Live and Let Die

Duane was having a lousy holiday, between his psychiatrist father shoving calming draughts and pepper-up potions at him every chance he got and Eveleen and his relationship on rocky terms to say the least, he was to put it mildly- depressed and inconsolable.

Duane was listening to the radio lying on his bed in his dark bedroom as dusk settled upon the land. A song came on that he had heard once somewhere with Eveleen, causing his chest to constrict with heartache. He hadn’t moved much all week, only to piss and eat. Brooding and moping, that was all the antisocial teen had been doing in his spare time, reflecting on his row with his girlfriend right before holiday break. He had come to the conclusion that he had been a selfish wanker and what she had said was true, he had never once asked of her childhood but not on account of him not caring. Duane was simply an individual who valued privacy and growing up with an overbearing father always in his business had taught the Slytherin one thing- to mind his own damn business when it came to others in hope that they’d return the favor. In his effort to be laid-back and understanding, allowing Eveleen the freedom to confide in him only when she felt ready to open up about her past, he had accidentally gave off the impression of cold aloofness regarding getting to know her better.

They needed to talk, to sort this out. He couldn’t carry on like this, living life the way he had before Eveleen came into it. So mustering the motivation to have a proper wash Duane got dressed in a simple, black t-shirt beneath a flannel shirt and a pair of his favorite, most comfortable blue jeans. He took the Knight Bus to Brixton, an hour ride that made him slightly nauseous and got there at quarter past nine. Wiping his clammy palms on the tops of his trousers he braced himself, taking a deep breathe to face Eveleen again. Pale knuckles wrapped loudly on the door. As he waited for a response Duane glanced around, surveying his surroundings in suspicion, knowing he was in a particularly seedy neighborhood. He felt hardly at ease even with his hornheam wand in his back pocket, for since their row his magic had gone back to being wonky again.

The door clicking open gained the teen’s attention as his shaggy head snapped over to a woman who bore a striking resemblance to Eveleen, though she appeared older with make-up done up to excess and hair teased and sprayed with product to hold it stiffly in place. He could smell the aerosol in the air that lingered around her along with the distinct aroma of cheap floral perfume that made his nose itch and for a moment he thought he’d sneeze in her face.

“Erm- Hello, Mrs. Swan?” He confirmed only half certain, putting the pieces together and coming to the conclusion that this woman must have been Mary, Eveleen’s mum.

“I’m Duane, Eveleen’s mate from school.” He explained a bit nervously, swallowing down the dry lump in his throat that made his voice come out a bit croaky and hoarse as if it hadn't been used in years. “Say, is she around, I’d like to speak to her... Only if you wouldn’t mind of course.” Duane ventured, his murky gaze flickering between the painted on face of the woman and the narrow entryway visible over her shoulder, hoping that Eveleen would suddenly appear having heard his voice.

Duane nodded stiffly at Mary, jealousy and concern flooding him with the knowledge that Eveleen was out attending a party. Parties meant loads of booze and loads of men and although Eveleen wasn't the sort to openly flaunt her beauty and put her body out there, drunken guys would surely still prey upon her, trying to woo her into going someplace a little more private with them. Being a Slytherin male he had seen the worst of the worst of lads his age and what they were capable of and the thought of strange blokes trying to take advantage of Eveleen made bile nearly rise up into the back of his throat as he took off swiftly down the lane, hazel eyes darting to closely analyze his dim surroundings, surveying the road signs until he found the right one and took a sharp right. Soon he came to a brown, stone flat just as Mary had said, music blaring so that it could be heard and felt from just outside the door, causing the hairs on the back of Duane's neck to rise as the thumping of the steady bass tickled them. Duane felt extremely anxious, not being one for social functions, the idea of entering some random muggle's home and searching through the crowd of intoxicated teenagers for Eveleen was unappealing and terrifying at best.

Duane resolutely pushed through his social anxiety that caused the dry lump in his the back of his throat to become increasingly more uncomfortable and his hands to clam up with stress while his stomach churned in tightly coiled knots. The flat was dimly lit and there was smoke distorting the young wizard's vision, causing his amber eyes to water slightly with irritation. He hadn't made it far into the first room when a tipsy muggle girl was shoved haphazardly into his side causing him to instinctively extend a pale hand out to steady her, preventing her fall. Before she could offer an apology or thank him the lanky, ebony-haired boy wordlessly pushed past her and made his way deeper into the lively party. Duane became increasingly more tense and stiff as more and more gyrating party-goers were flung into him and it became more difficult to dodge the bodies that seemed to consume him, trapping him momentarily before he managed to maneuver his way out of the small sea of people.

"Eveleen?" Duane called out gruffly, almost desperately, his throat raw with nerves and immense apprehension. Would she be angry to see him here, intruding upon her fun night out with her mates? He wondered. With each step his dread grew and finally his heart sank painfully within his ribcage when he caught sight of a familiar head of dark, cascading curls snogging a seedy looking bloke who was far more muscled and chiseled than the looming, weedy teenager but Duane had anger on his side...and magic, of course if needed, although magic was strictly forbidden outside of school, rules were made to be bent.

"Eveleen, what the hell are you doing?" Duane growled, reaching out to grip gently her shoulder and lightly spinning her around to face him fully so that he could get a good look at her, his amber eyes reflecting in them blaring rage and fierce jealousy, along with disappointment and sorrow. All these heavy and abrupt emotions faded instantly to the back of his mind upon realization that the brunette who's shoulder he was currently clutching was not his girlfriend. He had mistook the muggle for someone else and Duane hastily released her, muttering a sheepish, awkward apology before quickly pushing past them and down a narrow corridor with a single door at the end. Giving the brass knob a twist he found that it was jammed, or perhaps someone on the other side had merely locked it. Still, he was certain someone had to have been in there.

"Hello? Eveleen, are you in there?" Duane called out against the barrier, straining his low, normally quiet voice against the blaring, thumping music. He received no answer but rather than turn away and continue his pursuit elsewhere something in his gut tugged at him, an instinct of sorts that nagged him to remain where he stood and discover what lay hidden behind the threshold. Stepping back, Duane pressed each of his palms out against the walls on either side for support as he brought back his knee and with all his might and a deep breath kicked out as hard as he could. The sole of his right foot collided loudly with the door which gave way and buckled against his might, flying open and revealing a small, dingy washroom.

There beside the tub lay the petite figure of a girl, curled in on herself in the fetal position, a spray of dark curls haloed around her head and falling into her porcelain face, distorting her identity. Duane knew though instantly who the girl was even before kneeling down and brushing back her hair, as terror and a flash of raw concern consumed him, tightening his gut.

"Eveleen..." He hissed, his tone cracking slightly in fear as he attempted to awaken her but she did not stir. Duane then pressed his index finger beneath her nose and relief swelled inside of him when he felt her warm, shallow breath tickle against his skin. She must have been heavily intoxicated and passed out, he theorized, carefully scooping up his small girlfriend into his arms and holding her bridal-style against his firm chest. Using his foot to pry back open the broken, flimsy door fully, he maneuvered his way out of the bathroom and back into the party where Eveleen's friends spotted him and showed concern, having no idea who he was and why he was taking her away.

"She needs to go home, she's had far too much to drink. I'm a mate of hers from school, I've got it from here." Duane offered curtly, in no mood to further explain or argue with the muggles. He wasn't sure how much longer he could last in this cramped and crowded environment before he'd go completely mental, so it was best that he get the two of them out of there fast. So he left, ignoring their concerned inquiries from over his shoulder. 

Duane swiftly carried Eveleen back to her flat, inwardly impressed at himself for remaining level-headed and alert despite being rather concerned for her state of health. He remembered correctly the route back and before long he had given her front doorknob a twist, awkwardly crossing over the threshold and into the entryway, calling out quietly for Mary but received no answer. The flat was lightless, by now night had fully consumed the land and there was no occupants in the house besides the two of them, leaving it up to Duane to produce a source of light. Gently he set down Eveleen, propping her up so that she was slumping against the stairs while he pulled out his wand and cast, 'Lumos' as pure, white light illuminated from the tip of his Hornheam wand brilliantly bathing the narrow space in bright light. The wizard gripped the wand between his teeth as he bent back down to scoop up his girlfriend, carrying her into the living room and setting her upon the couch before finding a lamp and turning it on. Duane came to kneel beside her, brushing the rough pads of his fingertips against her temple as he continued to hiss out her name in a concerned whisper. "Eveleen, wake up. It's me, Duane..." He said, pressing a small vile of pepper-up potion to her lips that would likely cause he to stir.

Duane felt relief seep steadily into his chest as Eveleen awoke, a bit groggily and slowly took in her surroundings, observing her dimly lit flat and the shaggy-haired boy hunched over her. Before either of them could speak a word of greeting a blaring, melodic tone disturbed the heavy silence of the room and Duane watched wordlessly as Eveleen hastily rummaged in her pocket for her cellular device and carried on a very brief conversation with whomever was on the other end, most likely one of her muggle friends, before stowing away the sleek gadget and focusing her piercing, brown eyes on him. Once more Duane felt the overwhelming urge to speak with her, say something, anything, perhaps even everything all at once, but the careful words he had spent hours that day planning had all been erased, replaced only with concern and a mild sense of panic, still a bit shook up inside from seeing her so lifeless.

Eveleen spoke first between the two of them, thanking her former boyfriend quietly, confessing that he had just perhaps saved her life tonight. That’s when Duane realized something had gone terribly wrong at that party, something he was completely oblivious to when he had swooped in and ‘rescued’ her. Duane hadn’t just stumbled upon Eveleen heavily intoxicated and passed out drunk, her life had been at stake and instantly he felt the burning inquiries racing through his head but before Duane could demand to know just what had happened, what exactly she was on about, Eveleen surprised him fully by wrapping her slender arms around his pale neck and embracing him. He relaxed the tense, taught muscles of his back and shoulders as she nuzzled her blotchy, red face against his collarbone so that he could feel her hot, shallow breathes against the base of his throat as sobs steadily gripped her and hot tears, that she tried desperately to repress, escaped her, trailing down her cheek as she quietly cried into his shirt.

'Wasn’t she furious with him? Still deeply hurt and upset by their nasty row back at school?' He wondered though it seemed as though their fight was momentarily forgotten, at least for that small moment as they both clung so desperately to one another, drowning in sentimental feelings of warm familiarity. Duane hugged her tightly, his large hand trailing smooth, slow circles in between her shoulder blades in a consoling act of of comfort as he finally spoke up gruffly and quietly against her bushy hair, “What happened, Eveleen? I found you unconscious in the loo, had you been drinking…or was it something more?” He carefully inquired, still rather hung up on her previous words, ‘You could have saved my life.’ Had it merely been a vague statement or had something dangerous actually occurred at that seedy party tonight? He needed to know the answer, the fierce urge to protect her rising in his chest. Though, in most circumstances, Eveleen Swan was hardly the type of witch that needed his or anybody's protecting, perfectly capable on her own. She was far cleverer and skilled with magic than most of her peers at school but this was the muggle world, where they were forbidden to use magic, stripping them of their natural advantage over the rest of the population and leaving them both a lot more vulnerable less they break the laws of the wizarding world and risk expulsion.

Eveleen pulled gently away from him as he spoke, muttering a sheepish apology before she leaned back against the couch upright with Duane still knelt down beside her, his murky, amber eyes scanning hers intently. "Don't be, I'll always be here for you Ev, you know that..." He hissed sadly with guilt and regret glistening in his eyes, reminded of their fight and all the things he had come here tonight to say to her but apologies would have to wait a little longer, right now he needed to know exactly what had happened to put her life at risk.

"Yes, you had." Duane supplied quietly, referring to Eveleen locking the loo door. His pale face was distorted with worry, dark eyes blazing with anger beneath furrowed brows.

"Merlin, Eveleen, these muggle girls are barmy! Isn't there something we can do, like seek out the authorities? Surely, what this girl has done to you is illegal..." Duane declared, deeply yearning for justice. He didn't know much about muggle law but he knew that morally what Katie had done was wrong and therefore some sort of vengeance was in serious order. Duane wasn't a reckless, foolhardy bloke though, he wasn't the sort of man to personally conduct an attack or enact some sort of vicious revenge upon his enemy. He was much more reasonable and laid-back, preferring to let the law sort things out. The only issue with that being how would they explain the traces of peculiar herbs and fungi found in Eveleen's body from the pepper-up potion? Duane couldn't tell the authorities that he had given her a magical draft now could he? Would they even do that, lab testing, to prove that she had consumed drugs at the party? How could they prove it was ingested unwillingly? Duane's mind began to feel foggy and numb, aching with the stress of trying to sort out this mess with limited knowledge of muggle customs. He desperately wanted nothing more than this Katie girl and her arsehole boyfriend to get what they had coming to them, but at the same time they had to be careful about this, out of fear of revealing too much of their magic. It would be a huge hassle to get the Ministry of Magic involved, if an Obliviator had to erase one of the police person's memories. In the end this was all too complicated and Duane feared they'd simply have to let this go and move on from the offense, feeling grateful that Eveleen hadn't been seriously harmed. The Slytherin peered over at his girlfriend, anger slowly leaving his face as it relaxed into a more neutral expression of defeat, replaced with disappointment and melancholy as he awaited her response, for her to likely tell him the very same things he had pieced together for himself in his head, that there was nothing that could be done in this situation.