Well, I got caught in the riptidе that follows you
I’d pull my teeth out just cause you asked me to
I can't forgive you no matter what I do
I hate that about me but I know it's true

14th September, 1893 — A shop in Magical London

He hadn’t bothered with the debate, he’d had a business meeting in London instead. (And Veronica’s younger sister had married Mr. Crouch, after all, so Theo’s vote was mostly solidified anyway. No use boring himself any more than necessary.)

So he had stepped out of his meeting and begun a walk towards Gringotts, when –

Well. He’d seen the smoke first, rising from the direction of the river; and then came the cacophony of noise – roars and cracking sounds and buildings tearing down. And then, with a horrible, frozen awe, everyone’s gaze abruptly caught on the creature above. The dragon had dived into the street and chewed a body in half before anyone had understood quite what was happening. And then things only got worse from there – there were screams and cries and a wave of fire rushing through the street.

People had gone in all directions; Theo had gotten barrelled towards a shop door with a couple of other people being pushed out of the way of the dragon’s tail, and when he had looked up and taken stock, someone had barricaded the door behind them. Everyone’s eyes were on the shopfront window with bated breath, just waiting. Maybe it would take off again, and leave this street behind, go rampaging somewhere else. For some reason, no one seemed able to disapparate. So – this was the plan, apparently. Hide and seek.

Theo leant against the back of a display cabinet of quills, trying to ignore the sting of burnt skin on his arm as best he could. It wasn’t too bad. He’d be fine. People were probably worse off here... “Are you alright?”

He had murmured the question in her direction before his eyeline had made it to her face. Ah.

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Adrienne Lestrange/Philomena Sprout

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   Daffodil Grimstone

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She should have felt inclined to go to the debate, but in Adrienne’s mind she didn’t get much of a say in votes so at least the first debate was of little matter to her. Despite this, she’d still gone into London with Olympe, feeling the need to see the city bustling around her as opposed to the small village. Arriving in the city was much the same, and she headed through Diagon Alley first before making her way towards the Crowdy Memorial Library. Feeling uplifted by her new purchases, Adrienne was now grappling with potentially changing her mind about attending the debate. It wouldn’t hurt to peek in for just a little while, would it?

Deciding to turn back around from their position close to the river, Adrienne and her maid began their way towards the debate hall. It was halfway there that the sky was suddenly filled with screams. At first the witch thought nothing of it; there were plenty street performers that sought the crowd’s attention through fear, and she’d already had her fill of those today. The small gasp from Olympe was what caused her head to turn, only milliseconds before she heard the roars from dragons up above. The sky erupted in flames, and Adrienne seized Olympe’s arm to tug her towards shelter. It was only after she heard Olympe’s shout and felt the cold water on her leg that she realized her skirt had caught fire. Quickly dismissing whatever might have happened, Adrienne bustled inside a nearby shop with a crowd of people.

Panting from the quick dash to the store, she joined multiple people in catching their breaths. Her hand found cool glass and she turned to lean her forehead against it, muttering dark oaths in French. She’d been halfway through cursing whomever thought bringing Dragons to London was a good idea when an English-accented voice reached her. She looked up, blinking. “I think so. And yourself?” Except then she shifted her weight to see if the gentleman was alright, only to have her knee practically buckle underneath her. Olympe's gasp drew her attention next, and she grew pale at the sight of her leg through the burnt section of her dress where the flesh was now marred as if it was starting to melt.

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It was only Cash’s goddamn wife. If he had had any doubts of her identity, the muttered French confirmed it – and Theo had done an involuntary survey of the shop’s occupants before he could stop himself, to see if he was here too. Apparently not. Theo didn’t know if that was good news or bad –

But her sudden shift and her companion’s gasp distracted him from those worries. Her dress was tattered in places, but the damage was deeper – had gone right through to her skin. Theo had been clutching unwittingly at just above his own elbow, where the fire had caught him and the burn still stung with heat, but hers was worse.

Theo hissed through his teeth. They’d be lucky to get a mediwitch or wizard out to them in this – they could not be the only people trapped in London because of the dragons – and who knew if this shop had a fireplace anywhere to Floo them to the hospital. Maybe he’d check that, but first...

“Fine,” Theo said thoughtlessly, to her returned question. He reached out to grasp her by the arm, just in case she buckled fully. Her companion could take her by the other, if she was any use. “Can you sit?” She should sit, he thought, so he – so someone – could take a proper look at that burn.

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It was strange how the pain of the injury didn’t fully register until Adrienne took in the severity of it. Before, it could be compared to only a slight burning sensation. But once she’d taken it in? The pain roared up her leg, fierce and intense, and she was glad that the man beside her thought to catch her arm. She leaned into it gratefully, and then realized Olympe had caught her other arm and quickly conjured a stool for her to sit on. She settled willingly, her bewildered gaze volleying between Olympe and the other gentleman who — he looked familiar, didn’t he?

She opened her mouth to voice her thoughts when - now that she was eye-level with it - she caught sight of the man’s upper arm. “You - you’re burned too…” She managed to get out before hissing again; the slightest brush of her skirts against the mottled skin of her leg sent a sensation up her thigh as if someone had decided to use it as a pin-cushion.

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“It’s not as bad as that,” Theo said, brushing off her remark without looking at his arm – he could feel it well enough, a persistent warmth in one particular area above his elbow, like he’d been hit by a stinging hex. Hers was – almost sickening to look at, the skin almost bubbling, and with her dress there who knew how far it went.

He glanced sidelong at the other refugees in the shop, hoping someone looked remotely useful and finding no likely candidates. (One old man on the other side of the cabinets had his head in his hands, slumped on the floor, moaning a little; beside him, a woman and a child, whom she was doing her best to quiet... No one in healer robes or even in Ministry robes, obviously, because what would they have been doing out here?)

This situation was already shit enough, but trying to wrack his brain back to the many hours spent in field medicine training when he’d been on the way to being an Auror had to be a better use of time, Theo decided, than milling around doing his best to ignore everyone or worry about people who weren’t here.

“Can we – try and stop the fabric touching it?” Theo asked – instructed – certain that the first step was getting the tatters of her dress as clear of the burn as possible, before it could begin to be treated. It was easily enough said, but he didn’t know how to actually go about it, by tearing out sections of her dress or helping her get out of it, or if he so much as dared touch her leg without her permission. He glanced up at her and the woman with her, as if to ask, or to see if they had any better ideas.

And, whether he intended to distract her from the horror of it by changing the subject or just meant to assuage his own worries, Theo added: “What were you out doing – was it just you, or did you get split up from someone? Your husband?”

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Well, it was a relief that only one of them was in danger of fainting on the spot. The more Adrienne looked at her wounds, the more her stomach turned, and she absently reached up to grip Olympe’s hand. Her maid squeezed her hand back just as tightly, and she glanced up to see the woman’s face just as pale if not more so than her own. Hearing the man’s suggestion brought her back to the situation and Adrienne inhaled sharply as she shifted her weight again. “That…that might be best,” She said, trying to see if she could at least flex her foot. Despite the skin’s appearance, it felt tight, as if pointing her toe would make the skin tear like a piece of parchment. Dear Merlin was she going to be disfigured for the rest of her life? (Later, she would give herself a thorough admonishment for thinking such a vapid thought when there were likely people dying out on the streets, but in the moment, she felt quite at a loss as to how else to react).

She reached down to try and brush the singed fabric out of the way. The already fragile tendrils of thread fell away like ash to reveal her torn stocking. Adrienne suppressed a sob of shock, clutching at Olympe again. Her modesty was hardly something to worry about but she nonetheless almost reached down to brush her skirts back over the wound. Catching herself, she gathered her stocking and raised it up to reveal more of the wound. “I’m not sure what else to do…” She muttered, her eyes skimming over her leg. The mention of if she was with her husband caused her lip to tremble. She would have liked it if Cash were here. “N-no, I was just with my maid running errands.” She paused momentarily, looking up at the man with watery eyes. “How did you know I was married?” In her panic she’d forgotten it was quite easy to tell given she had a wedding ring on. But he…did seem familiar… “Do…do I know you?”

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At least she had her maid for moral support; Theo saw their hands clenched tight. And at least she was still able to move her leg down to her foot, although he could tell there was discomfort in it – but that was probably a good sign, that the burn hadn’t gone too deep. It looked gruesome, but at least she was talking, and sounded sufficiently distracted – even if Theo privately thought he would rather keep looking at the burn than at her directly.

She didn’t know who he was. That made sense, and was probably for the best, but it stung a little, all the same. “You’re Adrienne Lestrange,” he replied, wry. “I was at your wedding.” (It was not surprising if she hadn’t recollected him from there, if only because he had spent much of the reception hiding outside and breaking down on Greengrass. Possibly not his finest moment.)

“Theodore Gallivan,” he added. Was that enough? Would she know him now? He had to wonder. People who followed quidditch knew his name well enough, so if she knew anything about Cash’s career with the Cannons, she’d have some idea. Or if she and her husband actually talked candidly – over dinner, or whatever married people did – maybe she would be familiar with the people he (once or still) called his friends. Theo almost left it there, just to see, resentfully, if his name sparked any recognition... but the poor girl was in shock and in pain and there were fucking dragons in the street, so maybe that would be unnecessarily petty of him. “The Chudley Cannons.” He didn’t ask her where Cash was (Cash, not interested in politics, but who did work in the Ministry), although he wanted to.

“I know a cooling spell,” he offered, instead. “Can I see if that helps?”

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“Oh!” Adrienne pushed the sound of recognition through her teeth as the slightest bit of movement sent pain radiating up her leg. But before she could respond, he offered a potential solution, and she nodded quickly. “Yes, yes, please do.” She hoped the position she was already in provided the best advantage for him; if she had to move any more she might need Olympe to conjure a kerchief she could muffle her cries of pain with.

She did her best to smile at him. He’d been at their wedding, of course he had. Plenty of people had, but she remembered going through the wedding gifts after with the staff. And besides: “You worked closely with my husband when he was on your team.” She felt a swell of warmth spread through her chest, and she reached out to touch his shoulder. “Of course, I’m so sorry it slipped my mind. Thank you so much for being so accommodating for him.” It had been the plan all along, for Cash to leave the team and work at the Ministry; nonetheless Adrienne knew she had to express a bit of remorse for the trade. Cash was talented, and even if she hadn’t started out a massive fan of Quidditch, she knew giving up being on the team had cost him something; both of them.

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He was halfway to getting his wand back out of his jacket pocket when she reached over and touched his shoulder. Theo tensed – and he had no excuse for this, or for his jaw suddenly clenching, besides maybe surprise – but he froze for a moment unwittingly. There was nothing wrong with anything she had said – she had smiled at him perfectly kindly – but he felt a flash of hot resentment for her anyway.

But that was stupid, none of this was her fault. She was just another pawn in it, probably didn’t even know what she had been getting herself into with the Lestranges. “It was nothing I did,” Theo said, to brush her off (thanking him, in what world? – when he would have never had this way if he could help it; I would have begged him to stay, if I could); but, forcibly, he softened his face until he was smiling back at her. He ought to feel sorry for her, as sorry as he felt for himself.

Her undeserved earnest gratitude didn’t sit comfortably on him, so Theo concentrated on casting the cooling spell, settling his other hand on the non-burned side of her knee to hold her steady. It sent a bluish sheen over the area, the burn rippling underneath like a refracted scene underwater; Theo passed the spell over it a few times – it wouldn’t heal anything, but he hoped it would keep the pain at bay at least until they got out of here. (Who knew when that would be, but...) “How’s that?” he asked, glancing up again.

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Perhaps it was the pain that she was going through, but she could have sworn that the man seemed a bit tense. It was impossible to take her perception any further though, as he continued his administrations and she did her best to stay still so he could work. Looking up, she exchanged glances with Olympe, wondering if her maid was thinking the same thing. What she saw told her they would be having a conversation later that night, at least if Adrienne remembered to bring it up.

Looking down, she watched as he applied a few spells. The cooling sensation stung at first, and Adrienne tried not to flinch too much; only a quiet hiss escaped as she steeled herself. She couldn’t help but be mesmerized by looking at the way the burn reacted to the spell. By the time he had finished, she shifted her leg slightly, gritting her teeth. “It burns still, but considerably less than before,” she commented, directing another grateful smile at him. “Thank you very much Mr. Gallivan. I…I apologize about before, I should have recognized you sooner.”

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The following 1 user Likes Adrienne Lestrange's post:1 user Likes Adrienne Lestrange's post
   Theodore Gallivan

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“That’s good,” Theo acknowledged, only slightly begrudging. “Sorry I can’t do more.” Hopefully they would not be stuck here too much longer, hiding out; once the streets were clear they could get looked at by professional healers.

And he would not have to sit by her or talk to her for much longer. But the burn on his arm was protesting more now that he wasn’t concentrating on hers, so instead he copied the motion of conjuring a stool, this time for himself, and sank onto it, fidgeting with his singed section of sleeve. His burn was a distraction from the conversation; the conversation was a distraction from the burn.

“I didn’t expect you to,” he offered, shaking his head to brush off the apology, as uncomfortable with it as he had been with her gratitude. It was probably for the best that Adrienne Lestrange didn’t know him at all. “There were a lot of people at your wedding,” he admitted. “And – with what it’s like out there today,” Theo added, jerking his head towards the street so as not to mention the word dragons directly, in case anyone had another fit of panic in here, and joked, dryly: “I’d forgive anyone who forgot their own name.”

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“Oh, it’s quite alright, I’m grateful all the same,” She hurried to assure him of his handiwork. Flexing and pointing her foot was painful to say the least, but pain, Adrienne mused, was at least better than not feeling anything at all. She reached down to adjust her skirts in attempt to at least appear modest (though in this chaotic scenario where everyone was at least some shade of disheveled, she wasn’t entirely concerned about whispers about her indecency).

She cast him another grateful smile as he assured her there was little harm done by her lack of recognition. All the same, she felt a prickle of guilt stab at her gut, for reasons she couldn’t explain. She watched him conjure a stool for himself as he fiddled with his own sleeve and she laughed at his joke. “I apologize still, I’m glad that I was able to see friends from Cash’s life at the wedding.” Looking down at his sleeve she pressed her lips together. Perhaps… “I…I know you have no reason to trust my abilities, but I know a spell that might help, if you need. It’s not a cooling spell but it’ll help with the pain that you feel…” She wasn’t sure if she should reach out to touch it, so she paused, her hand in mid air instead.

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He had made up his mind to dislike her purely based on her existence, and Theo wasn’t going to go back on that – but the commitment to it was dampened slightly by her grateful smile. Honestly, she seemed... nice. He resented her still, but regardless – nice. So he could have liked her, in other circumstances; he almost liked her in this one.

He wasn’t sure he could envision her and Cash together, though. (How they got on, what they talked about, what their days – or nights – looked like in the Wellingtonshire house they shared.)

Nor was Theo sure if he ought to trust her offer of a spell in turn. He had at least had training; he didn’t know how many practical spells for pain debutantes were usually taught, nor whether she was any good at magic. He didn’t know anything about her.

But if the dragons outside hadn’t killed him, he supposed Adrienne Lestrange probably wouldn’t either. And – if worst came to worst, she would only give him more reasons to resent her, wouldn’t she? So Theo, after that flicker of hesitation, held his arm out obediently. “Alright,” he said, wryly; and with another dash of masochism, he asked jokingly, to continue their small talk as distraction, “How is married life, anyway?”

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He’d consented; so she nodded and leaned forward to take his arm gently in one hand and her wand in the other. His question gave her pause, only because she hadn’t expected it. “It’s…” she broke to mutter a spell to induce a temporary numbness to the area before reaching towards her maid who had already ripped part of her apron and gave the strip of fabric to Adrienne. “It’s nice.” She said with a smile, and she truly meant it. She had a great amount of affection towards her husband, and they got on quite well; truly the more challenging part of it was learning how to run the household, which she relayed to Mr. Gallivan. “We have quite a bit in common, though…” She paused again, knowing this was likely not something she was supposed to share with outsiders. She rolled the rest of her sentence over her tongue a few times before coming to a variation she liked. “I know he misses Quidditch.”

She quickly checked to see how Mr. Gallivan was doing before muttering a scourgify spell on the cloth and placing it gently over the length of the burn and then muttering a binding spell to hold the fabric together. “It’s not much, but it’ll help keep the area clean, and the healers should be able to do the rest.”

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Nice. Theo wondered if the numbness he felt was from the part of his arm she’d cast on, or just from the word. Either way, it got worse at he misses Quidditch. He winced. (Not as much as Theo missed him.)

She sounded candid to him as she spoke, which made it feel as though she was content enough in her marriage. It was sobering to him, but probably for the best for their sanity. “What sort of things do you have in common?” Theo asked carefully, looking down at her handiwork to prevent himself from sounding too earnestly interested. She – hadn’t done a half bad job, actually. His tone and his expression turned surprised. “And where did you learn this?” First aid did not seem in the typical debutante’s skillset.

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Adrienne might have been too busy worrying that she’d correctly dressed his wound to notice any reaction, however she tilted her head up at the last second and caught his wince. Her own expression crumpled sympathetically as she looked back down at the dressing; was prepared to hover over it a bit more, perhaps fix whatever had pained him, but he asked her more questions instead. “Reading and chess,” She replied, still eyeing her handiwork. “I’m quite competitive when it comes to the latter, and my brother gets tired of being beat all the time.” She let out a conspiratorial laugh. “Though I suspect he lets me win some times because he either doesn’t know how to play better than I or doesn’t want to; so he relents to shorten our matches.”

Her second answer saw her sober considerably as she weighed how much to tell him. In the end, she thought it would be best to pull back. After all, she wasn’t sure how close Mr. Gallivan and her husband had been, and she didn’t want to cross any boundaries. “I interned with a midwife and healers for a summer or two.” She decided upon. “Along with it, I learned a few useful, universal spells which have come in handy from time to time.”

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