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Will You?


Frank Longbottom held his mother. Augusta clung onto him, her fingers wrapped about in his pressed black shirt, tangled up in his black silk tie, in his black robes. Frank's free hand wove through Alice Prewitt's, their fingers in a knot at his side. They were standing in a cemetery, the sun rising and turning the snow into diamonds around the cleared area, where they had magically dug the grave, where the casket that held Frank senior hovered. Frank's chin was level, his eyes sad and dark but determined and dry, his mouth a straight, stoic line. He could barely hear the ceremony, only knew it was time to place the wand when his Mother nudged him and held out his father's holly wand.

Frank walked slowly across the snow, his footsteps crunching the thin layer of ice on top. He leaned over the mouth of the casket and stared down into his father's face. It had been magically restored to its usual shape and colour, though he knew that when his mother had found his father, he had been disfigured quite badly. You could almost tell - there was an oddly stiff sort of look to the features now.

Then again, that could have been the death that had caused that.

Frank reached down and placed the wand upon his father's chest. "May your magic be ever recalled with a smile upon the face of the ones you loved, may the magic of memory keep you ever with us," he recited. Frank laid his father's hands upon the wand and backed away, hesitant to turn his eyes from his father for it would be the last time he would look upon him.

But he did, at last, and he heard the casket close and seal.

Alice was waiting for him, and when Frank reached her, she hugged him tight.

Frank Longbottom stared straight ahead, numb of mind and heart, as they lowered the casket to the ground and the people who had come slowly walked away, leaving footprints in the snow. He sat until Alice and Augusta tugged him to his feet, until they walked together, a cluster supporting one another, across the cemetery, and away from the grave.

They went back to the Longbottom house, though Frank wouldn’t remember the trip, and while people were patting his shoulder and shaking his hand as they ate the spread Augusta had made and told him what a good man Frank senior had been, he just nodded and let the words roll off of him.

Suddenly a glass of pumpkin juice was held out before him.

He blinked and looked up. It was Alice.

“You have to drink something, Frank,” she said and she stuck a bendy straw into the glass and turned it so it was at Frank’s mouth, a gentle smile upon her face. He sipped the juice and stared up at her and she smoothed his hair back from his forehead. “There, isn’t that better?” she asked.

Frank nodded and leaned forward, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulled her close so that his face pressed against her abdomen and she ran her fingers through his hair softly. “It’ll be okay, baby,” she said. “It’ll be alright, you’ll see.”

Her voice was the first thing that had made him feel anything all day. It made him feel strong again - as though, as long as he could hear her voice, things would be alright… and it was weird, knowing that, with everything that was going on. It had sort of seemed like nothing would ever be alright again. When Frank had taken those shaking steps forward to uphold the tradition of the laying of the wand he’d thought for certain that he would never feel goodness again… like there had been a dementor in his very heart.

He looked up at her. “Alice,” he said.

“Frank?” she stroked his face with her knuckles gently.

Without any grandeur, without any drawn out production as he had planned, Frank simply said the words on his mind.

“Marry me.”

Alice’s voice rang with surprise. “What?”

Frank released her and reached into his pocket, with drawing the ring. He stared at it for a moment, then held it up to her, pinching the band between his fingers. “I was supposed to do this better… I’ve been working at coming up with some grand way to make it perfect, to say words that’ll really just be everything you ever wanted to hear but I just can’t wait. I can’t wait ‘til the moment’s right because what if the moment isn’t ever right and I just keep letting moments get away and then something bloody terrible happens and… and it’s over before I ever got the stomach up to - to make it begin?” He stared up at her, searching her face, tears forming in his eyes. “You’re the one I want to have beside me everyday.”

Alice stared at the ring being held out to her. “Oh Frank, you’re the one I want to have beside me everyday, too,” she squeaked.

“So marry me.”

“But… But I’m only just sixteen and we’re still in school and next year -- next year you’ll be graduated and I’ll still be in school and --”

“I know we’re young, I know it’s crazy,” he interrupted her, “But Ali, we live in uncertain times. We live in a world where people attack other people without any reason, we live in a world I don’t want to be alone in and I don’t care how old or young I am, I don’t care -- I’ve found you. I found you and I’ve known all along that you were it for me. I knew from the moment you said yes to that stupid chocolate frog card invitation to the dance all those years ago… I knew I’d never, ever let go of you. And it’s only gotten better, Alice. You’re a part of me and I’m a part of you and I just cannot picture my life without you. I can’t picture my life without being married to you.” Frank stared up at her, pleadingly. “Will you? Alice, will you marry me?”

Alice blinked tears. “Yes,” she choked.

And he pressed his mouth to her hand as he slid the ring upon her finger.




Dorcas Meadowes was smiling sweetly, a clipboard balanced on her knees, low enough for Remus to see everything she would write upon it. So far, all it had was his name, underlined at the top. He stared at his own knees, which were especially sore today… it was the day before the full moon of December, and he’d been miserable the last couple nights and today he felt like he was a hundred and seventy years old for the ache in his bones.

“Are you okay, Remus?” Dorcas asked, “Are you comfortable?”

“No,” Remus admitted, then, “But I wouldn’t be comfortable anywhere right now. It isn’t you or anything.”

Dorcas smiled, “Well, that’s good.”

Remus shifted.

“Sirius seemed pretty excited about me getting to talk to you,” she said.

“Yeah, he’s excited about everything lately,” Remus said. “You fixed him.”

“There isn’t really a fix to depression,” Dorcas said, “It sort of comes and goes in waves. He could relapse anytime… that’s why I’m still around. I just want to see to it that he’s taken care of. Too few people are taking care of him.”

I’m taking care of him,” Remus replied.

“I mean parentally.”

Remus looked at his knees again.

Dorcas said, “So you and Sirius are close.”

Remus looked up. “Yeah. Of course. He’s my boyfriend.”

Dorcas smiled, “Yeah, I know.”

He looked back down again.

“Sirius said you’ve been upset lately?” Dorcas asked.

Remus spoke to his knees, “I don’t know that I’d call it upset.”

“What would you call it?”

Remus said, “I just don’t like one of the Professors this year.”

“Professor Gaunt?” Dorcas asked, and when Remus looked up, she supplied, “Sirius mentioned him. He’s not very fond of him, either.”

Remus said, “Yeah, Sirius doesn’t like him because he’s a purist.”

“Why don’t you like him?” Dorcas asked.

“Because he’s a purist,” Remus replied with a shrug. Then, “I don’t trust him. There’s something about him.”

Dorcas asked, “Like what?”

Remus said, “I don’t know really… there’s quite a lot about him I don’t trust… he’s… he’s sort of creepy and he seems to be a supporter of Voldemort or something. I think he may be a Death Eater in disguise, but I don’t know how he got past Dumbledore if he is one. But he does really questionable things, like he imperiused Sirius one class and he always picks on me in Muggle Studies, like he’s sent me away twice. He defends Voldemort when James and Sirius make fun and I swear sometimes he looks at James with this… this expression… and he says his name all funny. Like Potter.”

Dorcas had her eyebrows raised, “He imperiused Sirius?”

“Yes,” Remus said, “And Sirius doesn’t seem to realize he did it! Sirius has been imperiused before, a long time ago and it’s not like Sirius to just not make a big deal of the act that he’d been imperiused again. It’s just not like him. It’s as though he doesn’t remember it, as though it’s been erased from his memor---” Remus stopped.

Dorcas blinked, trying to follow along.

Remus stood up, anxious, wanting to pace, but his knees hurt so he sat back down on the edge of his chair and he put his hands up in his hair and he thought and he rocked himself a bit, “Bloody hell, remember, Remus, remember,” he begged himself.

Dorcas said, “Remus?”

“The detention. I’ll bet he’s imperiused me like he did to Sirius in the class. And I’ll bet he did a memory charm somehow and that’s why Sirius doesn’t remember it, that’s why I don’t remember the detention.”

“What?” Dorcas asked.

“No why is the question!” Remus said, standing up, “I’ve been researching memory charms ever since this one detention I had with Professor Gaunt, because I don’t - I don’t really remember the detention, I don’t think. I remember doing homework that was still not done when I got back to my dorm and that’s it. That’s all I remember. I was there over three hours, though, and those three hours are just gone from my head. Is that possible?”

Overwhelmed, Dorcas stammered, “There are a myriad of memory charms, they come on at different strengths, different lengths of time… Depending on how strong the charm is will change how much is forgotten...”

Remus’s voice was decided and firm, “I’ve been imperiused. Gaunt’s imperiused me. I need to go talk to Dumbledore.”