it's a fool who plays it cool [darla]

late january 2002

@Darla Boyd had been busy at work lately, and up until a couple weeks ago, so had Edith. It was only natural that they plan a lunch to catch up, less so that at the very last minute Edith suggested they meet at her new -- new to her, anyway -- flat instead of the Ministry. She might have, rather conveniently, forgotten to tell her friend that she was no longer employed there. She might have, rather conveniently, not corrected her friend when she made allusions to finally meeting @Elias Dörfler at said lunch.

She would have done this sooner, told Darla about quitting her job, but it seemed like news that needed to happen in person. With beer. And considering Edith had been booked the past four weekends with court-mandated community service, she hadn’t yet found the chance. A small part of her thought that by now, she would have come up with a backup plan for her life. But her skills in the magical world lay in obliviating, and her skills in the muggle world lay in drinking. Neither presented a very viable career option to her at the moment -- never mind that she had applied to and been rejected from a number of shops and pubs in the past several days.

She wasn’t cooking, certainly not, though after the ordeal that was ordering Indian delivery, she was wondering why not. It had taken her a few days to figure out how to make her telephone work properly, then she had needed the leap of faith necessary to try a new restaurant in this new neighborhood. Edith didn’t miss her flat, not exactly, but she missed how comfortable and at home she felt there. She wasn’t quite to that point here, not yet.

Edith hadn’t done anything special to prepare for her guest; Elias kept the flat annoyingly tidy already. She had gone the extra mile and washed (and brushed!) her hair that morning though, so she wouldn’t look too completely hopeless once her news was out. A knock came at the door, and Edith leapt off the couch, stockinged feet padding quietly across the hardwood as she made her way to open it.

There was only a second of disappointment that it wasn’t the food. Edith brightened up as she saw her friend, clearly dressed for something more than the oh-so-casual lunch Edith had hoped they’d be having, as if it would be easier to deliver the news of joblessness to a witch dressed in Healer’s robes. “Hiii,” she drew out the syllable a beat too long before moving aside to let Darla inside. “You’re early.” She wasn’t, but Edith was unexpectedly nervous and had nothing else productive to say.

Ever since New Year’s, Darla had done her best to keep herself occupied at work, in order to forget her personal life, or, better put, lack of personal life. In the little free time she’s had, Darla’d done her best in avoiding anyone and everyone who wasn’t Bhàtair, which had been quite the feat, considering she actually lived with Ranulph and Sierra. Still, the time away from everything and everyone had done her good. Not only that she’d taken the opportunity to get herself noticed at Mungo’s, but Darla also expanded her own research limits, having helped Kit at his private practice too. In addition to it all, she’d been working on her own little research paper, which hopefully, after the Head Healer would read it for her, would get published.

Everything was going well. Finally.

Still, Darla felt a bit bad when realising that one of the people she’d been avoiding was Edith. However, she was highly aware that her friend was doing well, and was happy, and was probably busy snogging with her boyfriend, all the time, especially now that they were living together. She’d been shy to make the first approaching in meeting, as Darla wasn’t sure Edith even had the time for her. But, much to her joy, Edith that approached her first, sending her an owl with a request of catching up for lunch. It had been odd when Edith had suggested to meet at her new place instead of their usual pub. However, Darla assumed it was only because her friend had that day free, as did her boyfriend. Edith didn’t contradict her on the matter, therefore she had been proven right – Darla was finally going to meet the famous Elias.

It wasn’t a free day for her, but Darla luckily had the morning shift that day at Mungo’s, and hadn’t yet requested for the afternoon one as well when Edith’s letter had first arrived. Thankfully enough, it had been perfect. After her shift, Darla changed into a nicer outfit, and asked one of her nurse friends to do her make-up and tie up her hair in a neat bun. As Edith's best friend, the former Gryffindor had to look her best when meeting the boyfriend. In the end, she was also representing Edith's taste in friends, which was obviously little said great of course. She soon apparated in front of the couple’s flat, and took a second look at the present she’d gotten them. It had been quite hard to pick out something; in the end, Darla didn’t know the flat’s style, or Elias’ tastes. However, she decided to go for something the witch knew they wouldn’t have, a Korean vase bought from her grandmother’s favourite porcelain shop, and something she knew Edith would love and appreciate, meaning a bottle of Hebrides firewhiskey, meaning the best firewhiskey out there.

She then knocked on the door, and waited for an answer. Edith soon opened the door, and brightly greeted Darla, much to the healer’s surprise. “Hey!” She replied, passing by her friend and entering the flat. “Early? I thought I was on time, I’m sorry. My watch must be ahead.” Darla blinked twice, taking a peek at the silver watch that rested on her wrist. She waited for Edith to close the door, and passed her the gifts bag. “For you.” Of course, she’d taken note that the obliviator had her hair arranged (for Edith standards anyway), but Darla decided not to comment on that, considering that she needn’t point out that her friend was finally acting more like a girl. Oh, what love did for a person.

“Well…” Darla said, her eyes widening as she took a gaze around the flat. So neat and tidy, it was perfect. “Since I’m early, can I help with anything?” The healer offered, thinking that if she was going to impose, she might as well prove herself useful.

Of course she’s not early, Edith told herself as her friend stole a glance at her watch. “No, it’s fine, really.” She ushered Darla in and closed the door behind her, taking a second to lock it manually before turning back to face her. “Oh wow,” she hardly had time to think through what to say next before Darla had handed her a gift -- hopefully some sort of useful gadget since it was a bit too small to be the television she really wanted -- “Do you want me to wait for Elias to open it?” It was both a question and a hint toward her boyfriend’s absence for the afternoon.

“Help?” It took her a second to realize what Darla was asking. “Oh -- no. I ordered in.” Edith nodded quickly, moving farther into the flat past Darla, setting the gift bag on the coffee table and making herself comfortable on the brown leather sofa. “Indian; hope that’s alright.” She hoped it was because it was going to be just a tad awkward asking Darla to pay for any new food if she didn’t like what Edith had ordered. “I got two orders of naan,” she added as an incentive.

She pat the space next to her, wordlessly inviting Darla to sit. She supposed she should have offered to show her around -- that seemed to be the sort of thing hosts did when they weren’t embarrassed about their living space -- but it was nice to see Darla after so long. It seemed like their last proper hangout was at the St. Mungo’s thing. “Everything alright? How’s work? You look really nice.” The longer she could keep Darla talking about herself, the better for everyone, really.

“I finished my community service,” she added, almost as an afterthought, as though court-mandated service was something she ought to be proud about. “St. James’ Park has never been so clean,” she finished with a nod, well aware that she could have been doing worse things than picking up litter in the outdoors, even if it had been January and she had missed Manchester United’s climb to first place in the League. She added a final shrug and a grin, silently thanking Darla again for the role she had played in that whole mess.

“Is Elias not here?” Darla asked a bit surprised, as she was taking off her shoes. “I thought he would be…” The former Gryffindor commented just a tiny bit disappointed, while neatly placing her shoes in a corner, to make sure they wouldn’t bother the overall tidiness of the entryway. Everything was very nicely arranged, so the last thing Darla desired was to ruin this aesthetic. Straightening her back, she sketched a smile, as warm as before, while looking at Edith. “You can open it, of course... I mean, as long as you’re sure he won’t mind?” The Scottish shrugged, not really knowing what to say in this situation; Edith perhaps would figure it out on her own. She personally doubted the obliviator’s boyfriend would mind it, however one never knew. It was best not to meddle in a couple’s gift-receiving ethics, habits, or whatever these unspoken protocols were called.

She followed Edith towards the living room, and placed her own bag on the sofa before taking a seat herself. Feeling the coldness of the leather on her skin was pleasant; she normally wouldn’t have noticed that, but being after her shift, finally sitting down on something superiorly comfortable compared to her office chair at St. Mungo’s, the former Gryffindor felt relaxed the moment she sat down. The sofa was good, very good.

“Indian is perfect!” Darla added cheerfully, the number of the orders making her realise that Elias wouldn’t be showing up anytime soon. Pity. She thought a bit disenchanted, for Darla’d have really desired to finally meet the famous boyfriend. However, the former Gryffindor did her best in hiding her disappointment. In the end, she was finally catching up with Edith, and that was always one of the best things in the entire world to her. These moments were precious regardless of Elias’ presence, or lack of. The naan, of course, was a great bonus, for she was starving.

As Edith mentioned she looked nice, Darla avoided commenting that it was only because she’d wanted to make a good impression to Elias, as the English’s best friend. Instead, she giggled, let it be a bit sarcastically, and replied with a simple “Thank you”. The question about work was, however, more complex. Ever since New Year’s, Darla had buried herself in work, to forget about her (lack of) love life. She’d succeeded in achieving that, and furthermore, she’d managed to get herself noticed at work too.

“Work is fine. I received my first VIP patient.” She smirked victoriously, still proud of that achievement. “And I’ve helped at a friend’s practice in my… well, what was supposed to be free time. But that’s been great, because I also had the opportunity to do primary research for this paper I’ve been working on. It will hopefully get published soon, too.” Darla nodded once, leaning against the sofa, as she crossed her legs. “I feel like work has been going quite smoothly lately, and it’s finally going my way. Aside from work…” Darla shrugged, not even knowing what to add. “Bhàtair’s been asking me all kinds of things about who my VIP patient is, so it’s fun to see him keep making wrong guesses.” The former Gryffindor added with a giggle, recalling how every two days she’d get a howler from her brother, with a guess or two.
 
Darla was thankful that Edith switched the topic of the conversation to her own person, for her own lack of interesting things to add was starting to surface. “Omo!” The healer cooed, clapping her hands excitedly. “I am so proud of you.” She added teasingly, but sincerely. “How did it go with your work schedule?” The Scottish inquired, a bit curious. “Like, did you take sick days off, or went when you didn’t have a shift?” Her curiosity was mostly out of good intentions, for Darla was ready to offer Edith an official document from her father’s practice, which would confirm that Edith’d have needed some days off due for health reasons. Obviously, it was all with the hope that the Ministry wouldn’t catch on to her actual schedule, the muggle community service.

Edith shrugged as she took a seat. “He’s at work.” She didn’t apologize for not telling her sooner; Darla should have been perfectly pleased to see Edith on her own. “Oh hmm.” She looked down at the gift and considered the options. “He might like getting to open it, I guess.” Setting it on the coffee table, Edith pulled her feet up under her, turning to get a better look at her friend.

“Ooh, VIP.” She wasn’t sure who really qualified as VIP in the wizarding world. Someone with a Chocolate Frog card? The Minister? But he wasn’t exactly having babies these days. She assumed that Darla wanted her to inquire further, to pester her like her brother was doing, but she wasn’t going to take that bait. “Sounds fun. And miserable.” Equal bits of both, she guessed. “Eli’s friend just had a baby. I bet she thinks she’s very important.” She snorted. Nevermind that this baby was the the whole reason Elias’s roommate had moved out in the first place, and Edith should probably be grateful for it -- being openly excited  about or supportive of things wasn’t really her style.

She wanted to keep the conversation on Darla as long as possible. “A research paper about babies?” She asked with a laugh, unable to keep a straight face. She was sure it was very important research, of course. She knew Darla wouldn’t waste her time on anything less than very important, but Edith’s own phrasing had thrown her off. “But that’s good. Work being nice.” Working was nice.

How on earth did talking about her community service invite questions about her work schedule? Darla really was spending too much time working if that was the first thing her brain had jumped to. Edith shifted, holding her friend’s gaze for a few seconds. “Well, I didn’t have to work.” She looked away as she finished her statement, her cheeks warming but thankfully, not yet burning hot. Maybe Darla wouldn’t notice.

“I didn’t tell them about it, see,” Edith smiled, but it was forced, not the sort she would normally have when talking gleefully about skiving off work. She was looked back to Darla and took a deep breath. “I quit.” She said it quickly and quietly, hoping she wouldn’t have to repeat herself. “A couple weeks ago,” she added even quicker before clearing her throat. “Do you want a drink?”

Darla didn’t comment at all regarding Elias’ absence, however she glanced both suggestively and teasingly in Edith’s direction. The healer was sure her friend deliberately hadn’t told her about her boyfriend’s lack of presence that day, just so Darla wouldn’t reject the idea of meeting Edith at their place. In the end, it was a bit uncomfortable being there without Elias being present. Nonetheless, despite the gesture, Darla decided not to openly comment. She shrugged when Edith mentioned that he’d enjoy opening the gift, not really having anything to add to that. If he’d like the present, she was sure Edith would let her know about it later on.

She let out a bubbling laughter at Edith’s remark regarding her having a VIP patient. Not many said that having an especially important patient was miserable, and she had to hand it to Edith – it was a great comment. “It’s not that bad, actually. It’s really a great person.” Darla commented as she covered her mouth with her right hand, trying to stop herself from laughing. But she was saying the truth – Quinn Regan was really great when one met her in person. The rumours about her were truly unfair, and Darla was genuinely repulsed by how the media could portray her so far away from the truth. She was a wonderful mother.

“Oh?” Darla arched her eyebrow, wondering whom this friend of Elias was. Probably not someone worth mentioning, if Edith worded it in such a way. “Well, some people are like that. The maternity ward isn’t always the most endearing one, as many would assume.” Darla shrugged, having had her own experiences with possessive and condescending mothers. They weren’t particularly nice to be around, and often times didn’t realise that Darla wasn’t their healer, but their child’s. And she was also wearing those awful healer robes because she knew what she was doing.

“Not about babies.” She rolled her eyes, Edith’s comment about her research not being as amusing as her previous one. “You’ll see once it’s published.” Which will be soon, if Merlin was on her side. Hopefully it will all go as well as she deserved it; in the end, Darla’d worked especially hard on it, and she really wanted it to go well. But it was better for her not to dwell on this thought, for Darla would be certain to get herself worked up and start worrying about that, which she didn’t want to do. She wanted to hear more about Edith; how her own work had gone, her service, and her new life with Elias.

However, she found herself at a loss as soon as Edith answered her question, saying that she didn’t have to work. “What do you mean?” Perhaps she meant that she didn’t have to go to work because she took time off until she finished the community service? Or maybe she just didn’t have any big projects and just insignificant paperwork to be done? Darla knew for sure Fearghas didn’t classify paperwork as actual work at the Ministry, so perhaps that was what Edith thought as well. Confused, her eyes narrowed a bit, waiting for Edith to further develop on that.

Her jaw dropped at Edith’s short, and yet very to the point, explanation.

Darla couldn’t even find herself capable to blink, freezing in her spot. Edith quit? What followed didn’t even get through to her, Darla not even hearing what her friend had added. She remained there, eyes fixed on her friend. She couldn’t process this. It was impossible. Edith was surely just playing some sort of very bad joke on her – in the end, being an Obliviator at the Ministry of Magic had been her friend’s dream job. It’s been on Edith’s mind ever since they were students. Nobody in their right mind would quit the job they’ve studied so hard for, right? It was a joke.

It must be.

The former Gryffindor took a deep breath, and started laughing once more. It was a bit forced, for it had been quite the bad joke. But her laughter was more out of her desire to ensure herself that it’s been indeed a joke. An awful one, yet a joke still. “For Merlin’s sake, Edith.” Darla commented, shifting a little, as she scratched the back of her neck. “That’s quite the bad joke. Don’t go around telling people such things.” She remarked, forcing yet another laugh as she cleared her throat later on.

“Yes, something to drink would be great.” Darla added, getting up from the sofa. “You can show me the kitchen too then, right?” She inquired, deciding that a change was very much needed, especially after the prank her friend tried to pull on her.

There. That was the reaction she was expecting, and it knocked Edith down a peg. A silent Darla, one that looked in shock, surely hiding the disappointment that Edith would quit the one thing she was good at. She exhaled sharply through pursed lips and looked down, scratching absently at the seam in her jeans. Hopefully Darla would hurry it up and give her a talking to so they could move on with their lives. She was ready for it. She had been stupid to think she could distract Darla by offering her a drink.

Only when Darla started laughing did Edith chance a glance up. “Darla,” she interjected quietly, still not completely sure what was happening, yet unable to cut through her friend’s laughs. She furrowed her brow, trying to anticipate Darla’s next move, to head her off before this whole interaction could get any worse. She hadn’t prepared herself for disbelief, wasn’t really up to convincing her that she had really and truly quit. The actual act of quitting had been easier than this, and any and all interactions with Percy Weasley were a nightmare.

It was her turn to look on with shock as Darla chided her for her joke. Edith was well aware it had been a stupid decision, a rash decision, that she would only regret it later -- she had heard it all from the various people she had told. But Darla was her oldest friend. She should have understood without Edith having to explain herself. Maybe all those years apart really had damaged their relationship, but she wasn’t about to blame herself for that. Darla was just as much at fault for not seeking Edith out after the war.

“No.” Edith’s hand shot up and wrapped around Darla’s wrist, pulling her back down to the sofa. “Fucking listen to me.” She had raised her voice with her expletive, but she didn’t have time to worry about her tone. “Why is it so hard for you to believe that I would quit my job? Do you even understand what goes on there?” She paused, but only to take a quick breath, not wanting to give the other woman a chance to interrupt. “I could modify your memory right now and you would have no idea. Do you really think we should have that sort of power? Nobody deserves that.”

She was still holding tight to Darla’s wrist, but she hadn’t noticed. She was too focused on holding Darla’s eye, knowing that if she looked away she wouldn’t be able to finish. Edith shook her head, “It was too much.” She wanted Darla to understand, was willing her to know what she was getting at without having to explain any further. If Darla could just understand all of Edith’s underlying frustrations with the world, with the Ministry, with absolutely everything, without her having to say a word.

“I am not making this up,” Edith reiterated, letting go of Darla’s wrist with more force than necessary.

Edith grabbed her wrist, and rather violently pulled her back down to the sofa. While perhaps it wouldn’t have been or felt fierce to anyone else, for Darla it was. It was her right wrist, her gem as a healer. She exhaled, angrier than shocked regarding her friend’s gesture, appalled that Edith so easily grabbed her wrist. Wrists were everything for healers. Regardless of the present situation, her best friend should’ve been more careful. Left or right, it didn’t matter. Her wrists were the object of her work.

It seemed however that her friend had only one thing on her mind, and that was to further pursue with the awful joke. As she went on, Darla only half listened, despite Edith’s particularly loud voice. “A job at the Ministry of Magic means you’re set for life, Edith, that’s why it’s fucking hard to believe anyone in their right minds would do anything as foolish as voluntarily quitting. You’re in a position to be envied by all with a job there.” Edith forcefully pushed her wrist away, causing Darla to wince.

It didn’t hurt too much, but the scare perhaps had gotten to Darla more than expected. Being from a family of healers, she had always just assumed everyone was aware there were some body parts one did not touch so carelessly. Apparently she was wrong.

“Obliviation is essential to us. And mandatory. Ever since 1692, the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, remember? You haven’t discovered hot water, Merlin.” Darla rolled her eyes, not really understanding where Edith was coming from. For a moment she wondered how her friend could be so negative regarding obliviation. In the end, it seemed that Edith was serious, no matter how foolish the situation was. It was maybe the fact that Edith was muggleborn and had just survived the seconding wizarding war. It wasn’t something they had discussed yet, and Darla wasn’t looking forward to the matter. It had been a traumatic experience for many.

Although, perhaps it was what enhanced Edith’s desire of affirmation through rebellion. Random modification of memory and nobody would know? Well, that’s the risk of living in secrecy. Wizarding kind has been doing it for centuries now, to protect themselves and muggles alike. For the briefest moment she wondered if Edith actually was aware of the fact that pureblood supremacy also resulted from this issue. Wizards and witches have also been victims of muggles, not only the other way around. Not recent history, yes, but it had still happened. She was seeing history just as a story, not as facts. For Darla, it was different; obliviation was one of their society’s cores.

Edith was seeing one side, and decided to harshly judge the system. The system that had always protected witches and wizards. The same institution which Kingsley Shacklebolt, a fellow Order of the Phoenix member, was running so marvellously. Darla had mixed feelings about this, however, she would dive into an entire other issue. The matter at hand was that, in fact, Edith had been stupid enough to quit the best possible job, and the honour and glory that came with it.

“Fine.” She exhaled deeply, trying to cope with the fact that her friend had made what was possibly the worst decision of her life, career wise. However, if she had those kind of thoughts, both Edith and the Ministry were better off without one another. “So, what’s your new job then?” Darla decided to change the subject, for it was the better option. Her gaze was still upon her wrist, the healer fearing what would happen if the slight pain would not go away. If anything, she would have to drink some potions and take a day off work, just in case. Darla could not afford messing up a healing spell due to her wrist, not when her professional life was going so well.

It was on the tip of her tongue, telling Edith that if she quit her job, she needn’t make it impossible for Darla to do hers. The former Gryffindor, exhaled again, and insisted. “Well? What’s the plan, the dream job?” She inquired, quite curious as of what Edith was doing these days.

“That wasn’t an invitation for a history lesson. Jesus Christ, Darla.” Edith didn’t even roll her eyes; this was far too serious for that. She didn’t care that obliviation was necessary. Or mandatory. And she wasn’t interested in discussing the merits of the International Statute of Secrecy. That wasn’t the point she was trying to make. Edith sighed. It had nothing to do with secrecy. Who decided that the Ministry got to make all the decisions? Who was keeping the obliviators in check? God knew Pam was careless as fuck, taking neighboring memories when she took the magical ones. And what were the consequences? Her Christmas bonus wasn’t as fat?

She sat back, staring up at the ceiling, anywhere that wasn’t her friend. She had probably approached this all wrong, but there were no take backs now. Not that she wanted to take back anything she had just said, mind, but it probably would have been easier to just go on pretending like she still worked at the Ministry, that everything was fine. They never really talked about her work anyway -- never mind that they had only been reunited for a couple months.

Edith threw up her hands as Darla finally seemed to understand. “Fine!” She repeated, exasperated. She slid her fingers under her glasses, rubbing at her eyes. She had a headache, all of the sudden. Thanks, Darla. She knew she shouldn’t be mad at her, but the very fact that she had to actually convince her best friend that she had made this decision was much too much.

She heard Darla’s question: So, what’s your new job then? She chose not to respond, sitting with her fingers rubbing her eyes still, her glasses pushed up onto her forehead. That question was inevitable, but that didn’t make it any easier to answer. The short answer was ‘nothing’; the long answer was ‘I have zero marketable skills because the Ministry fucked me over, so thank you again for reminding me’. She didn’t want to offer either.

But Darla asked her again, using the words ‘dream job’. Edith dropped her hands and turned to look sharply at her. “For fuck’s sake. Don’t you get it?” She stood up and walked to the other side of the room, wanting nothing but to be far away from Darla. “That was the dream job. I killed myself for years to get it.” If she had been trying earlier to keep her voice down (she hadn’t been), then she certainly wasn’t now. “But then all of the sudden I wasn’t qualified for it, so they took it away. Not to mention they said I was a criminal but I guess that’s just a little minor detail that’s no big deal. And then the war was over and it turned out I was still only qualified for the dream job.” She brought her hands up for angry, jabbing air quotes.

She wasn’t even on the right subject anymore, but it was hard to stop the momentum that she had built up. “No one said anything. Nothing like ‘Hey, sorry we tried to murder you, but at least you still have a job, right?’ Just shove me right into training like nothing happened, like I was really the perfect candidate to start messing with memories. But I was so good at it, Darla. So good. But then it just--” she stopped to snap her fingers and catch her breath. “I was the person telling other people they weren’t good enough for magic. I’m not doing that any more.”

The explanation she had offered to Elias had been nothing like this; they had even managed to have an actual conversation. Maybe she had been hoping for something more heated, had pent up these aggressive words, and Darla had just so happened to be the first one to provoke her. No matter now.

Darla took a deep breath, crossing her legs as she frowned at Edith’s unneeded loud voice. What was she trying to prove? Who was she trying to justify herself to? She was an adult, so she quit her job. Obviously, like any proper adult she’d done that with an appropriate back-up plan. But it had just been her who’d expected too much of Edith. Her friend had been not only reckless enough to quit a perfect job, her dream job, but foolish enough to do so without any proper planning. Darla blinked slowly, gaze averting from Edith’s direction, hand gently placed on her right cheek, fingers softly tapping against her skin, almost as to cover up their slight redness.

The healer could feel her temperature rising. It wasn’t just for Edith and her lack of organisation. It was that her other close friend had been there to witness it all. Darla’s thoughts immediately went to Percy and how he’d have dealt with Edith quitting. She was suddenly grateful that he wasn’t aware of their own friendship, for Darla felt little said embarrassed right now. She had nothing against Edith finding her own path in life, she had nothing against Edith rediscovering herself as a person, she had nothing against Edith questioning her decisions – but she had something with the version of Edith that didn’t think things through and got her to jail for punching a West Ham United fan. That Edith had been the one to quit her job without any plans. The same Edith whom she bailed out of jail.

“I understand.” Darla replied sharply, straightening her back and raising her gaze towards her fellow former Gryffindor. Honestly, too Gryffindor if someone asked her. At least have some reason and think before acting. But she didn’t lie; she understood. While Darla was aware of the fact that a job at the Ministry would be the best for anyone and everyone, she was also painfully conscious of the fact that she knew nothing of what Edith had done during the war, what had happened to her. Darla needed to remind herself that this Edith wasn’t the one she knew back then. But even more so, after going through a living hell, shouldn’t one be more responsible? More careful regarding the way the acted?

Her mind was a mess.

In the end, she both did and did not comprehend Edith. Darla also knew Kingsley was only one man and the system needed much work; her brothers and mother always said so, but change needed time. Change was implemented first ideologically, and that took time; nothing could happen overnight. Change required time. Edith didn’t have it. And that was what Darla couldn’t fully understand. Why didn’t her friend have time? A day, a week, a month to actually plan what she was going to do after she’d quit? Edith had been reckless, and not in the good way.

“Numpty.” She called out Edith, deciding that there was no other appropriate word to associate her friend with at the time being. “Who fucking quits with no plan?” Darla raised her voice, and got up. “If you were so good,” she mimicked Edith’s own voice and air quotations “then why the fuck couldn’t you bear with it until you had a plan? Like any fucking normal person?” Darla exhaled deeply, more and more thoughts coming into her mind.

The most embarrassing one just surfaced. Edith had just moved in with her boyfriend and she was jobless. He basically had to provide for her now. Not that Darla doubted the German’s love for her friend, but that was so, but so wrong. If Edith at the very least would have told her, Darla would have helped her. But then again, she didn’t think things through. At all. War or not, pain or not, this was ridiculous. “Sit down,” she pointed towards the sofa once more “I… I don’t want to fight over this. It’s stupid fighting post factum and you raising your voice at me makes shit sense.” Darla let herself fall back on the couch, nodding her head in disapproval. “You’re not fighting with me, or justifying yourself, or anything.”

“If you want to yell at yourself for being so impulsive, there’s surely plenty of mirrors in this house.” Darla shrugged, and then glanced at her friend. “So… let’s think this through.” She added, much more calmly this time around, waiting for Edith to take a seat herself and together find a solution.

She understood; or, she said she understood. Darla couldn’t understand, and Edith wasn’t going to be able to explain it to her. Edith started up at the ceiling, almost willing it to fall on her and get her out of this conversation, if it could even be called one anymore. That word had probably stopped applying as soon as Edith had raised her voice, but she really wasn’t focused on semantics right now.

So Darla said she understood, and Edith took that to mean that she would at least try to understand.

Of course, Edith’s hopes were dashed in the span of less than a minute. Darla wasn’t finished, the volume of her voice matching Edith’s, and Edith found herself having to consciously not curl her hands into fists. She said she had understood, but that had all just been words, so meaningless, so pointless. If she understood she wouldn’t be asking why she had quit without a plan. Did Darla think she had a plan when she had first parted ways with the Ministry? They hadn’t paid her the courtesy of any formal notice -- not unless that ‘Come visit us in Court!’ letter counted as a notice -- so she hadn’t felt like she had owed the Ministry anything in return the second time they parted ways.

Darla didn’t understand. She couldn’t. “Fuck it.” Edith shook her head, completely at a loss for how to explain this. It was her fault and she was well aware of it. She had waited too long to tell her, she hadn’t led her into the news with grace, she had blown up at the smallest provocation. “Never mind.” She couldn’t look at Darla, so she just shrugged in her general direction.

There was no way to explain this to her. She still wasn’t sure of it all herself, really. There had been so many things happening, each travelling along their own merry way, until they all met in the middle with an incredible crash, lighting her on fire in the process. She wasn’t going to fix anything that was wrong with her or the magical community by quitting, but at least she wouldn’t feel like she was part of the problem anymore -- that was what she needed the most, she thought.

Edith shook her head as Darla invited her to sit. Her jaw was clenched tight as she glanced over, but she didn’t let her gaze linger for too long. Looking at Darla would just make her angry again, would just lead to her resenting her more for not being able to see her point. “Please,” she said finally, taking a couple steps to the side to sit on the edge of a chair across the room. “Please do let me know exactly where I’ve gone wrong.” Darla seemed to know much more than her, after all. “Let’s really think this through, shall we?”

“No.” The moment she heard the ‘please’ slip out of Edith’s mouth, Darla cracked. It might not have been intended that way, but Darla took it as yet another one of Edith’s condescending remarks, a nonchalant phrase pulled out straight from her behind, as to prove that she was superior to everyone else, to the entire wizarding community, to the muggle one, to the entire fucking world; that she could never do wrong. “Don’t fucking take that tone with me.”

She snapped. Nothing mattered right now. “Really think this through?” Darla mockingly repeated Edith’s words, not even trying to copy her voice, but instead using the one of a possible floozy, the type of girl both her and Edith hated – a girl who lived a superficial and shallow life, who went by through life with knowing nothing and thinking they knew everything. Right now, Edith was equal to one of those floozies in Darla’s eyes.

Darla hit her own thighs with the palms on her hands, the noise being intended to shut up Edith for good. She may not know what her friend’s been through, she may not know what she’d felt, she may never understand Edith and her issues. “You are such a fucking whiny bitch.” Darla shrugged, arms offensively going up into the air. “Let’s start with the most obvious piece of shit. You’re one millimeter away from becoming – yes, I’m going there and saying it – a trophy wife. A brainless bimbo, who lives off her boyfriend because she ‘can’t cope with her harsh job anymore’ and I hope you see through this fake as fuck air quotations.” 

She took a deep breath, and continued. “So what? Your job sucks? Do you think mine’s great? Do you think I just smooch babies once, baby talk and that’s it? Have you ever even wondered, for even one second, if my own dream job isn’t so dreamy as well, and that I’ve had babies, children, young teenagers, die when I was in charge of their existence in this world?” Her breaths became more and more intense. “So you have to tell someone to quit magic Edith,” Her voice was becoming contemptuous once more. “you’re no special snowflake. I have to tell people their families, their children died. Or that there’s no cure for what they have, and guess what Edith, I actually give people deadlines too. Deadlines on their lives.”

“I’m not saying not quit if you’re miserable, but think you brainless moron. What now? You just moved in with your boyfriend, and what? Saw that as an opportunity to become a leech? Have you thought that maybe, just maybe, you’re not a special ray of sunshine and aren’t the only person in the entire fucking universe that has issues with the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy? You say you killed yourself for years to get the job. Did you Edith, did you?” She took a short break.

“No, you did not. You didn’t even try. Killing yourself for a job means you know it’s your life, and without the job your life stops. It’s been weeks of you not working for the job you supposedly killed yourself getting, Edith.” Darla shrugged, snapping her fingers in her process. “So where are you? Doing what exactly? Not even moping about the job that was supposed to be your life, your entire being, but whining about how the world isn’t just, how you can’t deal with it ideologically, how you bla bla bla…”

Darla nodded her head in disapproval. “What you did wrong? Everything.” She rolled her eyes, not being able to resist the urge anymore. “You want to actually be a special snowflake, that ray of sunshine that does something? Then you know, newsflash sister, change comes from within.” Darla harshly tapped Edith’s chest. “If you don’t change, nothing changes. And you’re just complaining like an annoying entitled little” Darla gestured, not even finding the words “UGH!” Darla exhaled, anxiously tapping her hell against the floor.

“Don’t you dare ask Elias for money. I won’t have you look like a leech.” She nodded in disapproval, obviously hinting that Darla herself would help Edith there if needed. “And just… think and don’t victimise yourself. You’re not a victim Edith, you’re a survivor.” It was among one of the first things one learned as a healer and it had always been so painfully obvious, Darla couldn’t even believe she was telling Edith basic things.

“And what does a survivor do, Edith?”

Tell their story.

Don’t fucking take that tone with me. Edith’s gaze snapped back to Darla’s face, and she took a deep breath. She had wanted this, hadn’t she? The confrontation, the yelling? Yelling was the only thing that got her to do anything, anymore. She could tell that Darla was trying to shut her up, but Edith hadn’t yet wanted to speak. She hardly ever got to see Darla like this, and it was such a rare thing that she didn’t want to miss it. Of course, she started changing her mind as soon as Darla called her a ‘whiny bitch’, but Darla wasn’t letting her get a word in edgewise.

She bristled at trophy wife; Darla said it like that thought hadn’t already crossed her mind. She supposed she had been so much more delicate in telling Elias about quitting because she had so much more to lose with him. They had already done that -- the months of not talking -- and Edith didn’t want to be back there. But she and Darla? They hadn’t talked for years and ever since Darla had been back in her life, Edith had been arrested and quit her job. She didn’t want to point out any relation, but… It was careless, maybe, but much less risky, telling Darla. But telling Elias had been one of the hardest things she had ever done, going into it thinking that she was just going to disappoint him again. She knew that must have crossed his mind, that she had literally just moved in with him. But even he understood that she hadn’t quit because of that.

Edith hadn’t been disparaging Darla’s job by lambasting her own. The way she saw it, Darla’s job still had some net good in the world. For every bad case, how many good ones were there? Five, ten? How many people had she still helped? Dying was a part of life; Edith was perfectly aware of that. But she was even more aware that magic was a part of life; people finally got the chance to witness it, and Edith got paid to take it away from them. How many had been paid to try to take it away from Edith? And that’s pretty fucked up. She had gone over it and gone over it, and the more she thought about it the more sick she felt.

She couldn’t look at Darla anymore. She was only telling her things she already knew. Edith knew, was so fucking aware that everything she did was wrong. She didn’t want to be special. She didn’t want to be lumped in with those people who thought they were special because they had this power they could wield over muggles, could show off without a care because they could just take the memory that it had ever happened. She was just as bad as they were, even if she thought she had been different. The ‘fun’ obliviator because she came up with quirky replacement memories. What a fucking joke.

And now Darla was upset that Edith wasn’t more emotional about her lost job? Good god, Darla, not everyone could cry at the drop of a hat. But she wouldn’t know that Edith had already been over this, time and time again, knowing that crying would make her feel so much better, that being mad at herself wasn’t enough to bring the tears. She hadn’t given up on herself. Why couldn’t Darla just see that she need out of one job -- she wasn’t giving up on her entire life.

“Don’t--” Edith slapped Darla’s hand away, finally making eye contact, “--fucking touch me.” Edith stood and pushed her way past the other woman, heading towards the kitchen, anywhere just away from Darla. She spun and looked at her, really looked at her, for once completely fine with not being the cute petite friend. The height difference gave her an edge she didn’t think she would have if she had to stare up at Darla. “Don’t you dare think you know anything about my relationship.” Money had come up more than once, and she already felt badly enough that Elias was so good to her, especially in times like these when she clearly didn’t deserve it. Darla didn’t know all the details, that he was the one who had been there when she needed someone the most. Darla had no right lecturing her on who she could or couldn’t depend on.

She shook her head as she took a deep breath. “You have no right,” she took a step forward, her knuckles white as she clenched the back of a dining chair. “No right--” she couldn’t finish her thought, that Darla had no right to tell Edith she wasn’t a victim. A survivor? She could have laughed. Living wasn’t the same as surviving.

Edith relaxed her hand and took a step back. She couldn’t look at her anymore, couldn’t remember what she had been trying to accomplish here. Had she thought they’d have a little heart-to-heart? A cozy chat round the fire? She had been giving Darla too much credit, thinking they were still close. “You need to go,” she said, nodding towards the door.

“I don’t.” Darla replied instantly, admitting she knew nothing of Edith’s relationship. “I don’t know you.”

She nodded her head in disapproval, eyes looking directly into Edith’s, to her figure, fiercely daring her to actually think. The other witch had been quiet all this time, and Darla knew what it meant. Silence meant truth. Edith was aware the healer was right and couldn’t contradict her on anything, reason as of why she clung to the only semi-valid argument she could have: her relationship. But it wasn’t valid, it wasn’t coherent to their discussion in any way; Edith just wanted to have the last word. Darla wouldn’t let her. Not this time.

She smirked condescendingly at the invitation to leave. “Coward.” The former Gryffindor said, clearly, sharply, firmly. Darla made her way back to the sofa, and picked up her bag. She needn’t have an invitation to leave, she was going to either way. This wasn’t Edith; this, right now, in front of her, was a weakling, a person she’s never met in her life before. It wasn’t her friend. She put the bag on her shoulder, and glanced once more in the other witch’s direction.

“At least I was chivalrous enough to tell you the truth. You’re welcome.” She turned around, and after putting on her shoes, Darla opened the door and Disapparated back to her own house. It had been annoying, facing this person, this witch calling herself her ‘friend’. The Edith she knew, the Edith who actually wanted to do something, wasn’t the type of get herself in jail, or quit her job without thinking it through. This really wasn’t her friend at all. Today’s meeting had been with an outsider. 

Edith’s laugh was tinged with bitterness. Coward. There was no point arguing anymore; Darla wasn’t wrong; the word had such little effect on Edith anymore. The implication that she wasn’t Gryffindor enough was a welcome one -- she still blamed that ideology for convincing herself to return to Hogwarts for the battle -- but the realization that Darla thought the word would hurt her was heartbreaking. Darla was right: she didn’t know her. At this point, Edith wasn’t sure if she wanted her to.

But Edith knew her. Darla had always been better than her: smarter, nicer, cuter, with an unending supply of supportive family members… and always a witch. Edith had long ago come to terms with people being better than her; maybe she had thought her friend wouldn’t have flaunted it in front of her quite so obviously. Darla knew what was best apparently, had all the answers, was appalled that Edith could be at this point in her life without having some sort of a plan. She hadn’t had a plan since she left Hogwarts. Plans didn’t matter because in the end, everything is fucked anyway.

She crossed the room as the other woman opened the door; with a loud, “Yes, thank you!” Edith slammed it behind her, not caring that she had already disapparated. She knew that she had made the right decision, quitting the Ministry; if Darla didn’t want to see that, then good riddance.

****

It had been a weird three weeks.

Fun conversations with her former schoolmate aside, Edith had done more writing in the past few weeks than the last few years combined. She was still mad at Darla of course, furious even, but she had to admit that she had to give her some credit. She had invited Darla to leave and had some overwhelming urge to write things down. She wanted to remember everything Darla had thrown at her, mainly the What you did wrong? Everything, the brainless moron, and the fucking whiny bitch parts, so she could give proper examples to Elias when she told him he wouldn’t have to meet this girl after all.

But that note taking had led to something... else. She had written about all the things Darla didn’t know, the reasons she didn’t have to think she was actual human rubbish -- reasons she had kept to herself for years but still thought about constantly. France, the battle, the Dome, the slow descent into joblessness. The words poured out of her, scrawled and ugly and harsh; she missed the food delivery, wrote through the cramp in her hand. Hours went by before she stopped and only then was it because Elias was home. She couldn’t explain it.

She placed an ad in the Prophet a few days after that -- she had a copy of that with her now -- asking for muggleborns to share their stories, thoughts, words. She guaranteed anonymity, provided the phone number to a payphone outside her regular bar across town. It hadn’t been immediately successful, but there weren’t a lot of prank calls either -- it helped that most people who didn’t agree with whatever idea they gleaned from the ad didn’t know how to use a telephone -- and by the third time she had loitered by the phone, she talked to someone. Found their story, as incredible as the whole idea was. Edith had explained that she had no idea what this was for, which was honest. They even gave her a number to call back in case something happened.

The past week was the blurred one, though. An editor knew the editor, the new one for the Prophet, and after meeting with her for quite some time yesterday, Edith had sent an owl to Darla, asking her to meet on neutral ground, a coffee shop about halfway between their flats (though technically a tiny bit closer to Darla’s). She planned to show up whether or not Darla wanted to, and she had shown up early, having showered and attempted to look as presentable as possible with her incredibly limited wardrobe.

Edith had chosen a table that afforded her a view of the entire coffee shop; she sat with her paper and her tea and waited, offering the smallest of waves when she saw the other woman. She thanked her for coming and after a quick promise that this wouldn’t take long and an awkward moment of silence in which neither of them apologized for anything, Edith pushed the paper across the table, pointing to her ad. “I dunno if you ever saw this or not,” the ad was circled in red, as if she could ever forget the exact placement of it on the page. “I--” she started again. “I talked to some people, wrote some things.”

She tapped the name of the paper at the top of the page. “The editor thinks I have something here. I just need to clean it up a bit, but…” She trailed off, drumming her fingers on the paper, dropping her gaze to the moving wizard in the photo under her hand. “She said she wanted to publish something.” Edith chanced a glance back up. “I just wanted to let you know.” So you can say ‘I told you so’ now, she tacked on silently.