chided, pushing her drink toward her with his fingertips. “For a second I thought you stood me up.”
clementine |
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Post by Clementine Knight on Sept 15, 2012 18:40:47 GMT -5
 Of all of Clementine's unexpected friendships (and trust me, there were a few), her friendship with Fenwick was definitely the most unexpected. Sure, their personalities were... compatible, in a sense, but neither of them were particularly skilled in the area of making friends and, like, actually keeping them. At least, that was how she saw it. Eventually people would realize she was a bitch - or they would know before and just avoid her all together - and they'd kind of just... you know... avoid her. Or not avoid her. Just. Keep a distance. And she was pretty damn sure people did the same thing with Fenwick - or Fenwick did the same thing with people. She didn't really give a shit if people didn't like her, and she knew he felt the same. Fenwick had graduated, moved on into the real world, he was an adult, and she was still stuck back in school - but that didn't keep them from owling often, and meeting each other in The Three Broomsticks once a month. Fenwick had always been very special to Clementine, she always really valued their relationship, and knowing that it wasn't going to crumble because they weren't both living at Hogwarts was... well, reassuring. She had seen several friendships slowly fade away after such a big change, but she and Fenwick... well, they were still just that. Clementine and Fenwick.
She was looking forward to meeting up with him, as she always did; as much as owling was good to hold you over, nothing really compared to being face to face with someone you cared a lot for. That way you could share moments rather than just... talk back and forth, instead of having to write about yourself excessively. And bitching about people’s idiocy just wasn’t as fun over owls, or anywhere near as gratifying. It was weird not having him in school, but it was weird having to meet him outside of school too… not weird in a bad way, it was just… different. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it. Of course, she was going to have to get used to this kind of change because eventually she’d graduate too – would see visit anyone when that happened, like he did for her? Fenwick even looked older every time she’d seen him since they’d graduated. It was hard to tell if it was her mind playing tricks on her or if it was him just turning into, like, a real man, instead of just a teenager. Had she just not realized how attractive he was all of those years?
…
…Huh.
Unsure of the answer even herself, Clementine pushed open the door of The Three Broomsticks, massively appreciative of the warm air that filled the room. Spring was just around the corner and as happy Clementine would be to have it, she always loved that moment – walking in from the cold into a cozy, warm building. The Three Broomsticks was busy enough that afternoon – afterall, it was one of the few weekends the students were allowed to go to Hogsmeade – but her and Fenwick’s table was secluded, which she was thankful for. She walked up to it and slid into the seat, smiling at Fenwick. ”Hi.” She greeted him, grinning. ”Well Jesus Christ, good to see you too!” she exclaimed, pulling the butterbeer closer to her without even thinking. And then she thought. And realized this was all very mysterious. What was with the ribbon on that bag! And since when did he order her butterbeer?! She furrowed her brows at him, narrowing her eyes suspciously. ”What. What is this.” she glanced around, nodding quickly at the butterbeer and the ribbonned bag. “What are you – are you – are you hiding another girl beneath the table or something?!” she accused, checking down there herself. Luckily only his legs were hidden underneath. ”This has a ribbon, Fenwick,” Clementine said, tugging on the twirls and curling the corners of her lips up, displeased since clearly something was going on but she did not know what.
(Obviously this was a problem.)
She slouched back in her chair a little, relaxing, reminding herself it wasn’t like he did these things with cruel intentions. …But still.
”Well. Tell me how you are.” She spoke flatly, raising an eyebrow at him and taking a sip from her butterbeer. It was good to see him. Finally.
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Post by Bentley Fenwick on Sept 23, 2012 19:32:09 GMT -5
[/sup] ; credit[/center] It was hard for anyone to get on Fenwick’s good side. His brother and sister didn’t really count, because even when they were being annoying little shits, they were still his baby brother and sister that he had to look out for. He was close to being their legal guardian; he needed a few thousand more Galleons in his savings, and then he could buy that tiny three-bedroom house far away from their mum and see a court about becoming their legal guardian. Their mother was such a trainwreck that he didn’t think getting custody would be hard, and he worked steady at the Ministry (training, yes, but he still got paid) and they were at school most of the year anyway. It would be stupid for a judge to not give him custody, really. And it was only for three years, since they came of age soon anyway.
His siblings aside, Clementine was one of the few on his list that had won him over and he just couldn’t be a dick to. He teased her, and she teased back. She didn’t mind the chip on his shoulder, and he found her moments of bitchiness to be rather hilarious, actually. He couldn’t help but smirk as she peered suspiciously at the Butterbeer, and laughed out loud as she checked under the table for a supposed girl. “Just us, Knight,” he assured her. He raised his eyebrows as she pointed out the ribbon he’d attached to her bag of Firewhiskey and nodded mock-thoughtfully. “Funny enough, it does.” He reached over and gave it a flick. “It’s a gift, innit? S’posed to decorate them with shit.” He snorted and leaned back, placing his hands behind his head and laughing again as Clementine asked how he was. He liked throwing her off her curve; she did have the funniest reactions to shit when she didn’t know what was going on.
When Fenwick finished laughing, he gave a shrug in response to her question. “Working, I guess. Training. Twenty-five hours a day, eight days a week, the usual. Sent someone to the infirmary the other day. Idiot didn’t have his Shield Charm up in time.” He rolled his eyes to emphasise his point. It was his sparring partner’s fault, really. Fenwick had no patience for stupid people, nor did he have much sympathy. He figured Clementine would understand. “Haven’t been kicked out yet, though, so there’s that. To be honest, I don’t think they could.” He leaned forward and tapped his temple. “People don’t expect there to be anything up here,” he smirked. He remembered one of the first exams they’d done; the results had been posted for all to see rather than being handed back, and Fenwick had been in the top five. Unlike Aurors, Hit Wizards had only eighteen months of training rather than three years. With so much material to learn in such a condensed time frame, it wasn’t uncommon for people to decide to change careers partway through training, which tended to leave a very small department – but it meant that everyone in it was the best of the best. And Fenwick intended to stick it through and be one of them. He was good at learning things quickly; he preferred it to stretching out the schooling for seven years. With his high marks and consistent performance in practical work, it would be hard for the Ministry to kick him out of the Hit Wizard program, even with his attitude. Fenwick would be blatantly lying if he said he wasn’t proud of that fact, or that he didn’t use it to his advantage.
“Heard some rumours that a couple trainees from the Auror department were being placed around the castle,” he said, taking a swig of his drink. “Apparently some shit’s been happening. You better not get mixed up in that, kid. I’d hate to have to come all the way down here to kick your ass for getting in trouble.” And that was about as affectionate as Fenwick ever got with a person, even his siblings. At least it was sincere and not some fake concern a guy used to get close to a pretty girl. He knew the polite thing to do was ask her how she was, since she’d asked him, but it was a question Fenwick never really asked others and the words tasted odd on his tongue. But it was Clementine, and he only saw her once a month, so he could push aside his instinct to be a smart-ass and actually be a decent conversationalist. Just this one time, right?
“So, have you been doing all right? Or do I need to kick Sullivan’s ass for bugging you?”
Eh, close enough.
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