Home for the Holidays [Esme]

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image:url(http://i54.tinypic.com/2vafwqd.jpg), border: solid #ffffff 5px; width: 400px; height: 500px;] He’d been out of the hospital for a few weeks now, and he was finally getting the swing of the memory exercises Morpheisa had set him upon to help him break down the barrier on his Obliviated mind. He’d been furious with her for not going in and tearing it down herself, but Morpheisa had been adamant that doing so would cause him far more mental damage than waiting and doing it this way. Honestly, Gabriel would have welcomed the damage if it meant getting this mess solved quicker, but he knew better than to push the Head of the Oblivation squad. It wasn’t simply because the woman had been a fierce Auror in her prime, so much as it was the instinctual fear all boys had of pissing off their mothers. The really troublesome part of it all was the fact he still wasn’t allowed to go to work. He’d been suspended thanks to some intervention on Morpheisa’s end, though he was damn near positive his secretary had done her damnest to help the infernal woman pull it off. As long as there was a ‘tangible threat’ to him working his high priority case, and as long as he was still ‘considerably injured’ there was no way he was getting back into the office. As such, Gabriel had been condemned to filing all the paperwork on his minor cases and siphoning off duties to his partner while resting up at home. He was going positively stir crazy, and it wasn’t simply because paperwork was legitimately the dullest aspect of his job. His house was empty – painfully, bitterly empty, full of nothing but memories that his mind was only too happy to latch onto so his emotions could flay him alive. He honestly could not remember the last time he’d shaved. The sheer effort it took just to go to the washroom in this place and ignore the décor, ignore the way the towels still hung the way she’d left them because he couldn’t bear stepping foot here for longer than it took to sleep, get up, and go back to work was mind boggling. His kit was at his office, and he absolutely hated shaving with magic; the results were always spotty, and the regrowth itched twice as fiercely. Then there was the living room. It was the warmest place in the house if he lit the fire, but the photographs haunted him. Even the carpet and its vine-like designs seemed to mock him, and he had to travel through it to get to the kitchen. Whether he liked it or not, he was completely trapped by the memory of her, everywhere he went in this place, and the one and only escape he had was barred from him. He’d taken to living in the storage room, having rearranged things enough create a makeshift office center in one corner and nest in the other. It was easy enough to summon food, or even call for take out and squirrel it away while he worked on his filings, his mental exercises, and when really bored, his final will and testament. Though that tended to get depressing quickly enough that he’d be forced back to his paperwork to escape it. A simple closing of the door was all it took to hide the depressing state of living he’d condemned himself to when Morpheisa came over to check on his progression with the exercises, and it was easy enough to pretend he was fine with her. All he had to do was grump at her over how long things were taking and fuss about getting back to work, and no questions were asked. He seemed perfectly normal, for all his mother knew of him. What Gabriel failed to realize was his mother was not as unaware of her son as he was so keen to believe. Morpheisa had picked up on her son’s growing depression the second she met up with him at St. Mungo’s, his blue eyes flicking constantly to his wife, longing and pain burning bright within them. She’d watched, as the longing seemed to die and pain seemed to be the only thing that lived in those baby blues, and she could have kicked her son for being so great a fool. Still, Morpheisa had long ago learned that the best way to reach Gabriel was to trick him into revealing himself. So she had done something her son would likely never forgive her for, if he ever learned of it, and reported his depression to the one person who would have a chance of breaking him of it. So as Gabriel dragged himself out of what he was now half-affectionately considering his ‘bed-nest’ to prepare himself for meeting with his mother, he did not think to dress himself up. He wore a pair of well-worn black trousers and tossed on a white dress shirt that had once been crisp and professional, but careless disregard had turned rumpled. The decent black blazer he put overtop gave the impression of a man who’d slept in his clothes and tossed something fresh on to hide it in his rushing. Mainly, Gabriel just didn’t care. He walked over the vine-covered carpet and fought the urge to growl at it, and made his way to the kitchen to make coffee and at least appear passably alive for Morpheisa, who was scheduled to floo in within the next two hours or so. Had he known who was going to step through his floo, Gabriel might never have crawled out of his bed-nest this morning for sheer shame. Opening up the fridge, Gabriel pulled out some three day old Chinese and began wolfing it down, damning the traditional morning toast and going all out bachelor for today. The morning Prophet had found its way onto the table, for which he was certain he could thank his pre-paid subscription, and the werewolf-related headline was no big surprise. Things had, quite literally, gone to the dogs since his attack. Taking his container of Chinese and a freshly poured cup of coffee to the table, Gabriel set to reading up on what he was missing while waiting for the last of his ribs to finish healing and his damn ‘concussion’ to be done with. Thanks to his ‘condition’ and ‘suspension’ his priority case was on hold, rather than being passed to his partner, the one and only thing Gabriel had left to be grateful for. Once he had the last of his memories back – and he was close, he knew, very close – he’d sink Clementine. And if that was the last thing he ever did, then so be it – at this point, it was beginning to feel like the only thing he had to live for was sinking that bastard. It was his own fault that he had fallen so far – Gabriel knew this as well as he knew the scent of lavender that still clung to the couches in the living room to remind him, every time he walked quickly by, of what he’d sacrificed to bring Clementine down. His own attack meant nothing to him – in fact, if Gabriel were inclined to be honest about it, he was happy he’d been so brutally rendered down a peg. If for nothing else than the fact Esme had been at his bedside, caring about him. He may have lost her, but thanks to that beating, he'd at least got to see her smiling at him again. Groaning, Gabriel realized his train of thought was going to do him no good at all when Morpheisa arrived, so he chucked back some coffee and set to reading the Prophet, hoping his mother would arrive early so they could finish early, and perhaps be done with this farce. He wanted an end to this. Wanted Clementine brought down, if only so that one good thing could come from all he had given up.

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Words: 1322 Tag: Esme
Notes: These two will be the death of us xD
template made by hay shay ! @ caution 2.0

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; height: 380px; background-color:#E3E3E3; border-left: 3px solid #331E13; border-right: 3px solid #331E13;] lets not waste our breath, should i ever be flooded with memories and drunk on the moonlight i promise i'll be just fine

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Working at Hogwarts had shifted Esme’s view of the year exponentially. Every Monday had become a countdown to Friday, every week a count down to the end of a term and the start of another. She had been here for all of four month and already Esme could see herself happily remaining in these hallowed halls for the rest of her days. Sunday morning had arrived with the lacking ceremony that announced the end of the weekend was night as it always did. Once upon a time she would have spent a frozen morning like this curled for hours on end in bed with Gabriel. Ignoring the frost on the window panes and the threat of chilled wooden floor boards, playfully refusing to move from the warm pile of duvets and the comfort of his arms until eventually hunger would force them at least to the kitchen and back.

Now she awoke alone curled in a small heat conserving ball in her private quarters. Normally she would awake to the first rays of sun creeping through the drapes, she’d rise before the vast of the cast had even threatened to stir, seeing to her chores in the greenhouses and any of the professor duties required that day. But not today. Today Esme slept like the dead through the morning chorus and awoke closer to ten then the usual six. She hadn’t realised just how knackered she was. It had been some weeks since Gabriel had been released from St. Mungos. Esme had been careful to keep her distance, the last thing he needed for his recuperation was his estranged wife dottering around with all the confusion and with-held words that had become their strangely in-between everything and nothing relationship. But she had thought of him, more then ever. Pondered on his recovered, fretted terribly over his attackers and his damn case, laid awake remembering how he had looked at her from his hospital bed, the terror as he feared for her safety more then his own. No longer could she deny he still had feelings for her. No longer sell herself the story he didn’t care. It made denying him and the frustrated part of her that screamed ‘you fricken idiot’ whenever she thought of him all that much harder.

Raising from bed she ignored the previous days paper left on her desk. One didn’t need to read the newspaper to know that with each passing day this war worsened. This nonsense with the werewolves was something that should have been solved centuries ago. There should never been a question of equality to ponder over. Werewolves were humans and that was that. Though she was not so foolish as to believe it truly that simple. As much as it threatened her liberal sensibilities she knew you couldn’t very well let someone who lost complete control every month run around without some manner of check and treatment but did that really need to result in the loss of their humanity? Perhaps one day the bigotry that surrounded it all would slowly fade as it was starting to with muggleborns. Though it seemed a little to optimistic even for the ever upbeat Esme to believe that would happen any time soon. Not with this war.

Tugging a thick dressing gown around her nightdress, a hand ruffling long black hair she stifled a yawn. She jumped substantially as the fireplace gave an eruption of green flame, a face appearing amongst the dull embers. Her mother-in-law. She had always liked Gabriel’s family (not that there were many people in the world that Esme did not like) it had soon felt during the impending divorce that she was losing far more then just her husband in the whole thing.

She remained quite blissfully unaware that she couldn’t have followed Morpheisa’s little plan closer to the book if she tried. As soon as she was able Esme was dressed and stepping into the fireplace, the exact reaction the fierce ex-auror had no doubt known she’d have following the report given.

Landing on the vine carpet of the living room she’d found quite by accident and spent hours precariously laying almost immediately after purchasing on a rare day off before Gabriel had returned from work. She dusted herself down with a light cough. The house was almost exactly as she’d left it She hadn’t expected that. Perhaps somewhat ludicrously she’d expected that everything would be different, transformed into some manner of bachelor pad. There was something innately sad at how very cold and empty this house felt when it had once been so very full of life. Esme had never been a materialistic woman, far more content with the people inside a room then its walls and objects. But she had loved this house. Perhaps more so she had loved the life it represented. A time now no matter what happened was gone and changed as all things did.

With soft footsteps she made her way from the living room towards the slight sounds of movement in the kitchen where she found her husband at the table. Gabriel looked well… terrible. She couldn’t think of a single point in their marriage or the long courtship that predated it him ever looking quite so… defeated. She hadn’t wished to believe her mother-in-law at first had thought perhaps it was a motherly concern as her son no doubt grew frustrated at not being able to return to work or over his progress not moving quick enough. Gabriel was not the type to allow himself to be beaten down from events no matter their severity, she’d seen enough proof of that for a life time when attempting to convince him to relax in his own hospital bed. Now she understood why Morpheisa had obviously set it up for her to come and see for herself. All was not well with her husband, she knew that just from looking at him. She recognised it well as the state she had been in herself all of five months ago, alone and jobless it had seemed pointless to so much as get dressed every morning. Pathetic really that even in this state he still made her heart give an extra thump with each beat, still made her feel nervous in his presence as if she were about to trip over and make a fool of herself.

“Good morning.” She offered with a slight smile, leaning against the doorway of the kitchen. She took him over a little too honestly in his entirety though said nothing of it. She purposely chose not to take a look in the Chinese takeaway container and this was from a woman whose culinary tastes had always been somewhat questionable. “Get dressed we’re going for a walk!” She informed him without allowing him a moment to debate it or ask her to leave. Whether they were over or not, whether or not he was entering a new chapter of his life or not - up with this she would not put.

TAGGED: GABRIEL TURNERWORD COUNT: 1172
NOTES: coming back to these two after so long of just roddy and rufus is like spitting out something sour and rediscovering chocolate!!

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i love brooklyn from caution !!!

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image:url(http://i54.tinypic.com/2vafwqd.jpg), border: solid #ffffff 5px; width: 400px; height: 500px;] He heard the Floo activate and despite the fact it was considerably early for his mother to be showing up, Gabriel didn’t bother to get up and greet her. He was used to this routine and so was she, so the only thing that really flitted itself through his mind was a gratitude for the fact this would be gotten over with early and he could go back to his nest and read until sleep came to lay claim on him once more. Sleep was a good place to be. He hadn’t told anyone – and he doubted he ever would – but that moment when his heart had stopped and he had lingered in the arms of Death had been the most peaceful he had ever known. Sleep was the closest thing he could get to reclaiming that calm, endless emptiness. Footsteps alerted him to the fact that someone had made it to the kitchen, and had he been a little less lethargic and a little more aware, he would have immediately realized that those steps were not the sharp, nigh military steps of Morpheisa Turner and would therefore have been somewhat mentally prepared for a voice that wasn’t his mothers. As it was, he had absolutely no forewarning whatsoever for a different female voice to assail him, and even less for that voice to be his wife’s. Spitting out his coffee in shock and alarm at her good morning, Gabriel scrambled to his feet to keep himself from being burned when the remainder spilled over as a result. He made a grab for his wand to clean it all up, a pale and sheepish look overtaking his features as he realized he’d left his wand in his nest this morning. Good thing its not another attack, he thought wildly, even as he turned to look at her, eyes wide with astonishment at her words. ”We – what – as you wish,” Gabriel spluttered, scampering as quickly as he could out of the kitchen and away from the utter embarrassment of spilled coffee, three-day old Chinese and the mess that was his life. Stoppin in the storage closet long enough to grab his wand, Gabriel shut the door and went to the bedroom, gathering his clothes and stepping into the shower without a second thought to much of anything, just automatically obeying Esme and doing all he could to make sure he was presentable for this walk she proposed. It occurred to him, around the time he wrapped his towel about his waist, that he was displaying roughly the same mental facilities as a puppy whose owner had just come home from work and said Let’s go for a walk boy! Sighing at himself, Gabriel dried off, got dressed and even shaved before he headed back downstairs, buttoning up his shirt as he made it back into the living room, his hair still damp and his eyes still deeply sunken and shadowed, but looking worlds better for it. It was a wonder what a shower and clean clothes could do for a bloke.

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Words: 510 Tag: Esme
Notes: Bahaha I bet xD
template made by hay shay ! @ caution 2.0

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; height: 380px; background-color:#E3E3E3; border-left: 3px solid #331E13; border-right: 3px solid #331E13;] lets not waste our breath, should i ever be flooded with memories and drunk on the moonlight i promise i'll be just fine

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Esme watched him leave somewhat taken aback. She had expected more of a fight then that, had even prepared her deeply immature comeback of placing her hands over her ears and insisting she wasn’t listening until he was dressed. Perhaps he was more embarrassed then she would have guessed. She remarked for a moment that perhaps politeness should have dictated she sent a message through first or at least given him abit more ceremony in announcing her arrival and letting him get ready for the day. But Esme had never truly been one to halt her intentions with thoughts of ceremony. When you had been with someone for as long as they had there were very few states of disarray you hadn’t already seen the other one in at some point or another. Nothing said ‘I love you’ like holding your significant others hair back when the winter vomiting virus’ came about. Though perhaps it was less his physical state he was concerned about her seeing.

She busied herself around the kitchen as he vanished upstairs, a quick flick of her wand seeing the spilt coffee removed. The carton of chinese and several other choice options from the fridge promptly being introduced to the bin. It was easy to fall back into the routine of the house; plates and glasses collected and piled in steaming soapy water at the sink with a few flicks of her wand. By the time Gabriel remerged she had already cast a quick incendio charm at the fireplace to instil some much needed warmth into the house, completed the washing up the muggle way, and set about to giving the surface tops a quick wipe down. Wand tucked into the pocket of her wool purple cardigan, pulled tightly across a green dress as the winter cold threatened to sink its way in.

A bright smile lit her features as he emerged in the living room clean shaven and dressed looking more the Gabriel she recognised. Though any concern she’d felt over his previous dishevelled state was only multiplied now she had a clearer view. He looked tired, exhausted beyond all reasonable measure. She could almost feel the weight of whatever he was carrying with him making its self known to the room. There was something so very dark in his gaze, instilling quite an overwhelming urge for her to somewhat ridiculously inform him against all rational knowledge that everything was going to be okay. She withheld it knowing it would only sound patronising.

Had it been anyone else she would have fiercely sat them down, a cup of tea forced in hand (or perhaps a glass of brandy for the more severe cases) and insisted on her cure to end all cures – talking about it. It was a bluntness that usually did others quite well when it was inflicted. But with Gabriel, at this time now… no she had no right to attempt to make him talk to her nor did she really need him to. A walk, something to eat then maybe he would open up enough to speak with her or at least consider seeking out someone else to say aloud the things that troubled him. Fresh air always did some good and Hogsmeade was at its most beautiful in the winter that much she remembered from her own school years.

“I was thinking we could head to Hogsmeade,” She offered the previous order in her tone quite gone replaced with the upbeat optimism she could usually be found with. She wrung out the cloth one last time placing it away where it had always belonged. “Wrap up, have a walk, grab some lunch and a butterbear?” Once upon a time it would have been her perfect idea of how to spend the afternoon. Even now with everything else the idea of taking a stroll around the quaint little village with her husband felt deeply comfortable.

TAGGED: GABRIEL TURNER WORD COUNT: 653
NOTES: (gives gabriel a huge cuddle)

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i love brooklyn from caution !!!

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image:url(http://i54.tinypic.com/2vafwqd.jpg), border: solid #ffffff 5px; width: 400px; height: 500px;] Buttoning up the last button on his shirt, Gabriel looked at Esme somewhat sideways, as though he wasn’t entirely certain she wasn’t a figment of his imagination and he was trying to decide if he minded either way. Seeming to come to the conclusion that even a figment of his wife was better than just the haunting memory of her, Gabriel nodded his agreement to Hogsmeade, not yet trusting himself to speak as he pattered over to the entry closet to pull out one of his coats. The idea of leaving the house was surprisingly refreshing, considering how morosely he had avoided doing so since his return from St. Mungo’s. As he shrugged into his coat, Gabriel figured it had to do with the fact that Esme was here (Or he was well and truly crazy and had imagined Esme where his mother stood, but that did not bear dwelling upon) and the idea of going anywhere with her was a genuine pleasure to him. The mention of wrapping up inspired Gabriel to grab one of his scarves as well, though as he pulled it down he ended up dragging down another. As it pooled into a small coil at his feet, Gabriel had to fight the urge to grab hold of the closet door for support. The second scarf had drawn to mind an image of Esme, several months before he had asked her to marry him. A grey peacoat over a cream cardigan, the lovely cream and gold scarf had whipped from her neck in the wind, and he’d caught it. He remembered, all to easily, her flush as he’d returned it to her, and the way his heart had pounded at the sight of it. Kneeling now, Gabriel picked up the innocuous bit of cloth and found himself biting back tears. It was easy to ask himself how it had come to this, pain so fierce at but a simple memory sparked by something so small as a scarf, but the answer was much more agonizing to face. He had been the one to do this to himself – and to her. How he could have done this to her, he still didn’t know. All the reasons he’d had felt so idle now, so self-servingly blind and foolish. What sort of man renews his vows knowing that his means to do so had been infidelity? How could he ever have thought he was doing the right thing, even for a second? Grip tightening on the scarf, Gabriel rose shakily back to his feet and closed the closet door. Without thinking about the fact that Esme was still there, he found himself placing her scarf into his coat pocket, even as he used his free hand to wrap his own about his neck. Once settled, Gabriel closed his eyes and took a moment to settle himself before he turned and made his way back to her, realizing as he did so that he hadn’t even spoken to her yet. Almost afraid that his voice would dispel the vision and he would find himself faced with his mother, or equally bad, the still empty house, Gabriel found the strength to speak somewhere and stated, ”That sounds good to me.” Then he stood silently, somewhat awed by his own inanity as he realized that by getting dressed for it so effortlessly had rather pointed out the fact he was fine with the notion. All the same, he didn’t much mind considering the fact his voice hadn’t dispelled Esme’s image which meant the chances of her really being there had increased exponentially. Inordinately pleased by this, Gabriel smiled and spoke again, ignoring the gruffness of his rather unused voice as he stated in a less cautious manner, ”I think it’ll be nice to get out of the house again. Three Broomsticks?” He suggested, knowing it had the best atmosphere for a bite to eat and a butterbeer, but wanting to at least appear like he was capable of coherent thought process.

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Words: 669 Tag: Esme
Notes: These two slay me.
template made by hay shay ! @ caution 2.0

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; height: 380px; background-color:#E3E3E3; border-left: 3px solid #331E13; border-right: 3px solid #331E13;] lets not waste our breath, should i ever be flooded with memories and drunk on the moonlight i promise i'll be just fine

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She couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him wrapped in his coat and scarf. She had always loved winter. As a herbologist most others would normally have guessed spring and certainly she loved seeing the new buds. But winter had always been her preferred season, warming chilled fingers by fireplaces, the fresh smell of the air. She remembered many time in the past she had dragged him from bed for early morning snow ball fights, remembered the long late night walks home, kisses on frozen doorsteps.

The three broomsticks it was. The last time they had been there together things had not ended at all how she had expected. She’s actually ended up slapping him, something she still felt rather guilty about (and okay yes in the smallest sense perhaps a little bit proud still to) before accepting the divorce papers back she had used every tactic to have him sign, they were still sat untouched in the draw of her quarters at Hogwarts. That was some months ago, their situation had somehow managed to change exponentially and somehow not move at all. She was no longer angry; the thought of losing him forever had eradicated that. What remained was a sadness, an empty place where he should have been. It was a space that understood continuing to resist was all but futile, it knew full well this was the man she was meant to be with and no matter if it were years down the line she would always come running when he called, always there to help him whenever he fell. And then there was the fear. Fear that if she did give in she would only be hurt again and this time there would no one else to blame but her own stupidity.

Esmeralda was well that their past life was gone. Anything they moved into now would never be the same, perhaps it would be better, perhaps things would never be right again. She had thought at first as she sat for the long hours at his bedside in St. Mungo’s that in the end perhaps they could be friends. It was an admittedly cowardly attempt to keep him there in her life without having to risk herself and her heart again. It was more then obvious they could never be just friends, too much more lingered. So she had stayed away, thinking they could both move on, grow and change like the plants she surrounded herself with. Yet in the end here she was back with only a murmur that he was anything but okay.

Esme loved him. Every part of him, the cock sure confidence he’d radiated professionally, the little boy in him still do desperate to please the parents he believed disapproving, the sheer unyielding determination when he had set his eyes on a goal. And his kindness, his joy, his gentleness. There had been so many times she had wished for nothing more then to turn those feelings off or tear down the invisible barrier between them and throw her arms around him. She had thought her life quite passed all this drama and maybes after leaving her teenage years behind. Quite ridiculously really for a Professor to be stood wondering exactly as her students did what a boy truly thought of her and more importantly what she should do about it. “Three broomsticks it is.” She had already gathered her own coat, thick extra long scarf and gloves to prepare against the icy weather.

Hogsmeade was it’s usually beautiful self, quaint and welcoming, roof tops and cobblestones glistening from the frost, the sounds of chattering people moving between the shops, couples out enjoying their limited time together. The tension still remained since the last attack despite the structural damage to the town being all but nonexistent now. People attempting to finish their business as swiftly as possible and return to the safety of their homes. Some others seemed to stand as resolutely as Esme did unwilling to allow her usual plans to be daunted by fear and apprehension, to do was handing them victory on a plate. Perhaps she would not have been so resolute in her stance if she had been more aware of the horrors that were coming.

“How’s your recovery going?” She asked tentatively as they walked from the edge of town to the promise of the warmth of the pub. An awkward and no where near as subtle starter to the conversation as she had originally planned. “I hope you haven’t been giving Morpheisa to much trouble.” She smiled knowing full well if any one was being the impatient party in that exchange it was her husband.

TAGGED: GABRIEL TURNERWORD COUNT: 782
NOTES: Ah geeze Gabe pull on the heart strings why don’t you! (bangs their heads together). Awkward small talk before all the chaos breaks loose.

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i love brooklyn from caution !!!

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image:url(http://i54.tinypic.com/2vafwqd.jpg), border: solid #ffffff 5px; width: 400px; height: 500px;] It was surprisingly nippy outside, a rather crisp reminder of just how long he had been cooping himself up inside. He had known it was cold outside – the lack of fires in the grates had made the entirety of his house a chilly abode – but as he had confined himself to a very small enclosed space in the bigger area, it was easy to forget. He had an electric heater, candles, blankets, books and paperwork – there were no windows in the storage closet, so time had become a bit of a fluid thing. His days had blurred into nights and nights had blurred into days to the point he’d be sitting around on a Wednesday afternoon solidly convinced it was Saturday morning. He’d been warm though. Lifting up his shoulders and ducking down his head a bit against the occasional bursts of cold wind, Gabriel felt rather like a bird that had stayed the winter, puffed up and huddled down into a little ball. Still, he could glance over and see Esme at his side, bravely facing the chill as she looked about herself, the wonder of winter still captivating her. She was lovely, as she always was, and even if it was for a day or a dream, the cold was a small price to pay to be by her side. In truth a part of him was glad of it, for it was bracing enough to feel real, in ways that dreams could not replicate. Glancing away before she could catch him staring at her (or so he hoped) Gabriel thinned his lips slightly at the question she posed, which was more convoluted than she could possibly imagine. Opting to keep things simple, Gabriel didn’t speak to his mental state, or the crippling depression he had fallen to, and instead answered the question with the most direct of interpretations: how he was doing physically. ”I seem to be recovering quite well according to the Healers,” He replied easily enough. ”Most of the remaining bruising has gone down, so I should be in top shape within a few more days,” He added, wanting to reassure her that at least on this level, he was doing just fine. At the mention of his mother, however, Gabriel winced slightly, wondering just how much the damned woman had already told Esme. He didn’t dare lie, even though a part of him wanted Esme to be kept above all of this – safe from all of this. ”I’ve managed to recover a lot of detail about the attack,” He stated slowly, glancing around them almost nervously as he spoke, before stopping to hold open the Broomsticks door for Esme. He kept quiet until they were seated at a table in the back by the fire, and he’d raised some wards. He looked rather proud of himself toward the end, as though in some corner of his mind he was saying My magic is just fine. So take that and your ‘you can’t go back to work yet’, mother! Working off his scarf, Gabriel continued, knowing that to hide anything would just make Esme doubt him, and that wasn’t something he could face even for a moment, even though he knew he deserved nothing from her. Not a damned thing, in fact. ”I was pretty confident they wouldn’t kill me,” He admitted, before giving her a rather awkward, lopsided smile, ”I guess I was to learn the true meaning of ‘you’d be surprised what you can live through’, though.” Pausing long enough to place his order, Gabriel waited until they once again had privacy before continuing on. ”They wanted me to recall the Blakeley and Orville documents and have them filed as misinformation. Then I was to aim for charges of fraud and misappropriation of funding and drop all charges related to Muggle baiting, extortion, and sexual harassment. If I didn’t, they’d pay me another visit,” Gabriel told her, before shrugging idly. ”I know what I should have done but, honestly the case had already cost me everything that mattered, so I saw no point in playing the battered lawyer. I pointed out that extortion and prosecution battery would surely be added to the docket now, and that Clementine’s case was my most high profile case, so it would only take half a brain to figure out why I was attacked and under whose authority. They didn’t take too well to that,” He confessed with a slight wince, before gathering himself, ”The one ace in my pocket is they don’t know I remember – and they also don’t know I’ve submitted myself as evidence, character witness and testimony. Chesington is still riding as support on this one, but I’ve got old Jobbs working first chair while I’m out of commission. He’s done, Esme. Clementine is done.” Gabriel shook his head and leaned back then, the pride he felt in knowing he had won his biggest case in five years, that he had put away the dirtiest Wizengamot member there was, did nothing for him. He’d meant what he said, more than Esme could possibly understand. This case had cost him everything, and though he’d only partially understood it when he was snarking back to the Death Eaters, Gabriel sure as hell understood himself now. He simply saw no point in winning, if the one person he had loved without doubt now felt nothing but doubt in his love and was right to do so. It just felt…hollow now.

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Words: 912 Tag: Esme
Notes: I figure after Esme's next post, all hell can break loose and we can move this to the Event board.
template made by hay shay ! @ caution 2.0

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; height: 380px; background-color:#E3E3E3; border-left: 3px solid #331E13; border-right: 3px solid #331E13;] lets not waste our breath, should i ever be flooded with memories and drunk on the moonlight i promise i'll be just fine

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Esme noted lightly as he informed her on the well fairing progress of his physical recovery. Quite aware that there wasn’t a single mention to his mental recovery. She had yet to broach the subject with him of how the attack had affected him psychologically, if Morpheisa was right the answer was not well at all. One wasn’t hurt in such in a way, kidnapped and bound, tortured and left in a state close to death, left for weeks with addlement and confusion without there being significant wounds to be healed, effects to be nursed. Consequences far beyond bruises and nerve damage. For the first time she recognised that leaving him alone had probably been the worst decision she could make. But then when it came to Gabriel as of late it seemed no matter the decision made part of her believed it was wrong. The last thing he had probably needed was to return to an empty house, there should have been someone there to ensure he felt safe, to keep him somewhat distracted. If nothing else she was glad to hear his physical recovery was going well, that was the first step after all she supposed.

“Thank you.” She smiled as he held the door open, stepping into the welcoming warmth and noise of the three broomsticks. Locating a table tucked to one corner and taking a seat, the multitude of protective layers from the cold removed and hung across the back of her chair. “Good!” Esme chimed as he admitted he’d recovered a majority of the detail from the attack. The smile soon faded as he shot her that lopsided again. Pretty confident? Since when was pretty confident you wouldn’t be killed enough to gamble on? She stopped herself from pointing out for a second time that there was absolutely no way he could have known that at the time. That he’d had no idea who he was dealing with, what they could have been capable of when he attempted to push them and give them bloody sass of all things. She didn’t think it funny at all (quite a rarity for the ever optimistic Esmeralda). The death eaters were dangerous, in every sense, for the majority of them it seemed their holds on sanity had long frayed. No matter what they had wanted he hadn’t known they wouldn’t snap and kill him even if it meant losing what they were meant to be doing.

She lent back in the chair, arms crossing over her chest loosely as he informed her what had happened that nightmare of a night. Much as they had expected from the few snippets he’d remembered when she last saw him. With such a high profile case it could only really have been that. Though with Gabriel’s families close connections to muggles… she had feared perhaps there was a more personal element to the attack. Cost everything that mattered, china blue eyes dropped from his to the table momentarily at that. A look of true horror shook her features as he announced he had submitted himself as walking evidence. Some months ago, in very different circumstances she would have congratulated him on such an inevitable victory with a wide grin and a declaration they had to celebrate properly. Now the concern sat etched on her face as clear as day. He was right of course, such a testimony would no doubt see Clementine condemned henceforth but…

“Clementine might be done. But the death eaters will still be out there Gabriel and everyone else who had their pockets lined by him. They’re not just going to stand idly by as you cripple and embarrass them. As soon as Clementine’s down anyone who had associations with him will have their names dragged through the gutter. They’ll do everything to stop you. Or make you pay. And when the death eaters find out you remembered, find out you defied them…” She whispered frantically, a fear in her eyes that Esme so often naïve to some of the harsher truths of the world rarely displayed. She unfolded her arms, an elbow resting on the edge of the table as her fingertips came to rest against her forehead, as if attempting to insert an idea from thin air into her mind. She had struggled over this since the hospital and once again if there was any other solution it eluded her. In these situations they should have looked to the aurors, looked to the Ministry to see their civil servants protected and justice done properly. What a sad state of affairs that even they could no longer be completely trusted.

“I know he can’t be allowed to get away with it, I know something has to be done… but there must be another way!” Though what ever it was eluded her completely. There had to be more evidence that could be found, something as irrefutable as Gabriel taking the stand and endangering himself, painting a target on himself in a time where people were already vanishing without question, where bodies were found almost daily. Though of course the idea of such when as he said all had been sacrificed, when he had literally tried every trick in the book to garner his evidence… perhaps it was impossible.

“It’s not worth your life Gabriel.” She released a long sigh. Perhaps others, perhaps he would disagree. Perhaps she might have resolutely disagreed herself once upon a time. She had always stood firm in her opinions of right and wrong, she knew Clementine for all he had obviously done deserved justice, deserved to be put away for the safety of others. But not at the expense of Gabriel’s life. Not when it would make him a potential target in this war. Wrapped in conversation and concern it did not occur to Esme that beyond the comfort of the pubs warmth the momentary calm would be shattered once more.

TAGGED: GABRIEL TURNERWORD COUNT: 987
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i love brooklyn from caution !!!

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image:url(http://i54.tinypic.com/2vafwqd.jpg), border: solid #ffffff 5px; width: 400px; height: 500px;] Gabriel nodded politely in response to Esme's thanks, finding himself pleased with the sheer normalacy of the moment. It felt nice to just hold a door open for her and to see her smile over something so minute. He realized with a pang that he missed even these small, seemingly insignificant moments even more than he missed holding her to him and kissing her breathless. This was what their marriage had been comprised of - small, perfect smiles in response to utterly normal moments. Swallowing past the lump that had decided to lodge itself into his throat as a result of this realization, Gabriel followed his soon to be ex-wife into the pub and tried very hard to pretend that he was still fine. He imagined he did fairly well as he tugged on his scarf before shrugging his coat off and onto the back of his own chair, though his gaze may have been taking in Esme's motions with perhaps a little too much attention. It was hardly to be faulted, he reasoned. She was, after all, exceptionally lovely today, and he had absolutely no notion when he would be seeing her again. Memorizing her was a logical step to take, surely. Smiling came easy in the face of her exuberence, and he couldn't help but be proud of the fact that something he had said had earned such a pleased response. It didn't matter why his words had pleased her - simply the fact that they had was enough for him in this moment. Her happiness seemed to fade too quickly however, and Gabriel couldn't help but think he often was the source of that faded smile, even before the mess of this pending divorce came into play. The thought burned him, so he flinched away from it to focus upon her words instead. They were bound to logic and concern, the latter of which caused Gabriel to lean back a bit and examine. It came as no surprise, despite how alarming the realization should have been, that as much as her concern meant to him, Gabriel honestly didn't see the need to share the same worries. Some part of him had written himself off, and when it had done so he didn't know, but he was surprisingly content with it all the same. It gave him focus, if nothing else. You know what they say about those with nothing left to lose, Gabriel mused. cool and composed in the face of his own lack of interest in his well being. "Rest assured I am not going into this blindly, Esme," Gabriel stated then, his voice level and soothing. "I am aware of the risks I am taking by agreeing to this course of action against Clementine. However, considering the prices that have already been paid, there is little more to be done at this point. I have thrown my own integrity to the ground for this, besmirched my own name, and affected my personal life drastically. If I do not commit to this, then the prices I have paid are meaningless." Looking at her, seeing how stressed she was, Gabriel could not resist reaching out and taking her hand in his. The grip was not tight enough that she could not escape it, but it was bracing all the same. His expression was serious even as his tone was firm when he stated, "And I refuse to allow what I have lost to be rendered meaningless, Esmeralda. That is a price I simply cannot abide. If it means my life in the end, at least I can give that knowing I put everything into this and succeeded. There is no other way to ensure success as soundly as this. I will not be cowed, not now. Not with the stakes being what they are." His grip tightened, a reassuring squeeze as he smiled calmly, an acceptance settling upon him as he drew his hand back to himself and replied quietly, "It wasn't worth you, either, Esme. And yet, here we are. I do not think that my life will be the final price to pay, but if it is? Then I will accept that as it comes. For now, however, I will simply hold on to what I have left and fight with all of it. It is the least that can still be done."

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Words: 912 Tag: Esme
Notes: I figure after Esme's next post, all hell can break loose and we can move this to the Event board.
template made by hay shay ! @ caution 2.0

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