Who: Dorcas Meadows and Caradoc Dearborn
What: Teary reunion.
Where: Caradoc's appartment [Oxford]
When: 3 a.m. [April 5th]


Today, Caradoc hastily decided as he popped to the front door of the apartment, had not been an enjoyable day, and most definitely had not gone well at all. People from the Order weren't supposed to have gone to that idiotic peace rally; weren't they making a good enough statement by joining the bloody Order? Didn't it fulfill any qualm they had about the ongoing war? Apparently not. And apparently, people liked bringing their friends because, hey-- why the bloody hell not? Let's all go to the dangerous peace rally, it sounds like a fucking blast!

Heaving an aggravated sigh, Caradoc didn't even motion to open his door the old fashioned way, but simply jabbed his wand at it and stared for a few moments. Bloody-- fecking… he was completely drained, to say the least, which was very unnerving because he knew for a fact that when he was tired, he didn’t exactly-- think straight. Which really was an issue if anything at all arose; he hoped nothing would. Just get inside and refuse to answer anyone’s owls or patronuses (which, by the by, he had some job hiding earlier from the Death Eaters he had been with all day and night) for a few days or so. That sounded great.

Pushing the door open with his foot, Caradoc dragged himself through, eyes wandering from the ground to around the front room as he walked. He... hadn't left any lights on when he'd left this morning, over many hours ago. Suddenly standing up straight (oh, hell no), he edged around to the kitchen, with his wand high and his eyes darting like no other. This was ridiculous, completely ridiculous, it was three fucking a.m. in the morning!

Caradoc had been expecting.... well, he hadn't really thought about who, or what, he had been expecting to be sitting (yes, sitting) at his kitchen table, but most definitely Dorcas Meadows would have been his last guess. Jaw dropping, he lowered his wand to stare at her (hell, she looked just as bad as he did), because--- what? They had hardly--- it was in the middle of the fucking night, and she--- Oh, he was too tired to even begin to comprehend what went through her mind. All he knew that this was very unexpected-- and, ah-- he was getting the feeling that he was pleased to see her. And that she wasn’t dead. But--

"How did you get in?"

If there was something on which Dorcas was willing to agree with Caradoc about, it was that today was a fucking difficult day. She'd had her share of difficult days, of course, but this was nothing like them. Instead of just worrying about a handful of people, mainly James and Frank, she found herself thinking of a person she had long been ignoring and avoiding, wondering if he'd gotten out alive. And if she were to be honest with herself, she'd admit that she has been thinking about him lately, ever since he, well, saved her life. But honesty was overrated, at least when it came to this specific subject. After the attack, however, ignoring and avoiding was simply out of the question. She couldn't deny it any longer, and instead of apparating to her flat for a hot shower, she found herself breaking into his, completely ignoring the shame she felt for doing a thing like this.

Her shame was overthrown a little later when the clock sped past midnight, and he wasn't home yet. Was he dead? It was possible. Plausible. But the thought made her throat collapse. She dismissed it as guilt for not being able to save the life of that guy who had saved her. It didn't make her feel any better. She decided that standing up in a living room wasn't paying up at about two in the morning, and moved to the kitchen. She opened his fridge seeking water, but ended up staring blankly at the inside before closing it and settling on a chair. What the hell was happening to her? She felt like she was about to cry, and the only time she'd done that was after her encounter with a Death Eater and Frank. Her leg bounced nervously, and the wound on her forehead had long stopped throbbing. What was this? Was she actually worried?

She didn't hear the lock snap, she didn't hear him enter. She could only hear her rapid breaths and the ticks of her clock. Where was he? It's been hours since the attack. Why wasn't he home already? She was focusing on her clock so hard that she'd almost missed his voice. Almost. Springing out of her seat, she spun around to face him, her face pale and her expressions like that of someone holding back his tears. Her tone, however, was as strong as ever.

"Where the hell have you been?"

His mouth opened dryly for a response, but it seemed, for the first time in his entire life, that he couldn’t think of a quick one. Maybe it was from the pure shock of finding her just simply sitting there (how… again had she gotten in? The place was pretty charmed up), or watching Dorcas jump up-- and her face, but-- Caradoc’s jaw just simply stayed wide open as his brain went at a snail’s pace. It had to be because of the lack of sleep and stress--- that was it, blame it all on just all these events occurring all at once. Always blame something else, because, it wasn’t him.

“I--” Caradoc started, his face contorting for a few seconds as he looked over Dorcas. Even in all the smuck, and dust all over and blood coming from her forehead, she still looked-- why was she here? He felt his skin start to wake up at the prospect of her being here, in the flesh (it was rather… an odd hour, but then again they seemed to work that way), and--- no body better have seen her come. But, well-- not that he himself would object at all.

“How long have you been here?” he finally responded, in a low, raspy voice.

Too long. "It doesn't matter." She replied in a lower voice, her eyes questioning, searching his face. He seemed hurt- was he really hurt? She hoped not. If he was to be hurt, then she would rather be the one to hurt him. That's all. Dorcas swallowed uneasily, shifting her weight onto her other foot, and curling her palm in a tight fist. He was there. He was alive. Why the hell did she still feel like wanting to cry?

"Where were you?" She repeated, drawing in a shaky breath. Her eyebrows knotted together in what she hoped seemed an angry expression, her eyes still clinging to his face. It took her a few moments to realize that maybe, perhaps, he didn't owe her an answer to that, an the next question rolled out almost immediately. "Are you alright?"

The panic was slowly subsiding; the rush of the situation was melting away now that he was here, alive and breathing. A new kind of panic began rising, however, and her expression changed at once. "Dearborn." She added hastily, her jaw set. "Are you alright, Dearborn?"

She was the one with a-- a--- huge thing on her head! And she was asking if he was alright? What were they, were they--- Well, of course he was alright, he was Caradoc Dearborn, wasn’t he? She, she was the one that looked like total and complete-- she had never gone home. Why else would it explain for how she looked, and the way her face looked so strained, and upset. She had come right here, hadn’t she, from wherever she had been, from the rally or Mungo’s (probably not there), right from there to here.

Dorcas was actually showing visible emotion concerning him and his well-being. That was definitely something new. Before, before they had just ignored each other, but now, not now. This was too entirely new for his brain to fully register and holy fuck why was this something new to register andwhat was she doing to him? This was so--- since when had he had a problem with, with-- with anything? Anything at all. Saying it. And now-- she was confusing him with these questions of concern and-- wow. Caradoc put a hand up to his face, blinking slowly for a few seconds.

“You’re the one with a big welt on your head!” he finally responded exasperatedly, letting his hand fall from his forehead back down to his side. “Does it look like I’m fine? What the fuck are you doing here, Dorcas?”

He knew-- he knew though. Of course he knew, but it was Dorcas, and with her-- she wasn’t like everyone else. To him, Caradoc couldn’t treat her like she was everyone else because she just simply wasn’t. And it aggravated him to no end that she had gotten down this deep into his skin, but it was true, and to him, she would always be held higher up than anyone else. What he said didn’t exactly show it, because lo-- the l word was something that-- it was another story.

She never knew what to expect when it came to him. But before, that was fine. It was part of the sport, part of the amusement. Dorcas had given up on the predictable ones- they were never fun. But now- it seemed so unnerving, so difficult. She hated the few minutes he forced her to wait before giving an answer. She hated waiting, anticipating a reaction. His expression wasn't giving out much, really. It was adding to her dismay, and she wished, just for once, for him to be predictable.

Even with no expectations at all, the reply she received was disappointing. She was definitely taken aback, her face falling into a dark frown, almost a hurt one. What the fuck she was doing here? She wanted to yell back at him, tell him that she was worried and make him feel guilty. She wanted to cross the few feet between them and smack his head, in a very Dorcas-like manner. The ungrateful, insufferable little prat!

She wanted to glare, but the frown lingered. Instead of yelling, cursing or even letting out frustrated noises, she simply shrugged, her brow furrowing further, and her teeth gritted, trying to hold back tears. "I was worried." What the fuck. This wasn't her.

Just like Dorcas, Caradoc was slight taken aback. Not unsettled, or angry or confused, just--- taken back. But, Meadows was, she was openly admitting her worry about his, Caradoc Dearborn’s, safety. When just a week earlier, they had gotten down to ignoring each other, or sending awkwardly caught glances or glares. This was definitely some step, wasn’t it? And her face, the way her face looked (since when had he actually cared if people had hurt faces on?), even through all the miserable blood, sweat and dirt, she looked utterly torn and ready to completely break. And since when did Dorcas Meadows actually show weakness?

“You were….” Caradoc started, feeling extremely stupid for the one lines and repeated phrases he was giving her. This wasn’t him; since when had he ever felt completely mind-numbingly thick? Never, that’s when, and his chest was giving him sharp pains, which he really wasn’t sure whether it was an injury or his body being totally and completely stupid. Though, with every growing second, he felt himself yearning more and more for her to stop frowning, because she always looked best when she smiled, and maybe, just maybe if he could hold her for--- fucking hell, what the was going on? They hadn’t even-- and now she was here and everything just seemed to be seeping out like no tomorrow. And this even aggravated him even more because it was blindly obvious neither of them had control of the situation, and they were going back and forth like two-- two--- this wasn’t them.

Letting out an impatient sort of sound, Caradoc snapped his mouth shut tight before swiftly striding forward to her. Like it was nothing new, he hastily took her face into his hands and roughly pulled her lips into his. Because damnit, he wanted to snog her senseless because they hadn’t for too long of a time and with her, when they did, he actually felt something.

Oh, hell, what were they doing? But he didn’t stop--- he couldn’t stop, and he didn’t want to at all.

She was half expecting him to start laughing, or mock her cruelly. After all, why would he repeat her lines like that? It was obvious that he was surprised. Hell, even she was surprised at her own outburst, but luckily for her, she wasn't going to be mad at herself right then and there. It would take a few days for her to forgive herself for such a mistake, but she couldn't think about that now. All she could think about was the look he was giving her, the one she thought might signify the start of a long sessions of taunting, or something just as horrible.

Dorcas was almost set on turning around to leave and spare herself the humiliation when he moved toward her, and for a second, she even thought he was going to strangle her, the way his hands grabbed her face. She was relieved he didn't, of course, but not only because she didn't want to die just yet. No, she was also relieved because what he did next was so wonderfully good- unexpected and mind boggling, yeah, but amazingly good.

Without even giving a single thought to what the consequences of such a move were, her hands arms wrapped around his neck and she kissed him back whole heartedly.

This felt so good-- so incredibly good; he couldn’t even begin to describe just how brilliant it felt. Holding her face and roughly pushing up against her, Caradoc honestly couldn’t even begin. But one thing he did know was that right then, right now, he could really care less about how intricate they were making this, and how now, things were about to get a whole lot messier. He didn’t care. He didn’t care one bit, because--- he was going to do what he wanted to do, which was totally and completely be with her right then, and right now. And it didn’t matter how much they were risking because, hell, with their occupations, they were probably going to end up dead anyway.

“I--- you----” Caradoc gasped between kisses, still holding onto her face firmly. Everything was so rushed and so fierce, so different from last time, except now--- now it just felt so different. Bahh, what was he doing to her? He couldn’t think and his guard was totally down; he was-- before, before if she had said this to him, oh, the things he would have come back with, it was nearly imaginable. But now--- holy, now it was nearly three o’clock in the morning and she had broken in his apartment (nicely enough, Juliet had opted to stay at school for the break) and now they were sucking face like no tomorrow, and absolutely no one knew where they were. If he hadn’t been so boggled by those facts, then maybe, just maybe he would have been a bit more unsettled about how unlike himself he was acting. And her! Dorcas. Since when--- she had never been one to just wear her heart on her sleeve, let alone tell him, of all people, things. They had tortured each other all through school, and now-- now was very different.

Forgetting that he had been trying to say something just seconds earlier, Caradoc started to push up against Dorcas even harder, fully willing her to walk backward. Backward, to where his room was, or any room that wasn’t the kitchen because she couldn’t not expect it.

I--- you---, she wanted to demand of him to continue, to fill in the blanks, but that would mean less kisses, wouldn't it? And anything that was bound to slow down his fierce, delicious, passionate kisses wasn't on top of her priorities just yet. Whatever it was he wanted to say, he could say it later, there was time.

Like there was no tomorrow was the perfect way to put it, really. It's the only way to explain how much she was risking, how stupid and honest she was being. It probably was the only reason she was enjoying the way he held her face so much, savouring the way his lips rubbed against hers and the way his tongue wrestled with her. Nothing else in the world mattered right now, because really, there was going to be no tomorrow. At least, not for her, not for the old Dorcas.

She moved backward willingly, her fingers clutching onto the the back of his shirt, just below his neck. It felt wrong to step back whenever he pushed up against her, but her comfort was that he closed up the distance in a matter of seconds as he walked with her, forming this funny sort of dance together. And like Caradoc, Dorcas did notice how different this was. Admittedly, they've only done it twice before, but still. He was rough and fierce, but she could tell he was being more tender. So much emotion was involved this time, at least on her part, and it was giving this whole thing a stronger flavour- a better flavour.

So much emotion was involved, Caradoc felt a bit uneasy about it. Uneasy, he was. He had never actually cared (not enough, just cared) to put a lot of emotion into any other of his quick flings, because, why bother? Most likely he would never seen the girl again, so it really hadn't mattered. But now! Oh, he sounded like such a girl, and he was so settled by the fact that Dorcas would not be able to hear what he was thinking. It was like-- he didn't exactly know and all of this was just extremely aggravating because he was tired, but then not at the same time, and so happy (yes, happy) that she was here but again, aggravated that he was making her feel this way. But-- bah, oh, whatever--- Caradoc pushed all that aside and just focused on her face, and her body, and just how much more he was enjoying this. And he could tell that she was too, it was undeniable.

Today wasn't any different, either, they had gotten caught in dangerous instances before-- many, many times. So why were the both of them suddenly acting like the world was going to end or one of them was dying? It logically didn't make sense; it didn't make sense at all, and yet here they were, holding on to each other with near death-grips. He liked it, though, the way she was holding onto him, like she depended on him.

She, right then, was depending on him. Caradoc really liked the sound of that.

Finally, his hands loosed from around her face as they danced through the door to the bedroom, and his hands began to wander. She was here--- again--- they were both here and--- Caradoc jammed his foot backward, slamming the door shut in the process. This time was going to be much, much better.

It has been too long since Dorcas last slept. Really slept. She was always up before the break of dawn, whether in her bed or in someone else's. And even when she wasn't planning on getting up early, someone would find a way to contact her- either with owls, fireplace calls or even her wand. Training to be an Auror and being in the order at the same time were a pain, and right now, she was glad her wand was covered under a shirt that wasn't hers.

Dorcas felt her lips tilt into a smile that truly wasn't her own as she felt light creeping up on her through her closed eyelids, and she stirred a little, now aware of the sleeping figure next to her. It was really nice and refreshing to wake up next to him. Despite the dry sweat and blood, and the sticky dirt all over her body. The previous night was amazing. More amazing than all those times before, and if it was because of the sudden change that happened to both of them, she didn't want to know.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she almost grinned when Caradoc's face came into view. He looked a little messy as well, but still just as good. Why did he behave so oddly when he first saw her in the kitchen? It didn't make sense really. She knew there was a chance that he'd wake up back to normal, but oh, she didn't care anymore. The old Dorcas would have avoided getting hurt at all cost, but this new Dorcas simply didn't care. So what if he was back to being horrible? She'll live with it, she was sure.

Her palm went to scratch her cheek, and she was amazed at how filthy her skin was. Perhaps she could sneak in for a quick shower before he woke up? Yeah, that would be nice. As slowly and quietly as possible, Dorcas slipped out of bed and grabbed her wand (useful for a drying charm) and her clothes, and went to look for his shower.

It didn't take much for something to wake Caradoc up, especially these days, with his thoughts constantly on an edge. And to add to that, he usually woke up early on his own, but, last night the both of them had hardly slept (which they both sorely needed, ironically), so now-- it took him a few moments to stir, let alone open his eyes. He didn't exactly want to open them either, but-- Caradoc felt a rush of cold air to his skin and he noticed the nice warmth that he had fallen asleep to had gone. Eyes not peeping open just yet, his arm stretched over to Dorcas' side (ha, sides) to catch her before she completely slipped out. His hand caught nothing, though, and that caused him to finally pop them open.

Hm, she was gone. Suddenly sitting up, Caradoc squinted through the light, his mind racing too fast for just waking up. Where--- was she going? Why-- what--- wait. Willing himself not to feel anything but tranquil, Caradoc sat there for a few moments, before finally giving in. She had better not be leaving. They had just-- and the bloody peace rally-- he would think everyone was allowed to lie low for at least a day and--- oh, no, he was actually worried it was going to be like before. Blinking, Caradoc shook his head and got up taking a deep breath.

Right, okay, it was different because no way that-- he would just follow her. It was his apartment after all. Jumping into a pair of boxers in the process, he left the room and-- oh. She was in the shower. Easing down greatly, Caradoc shifted his path back to the kitchen to sit in a chair. Now that his nerves had calmed back down, he felt a bit--- well, tired again. Grabbing his wand (wow, how stupid had he been to just leave it there), Caradoc placed himself in a chair and began his whole process of fully waking up. He could wait for her.

The shower was refreshing, but she could barely register it. Her thoughts were focused on one thing only- or actually, one person. Even the headache that kicked in as soon as she was wide awake didn't stop her from thinking. Had she seen him reach out to touch her place on the bed, she would have felt a lot better about thinking of him so much. It was just not like her, this sort of thing. She had always found Romeo and Juliet sickening. She had always hated holding hands with a boy at Hogwarts. She hated dances and balls and valentine's day. Caradoc was dangerous business, that was for sure. A tiny part of her wished for him to back to being mean to her, and so help her snap out of this new state she was in. But the other part, which was much bigger, and so much smarter, wanted him to keep going this way, along with her. What's so wrong about just, well, colliding and then analyzing the outcome? It could be good. However tiny the chance is.

After she was dry and fully dressed minus her shoes and socks, Dorcas tiptoed out of the bathroom, in a pretty comical sort of way, heading for his room. She stopped halfway when she noticed him in the kitchen and redirecting herself that way, stopping just at the doorway and leaning her side against it. "Good morning."

He picked his head up from the table as soon as he heard her voice, and Caradoc even shifted to stare at Dorcas fully. What was he supposed to say? All she had given him was a good morning, which really didn't indicate anything at all. Slipping off from the chair, he gave a quick jerk as his feet hit the cold, hard floor. Was she expecting him to say something-- anything? He had never actually gotten to this before. Almost all the time, this would have been the part where he would kick the girl out (or give her the right ideas that this wasn't going to work out) but-- he didn't want to kick her out. In fact, he wanted her to stay all day. Just here, with him but-- she was already dressed.

Taking a few steps forward, he licked his bottom lips and stopped short from her. Dorcas looked-- she looked, dare he say it, very beautiful just leaning there, looking very composed and calm. Caradoc blinked for a few minutes, and mentally shook himself. Right, focus-- he really did need to focus.

"You found the shower," he started quietly, giving a half-wave in the general direction of it. It took a few seconds (because, he really was fighting himself to say the next thing), but finally, he mustered out, "Are you leaving?"

His question was not what she had expected. She didn't know exactly what she was expecting, but if anything, it wasn't this. His expression wasn't giving her much, and as usual, when it came to him, she had no idea what he was thinking. This prospect wasn't too encouraging, because, well, he didn't even say good morning back.

Dorcas stood straight, clearing her throats quietly, with her eyes fixed up on him. "Yeah, I felt sort of..." She trailed off for a few seconds, looking for the right word. She didn't want to say dirty, because it might imply that she thought of him as dirty, when she didn't. It was quite difficult to search her brain for simple things like everyday language when he was standing shirtless in front of her, with her scent probably still on him. "You know," she finally continued, giving a shrug. "The wound..."

She bit on her bottom lip, her expression slowly losing its calm and threatening to break into a frown again. She fought to keep it level, and she believed she was doing a good job, too. "Do you want me to leave?"

Caradoc's chin rose slightly as she gave him a fragmented response (one he did not like, either), and he held back giving a frown. So, she was leaving. Didn't she understand he didn't want her to? She didn't have to.

He opened his mouth to give something of a response, but once again, nothing did so he kept it open for a few seconds before snapping it shut. He really didn't want her to leave. If her head hurt, she could go lay down again or-- ah. Caradoc took a deep breath, and shifted his weight on his feet.

Did he want her to? No, he had been thinking that since he'd woken up. He had to tell her that, he had to. Finally, he moved his eyes to lock on her's and Caradoc suddenly stood very still. His voice came out clear and strong.

"No."

Dorcas let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding. The was the answer she was hoping for, definitely, but not the one she was expecting. She knew it must have taken a lot for him to admit it, and so firmly, too. Especially when she was the one asking it, when they both have tormented each other for so long. It was a confirmation, some sort of proof, that made her uneasiness about her own feelings vanish, and her face broke into a bright grin.

"That's good." She said weakly, taking a step closer. If he had admitted it and put her out of her misery, she thought she better pay back, even if it meant that he'd have something on her if it turned out that he wasn't feeling like she thought he was. "I didn't really feel like leaving. I just didn't want you to see me all..." She shrugged, not finding the proper word yet again.

He leaned forward slightly, trying his best to hold back the absolute biggest grin ever created from breaking through onto his face. She-- Dorcas, wanted to--- ahhaaa, he felt so giddy, it wasn't even funny. Not even funny how ridiculous he felt, because it seemed like he hadn't felt like this in a long time. He had, he had to have-- but, this brain was working too fast to actually stop and think about it.

Unable to contain himself any longer, a small smile broke though Caradoc's lips as he inched a bit more forward to her. "Gross? Disgusting?" he filled in a light tone, his small smile becoming increasingly bigger as his eyes danced. "I don't think you are-- or were." It was absolutely true, though, the both of them were complete messes; but, he hadn't really noticed. Cautiously, as if she would bite him, Caradoc reached for her hand, her arm, her fingers-- something, so he could touch her.

Her father had always tell her that throughout life, there are single moments that could turn it all around. Dorcas never believed him, because she thought that life was much bigger than that, and that turning it all around would take a lot more than a single moment. But then came the moment in which Caradoc gave the most brilliant smile possible, and turned everything upside down. Everything just became light. It seemed as if this persona she used to take around him was no longer needed, and she could grin and look silly and excited, because it was safe to do that now. He had seen her all weak and dependent the night before, so really, there was nothing to lose now.

"I think I smelled bad, too. But you wouldn't have noticed, you smelled just as bad." She added jokingly, holding up her hand to meet his. Since when did she allow sweet, disgusting gestures like this? She didn't know, and oh, she didn't care.

Caradoc pressed his lips together in a funny sort of way, and finally leaned himself up against the other side of the wall (because now they were close enough). It felt stupid, how they were talking and what they were doing but--- he didn't care. He didn't care one bit because it actually felt like, like- they should feel this way. It didn't make sense, but-- yes. They were stupid, and he knew they were stupid but, no one else was here to actually know how giddy and silly they were acting.

"I smelled like you," he stated, his smile hooking into a grin as his chin went high again. This was-- this was--- he felt good. And the charm hiding his mark (for once, concealing it right before heading home finally came in handy) would last for a good amount of hours longer; they were set.

Dorcas squished up her nose playfully, puffing out her chest in a smug-like manner. "You should be happy. Really. It's an honour that isn't bestowed on just anyone." She edged a little closer to him, reached out his other hand to touch his very bare, very good looking, chest. She did like them when they worked out, ha.

Her brain was going less and less serious thinking by the second, and she hoped it would continue this way, because it only increased the giddy, tingling sensation she was getting from being in a situation like this. It was all new to her, since she never allowed the guys to do anything like this before. It was simply out of the question. So, in a way, she thought that Caradoc should feel all happy about cracking her up.

"Do you have anything to eat?" It was probably not the best thing to use, such a mood ruiner, but hey, it was a side effect of the no serious thinking bit.

"Oh ho ho, bow down, bow down," Caradoc joked, moving his head slightly with a wide smile. He liked this-- he really, really liked this because. It was new, and different and it was unimaginable that this was happening with Dorcas, because no one would have ever guessed that they would be something of-- together. Or something. He wasn't really sure what they were, but he didn't care to ask. Where they were right now was just fine, in his opinion.

He laughed, (ha, he was laughing with her now), and pulled her forward into the room. "Probably not, Juliet's not here to be up my ass about it." Caradoc pulled her close for a second, and then backed away to go back into the bedroom to get real clothes on. "You can look, though."

He knew how to joke! And with her! Oh, that was brilliant. And it seemed that silly things were going to be brilliant right now, but that was fine. His wide smile was brilliant. His laugh was brilliant. The way he teased her was not, however. Only a cruel, cruel man would pull her so close to his half naked, perfect body, then pull away.

Dorcas pouted, kind of playfully, momentarily forgetting about the food. "That wasn't nice, mister. Except something not nice in return later." She would have thought of something not nice right then, but since there was a chance it'll come by itself later, why bother? She simply turned around and went to the fridge, hoping to find something to satisfy her hunger. She hadn't really eaten anything since the previous morning.


Who: Caradoc Dearborn and Dorcas Meadows
What: He goes to visit her.
Where: St. Mungo's
When: Now


He had no clue why he was here, in Mungo's, at such a late hour; he had connections, he knew what was going on concerning what he wanted to know. Visiting hours had long been over but, since when had he been one to follow the rules? Or really even follow them? In fact, it was impressive that he knew their times. Besides, Caradoc was well apt in slipping in and out of view when he wanted to, so really, it wasn't even a big problem. And, when walking anywhere you weren't supposed to be, all you had to do was walk with confidence and like you had meaning. No one would stop you. Every-- anywhere, really. The key was to just not look guilty and never look people straight into the face; it worked every time. Silently, he passed through the very familiar corridor with a stone face, the only noise being a sharp click of the door opening and closing. Her door. Slipping through, Caradoc soon found himself standing at the side of Dorcas' bed, simply staring down at her with his hands crossed over his chest.

This was so fucking messed up. She looked perfectly fine just laying there-- like she was simply sleeping or taking a nap of some sort. It almost seemed impossible to believe that she would most likely stay like this for a very long time, if not--- ah. Yes, Caradoc had thoroughly convinced himself that there was a very slim chance of Dorcas coming back. He knew the strength of a good Death Eater, especially on a job like this. His hand moved up to cover his jaw, and Caradoc sighed heavily. And it fucking annoyed him as hell that he was still hung up over this--- her. He shouldn't care, he shouldn't care one bit. He should have moved on, like he would have with anyone else and not give a fuck. Not risk anything in dealing with her family and becoming involved. Bah, he was bloody involved--- still. A deep frown formed on his face under his finger tips, and not for the first time recently, his body gave an exhausted shake. He hated this, he hated these feelings coursing through his body in a constant circuit and he hated how virtually nothing could be done about it.

Caradoc redirected his gaze to his feet (because now, he was starting to feel his chest begin to ache in a pressured sort of way), but still kept his hand locked tight on his chin. So fucking messed up. There was no place to begin, or end. It was just.... there.

You can't really know how waking up feels. That split second, that tiny fracture, you can't feel it. You're unaware, unconscious, and then you're the opposite. You never realize how it happens, why it happens, and what exactly was before it happened. That time fracture passed, and Dorcas fluttered her eyes upon groggily.

Other than the sensation of insane thirst she was feeling, and her choppy throat, she didn't feel too bad. It felt like waking from a really good night sleep. She didn't remember ever being so satisfied and rested as she did now. Her senses were starting to get back, and- no. She was wrong. She felt cold, and her head uneasy. It wasn't pure rest- definitely not. Her face wrinkled itself in a frown, and she felt its muscles ache, as if they hadn't been used for years. She must have had a really rough day yesterday.

Her eyes fell shut again to adjust to feeling, and the fingers of her left hand curled and uncurled. They felt numb. Her eyes opened again, this time focusing her sight on the dim ceiling above her. This felt wrong. This wasn't her room.

Maybe he should just leave, it wasn't as if anything was going to happen. No one was going to pop into the room, demanding why he was in there, or have a sudden revelation of how to fix this--her-- and Dorcas definitely was not going to move even an inch from her spot, like she hadn't for the past weeks. And really- really, he was supposed to be-- hating her. Or, getting away from her, and being-- angry, because this was all her fault to begin with, when she had--- and then how he really shouldn't be here, regardless of how the strange time concealed and protected them. He still couldn't--- Caradoc couldn't exactly grasp what he had been feeling for the past few weeks, but it was something uncomfortable and unknown, and that killed him. Why couldn't she-- just--- something! Something just--- something.

Not looking up yet, and therefore not noticing Dorcas stirring, Caradoc let out another loud, stressed huff of a sigh. His hand finally dropped from around his face, pulling on his jaw as his eyes opened up again. This was stupid, it wasn't like he was going to talk to her lifeless----

Caradoc suddenly felt the back of his throat go very dry (shit) at the sight of--- there was no way she was just-- awake--- now. When had that happened? Nearly a million things he could say immediately became lodged in his throat (all of them not that pleasant), which left his mouth open and his eyes locked on her face-- her eyes were, but she wasn't looking. The hand at his side gave something of a flail of a jerk but--- holy shit, this was unbelievable. She was-- she was, holy shit.

Dorcas had no time to keep wondering at the unfamiliar ceiling, because she was suddenly aware of the presence of someone else in the room. A little confused, she turned her head sideways, her brow arching further, and her eyes landed on Caradoc.

Oh, she remembered him. She definitely remembered him. His brilliant blue eyes, the same ones she spent a whole day staring into. His tasty lips, his soft hair, his face. She recognized him immediately, and instinctively a smile brushed the corners of her lips, but not for long. He looked so pale and shocked, and just so unlike himself.

Suddenly, Dorcas was aware that she wasn't in his room either, and that everything was insanely white. St. Mungo's? Why?

"What-" she began to ask, but her voice sounded so strange, so forced and rough. She cut herself off, her confusion more apparent now. Why did every single bit of her feel so ancient? Even her voice?

Literally, Caradoc's mouth was wide open with his jaw hanging so low it felt like it was going to drop right off. This was--- no way-- he had gotten to the point of thoroughly convincing himself that--- and--- getting over--- holy shit, it felt like he was breaking out into a sweat and it was so stupid and he felt stupid, and yet so caught. His mind went blank with nothing to say for those few moments and his body became totally still. She was, talking and breathing; talking to him.

And then, Caradoc's whole body rushed back to fully functioning as quickly as it had gone out of commission. He felt the sudden overwhelming power to touch her- her face, her hair, something but-- instead, he stepped slightly back from her bed instead.

Shit, she didn't have a clue about anything, did she? Dorcas' face looked more confused than it was pale and-- that was something. He ran his hand through his hair as he finally dropped his gaze from her. "It's May 13th today. You-- " Should he feel overwhelmed and happy, is that what you were supposed to feel when your girlfriend (shit) wakes up from a deep slumber, a month in the making? Caradoc didn't exactly feel that. In fact, now, he felt very stone cold and frozen. In an attempt to rile himself, because he did--- care, he tried to finish his statement. "--are, have-- shit, how do you feel?"

She didn't like the way he was looking at her. She didn't like how he stepped back from her bed. But right now, she had other things to worry about. May 13th. The words rang in her ear over and over again, like a distant echo that simply refused to fade. May 13th? But the last day she remembered was April 8th, when she and Caradoc decided to meet in the Order house without telling anyone, sneak into one of the room upstairs and- oh.

She sat up in her bed sharply, realization downing on her at last. It made her a little dizzy to set up so quickly like that, after being lying for so long, but she brushed it off and did her best to stop herself from leaning sideways. "May 13th?" She repeated, staring ahead of her, away from him. She didn't even hear the rest of what he'd said. May 13th. That's more than a month- she'd been unconscious for more than a month? Her parents' must have had a horrible time. Her uncle. James! Oh he'd beat her into next week if she told him she won't be quitting- and, oh, Caradoc. He was here, after a month. He didn't have to, she wouldn't have blamed him- he was here.

She looked up at him again, her frown losing its confusion. "How bad was it? I'm sorry- are you okay?" She could feel her head start to throb a little, but she dismissed that too. It was even sort of welcome, to feel something again. Because even if she'd felt anything the past month, she definitely didn't remember it, and the thought scared her.

She shouldn't sit up that fast or even move around a lot. Somehow, Caradoc figured that sudden movement wasn't the best thing for her situation. He held his tongue (holy shit), and instead inched a bit closer back to her. Dorcas was awake-- and up, and moving around. As much as he still wanted to be angry and over them it--- didn't exactly. Seem possible. Caradoc found himself leaning more near her, and watching her more keenly for a sign of-- anything. And he didn't care if he looked like a bigger idiot in front of her, moving all around and emotions going every which way; Dorcas had just woken up, who said she was seeing things right, hm? And fuck her if she even tried to make fun of him.

Sooner than he expected, Caradoc found himself at the edge of Dorcas' bed, hands resting on the top sheets. "Lay back down," he responded to her in a low tone, not keen at all to begin to explain about how bad the past month had been. He didn't tell people how he truly felt regularly, so why start now? Dorcas didn't need to know that he had subconsciously blocked off all relations to almost everyone, or his sudden fits or mood swings. Mmm, no and he would never admit to it either.

"Just, lay back down. I'm not supposed to be here, and if you-- anything happens, it won't be-- good." Caradoc looked up from the edge of the bed, and instantly got caught her gaze; of course she was fixated on him. It slowly occurred to him that he'd forgotten how deep her dark brown eyes were.

"No!" Dorcas replied as soon as he said it the second time, her voice as stubborn as it usually was. It reminded her of what her father used to say about these traces that indicated how much of a difficult child had been, and it made her wish he was there now to crack the joke. But that was only for a second- her attention soon moved back to Caradoc, who was standing close and holding his gaze connected with her.

She'd never admit it, but she's come to find out that she knows Caradoc, now. She knows when he's saying things to hide what he really feels, or when he changes the subject to avoid opening up. Or, at least, she believed she knew. She'd never say it to him, because he'll make fun of it to attempt and hide the fact that he was touched. This wasn't healthy in a relationship- any kind of relationship, even theirs, but oh well.

"No," she repeated, swinging her legs off the bed on the opposite side, because getting off it so close to him seemed a bit odd, and there was something relieving about not facing him for a few seconds. Her bare feet touched the floor and the feeling struck her as extremely odd, but she didn't hesitate. She was going to stand up and leave this room. Find Moody, or her uncle, or James, and just do something. She'd been idle for too long. A whole month! Who has been feeding her bird? Was her father home? Who has been keeping James' stupid dog company? She was going to leave right now- no. She felt dizzy as soon as she straightened up, and leaned back against the bed. She just needed a few minutes to adjust.

A frown formed on Caradoc's lips as she stated her reply quite forcefully, though, what else could he expect? If their positions had been switched, he would have scoffed at the idea of laying back down after doing so for... over a month (though, in his mind this whole situation wouldn't have arisen, but--- well-- maybe). Actually, he probably would have scoffed in Dorcas' general direction, and then jumped up just to spite her, no matter how much it hurt.

But, this was-- it was different. Not realistically, but, Caradoc was going to believe it was because he wouldn't be able to handle it the other way. He watched Dorcas turn her back to him and gently swing her legs over the bed to stand up. And then, he watched her sway as she stood and quickly sit right back down. See-- see. He took a deep breath and bumped his knees into the side of the bed.

"Light-headed?" Caradoc tried, suddenly feeling slightly awkward (shit). This wasn't what was supposed to happen, was it? He thought for a moment, and decided that they weren't exactly a poster relationship to begin with so, no, maybe it was alright. He crossed his arms over his chest and watched her back intently. But it felt like he should be showing-- something. "How do you feel?"

Craning her neck to one side, Dorcas flicked her gaze over to him, managing to only catch a little bit of his face. She was grateful that he didn't seem to make a fuss out of anything, like she guessed a normal boyfriend would do in a situation like this- if that is what he was. He looked calm now, well, from what she could see, and that felt comforting. She needed someone who would she could share things with, without getting reactions filled with panic, or patronizing orders to steer out of trouble's way. He was just there, and he just asked if she was light-headed, like it was something normal, something not dangerous and not a big deal.

But, at the same time, she also wished this awkwardness between them would go away. She didn't blame him for being tentative about showing his feelings (she knew there were feelings, he showed her that day they spent together after the attack, she was sure of it), because she was uncertain about showing hers in return. But still, the awkwardness was- well, awkward. Nothing they couldn't handle, of course. But even a girl like Dorcas, who valued her independence above all and scoffed in the face of fluffiness and intimacy- even a girl like that sometimes wished to be hugged or kissed after having to deal with something so scary and unexpected.

"I feel weird." She finally responded, the stubbornness gone from her voice, leaving it soft and unsure. "I mean, I don't feel too bad, considering what you've just told me. But it feels weird. I don't know."

Caradoc didn't want to go get the Healers just yet. They hardly knew anything most of the time anyway; they could wait for the probing and questioning until later-- much later. He rose his chin slightly, still watching Dorcas intently, his face giving off interest and concern. "That's good, I suppose," Caradoc replied quietly to match Dorcas' tone.

And then, silence fell over them. It wasn't that awkward silence (well, maybe a little bit), but more of the both of them sitting in silence together. Caradoc didn't know what he was supposed to tell her, or do-- Dorcas was hardly the emotional, fluffy character, and neither was he. Their personalities weren't made for a type of situation like this, and honestly, he didn't want there to be a reoccurrence. Highly, highly, highly unlikely with what she was training to become and what he did, but--- one was allowed to push the facts away into the dark sometimes.

Letting out a sigh, Caradoc twisted to prop himself at the head of the bed with his legs stretched out to the end. The mattress was just wide enough for the both of them to sit comfortably, but, his shoulder was dangerously close to jabbing into her back if he moved. Squinting at the wall ahead, he broke the silence. "Your parents know about us. And James---- they don't like me."

The room went silent again for a few moments, and Caradoc even dared to think that Dorcas hadn't heard him until something of a muffled replied came from behind her back. Was she laughing at him? Mouth opening, he swiveled his head to look at her. Oh, oh--

oh. Caradoc watched as Dorcas very smoothly rolled her body back onto the bed and then proceed to curl into him, resting her head on his left shoulder and her hands near his waist.

Oh.

It took a few moments, but once the initial shock of her silent action wore off, he limply moved his arm to wrap around her back tightly. Dorcas felt warm, for once, and Caradoc smiled faintly as he watched her close her eyes. She was back.