Recent Posts

No stranger to a club, once upon a time Dorian would have leapt at the chance to take a pretty young witch out dancing for an evening, but never once did Dorian think of Dorcas like that and apart from uncover operations, he hadn’t been in a nightclub since Dorcas was still in the training program, back before he really ever knew her even as a work colleague. She, along with a good majority of the younger agents and officers, probably thought of Dorian as always being a bit uptight, even as a child. He once overheard a junior agent complaining to a mate in the break room that Dorian probably fell on a broomstick as a toddler and never got around to removing it from his bum. A younger Dorian might have been offended by such a comment, and an even younger one could have found it amusing, but there had been far too much life lived in the seven years since his parents’ kidnappings for Dorian to be bothered by such remarks. If anything, it propelled him into his own little world even further, a world he was slowly emerging from with Paris’ and Rivers’ assistance, but without them here it was all too easy o revert back to his isolated ways. His gorgeous baby niece Ariel only provided an additional excuse as to why he was refusing invitations to socialize, but Ariel wasn’t here tonight. Still, he did not fancy running amok with Dorcas all over London. He would much rather her have left him alone and she seemed too determined to take the hint now.

Wine poured into his glass as Dorian filled it nearly to the rim, a few splashes spilling out onto the counter which he didn’t notice as he stared at Dorcas. He wanted to ask her directly to leave but if his mum ever witnessed him being so rude to someone who was clearly trying to be a good friend, she would have given him a talking to and left Dorian feeling ashamed of himself. His mum was, of course, no where around but she was always with him and frequently thought about whether or not she would be proud of him and he behaved. As it often did, thinking of his mum triggers a subconscious action and as Dorian lifted his very fully wine glass to his lips, his free hand begun to spin the wedding ring on his right ring finger. It was his father’s wedding ring, his mother’s was hidden away in a safe. He had once thought he would be giving that ring to Paris one day but that wouldn’t be happening now. The full circle of thoughts only caused Dorian to take another drink, shake his head to Dorcas’ asinine suggestion of going out, and then take another drink. Certain she still wouldn’t take the hint, he said, “I’m sure you’ve better options for dance partners than me.”

There were no plans for the evening beyond this. Dorian had not been expecting to be baby-free tonight and while he was grateful to Emily for suggesting, rightfully so, that he need a night off, her generosity had created a ripple effect in which Dorian was now slightly more than buzzed, in a depressed state over the fate of the woman he had loved, and attempting to field questions from a nosey, albeit kind, colleague. Were he sober at this moment he would have thought of Dorcas as a friend – of sorts – but having friends meant letting people in, and letting people in, for Dorian, meant chaos, disaster, and ultimately death. Merlin only knew what was in store for poor little Ariel having to be saddled with a cursed guardian like her uncle Dorian. It was not uncommon these days for Dorian to wake up in a cold sweat and glance anxiously over to the child’s cot to ensure her death, which he had seen as vividly as he had seen her parents’, had only been a horrible dream. “My plans are my own, Dorcas. If you would prefer to judge me, you can do so silently and from your own home.” Without even a glance at the younger woman’s direction, Dorian finished the large swallow of wine left in his glass and turned, heading for the kitchen.

He saw wine she had brought with her and left on his counter as she began talking of dinner, and with a mildly puzzled expression he finally looked at her. Why was she here? Why did she have a knack for appearing when he least wanted to see her, or anyone else? “Haven’t you somewhere else to be? Some friends you should be meeting up with or a bloke to take you out?” He knew of at least one man he’d had the unfortunate luck of running into, half naked, in Dorcas’ cottage. The younger wizard was wearing only a towel around his waist at the time and made some crude suggestion of a threesome upon seeing Dorian. It was far too familiar to the innuendo Dorcas threw his way. He didn’t appreciate it when his girlfriend’s younger cousin made such comments and he certainly didn’t appreciate it from some nude stranger. Thankfully she had yet to suggest anything of that nature tonight, but she’d only been here for a few minutes, the night was still young and Dorcas was nearly always inappropriate away from the office.

The wine, the talk of dinner, the effort with which she searched for a suitable station on the radio, it all led to one conclusion. Dorcas had come to socialize with him and that was far too friendly for his mood this evening. No doubt their time together would end with a cautionary tale in which he warned her of the dangers of being close to him. His adoptive parents were both dead because of him. His birth mother was dead without Dorian ever having met her. His girlfriend was murdered in front of his eyes, as were his sister and her husband. Dorian Humbert was cursed and there was no good in her trying to be friendly with him, least of all tonight.

“Not here for a case.” Dorcas seemed to have perfected inappropriate timing, along with inappropriate everything else. The witch rarely failed to make some overly friendly innuendo at most any opportunity (even saying the word ‘innuendo’ was cause enough to spark something childish inside her) and she seemed to relish in the chance to lick whip cream off her finger in a most sexual manner while making far too intense eye contact with him. Her inappropriate timing for a social visit was not well received, at least on the inside, but the heartbroken man slumped on the sofa was too polite to overtly ask her to leave. Instead, he watched as Dorcas moved into the kitchen, fixed herself a glass of wine, and plopped onto the sofa beside him, causing Dorian’s glass to wobble a bit on his knee.

Dorcas asked a question that Dorian didn’t want to answer. There was no way that he was telling her, a childish gossip, that he’d been sitting here for over an hour listening to the same Beatles song on repeat. Instead, he replied “I haven’t been keeping count,” and prayed she’d drop it. To help aid in that process, Dorian picked up his wand which had been resting on the sofa beside him but evidently had fallen between the crack in the cushions, and pointed it at the radio. The song switched off and now the room was oddly silent once more. Only a few seconds passed but they seemed to stretch out exponentially and he felt extremely aware of himself in those moments. Pulling himself to his feet and only just barely keeping the wine fully inside his glass, Dorian flicked his wand once more and the radio came on again. The station had caught up with itself and an ad was playing, a soothing voice of an older man speaking about some muggle product he was selling. “Put on whatever you like,” Dorian said almost dismissively as he crossed the room, keeping his back to the younger Auror.

He didn’t feel entirely comfortable being this far gone in front of her, only ever having gotten drunk in her presence on the evening of Paris’ funeral as the wake was being held at a bar. Dorian had drank a few too many that night but it was worth it to hear all the wonderful stories about the parts of Paris’ life he had not gotten to experience with her. That connection was important to Dorian and it was one of the reasons he enjoyed spending time with Paris’ best friend, Geralina. She was full of brilliant stories and the pair could easily get lost for hours talking of their mutual friend. They spoke about other things as well, but unlike Dorcas, Geralina had the emotional capacity to be able to empathize with Dorian without judging him or looking down upon him professionally. Dorian wasn’t sure Dorcas understood the definition of the word ‘emotions’ and showing them off when he was so vulnerable was highly unsettling.

Dorian could not hear the jingle of keys over the music playing into his ear but the opening of the door caught his eye. Very few people had a key to his flat; Emily, Dorcas, and the landlord. He was teetering between heavily buzzed and fairly drunk but still his mind was sharp enough to know that anyone managing their way through his security spells was of no threat to him, still he attempted to sit up on the sofa before whomever it was came in. He was not fully successful. It was a leisurely pose for the uptight Auror to be in; his shoulders low enough to be resting fully on the back cushion and a half-empty wineglass resting on his knee where he wouldn’t need to put forth much effort to retrieve it.

It was a surprise to see the younger Meadowes standing in front of him. He had been almost positive that the visitor was Emily bringing his niece back to him for some reason or another. He was just tipsy enough to not have thought out the dozen or so reasons Ariel might be returning early as he would normally have done if the situation arose. Dorcas commented on his apparent plans for the evening but Dorian wasn’t in a mood to chat with her. She disliked emotion and he had had far too many drinks tonight to be able to properly disguise his sadness. “I am not feeling up to discussing a case this evening, Dorcas. Perhaps tomorrow.” The last thing Dorian wanted to do was go over a the facts of a murder or discuss another Death Eater attack. Sure, Dorcas had come over a few times for more social greetings – like her drunken misadventure in the middle of the night, but mostly she came by to talk about work. She helped with the baby more often than he had expected her to but there was no little Ariel for her to mind tonight.

There simply wasn’t enough gratitude in the whole of London for Dorian to express his thanks to Emily Meadowes each day when he arrived home from a long day of work to see her sitting in his flat, singing to his niece as if the babe were the woman’s own grandchild. Emily normally sat Ariel in Dorian’s flat while he was at work, but on the one occasion last month when Dorian had tracked a dark wizard to Romania and needed to be gone for a few short days, Emily had taken the baby to her house. She really was invaluable to the Auror turned uncle turned father and he tried to make sure she understood exactly how much he valued her assistance. Emily was always quite modest as Dorian lavished praise and thanks upon her at the end of each day and though it certainly didn’t make up for all the support the Meadowes had given him over the last several months, Dorian always made sure to bring her a small gift to Sunday dinners, which she insisted he and Ariel attend weekly.

Ariel seemed to love Emily as much as Dorian did. She was nearly always in a good mood when Dorian came home. Dorian even witnessed what Emily claimed was his niece’s first laugh as Emily said her goodbyes while Dorian was picking her up after her two-night stay at Fig Tree Cottage, though Dorian had a sneaking suspicion the Meadowes’ had observed this laughter a few times before. The idea that he might have missed her actual first laugh was eased only by the knowledge that Emily and Andre were wonderful surrogate grandparents. There really weren’t enough ways for Dorian to thank them, even if they brushed off his appreciation with hugs and other demonstrations of affection that seemed to make their own daughter uneasy.

Dorian had gotten home from work a bit earlier than usual, garnering a few sarcastically shocked comments from his colleagues as he left the Ministry office. It was only an hour difference from his usual clocking out but four months of something more resembling a normal work schedule was not long enough to alter his reputation as a workaholic. The day had been rather easy, as far as law enforcement went. He had started his day with an early morning training course for the Auror Academy, which he had been given command over this year. Dorcas, who usually was loud, inappropriate, and crass around Dorian outside of work, had been attentive and rather spot on with her comments. Seeing her perform so well in the various aspects of her training made Dorian happy, and he hoped that if Paris could see her cousin that she would be happy, too. After his lecture there were a few eye witnesses that needed interviewing regarding another home invasion which he had determined was part of a string of smaller Death Eater attacks. A bit of paperwork rounded out his day and then it was home to Ariel for an evening of baby talk and playing in the mirror.

Ariel loved her reflection, though Dorian wasn’t sure exactly how much she could see properly gauge from the baby in the mirror at her age, and he would often set a rounded mirror to levitate in front of her while she had some tummy time on the floor and Dorian cooked dinner. Tonight he was making chicken parmesan and had just set the oven timer when a knock at the door stole his focus. He knew instantly that it wasn’t Emily returning for something she’d left behind, the knock was firmer than she would use. It wasn’t Dorcas, either, as Dorcas no longer showed enough courtesy to knock, choosing instead to simply let herself in as if she lived in this crowded little flat too. There were only a handful of other usual suspects, Griff or Alastor stopping by for a chat, but that was rare and though Dorian was expanding his social circle a bit more these days, it wasn’t really enough to warrant an unannounced visit.

His strong jaw tensed as Dorian set the oven mitts on the counter and removed his apron. Picking up his niece from her rug on the floor, Dorian headed to the door and looked through the peephole. The man standing on the opposite side of the door looked familiar but Dorian didn’t place him right away. He was holding a pink package in his hand but otherwise seemed to be unarmed. A sturdy hold of his niece against his chest, Dorian pulled the door open, making sure that he didn’t remove the charm which would keep the other man from crossing the threshold into the apartment. “Good evening,” he said, a slight question in his voice.