Anonymous: ooc: If you HAD to change your FC, who would you pick?
Oh god that’s difficult, I’ve vaguely thought about it before but I could never find anyone else who really fit with the Fab in my head, not to mention they would have to look like they could be related to Molly (and Gideon but I guess if Fab changed Gid probably would too).
Aidan Turner, Damien Molony or Richard Armitage but they all have the wrong colour hair, though Aiden and Damien would make good brothers or non identical twins.
Not Eddie Redmayne, I don’t know why but I really dislike him as the twins, even though he’s the most widely used fc.
Hmmm, ginger actors… Damien Lewis is a bit older than Fab, maybe Seth Green? Joseph Morgan?
Ben Whishaw has the wrong coloured hair too and Robert Sheehan is too young or he’d be perfect.
Benedict Cumberbatch when he has light brown or gingery hair would have been perfect but he’s already an fc in the rp
David Tennant? Not ginger but can be very bouncy like Fab, has excellent hair and I could use him from Broadchurch for when Fab’s feeling a bit rough after a little too much to drink
Harry Treadaway (kinda cheating and I do prefer Luke but still, if I had to change, who’s to say I couldn’t change to Luke’s identical twin?)
Anonymous: Brother in law's missing, your own sister is in pieces and yet you still continue to sit on your lazy ass and not help anyone. Great brother you are, I'm glad that you're not in my family, I'll tell you that.
Fuck off, Death Eater scum. I haven’t just been sitting on my ass but I’m not stupid enough to run off and get myself killed or captured, which would endanger others who might try to rescue me.
And I’m well aware I’m a shit brother.
You Have What You Need But Not What You Want // Narcissa and Fabian // August 19th 1978
As soon as the excruciating pain ended, Narcissa let the darkness envelop her, letting everything fade away - her humiliation, her pain, her loss, her sadness… everything. For a while she was unaware of what was happening around her, until she felt herself seemingly floating through the air, a steady slight bob and drop. It was comforting, that motion, like something from her childhood. She knew that she should force her eyes open, face the world, but she couldn’t make herself. She wanted to remain ever so clueless of the world around her, much like she was as a child. However, the world did not want her to be. Ever so slightly, she caught snippets of words - she didn’t know from who; she didn’t like what she heard. She could infer from what they were saying what happened, though she didn’t want to believe it.
Six to eight weeks, she caught, poor woman; shame she was so beautiful. she’ll be ruined after this. Voices faded in and out as Narcissa both fell in and out of consciousness and chose to hear or not. She did not want to believe that she had been pregnant, that there had been a child, a life, her child, growing inside of her, and not only had she failed, she failed miserably. She lost all that she and Lucius had ever wanted. Oh yes, they had everything they could possibly need - a house, a loving marriage, money, power… but when it came to the one thing that the both of them wanted more than anything, it couldn’t be done.
Narcissa supposed that it was just not to be, that the gods were set on conspiring against her, making her miserable, making her the less-than-perfect wife. Well, they had won. She was miserable. She wanted to die, she wanted to bleed. She supposed that she deserved the hurt and pain that she felt. It was for her failure. She deserved it.
Moving hurt, feeling hurt, crying hurt. She could do nothing.
Opening her eyes, she found herself in an overly bright St. Mungo’s room. It was a typical hospital room, the smells of various herbs and potions overpowering the place. The air was stale, the blankets scratchy, the mattress seemingly nothing more than a straw pallet. She deserved it. She deserved it all.
There were no people that she wanted to see. As far as she was concerned, she could be left here to rot and she wouldn’t care. She did not want to see anyone. Not Lucius, not Bella, especially not Andromeda or her parents. She was, no doubt, a mess, though there was no mirror to look in. She did not want to know what she looked like. Honestly, she didn’t want to know anything. She wanted to fade into a non-existence, away from the prying eyes of Healers, and their undoubted curiosity in what would make the Malfoy witch so distraught, so hurt, so… normal.
Whatever Narcissa wanted was of no concern to whomever was on staff that night as the door to her room opened, and a Healer walked in. A Healer whose face she hadn’t seen in years but was all too familiar with.
Fabian had lost track of exactly how long he’d been at the hospital; as it so often did, the night shift seemed to blur into one massive string of crises and he couldn’t wait for it to end so he could go home and drink himself to sleep, because otherwise, even exhausted as he was, he would be plagued by nightmares that would prevent him from truly resting.
He was currently hidden outside a side door of the hospital, sneaking a quick fag break while drinking from a steaming mug of coffee, liberally dosed with Firewhiskey from the hipflask that lived in an inside pocket of his robes. Despite his many vices, smoking was not something Fabian made a regular habit of, instead resorting to it from occasionally in times of stress when he was craving something much stronger. He was not quite tired or stressed enough to justify the cigarette by his own personal but the presence of his boss excused him in his own mind. The other man was clearly exhausted having stayed on past the end of his shift and needed the small break while he filled Fabian in on a couple of patients he’d have to check on when the other man left and before the leader of the next shift arrived.
Fab winced as the man detailed the injuries of a young woman who’d been admitted not long ago, evidence of torture and other injuries resulting in the miscarriage of the nearly two month old foetus. She was out of danger now but it was unlikely she would be able to conceive and carry to full term another baby. He couldn’t imagine how devastating that must be. Though he was not a father himself he hoped one day to be so, if he could ever find the right person to settle down with, and the thought of having that choice taken away…
The two men pushed away from the wall where they had been leaning, flicking cigarettes onto the shabby pavement and going back inside. The elder of the two handed his colleague a pile of files as he headed for the main exit and the younger man began his rounds.
Fabian had checked on all the other patients and as he pushed open the door to the last room he was scanning the treatment information, “Good Evening” his eyes flicked to the top of the page “Mrs Mal-“ he froze, eyes rising from the page to look at the ashen figure lying in the bed.
“Cousin Cissy?” his voice was hesitant, as if he did not want to believe his eyes. This wraith of a woman, all colour bleached out of her by the stark white hospital room, could not be his Cousin Cissy. This could not be the little girl who’d laughed so beautifully as he spun her in the air and danced with her at family Balls all those years ago. This could not be the angry young woman who had got drunk with him in the Hog’s Head when she heard that her sister Andromeda had run off to marry the Muggleborn Ted Tonks. This woman was defeated, heartbroken, there was no sign of the proud young woman he had loved like a sister.
He moved closer to the bed, his steps faltering slightly, and dropped heavily into the chair beside it. Slowly, as though afraid she would bolt like a frightened animal, he reached out and clasped her soft small hand within his larger one. It was cold. He looked down at their linked hands and couldn’t help but remember a six-year old Narcissa walking beside him, her tiny hand firmly gripping his own as she lead him around the edge of a ballroom, chattering non-stop about her sisters.
“I’m so sorry.”
I know I jumped to conclusions when I saw you and Alecto together. You say it’s different with her but I just thought I’d warn you, if you hurt her, I will hex you.
Now, I’m done being an annoying ridiculously over-protective interfering guy. Hope you’re well.
Some prompts to send around!
☁ - if you want my muse to write yours a sad letter
❀ - if you want my muse to write yours a grateful letter
☣ - if you want my muse to write yours a warning letter
❦ - if you want my muse to write yours a loving letter
✂ - if you want my muse to write yours an unsent letter