notbenjyfenwick

[notbenjyfenwick]

DAWN WITHEY:

Dawn glanced up at him, then his outstretched hand, moving closer to take it. She would selfishly take his comfort whilst she could, leaning into it, and him, knowing the following days with her family would be long, and that she would not be able to bring herself to ask it of them. “You have nothing to apologise for,�� she replied with a weak smile. After all, he’d shown again and again that he was good, that she could count on him.

He squeezed her fingers in his. He wanted to argue the point but it wasn’t worth it, not now. All he did know was that things wouldn’t change unless they were made to — and that everyone, including his friends, people he cared about — people like Dawn — deserved that better world. 

fin.

[notbenjyfenwick]

DAWN WITHEY:

“They hate me, Benjy. I – you should’ve seen them, when the news broke. People I’ve known my whole life –” It was surprising now, that the tears seemed to subside. She was feeling so much that she’d suddenly become numb to it all, and maybe that was for the best. She shook her head. Being hated by some for being muggleborn she could handle. It was something she’d been able to ignore, brush away. Gotten used to. But after what happened to her because of it, and now – now she was hated by both sides. “Too much of a witch for some, not enough of one for the rest. I’m just – I’m sick of it.” Where was she supposed to belong?

“I’m sorry,” Benjy said again. He came to stand beside her instead of hanging back, holding out his hand in case she wanted to take it. Unfairness tasted so bitter, hung in the air as thick as the smoke. 

[notbenjyfenwick]

DAWN WITHEY:

It had seemed, a family who never kept anything from each other, that the Withey’s had kept the extent of just what was happening in South Shields a secret from Dawn. They knew the truth would only cause her more pain, more guilt, more fear. But every day the comments had grown, to the point posters were plastered around the street the bakery sat, windows covered in graffiti, those who were against the magic the most, Ralph the newspaper man at the helm, extremely vocal. The week before, a brick had been flung through the window. A few of the casuals had quit that week, which had left Bev and long standing Patrice in there late into the nights, making sure the fruit cake orders had been fulfilled. What was left of them, anyway. 

They had been there that night, wrapping them all up with red ribbon, when a sound of smashing came from the front of the shop. Another brick, Bev had assumed, until one came through the back door. The bottles, filled with flaming rags, came until the entire place was engulfed and there was nothing the two women could do except run for their safety.

She was full of apologies, and tears, but they all assured her it wasn’t her fault. They could rebuild, it was just a bakery. But she knew better. They didn’t fault her, but it was her fault. 

She glanced over to the bakery, and upon catching sight of Benjy still standing there, excused herself. Seeing the damage in its entirety probably wasn’t the smartest idea right then, but it was too late. She came to a stop next to him, eyes scanning. The frame of the building, old and bricklayed as it was, remained, but everything that made it Bev’s was gone. The blue benches that matched the colour of the sea, the sign that hung out front, the windows that weren’t smashed may as well have been, given the graffiti. 

But it was the step that finally cracked her. Her gaze roamed over everything, nothing salvageable, until it landed on a solid wooden step in the back – her step – painted bright blue and, somehow, in perfect condition. The sight of it broke her. The sadness, the panic, the fear, the guilt, it all went to the wayside compared to the painful anger she felt now, which came out in a sound that could have equally measured as a muted laughter as it could a near-silent sob. 

“What the fuck is wrong with people?” Her voice was barely a whisper, eyes fixated on the step.

He sighed. “I don’t know.” He wished he could have said something comforting, but it was impossible in the face of all this. “I’m sorry,” he said, quiet, inadequate. 

[notbenjyfenwick]

DAWN WITHEY:

Dawn just nodded, clinging to his hand like it was a life raft, allowing him to steer their way through the crowd. Rationality told her that no one could see them, but she was terrified that at any moment someone would notice, that uproar would break around them. Eventually though, they made it, ducking through the protestors, the journalists, the firemen and police tape. It didn’t do much to make her feel any safer being away from them, and she hoped Benjy wouldn’t release the charm until they were well into covered up safety. That was until she saw the two long and lanky figures of her brother and dad, standing next to an ambulance, of which in the back sat — “Mum!” Dawn was letting go of Benjy and rushing forward, not caring that she seemingly appeared out of nowhere. After all, everyone knew now, and they were being punished whether she hid or not.

Benjy hung back as she ran for her family, immeasurably relieved that they seemed to be all right. But the bakery itself… He grimaced, knowing that the damage went deeper than fire. 

[notbenjyfenwick]

DAWN WITHEY:

She hadn’t even thought about it, of course she hadn’t, and as she let out a shaky breath and nodded, blinking away her tears, she was glad he was there. “Okay.”

Benjy cast the charm over them both. “Towards the bakery?” he asked. Where would her parents be?

[notbenjyfenwick]

DAWN WITHEY:

The situation hit her as soon as her feet hit the ground, as hard and solid as the smell of smoke hit all her senses. She wasted no time, moving to leave the small alleyway to find her family, but the sight had her back and out of sight, back against the wall. There were people everywhere. Protesters, neighbours, maybe even the people who had done this? She turned to Benjy, eyes wide with panic. “I can’t go out there.”

He took in the scene with a glance, mouth pressed into a firm line. He didn’t disagree. “Disillusionment Charm?” It would at least let them pass unnoticed. “I’ll be with you.”

[notbenjyfenwick]

DAWN WITHEY:

“Oh.” She’d forgotten all about that, hand coming up to her cheek as she paused in the doorway. “Yeah. Please.”

He cast the spell quickly, then followed her into the chilly outside air. He offered her his hand. “South Shields,” he confirmed, and without waiting for an answer, twisted on the spot. 

[notbenjyfenwick]

DAWN WITHEY:

“I don’t – he didn’t say. God,” Dawn began to panic at that, even more so. Of course she did. It was fruit cake season, after all. There was no way the entire staff hadn’t been in the back room finishing off for the next day, even if the shop itself had been closed. She moved to the front hall and reached for her coat. “I um – can we just go now?” she was already reaching for the door, incapable of rational thought.

Benjy was bursting with questions, but he nodded, groping for his wand. “Hang on, do you want me to…Scourgify you first—”

[notbenjyfenwick]

DAWN WITHEY:

“I – my mum –” Dawn was at a loss for words. “Someone burnt down the bakery.”

Except it wasn’t just someone. Her dad hadn’t had to say it, his avoidance of the subject, of not wanting her there, the protestors who had set up shop out the front weeks ago. The bakery had burnt because of her. Because she was a witch. “Can you apparate me?” She asked, as much as she hated to.

“Someone—” He blew out a breath. “Yeah, of course. Is anyone hurt?”

[notbenjyfenwick]

DAWN WITHEY:

It seemed the situation had a different idea in mind, though, as it all came crumbling down the moment she heard her dad’s voice on the other end. That was rare enough in itself, if it weren’t for his trembling tone of a greeting that told her something was wrong before he even had the chance to tell her. It was like the universe had noticed she was getting too happy, regaining too much peace into her life, and it wanted to hit her where it would hurt most. Any trace of a smile that had been on her face when she answered the phone drained, and her chest grew heavy, as her dad delivered the news. “I’ll be there soon,” she replied, voice thick, ignoring his insistence that she shouldn’t — that it was better for her to stay away until it was sorted. But there was no way she was staying away. 

She put down the phone, eyes already (predictably) filling with tears. Surely she’d run out of tears to cry someday soon. Wiping a finger under each eye, she let out a shaky breath before turning back to Benjy. Her hand came away with icing and she almost, almost, lost it at the sight. How easy things had felt only moments before, and now — “I’m sorry. I have to go.” She was already pulling off her apron.

The change in Dawn’s expression told a story — but an incomplete one. Benjy waited until she’d hung up to open his mouth, but was stopped short by her words. 

“What’s happened?” he said, moving closer.

[notbenjyfenwick]

DAWN WITHEY:

Lightly, her fingers grazed over his jaw, feeling an odd sense of comfort entwine itself within the nerves. Familiarity would do that, perhaps. No bubble seemed to burst at his words. All he had to do was duck his head, all she had to do was go up on the tips of her toes. She very well might have, she even started to, ever so slightly, as a long forgotten feeling of bravery stirred within her at that very moment. 

That was, until the phone chose that second to ring. 

Not her iFlown, but the muggle phone that sat in the kitchen, which meant it was most definitely her mum on the other end of the line. A call Dawn couldn’t ignore, however much she wanted to right then. It was, however, one she could quickly answer with a promise to call back later. Then maybe — was she being ridiculous? She stepped away quickly. “I should get that. I’ll be right back,” were the words said with the confidence of the old Dawn Withey. And if she glanced back over her shoulder at him as she answered the phone? Well that was no one’s business.

Benjy coughed to no one in particular, as if the seconds before the phone had rung were a burr he could shake away. He turned back to the biscuits, idly poking at them and trying not to eavesdrop. 

[notbenjyfenwick]

DAWN WITHEY:

“Stop complaining,” she scolded lightly, her own teasing smile much larger than his badly hidden one. Suddenly though, his gaze felt like too much as she registered just how close they had gotten in the moments that had just passed, and her eyes flickered down. 

There was a tugging in her chest – a familiar feeling, yet one long since felt. Due to distance, probably, but also thanks to the fear, the nerves, that came from the last time they’d been this close to each other. It was rare now that she let anyone get close. How stark was the contrast between the desire to kiss someone and the fear of it. She cleared her throat, pushing the feeling down – no longer the bold girl of before who would simply ask for what she desired. “That should just about do it,” she added softly as she wiped off the last of it, looking back up at him but not moving away.

Benjy nodded rather than risk speaking. It seemed as though they’d both stumbled upon a moment neither of them had seen coming, as if moving through a fog. Now they were in it, close — unless he was wrong, and there was no real moment at all. 

He cleared his throat and said, “Oh, good,” to see if it would break the bubble of her nearness.

[notbenjyfenwick]

YAWN WITHEY:

“I know,” her tone was apologetic. At least, slightly apologetic, given her next words. “You have to admit it was kind of funny.” She was still smiling, feeling completely normal for once, a feeling that brought nothing but hope.

“It was a low blow,” he muttered. “Low, even for you.” It took effort on his part, though, to hide his smile. He was sure it didn’t fool her. 

[notbenjyfenwick]

DAMN WITHEY:

“Good,” she wiped away more off of his face, wincing as she reached the stubble of his jaw, where the green icing was not as forgiving.

“You didn’t have to get me this badly,” Benjy complained. But at least she was nice enough to help him get it off. Yes, he reflected, she could be a pain, but she was always nice. It wasn’t a new realisation by any means, but it sat with him nevertheless. 

[notbenjyfenwick]

YAWN WITHEY:

“Maybe that can be your next party costume.” Of course, the amused twinkle was clear as day in her eyes as she looked up at him, not moving away just yet. “You better not have gotten any in my hair.”

“As if you’re not a witch. You can spell it out.” But he checked, to be sure, and shook his head.

[notbenjyfenwick]

YAWN WITHEY:

“Don’t you dare,“ She shot back, but it was softly that she added, giggles filling the gap between her words, “Come here.” She reached up, wiping the icing gently away from near his eyes. “You know, green suits you.”

“Funny,” he muttered, but he allowed her to wipe the icing off. “I look like the bloody Grinch.”

[notbenjyfenwick]

YAWN WITHEY:

She, of course, gasped dramatically. “Benjy.” But she was laughing. It meant one thing, and one thing only – war. Before either of them had much time to think about the consequences, or the mess, she was pressing a handful of icing right into his face.

“What the fuck,” he spluttered, pawing frantically at his face. “That was far too much, Merlin’s sake—” He reached out for her, finding her shoulder instead of her face, and left a glob of icing there. “I’ll arm myself with one of these,” Benjy threatened, picking up the nearest piping bag.