firecrackcrs

[firecrackcrs]

*     @colovariias .          ↷            ❛     TED   &   AMELIA   !

location.    the   leaky   cauldron. date.     may   13th,     1979. status.     closed.

 WARM   LAMPLIGHT   SPILLS           out   into   the   darkened   streets   from   the   cauldron’s   windows,     the   ever   swinging   doors,     and   once   again   ted   marvels   that   the   nearly   tangible   reek   of   alcohol   in   the   air   hasn’t   yet   made   the   place   burst   into   flames.        it’s   almost   disappointing,     and   not   just   because   he   has   quite   a   few   sickles   on   it.        but   as   long   as   the   building   stands,     he   is   all   too   happy   to   make   use   of   it.        the   night   slowly   wears   away   --   and   with   it   his   sobriety   --   in   amelia’s   company,     and   he   is   glad   for   both   the   camaraderie   and   the   distraction   that   it   brings.        he   thumps   a   chipped   glass   down   on   an   equally   cracked   table   with   a   thud,     a   few   last   drops   of   firewhiskey   sloshing   about   at   the   bottom   as   he   peers   at   his   cards.

                       ❝       do   you---       ❞            hands   cupped   under   his   chin,     an   all   too   serious   expression   on   his   face,            ❝       have   any   twos   ?       ❞            not   that   he   needs   them---     they’re   playing   diamondback.

[firecrackcrs]

*     @rebelleuse .          ↷            ❛     TED   &   ANDROMEDA   !

location.     the   apothecary. date.     may   13th,     1979. status.     closed.

 IT’S   LATE   BY           the   time   he   wanders   into   the   shop,     the   pale   lines   of   his   face   tired   and   relaxed   in   the   gold   glow   of   the   dying   sunlight,     and   by   the   time   he   reaches   home   the   night   shall   have   fallen   in   earnest.        the   shop’s   little   bell   rings   as   he   pushes   open   the   door,     a   high   and   dainty   thing,     and   when   his   eyes   fall   on   andromeda   in   the   back   he   finds   he   does   not   mind   the   late   hour.        after   all,     their   order   can’t   keep   long.        (     s o m e   at   st.   mungos   may   claim   he’d   volunteered   out   of   something   other   than   altruism,     but   what   do   they   know,     really   ?        so   what,     if   he   delights   at   seeing   her   after   the   long   day   ?        like   the   easy   warmth   of   butterbeer   in   his   stomach,     like   the   press   of   a   soft   sweater.        like   coming   home.        she’s   his   FRIEND.     )

           ❝      andy   !      ❞            he   greets,     a   rather   fond   smile  on   his   face,     striding   past   beetle   eyes   and   bat  wings   without   a   second   glance.        (     odd,     how   something   that   had   shocked   him   as   a   child   could   seem   so   commonplace,     forgettable   now.     )          �� ❝       you’re   on   shift   tonight.      ❞            something   he   knew,     of   course,     but   he   sees   no   reason   to   share   that   particular   fact.            ❝       i   --   uh,     the   hospital   had   an   order   for   some   mandrakes.      ❞            

[firecrackcrs]

s - s - starter call  !     like   or   reply   for   a   starter   from   ted   tonks   or   regulus   black.

[firecrackcrs]

*     MOLLYNOTMARGARET .          ↷            ❛     TED   &   MOLLY   !

location: ministry of magic, at the gala date: may 5th 1979 open to all ! 

     it is with a sigh and a slight flourish that molly finally manages to brush past a small hoard of people en route to the refreshment table. shouldering her way through the scheming and powerful, she reflects on the fact that she had agreed to accompany her father ( dear old patriarch of the prewetts, a man who’s vehemently clung onto his position at the ministry despite all the political unrest as of late ) to the night’s event; her mother and brothers seemed to have no desire to wade in the political turmoil, so the responsibility fell to none other than molly herself. having to trade shifts at the hospital to make a gala she would much rather not attend but didn’t have the heart to turn down, molly stands in the thick of it all in pinchy shoes, quite unable to staunch the sinking feeling of regret. 

     she finds herself craning her neck around to look for arthur, maybe even moody, any sort of familiar face – no luck. molly resigns herself to piling the small plate in hand. “ at least the organizers had the sense to cater some good food and flowing drinks – i think everyone here could use a boost in spirit. ” 

 DESPITE   ANY   EVIDENCE           to   the   contrary,     he   is   not   nervous.        why   would   he   be,     one   of   the   few    m u d b l o o d s    in   the   room,     surrounded   by   the   purest   of   the   pure,     families   tracing   back   longer   than   he   can   imagine   ?        no   --   if   his   fingers   are   tight   around   the   stem  of   his   glass,     it   is   only   because   he’s   afraid   it   may   slip   through   his   fingers   in   the   jostling   of   the   crowd.        if   his   smile   seems   a   mite   forced,     well,     he’d   only   just   left   his   shift   at    st.   mungos,     of   course   he’s   tired.        ---and   if   the   sight   of   molly,     just   there   by   the   food,     perks   him   so,     who   wouldn’t   be   glad   to   see   a   familiar   face   ?

                    ❝      you   can’t   have   a   party   without   good   food,      ❞            he   agrees,     leaning   carefully   around   her   to   snag   yet   another   pastry.        (     listen   --  he   can’t   help   it.        no   matter   how   terrifying   they   might   be,     the   ministry   d o e s   know   how   to   throw   a   good   party.     )            ❝       everyone   would   revolt.        there   would   be   pandemonium   in   the   streets,     someone   would   overthrow   the   minister..        i   think   this   is   for   the   best.      ❞

[firecrackcrs]

*     EDITHCHANG .          ↷            ❛     EDITH   &   EDWARD  (  TED  )   !

location: improper use of magic office (ministry of magic level 2)

Edith let out a long sigh as she pressed the palms of her hands to her closed eyes. The work day felt as though it were dragging on more than usual. She slid her palms up to her temples and opened her eyes to check the time. Through slightly blurred vision she saw that the clock hanging above her office door read quarter to one. A lunch break seemed appropriate. 

She grabbed her jacket and handbag from the coat rack by the door before pulling the door open. She hadn’t expected to be almost nose to nose with someone when she stepped out. 

“Can I help you with something?” Edith asked. And can it wait? she thought to herself. 

 grandmother   had   told         him,     once,     arms   crossed   and   a   sigh   on   her   lips,     that   he   could   get   himself   lost   in   a   straight   line.        an   exaggeration,     perhaps,     but   as   he   turns   past   a   window   he’s   sure   he’s   seen   at   least   twice   before,     he   thinks   he   may   owe   her   a   tad   more   credit.        a   hand   through   dark   hair   and   he   glances   a   moment   out   the   window,     eyes   old   and   tired,     weary   with   something   more   than   simple   fatigue.        it   was   only   hours   ago   that   he’d   stumbled   from   the   hospital   doors,     the   ends   of   his   coat   still   stained   with   merlin  -  knows  -   what,     after   a   pack   of   death   eaters   had   brought   someone’s   party   to   an   end.        he’s   done   his   part,     answered   every   question   the   aurors   had   brought   him   in   for,   and   merlin---     he   just   wants   to   go   HOME.

 (     ted   loves   being   a   healer.        needs   it,     in   ways   he   can’t   quite   put   words   to,     to   feel   as   he’s   doing   something   --   anything   --   to   make   this   war   just   a   little   easier,     the   days   just   a   bit   brighter.        but   the   weeks   drag   on,     and   for   every   life   he   saves   two   more   are   lost   in   the   meanwhile,     and   he   is   so,     deeply,     tired.     )

                     ❝        oh   !        i’m   sorry,     i   didn’t   see   you   there.        ---directions   would   be   great,     if   you   don’t   mind.        i’ll   trade   you,     uh,     a   chocolate   frog   i   swiped   from   the   auror’s   office.        ❞

[firecrackcrs]

             shows   up   fifteen   minutes   late   without   starbucks.     this  group  has  been  open  all  of  a  day,  and  i’ve  already  designated  myself  the  neighborhood  disaster.   hello,  hello   !!   i’m  teddy,  i’m  nineteen,  and  i  never  fucking  learned  how  to  be  on  time.   i  had  a  minor  pet  emergency,  i’m  very  sorry.   but  at  long  last,  i  have  arrived   !   i  know,  i  know,  hold  the  applause.   i  have  two  whole  characters  to  introduce  to  y’all,  and  the  deets  on  my  boy  ted  are  under  the  cut.

i.   the  basics.

the dark lord has targeted edward ‘ted’ tonks ! the muggles say he holds resemblance to kim jisoo. the twenty-six year old male was audacious & boisterous before the war, but has now become fickle & scatterbrained. though they were once a part of hufflepuff, they have now taken up the position of a healer at saint mungos. whispers throughout the ministry claim that the muggleborn is actually an order member, but i wouldn’t report that to the daily prophet.

ii.   the  aesthetic.

warm butterbeer on a winter’s day, a woolen sweater with too long sleeves. sunshine dappled through autumn leaves, a blur of redorangeyellow. teeth bitten into eraser caps, quills scattered forgotten in a trunk. ( they look nice, he can admit. but pencils are much more convenient, even especially when a pureblood jeers. there is a time to cower. there’s another for quiet rebellion. ) hugs that last just a little too tight, a jersey ( chaser, captain ) just a little too big. rumpled hair as if he’s just rolled out of bed, a loud laugh booming through the halls, a pen knife scraping patterns across wood, down the handle of a secondhand broom. hushed giggles and a secret wink. cheeks red with firewhiskey and glee, eyes blazing ever bright.

iii.   the  story.

this is how ted comes into the world  –  to warmth. a mother’s smile, a father’s tears, a hand woven blanket curled close. from his first moments, he knows little other than love. they call him edward, for an uncle, and it takes but a week for the nickname to follow. ( ed, his father suggests, but his mother shakes her head. aunt marie likes eddie, but her wife prefers ward. it’s his grandfather who calls him, one day, as soft as a teddy bear, and the name sticks. )

they call him a terror as a child, affectionately, and it’s almost true. he’s  –  rambunctious, is the word, his mother decides. energetic, and curious, and full of adventure. sticky fingers, a broken glass, his first full sentence goes like this  –  i didn’t mean to ! they child proof the cupboards the next day. when they’re all open by the hour, as if by magic, well  –  kid are smarter than we give them credit for, right ?

it’s small things, at first. open locks there, an itchy sweater shrunk there. they brush it off. after all, there has to be an explanation. doesn’t there ?  he’s eleven the day the cat gets caught up a tree, and it takes an hour to wake grandmother after she faints dead away, the sight of him levitating too much to bear. two months later, they get the letter. the world starts making sense again.

ollivander’s (  larch wood with a unicorn hair core, thirteen and a half inches, supple flexibility ), then flourish & botts. a whole new world  (  a dazzling place he never kneeew  ), and he delights in it. the teacher they’d sent to help warns him  –  the wizarding world isn’t as rose tinted as he thinks. there’s a certain grief to her voice, a weariness in her eyes. he doesn’t notice. that is  –  until they stop for ice cream. the student at the next table, brand new robes and books stacked high, takes one look at his proffered hand.  (  well worn jeans, paper money. eyes alight with wonder, a jaw nearly slack. ) MUDBLOOD.

record scratch, freeze frame. what ?  they shuffle away, sundaes near forgotten, and the guide explains. his mother gasps, his father’s jaw clenches. ted ?  he moves on. the only korean child in a lily white town, he’s long been used to people disliking him for what he can’t control. no matter, he thinks, watching sparks shoot from his wand. it’s worth it.  ( still  –  extra muggle clothes in his trunk, new packs of pencils. his mother’s cat, instead of the owl he’d wanted to beg for. he’s never been ashamed of his family. he won’t start now. )

in other life  –  he may have been a gryffindor. in this one, he falls to hufflepuff, to kindness and to loyalty, to a little bit of home. he picks up magic easily, makes friends easier. he learns how to fly, the best time to sneak into the kitchens, how good he is at exploding snap. it takes all of summer to convince his father of a broom, but in his second year he makes chaser. in seventh, he makes captain.

it’s his sixth year that he stages a pickup game the week after christmas, a stray bludger crashing into the infirmary's window. broken glass litters the floor, moonlight playing off shards, and headmaster dumbledore tells him to assist the healer for the next month. this is how he falls in love with healing   –   legs swinging from a bed as he watches madame brew a potion, head bent as he heals a sparrow’s leg for the first time. he writes his mother, ink splattered across parchment in his hurry, thrilled with the thought of knowing his future.

he never joins the order, not really. he’s not like them, anger curled in their chests like coal, the smoke thick enough to choke. there has been far too much fighting, as of late. he’d much rather prefer to heal.

the war goes on. so does he.

[firecrackcrs]

i wondered what that was like, to hold someone's hand. i bet you could sometimes find all of the mysteries of the universe in someone's hand.