human, human of the year, ( f r a n k -- l o n g b o t t o m )

[alice o. meadowes]

Now, it wasn't as if Alice had been exactly... subtle when it came to planning of this little event, and yet, it seemed she had successfully kept her intentions to herself. Of course, there was always the possibility that Frank had just played along to let her believe that she wasn't really as obvious as she thought was, or there was even the likelihood that Frank had such little regard for his birthday that he couldn't even imagine what day in October she was referencing, two weeks in advance. However, as the date drew closer, and Alice all too casually specified that the day she wanted was, in fact, Thursday, October 27, she had very little hope that she would still surprise him.
It was difficult for Alice to imagine not making a big deal out of a birthday, and Alice supposed that any twin would agree. Her birthday was more than just a celebration of her, but it was the official day in the year where she could thank whatever kind and gracious forces out there had blessed her with Cassie. She really couldn't expect anyone but a twin to quite understand that feeling. But, maybe, that was only her. It also helped that back in the day when Christine Meadowes still dictated how, exactly, birthdays were supposed to be celebrated, it was never a small affair, regardless of how much money they actually had to spare on such an event at the given time.
... It was still, and always had been, basically, a celebration of Cassie, and Alice was not even a tad bitter about it.

It was Sirius's birthday, too, which pretty much guaranteed one of Gryffindor's biggest parties of the year which would, she predicted, be followed up with the boys pulling an all-nighter to conclude the celebration. The convenience that such a party provided was almost too perfect not to take advantage of: Alice would not be expected to make an appearance at Sirius birthday bash, and Frank would have been kicked out of the dormitory for the after party, anyways. And that, she decided, was her birthday gift to Mr. Black: clearing the boys dormitory. Not only would the group of four appreciate it, but they would probably be too hammered by the time they stumbled up there to realize that it had been done for them, and, thus, they would not have to wonder where Frank had gotten off to.

Cass and Lily, she supposed, would take part in the night's festivities. They were likely to go, fully intending to... "turn the tease on." Alice had never been a part of that, nor would she ever be a part of it. The dynamics of the little trio made it easy enough for the other two not to question Alice at all. However, she supposed, it would be questioned why she was sneaking a birthday cake right past of the birthday party, and, already having considered this, she had placed the cake in the boathouse earlier that evening, along with a bottle of butterbeer, mugs, blankets, little jars with the Incendio charm, and his gift, which was really nothing special and just as much for herself as it was for him. The little package included a deep purple sweater, a pair--his first pair, rather--of jeans, and enough Drooble's to supply him and his particular habit for two months, and their combined fondness for the stuff for one month, if he chose to share. She was the worst gift-buyer, but she supposed, at least, that she had been practical and that such items would, at least, get used.

So, Alice made her escape as successfully as she thought she would, and she cautiously left the castle and crossed the grounds without detection. She slid the door open easily, already having struggled with it enough earlier to make this part bearable. She'd worn a heavy cloak and her little maroon-colored knit cap that she'd been fond of this season, considering the hour, the weather and how unpredictable it could be. She had told him midnight, but had arrived ten minutes to the hour for what little additional preparation was necessary. Instead, she just found herself rearranging things that didn't really need moved. She lit birthday candles, poured glasses and finally, she stepped back, looking somewhat distressed at all of her efforts--not worried if they would be too much, but, rather if he'd think they were enough.

[frank w. longbottom]

Frank was glad to get out of the common room and away from the not so subtle hints that something worth happening was about to going on. He was so glad to be away from it, that he’d left it in the dark hours of the morning, before his roommates had even lifted their heads from the pillow and began their “What are we going to do tonight” routine. He’d dressed in the dark, without even the flickering light of his wand to guide his hand, which is why his socks were slightly different shades of black and he’d gone through half of the morning with this tie on backwards. He’d then done his best to avoid everyone, playing the schoolwork card, so that people could discuss the plans for Sirius’s bash without having to worry about awkwardly jamming an “and Frank too” at the bottom of the cake at the last minutes.

He wasn’t entirely sure what the motivations for his withdrawal were, or if they were as generous as he liked to think they were. Yes, there was the distinct possibility that he was an altruistic and generous soul who was giving Sirius the chance to throw his own birthday party without forcing him to share the attention with some random person who had the bad fortune to be born the same day. That was not likely though, as much as Frank liked to pretend that it was. The truth was, that he avoided the party for the same reason that Sirius pretended not to care about the pile of presents at the end of Frank’s bed. It was a protective measure designed to keep anyone from seeing how hurt he really was at being left out... with the added bonus of making people feel utterly guilty when the remembered that they had completely forgotten his birthday in the excitement of Sirius. Frank’s birthday usually was terrible, but he certainly made out in pity-presents about two days afterwards.

He left the castle, turning up the collar of his heavy wool coat to protect the back of his neck from the Scottish wind. He had grabbed his scarf and hat on the way out, both of which were the same scarlet-gold as his tie, but he’d lost the gloves at some point early and so was forced to jam his hands deep into the silk lines of his pockets in search of warmth. The weather had already started to turn to winter, and the crispness of his breath told him that snow would not be far behind and Quiddich practices were about to get a whole lot more brutal. He had to force himself to slow his gait to a rambling walk, so as to give Alice proper time to fuss and primp whatever surprise she had laying in weight. It was a surprise too, for Frank had worked very hard at not learning anything about the evening... he’d ignored several obvious hints, absorbed himself so completely in his Transfigurations homework that he’d been utterly oblivious to the heavy bag of goods she’d carried through the common room, and practically run down the hallway so as not to see her smuggling a cake out of the common room. He was completely ignorant of anything she had planned, and secertly proud of the lengths he’d gone to in order to keep it that way.

Getting to the boathouse by 12:00midnight had involved him traveling with small measured steps, at a speed so low that anyone watching would have thought him confuddled. He’d even had to stop and spent a short amount of time retying the knots on his shoe and studying a rather ordinary pinecone he’d noticed while he was down there. When he got to the boat house he’d taken his time pondering whether or not to knock or open the door, so as to let the last minute tick past on his watch... so that when he’d push open the door it was exactly 12-midnight on the dot and not a single second earlier.

“Alice love, are you in here?” He’d said as he came him, feeling the heat of the room hit his face and realizing how stunningly cold he was. “It’s freezing out there, can I come in?

[alice o. meadowes]

She stared at the arrangement, finding that she was not unimpressed by her designing skills. Everything looked fine, yes, but it didn’t feel right. She turned toward the school, as if she could see through the boathouse’s walls and see right into the Gryffindor Common Room. What was even easier to convince herself was that she could hear them all shouting, hooting, and high-fiving and whatever else they were possibly doing, and that’s when she pinpointed it: All of those people up there should have been down here, for him. And, in the moment she realized this, she realized that the gift she had given him was not so bad, as there was more to it than even she could see until now. Alice had, quite frankly, chosen him over them--all of them. Lily was up there and so was Cassie. This was was not the first time she had done this either, she realized. In keeping him--them--secret, she chose to protect him and to give them all of the time in the world. She had chose his comfort over Cassie’s security, and maybe it wasn’t right and maybe that wouldn’t be okay, but she had done it, hadn’t she?

The only thing, it seemed, that could tear her eyes from the imaginary x-ray windows was Frank’s voice itself. Her head snapped back toward the door, and she nodded, before shaking her head and realizing he couldn’t hear her nodding. “I’m in here,” she responded, her eyes quickly running over her display once more. “Yes, please do,” she added. She had hardly noticed the cold walking over, although by the looks of things, he probably should have thought she was freezing. However, it seemed as if the cold blood that ran through Christine Meadowes manifested itself in a much more practical way in both her daughters. Alice had always loved the cold. She loved when the snow finally fell, was one of the select few who preferred a cold rain over a hot one, and found that gloves were, on most occasions, an unnecessary hassle even in the harshest weather. She embraced the cold, even if it wrapped its arms a little more tightly and unforgivingly around her tiny frame.

She waited until he stepped a distance in side before rushing to close the door behind him. If she forced herself to think about it, she might admit that the cold was trying to creep into the cozy nook she had created. She supposed, if she was going to be in any shelter at all, it should be doing its job. Giving the door a nudge, she flitted back around to Frank’s front, taking a breath that laved her features in the first smile of the night. “Happy birthday, Frank,” she said, the soft smile still on her face. It took everything in her not to ask if this was enough, because she knew if she prompted the thought, it would give him the opportunity he needed to find her tiny, tiny event's shortcomings. She also avoided what seemed like the obvious question to ask one on his birthday: How was your day?
She decided, while skillfully avoiding the questions she decided to herself that it did not matter how his day had been, because he was here, now, and it would be her honor to make up for whatever the day had lacked in terms of... everything.

"Cake?" she offered, before waiting for a response. She checked each candle before beckoning him over, having to relight only two of them. "I'd like to sing to you, if you don't mind," Alice said, setting down her wand. She could feel herself blush as she considered offering him her voice, the most embarrassed she'd been yet, shaking her head, she reconsidered before the first note passed her lips. It was sort of Alice's secret fancy, singing was--well, quite literally, that was Frank--and while she liked to think she could match pitch and sound pretty decent, she hadn't given anyone the opportunity to be the judge of it.
It seemed as if she couldn't focus from one task to the next, only slightly frantic to have everything perfectly in place. Now that he was finally here, her efforts seemed so small in effect to what he deserved. Her fingers danced anxiously over the table, pouring mugs of butterbeer and offering one to Frank. Would he sense her unease? Dropping eyes, and biting her lip, she finally blurted: "Sorry," her mouth twisted the way it was known to do. "I wanted this to be better for you." And that was the truth. He deserved all of the fanfare that Sirius was getting.

[frank w. longbottom]

Alice seemed conflicted, and as Frank stood there watching her flitter around the room lighting candles, fetching drinks, straightening table clothes. The space was... for lack of a better word, it was adorable. She had brought down blankets and pillows and decorations to create a comfortable little nest of space, with a cafe and drinks and presents. There was a sort of home-made sweetness to the small tableau, watching her busying herself over lighting candles on his homemade private party, that made him smile... and more fond of this single event then any of the grand dramatic parties his mother had forced upon him. But that, seemingly, was not enough for Alice who seemed to suffer from an internal thought process that he was not privy too, for she swallowed by the song without singing it and focused her attentions so fully on the butterbeer that it seemed to be taking all her attention.

He wondered, for a second, if she was longing to be upstairs at the large gathering and regretting pulling away from her sister and Lily for the private affair. Their was a bond between the twins and Lily, one that Frank and spent much time observing over the last seven years, particularly of late when he was trying to figure out how to continue this relationship without physical injury. He didn’t doubt that Alice preferred his company to Sirius’s and would be far more inclined to celebrate his birthday then the other, but it wasn’t so sure how his company compared to the other girls. He know that he’d win Alice’s heart over every other hurdle, but he had no idea how he stacked up to Dorcas. Then she looked down, practically ready to burst into tears, and revealed that her inner worry had nothing to do with Cas, and everything to do with her concern for his own happiness. It was such a shock that Frank had to struggle to keep form laughing, letting out a muffled chuck that he hoped wasn’t patronizing.

”Alice,” he said fondly, transferring the butterbeer from her hand to the table and pulling her close so he could hug her. She was such a hug-able little thing, that it sometimes took all of his will-power not to hug her in public when they were seated in the common room or dining hall or potions class, with all manner of eyes on them. He didn’t get to hug her often enough (in his opinion), and so as always he found himself marveling at how tiny she actually was... for her personality was such that he often found himself adding inches and pounds onto her to measure up. “This is “better”. You’re my better. You could have dragged me down her to study new techniques in the cultivation habits in non-irrigating black screamer bean-mandrake root hybrid model plant type...” he’d started out with a good boring herbology topic, but it had some how lost itself and twisted in to utter nonsense so he was just spitting out plant terms he barely understood. Not wanting to lose his point, he finished with: “ herbology nonsense and it still would have been the best birthday in my life. You’re what I want for my birthday... you and me, and that fabulous looking cake over there which you ingeniously smuggled out of the castle without Peter’s finger prints on it, and what looks to be a very comfortable pile of pillows, and the promise that at some point you’re going to sing while I stare at you in an uncomfortable way because your sister isn’t around to clobber me if she catches me looking at you.”

He was being just a little bit silly, because it was easy to be silly with Alice. She made him feel comfortable and settled and whole, without any insecurity or resentment or envy or concern. He felt like himself when he was with her, like more of himself then he’d ever been in his life... like he was all of those things he felt like being that no one ever noticed.

“Come on, smile for me?” He coaxed, lessening the grip on his hug a little. “I’ll trade you my last piece of gum for a smile... and it’s game day tomorrow so you know that’s a rather large bribe I'm giving you.”

[alice o. meadowes]

He laughed at her. A strange laughed that seemed stifled as an after thought, and he said her name. She just shook her head without looking up at him, a single tear dropping from her eyes. She was upset that he had laughed and even more upset that she had become upset. If she’d been thinking at all, should would have realized how unwise it was to start tearing up when she’d already ruined things, because that would simply push things over the edge. She was being overemotional. She should have just played it cool. She should have just let herself believe that this was everything that it should be, and that Frank would see it that way, too, but that wasn’t easy for Alice. When she believed that you—when she believed that anyone deserved something, she was sure to see it through.
He was not the one she wanted to fail.

But he hugged her. He emptied her hands, and hugged her, and she tried to take a deep breath of air only to find that she was filled with scent of him and that was enough, just like he tried to tell her this was enough. She smiled into his chest, reaching up to cup his cheek in her hand before he got carried away in the mess of a thought he was trying to convey before she interrupted: “You’re too good to me,” And I don’t deserve that. She simply shook her head, this time in amazement as she marveled at the fact that he could be so… good. He was wholly good, and she couldn’t understand it even if she appreciated it. Quite simply, it was one of her favorite things about him, and why shouldn’t it be? She laughed this time, still tucked securely into his embrace. It was where she preferred to be, anyways.

“You give me no credit,” Alice said, her tone full of false-defensiveness. “I would never let her clobber you,” she responded simply, turning around in his arms so that her back rested against his chest, and before he could see the grimace on her face. Her eyes immediately fell on the cake and she planned to beeline it to the cake as soon as he let her loose. Certainly, enough had transpired this week, to the degree that it was unfair of her not to tell him, but also to the point where there had to be better timing this. Frank should know that Mary had found their “dirty” letters—even if they were written jest—just as he should know that Charlie had kissed her, and that two of them both, now, were included in the tiny secret-protecting ring that they had managed to create; the very ring that Alice insisted they erect for their own sanity, even if she did it more for Frank’s protection than most anything, but how do you tell that to a boy? It wasn’t as if he didn’t know. Cassie had kept an eye on him since ever since he had started “sniffing around.” It was time for Cassie to know, but it went a little beyond their control now.
… Merlin, it was quite a lot information, and the way she figured, it could wait until tomorrow as long as she told him!

Stepping away from his grip, she spun around to face him again, composed enough to cock her head offer the cheesiest smile she could muster. “Is that good?” she teased, heading toward the tiny table just after assuring him that she would not be needing his last piece of gum. “Hang onto it, you’ll need it more than I will,” she said, grinning, as she sliced the first piece of cake. Placing it on a plate and gesturing with a grand flourish to the pile of pillows she had arranged. It was her most polite indication that he should sit down and that she would hand him his food and drink because she did not trust him to lower himself into the pillows without spilling the liquid all over himself. In his defense, he had quite a long ways from the ground. After settling him in, Alice skipped over to the table and snagged the gift bag and her own liquid before popping down gracefully on the pillows next to him. “Here!” she said with a bright smile, pushing the bag toward him, figuring, may as well get this part of the way now. He had lightened her step again, the heaviness that had crept into her demeanor immediately washed away, and even though she’d been thinking about it a lot lately, she couldn’t help but let herself think that, yes, she had, in fact, made the right decision in keeping him from Cassie.

[frank w. longbottom]

Alice refused his gum bribe, stating that he was more likely to need it then she did. With nothing more to go on then that, Frank was free to interpret her words how he will. “Oh I will will I?” he said with a laugh, reaching out to take the sliced cake from her hand. She refused it and pointed at their seat, obviously under the impression that he was incapable of sitting and holding food at the same time. She was probably right, as he’d already up-tipped a mug of coffee on himself that day, although in his defense he had meant to hand it to her but been so scared off by her sister’s glare that he’d found pouring the burning liquid on himself to be the better choice. He’d changed his clothes though, before coming down here, and so there wasn’t a stain or spot on his entire outfit... other the the small dampness on the hem of his pants from the walk over.

He settled awkwardly onto the ground, carefully rearranging the pillows in a way that took his long limbs and bruised ribs into account. He never felt quite at ease on the floor, as there were far more ways to bend and twist your legs and he could never settle on which made him look the least like an idiot. The process was complicated by the enormous number of pillows, and the fact that the act of sitting made his bruised body scream in protest. He did his best to keep the pain and the awkwardness from Alice, delighted in seeing the light grinning ease back on her face and not wanting to spoil it by complaining about minor details. After all, once she was sitting here with him, with his arm tucked around her and her head on his shoulder, all pain and awkwardness would fade away... and he kept that in mind as he sat on the blanket, ignoring the pain in his ribs, and pulling a small stuffed pillow out from under his right leg and tossing it aside. He then did his best to look settled in hopes that she would join him, but his efforts were reward not with her, but with a cup and plate. He took them both, carefully balancing them in his hands in a way designed not to tip them over... only to be rewarded by her, and a bag of gifts... proving what he’d always thought in that he was born several hands too short.

“Alright, how are we going to do this....” he asked, letting her in on his little dilemma. He looked over at her, then at the cake in his right hand and the drink in his left hand, and then at the gift bag on the floor. He gave his best “thinking it over” expression, even though he’d always known what he was going to do. He set the drink down on the ground, giving it about two feet of space so as not to accidentally kick it over, and handed her the plate of cake to hold while he took care of the importance things first. Once his hands were free, his slid his arm around her and tugged her over so she was sitting closer to him, with his arm draped around her in the way he always wanted it to be in class or study groups. He was then free to pick the drink back up, before he had occasion to kick it over “That’s better.... it doesn’t get your present open, but I’m afraid I’ll spill the drink and step in the cake if I put it down for too long... so let’s just sit here and have a drink, and you can feed me cake and tell me about your day... then we'll get to your present and the bit where I get to stare at you uncomfortably.”

[alice o. meadowes]

In response, she nodded solemnly expressing her pity with her eyebrows knitting together and her bottom lip sticking out a bit, a seamless slip into the theatrics she often picked up when she had the chance. It was possibly one of the best indicators that Alice was even a tiny bit comfortable with a person. If she could adopt a foreign persona without raising question of her person, then she trusted that the person she was with. If that person did not lose her behind the adopted persona, the identity of her twinhood, or the position she filled in the well-known Gryffindor Girls’ trio, then she trusted them, and why should she? That person knew her, and they knew her for her, not her associations; that person saw her in a way that she had always struggled to see herself, because as far as she was concerned in figuring, she and Cassie were a unit, even if she knew it shouldn’t be that way—couldn’t be that way, not forever.

Her eyes analyzed the given situation quickly, finding the best solution was for each to set down his or her own drink, for Alice to take either his treat or refreshment, and to slide the gift over to him with the free hand. Always the problem solver and an even quicker thinker, she began from the top of her solution’s tasks. “Well, if you—” she began, finding that he was already thinking her exact thoughts, setting down his drink and handing her his cake. Just as she leaned forward enough to reach his gift, she found his arm around her and directing her exactly where he wanted her. “Oh,” she said, her voice holding a slight tentativeness resonating in her voice as she nestled in, placing her side against his. Crossing her ankles, she settled in closer, filling what little space there was left to fill between them. “I see what you did there,” she said, her voice raising a bit with enlightenment and the playful shaking of her index finger.

“Then this,” Alice said, briefly setting down his cake to exchange for her own drink, “is a toast to you,” she said simply, raising her mug for his to meet hers. She took a sip before raising the glass again. “And this? This is a toast to us.” She repeated her last motion, before setting down her drink again. “And now, King Frank,” she said, rolling to position herself adjacent to all of his limbs but close enough to feed him, as per his demand, “feast not upon my image, but upon this cake that I so deftly snuck out of the castle.” She offered the tiny presentation to him balanced precariously on the fork. He would find a way to be absolutely darling but make things a little more difficult. Loading the fork again, and then considering, she saved the next bite for herself.

“My day?” she questioned, shaking her head. “I fear that I must answer this question despite my being a simple pawn in the day of the most honorable sir I do know, but as it is his request, I shall deign to answer,” she said in conclusion to her prelude. Overall, he could probably guess the events of her day with a glance about this room and even assume the nature in which she had performed these tasks. Secrecy had been the key in avoiding the scrutiny and questions of their nosy house members. So, she supposed, since he was asking and seemed to be looking for a story, why not begin with the new she thought could wait? “Why don’t we… start with Tuesday?” taking a deep breath, she began to speak very quickly, knowing exactly where she was directing the conversation. “I was in the Greenhouses tutoring Charlie, you know, because that’s the schedule,” she said, the false formalities slipping from her tone as she found herself again. “And, er, that was… eventful,” she said, her eyebrows knitting together. “Frank… he kissed me. It was very weird. And then Mary found our letters… you know, the ones. And, well, I thought you should know all of this before either of them corner you uncomfortably. ” Taking a deep breath as if somehow winded, she peered at him awkwardly, giving him time to… process. She figured he might like the moment. “…Happy birthday, love,” she said, smiling sheepishly. She didn’t take back telling him now, she figured, the sooner the better and that she’d rather avoid this situation spiraling out of control like the secrecy of their dating had—may as well just keep all cards on the table at all time.
… But she really hoped this wouldn’t give Frank reasoning to just come out with the relationship just yet. There was still time for that part, and they would deal with little kinks of this nature as they came up, right? Right.

[frank w. longbottom]

Frank was not normally a big fan of toasts. The versions he was used to hearing were long-winded, rambling things with flowery praise, barbed insults, and hidden meaning... the type that said one thing to one group of people and something completely different to another group of people. But there was no hidden sub-context in Alice’s speech, no extended flowery ramble. It was sweet and simple, honest and direct in her point, and enough to put a smile on his face... which is the same way he’d describe her if asked. That was one of the (many) things he liked about Alice: the congruency between who she was and how she acted. He smile and drank at his drink, wondering if there was a way to toast her back that would touch her heart as much as her had touched his... but then she was waving a forkful of cake in his face and he decided that his enjoyment of her party would probably do more for her heart then any flowery praise. There would be time for thank yous and praise and such later on, but for now there was only his girl, her cake, and the story she was about to tell him about Tuesday...

Frank wasn’t sure what he expected when she asked her about her day... some story about how she managed to get hold of a cake from the dining room or had to find an excuse to ask Remus to teach her how to transform dust into to pillows or how she’d nearly been caught by Cas when his present had arrived at lunch. He knew her, and Hogwarts, to know that there were a dozen little funny stories that had preluded this party... and asking her about them was just a way of getting her to talk so he could stare at her and smile. He did not, expect her to jump into a set of problems caused by the secrecy of our relationship and he could feel the smile slipping off his face as she talked, his mouth settling back into contemplative seriousness that way it usually was... he had to mentally remind himself to soften expression so Alice didn’t pull back or get the wrong idea.

“Well then, okay.” Frank adjusted his position as if a more comfortable seat would turn the conversation back along more comfortable lines. In the process, he spilled a few his butterbeer, creating a hot off-color stain on the fabric of his trousers, slightly smaller then the palm of his hand. In another mindset he would have magically pulled the liquid out and gone on with his day... but his mind was on Alice’s “confessions” and so he didn’t necessarily make the best choices. He just set the liquid back down in it’s precarious position on the floor where he would probably eventually kick it over, and started plotting the stain with the sleeve of his sweater... which was soon just as off-color and stained as the trousers. “I thought Charlie was avoiding me lately... couldn’t figure out what I’d done.” He kept his eyes on his pants, not because he was avoiding eye contact with her but because he’d only just remembered his want... which was in the process of pulling out of his pocket so he could siphon off the bulk of the stain. Silently of course, for Frank had refused to cast a verbal spell since he’d picked up the art of non-verbal-spells... one of the reasons why he’d gotten so good at it. “Mary, sadly, is not... we had an awkward conversation in the empty classroom on the fourth.” With the offending liquid mostly gone, leaving only a hint of color on his leg and on his sleeve, he was able to turn towards Alice and ask her a smile and a “So what. There are now five people who know that we’re the luckiest people in the world instead of just two. That's okay, isn't it?”

[alice o. meadowes]

Well then, okay. She watched him reposition himself as he spilled butterbeer on himself and obviously did some quick considering of everything she'd just told him. She was wrong. All of this? It should not have happened. None of it. She should not be sitting here with this off expression, he should not be sitting there thinking that, for all of their happiness, Alice was the most complicating and irritating factor to all of... this.
But it was her fault, and he was entitled to these thoughts. On the obvious side of things, the decision for their secrecy had been for his safety and comfort. It was clearly providing none of these things. There was so no security in some other bloke, a friend, even, kissing your girlfriend. There was no security in sneaking, in whispering, and in hiding. When had her ego become so inflated that she could defend that she was worth all of this trouble? On the less obvious side of things (depending on who you asked), here was avoiding the pain that this revelation would cause Cass, but at this rate, there was no avoiding it. It wasn't as if Alice had devised a plan to slowly integrate their relationship into everyone's everyday lives, she had simply agreed to keep a secret that hurt everyone even remotely involved.

She dropped her eyes, as she listened, only shaking her head briefly at what he spoke of Charlie. There was yet another she could add to her grow list of pain-inflicted. Alice could only imagine that Charlie's avoidance of his friend went beyond the fact that he had even kissed her, but now that he had discretely revealed that maybe he had some of his own... soul searching to do, he had traded Frank's company to do at least some of that.
Or maybe it was just her and her lies coming full circle to hurt Frank in more ways than one she thought she had prepared for.

Ah, and now Mary was harassing him, and even if her terminology was extreme, she would stick with it and just how it made her feel because, in her mind, she had so much to atone for. She could even find fault in the fact that she hadn't been wise enough to not only beg for Mary's silence when it came to Cassie, but to beg for Mary's silence in general. With Mary, such a request should have been a given, yet she had become so flustered and over-emotional in the presence of someone who had not been cleared on the very, very slim list of who could even know that Alice was a girl who feels at all. She had done everything wrong. There was really no way around it.

Her eyes flickered up at him before she couldrealize that her complete and utter shock had to be the most readable thing in her eye when she meant for them to reflect all of her gratitude. He was unbelievable, as in she simply could not fathom his existence--that he was born of some divine Goddess who sent him to this earth exist while simultaneously putting her in constant awe. In fact, he didn't even need to be born outside of this earth, no, but this was still the work of a goddess that brought them together. In all of her imperfections and stupidity, the Goddess from above had granted her him. She nodded, speechless. "That's just fine," she responded, her tone airy, reflecting some of the awe she was fighting desperately to hide. "Perfectly fine," she laughed once--the sort of laugh that came out more as a puff of air from the nose and sort of forced the head to shake a little bit, the sort of laugh that simple embodied incredulity. For the first time, though, as she sat their studying his increasingly ethereal features, she thought to ask: "What do you want to do?" It was a very serious question that required a very serious answer. In this pair, she could not make all of the decisions; that would never work. Even if she had ever considered, she was willing to move from here as he chose, trusting that he must know better than she knew as her directing had resulted, ultimately, in failure. All she needed to know was that he was ready to tell the world--or simply tell Hogwarts, as it was much the same--and they would agree to a date (because simply could not throw everything she knew to the wind), and it would be done.

Measuring another bite with the fork, she hoped to pick up right where they had left off. She was glad to have said it now because this was the kind of conversation that you could only head up from, rather than starting it out of no where and plateauing (or plummeting) into social failure. "May I resume?" she asked quietly, unwilling to move any closer until she was absolutely sure that, well, he was okay--that this was okay.

[frank w. longbottom]

“What do I want to do?” Frank repeated the question as if he didn’t clearly understand it, hesitating around each word as if trying them out for the first time. It was a nonsensical statement. What did he want to do? This. This was what he wanted to do... reclining on pillows eating cake with Alice. That was what he wanted to do. Later, he’d want to return to the dorm room with Alice, to survey the damage caused by Sirius’s birthday party and to make very loud noises very early in the morning. He also wanted to do his herbology homework with Alice, as he’d gotten twelve questions wrong on the previous day’s ten-question quiz. He also wanted to talk with Alice about his mother’s upcoming birthday, so as to get help navigating the dangerous mind-field of birthday presence. Eventually he wanted to talk her into spending the holidays at his house so he could have Christmas with Alice, and with his parents who should probably find out about her sometime. What did he want to do? He wanted to do whatever he had to do and whatever came up for him to do... just with Alice. That was it. He didn’t care if it was sitting around studying potion antidotes or decorating his family christmas tree or cuddling in the boathouse with cake or having children or playing qudditch or taming dragons or buying a house or whatever whenever anyever... he just wanted it to be with Alice. She never saw how easy it was for her to please him though, just by being present.

“I want to.... I want to do life” He said by way of answer, knowing that it wasn’t what she was looking for. She wanted him to call her out, give her clear cut instructions on what to do. But Frank wouldn’t. There were too many people in Alice’s life telling her what to do and who to be and what she could or couldn’t do... he didn’t need to add his needs and expectations and whims on top of that. This needs and wants were simply. Probably great and demanding, but simple. “That’s all. I just want to do life... but with you. Because life’s better with you.” And then, on the chance that it might make her smile, he added a “It’s also better with cake....” He opened his mouth expectantly, hoping she’d smile at that and offer him another bight. He didn’t want the second bite as much as he wanted her smile... but eating cake was a small sacrifice he’d be willing to make.

[alice o. meadowes]

She nodded quietly, patiently, but eagerly. The way he rephrased the question, testing out every word as if the concept was so foreign to him, Alice was sure she had made the right decision by not making the decision. How long had she just been tugging him around, the reins firmly in her grasp without blinking an eye? She wasn't entirely sure, but she knew that it was her nature and it needed to be considered and controlled, possibly in every facet of her life, but that would not be an easy admission.

And when Frank finally responded, she just stared at him, puzzled, because she wasn't sure she understood, but when he continued to explain, she just stared, the confusion melting away. Now, she stared at him because he was so impossible to... believe. His existence and his... nature was questionable, not because it was wrong, but because it was so right. It wasn't that she couldn't see what he was doing. She could, almost, or she would like to think that she could because the truth is, Alice seized every opportunity to take action when it was given to her. Cassie and Lily were the same way, hell, so was Christine Meadowes. It was all she'd ever really known and most of what she had ever seen. Frank's tendencies, however, aligned (and Alice almost had to grimace when she thought it) more closely with her father's, but not for the same reasons.
Possibly, for all of the right reasons.
...Surely for all of the right reasons because when had he ever been wrong?

Her mouth had popped open for a second before the corner of her mouth twitched its way into a half smile that quickly shaped the rest of her mouth into a smile she couldn't suppress. With me, she thought, realizing for the first time "with you" sounded a lot sweeter coming out his mouth and when it was meant for her. She was, ultimately, surprised by his words, half because he hadn't answered her question and had so slyly gotten away with it and half because he had seemed so sincere. "Well, then, I guess you're awfully lucky that I actually like you," she responded, her face inching close to his with every word, until she remembered the cake that had so precariously continued to balance on the fork in her hand. Close enough that he could only see the flicker in expression from in her eyes, she popped back on her heels, repositioned the fork and her other hand to make a makeshift plate underneath it for him. "And that cake is so good," she added grinning (just as slyly as she was sure he felt), and offering him the bite.