To say the time between April 4th and May 5th had been chaotic would be the understatement of the year. Dolly felt she had to constantly check in with everyone that had been present the night Daz was kidnapped. She felt like she couldn't let the other woman out of her sight. She checked on her several times a week - though generally when Nate was already out of their tiny apartment. Whatever resentment had been bubbling between she and Mr. Briggs Dolly couldn't have cared less how he felt about her being around all the time. He was a worthless life mate as far as she was concerned. Through the early years of their marriage Dolly had done her best to ignore the parasite that was Nate Briggs but if he thought he was going to keep her from her best friend she'd bury him.

 The night the cottage was attacked snapped something inside of Dolly. It was impossible not to desire physical pain to be delivered upon someone in this whole mess. She couldn't get her hands on the bastard that kept Dazmond as some indentured servant, but she would gladly settle for ripping the man who wed her best friend limb from limb. There was a poisonous hate for Nate that had formed in the pit of Dolly's stomach. It had nothing to do with the years of his look down his dirty nose at her. She could care less what he thought of her - it was that he was a fucking moron who got himself arrested and brought even more scrutiny upon Dazmond. It was that no one would listen when she told them Dazmond's previous summer vanishing was different than all the times before.

She did not share these feelings or thoughts with anyone. She would not put Dazmond in the position to choose; but she could feel the strain between the two. The way Dazmond had looked at him before seemed to have dimmed. She was clinging more and more to familiar loved ones - not longer existing solely in the universe of "Dazate Brigman". Hence Dolly treading the streets of Knockturn - out of place in her stylish day dress and inordinately high heels meant for lush carpet rather than broken cobblestones. She had yet to master the art of disguise... alternately she was just naturally brazen and didn't care much who saw her go where. The latter had certainly been true before she knew the full extent to the trouble Dazmond was in. Why would she stop to worry she'd been followed?

Now, in the hours and days that had passed since her friends birthday... she felt herself deeply paranoid. She cared very little for her own safety but she was careful of her surroundings. She did not, however, believe that meant she needed to be a fashion victim. Vanity thy name shalt always be Dolores. Still; no one much bothered her as she let herself up with the Wiedman-Briggs flat (for which she had the spell code to bypass the locks). She wasn't sure if Nate knew - but she had thrown it in Dominik's face a time or two when he tried to talk things out with her. She was like a dog on a bone about the years and years he lacked trust in her (and also annoyed she'd had to climb through his bathroom window all that time). In fact that might have been the only time she talked to him after he'd thrown her in the closet.

She tried not to think about his annoying momentary desire to save her - or the fact that while he was saving her he also happened to decide he wanted to kiss her. She didn't let herself think about the other night he had kissed her either; or the night she had spent with Darian "making up" - or the impending "what exactly are we" conversation with Tappy. Perhaps Dolly was so preoccupied with taking care of Dazmond because she did not have the emotional wherewithal to deal with and take care of the mess that was her life. Looking after Dazmond, bringing her food and spending long evenings curled up with her while they talked but avoided talking about either of their situations was like a reprieve from reality for Dolly. It was almost like they were eighteen again... almost.

Finally open the door she stepped through over the threshold her voice chipper in comparison to the rather dingy room, "Oy! Daz, I come bearing sustenance... and if that won't get you out here; I also come bearing booze".

Dazmond had spent the day indoors and it was approaching late afternoon already; Nate had been out for a few hours.  Six cauldrons were set out by the hearth, each at various stages of preparedness and each contributing to the sweet, flowery smell of the small circular studio flat that she called home.  Herbs were hanging on strings from the ceiling, the table was covered in blue bottles and soiled mixing bowls and funnels that lay prone nearby.  When Dolly entered, Dazmond was feeding a beetle to her carnivorous creeper plant atop the bookcase.  Throwing her gaze over her shoulder, Daz watched Dolly come in and smiled over at her.

"Hey Dolls," said Dazmond, finishing her creepy crawly task before crossing the short room.  She was eyeing the basket Dolly carried with some wariness that quickly morphed into a quirky grin as Daz embraced her friend.  "When are you ever going to start believing me again when I say that I'm okay?"  She sounded amused as she took the basket from Dolly and put it down on the table, scooting potion dishes aside in the process.  It may have been a mess inside, but to Dazmond it was cosy.  Of course being surrounded by potions projects in her little nest was a queer occasion for Daz; she was such a social person but wrapped up in a cauldron she could spend days in a tiny space and be perfectly chipper.  Not to say that she was "perfectly chipper" now... she wasn't a nervous wreck anymore, but she was still not back to her normal self, either.  She wasn't sure if there was a 'normal' to get back to or if things were just different now.

Whatever it was, Dazmond was not in any bad blood with her husband personally, despite the obvious strain that had been working itself on their happy home; their bond was still as tight as devil's snare, as far as she was concerned.  True, they largely lived in different worlds, but he was still her darling.  The animosity towards him from all corners, however, had only intensified under all of the stress of the last month it seemed. 

Dazmond had become somewhat settled from having done finally what she had set out to do, but in the aftermath there was plenty of room to question what was supposed to come next.  For the moment it seemed calmer than she'd anticipated; she was filling orders and brewing most of the day, receiving visits from Dolly whenever Nate was away, and, actually, thinking a lot about politics.

"Cheers, though," said Dazmond.  "What'd you bring me?"  She lifted the lid of the basket an inch to peer in slightly.

"Probably never," Dolly's voice was graciously tinted with amusement as she wrapped her arms around the bony witch. If there was one thing Dolly regretted more than anything (and she did have quite a bit to regret lately) it was that she had not listened to her gut instincts when it came to everything being off with her friend the first go around. Dazmond was not Dazmond, she hadn't been for quite some time. If Dolly had listened to herself rather than Dominik or anyone else maybe... she tried not to let her thoughts wander down that road. She had wasted so much of her life on what if's and if only's. She'd never be able to change the past but she sure as hell could make sure that history didn't repeat itself.

Even when the two of them where happily chatting together sometimes Dolly felt the inexplicable urge to reach out and touch the other woman - just to reassure herself that Daz was, in fact, still there. She knew that it left the other woman somewhere between vexed and endeared. She also knew that without these little visits Dolly, in and of herself, would go insane. There was too much and not enough going on all at the same time. With the Hogwarts year drawing to close that meant she'd have a student assistant shadowing her soon - that meant she'd have to get started on the final book. There would be more speaking engagements, more parties, more one night stands...

The last bit was debatable. She had not been with anyone...well other than Darian since before the attack. It bothered her that so much of her life was now thought of in before and afters. There was life before Tabitha died and the existence after, the world before Dazmond was kidnapped and the world after. Everything felt more sinister; even in the harsh light of day. She had no control over anything except her ability to exist in that universe. All she could do was cope; to get from one day to the next. It was worse when she was alone - but in that moment she wasn't. Dazmond's voice snapped her back to reality with jarring clarity, her features flushing pink.

"Vine snake wine - but you're expected to share that," her tone was teasing as she slipped one arm around Daz's slender middle and peered into the basket even though she'd packed it herself less than thirty minutes ago. "There's also fresh fruit - keeps the Scurvy away," her tone was teasing as she bumped hips with the other witch. "I have to admit I may have stolen the idea from your idiot brother. So long as you don't try to convince me to be nice to big nosed reporters our day should end on a far happier note," she tried to sound amused. Still, involuntarily, the words brought forth an image of the way Dominik had kissed her - first that day in her apartment then again in the cottage closet while Dazmond was being stolen away, "There are also lots of little morsels to try and fatten you up. If my fat bottom is going to start sagging I'm going to make sure your's does too".

When Dazmond laughed it was an earnest bubbling forth of brightness but lacked her usual, boundless sense of energy.  "I might take you up on that," she said, reaching into the basket and feeling around for the neck of a bottle.  "Doesn't do my bony arse to be sitting on this hard floor... what with the scurvy I'm an easy bruiser."  She was of course joking as she pulled out a green glass bottle and paused, regarding its label with some fondness; it was relatively expensive at seven galleons a pop and one of her favourite wines on the market as Dolly knew; they had often indulged in it during their Witch-to-Witch time, back when she had gotten her thieving skills down to an art and was spending away all of her stolen goblin gold. 

Just having the vine snake wine in her hands and having Dolly there made her feel somewhat nurtured and comforted.  No matter how good she might have been at covering up her emotions, there was a sadness in her to be sure; she felt that she'd been infected by the Scottish sea, and those waters were hard to shake. 

Dazmond summoned glasses immediately, always more inclined towards liquids than anything else, but she did levitate the basket of food as well before moving everything to the hardwood floor in the middle of the room.  There were small circular cushions of bright colour that were embroidered in strange patterns and worn from age.  She nudged them over with her bare foot and sat down on one, already uncorking the wine and pouring into their glasses a deep burgundy purple.

"How was your weekend - did you do anything?  And what's this about my brother?"  She arched an eyebrow playfully in intrigue.  She also asked in a manner as if she hadn't already heard the whole story from Dominik.  She was curious about the current dynamic between them, however, because Dom hadn't exactly been talking to her about his love life since she poisoned herself and got kidnapped.  They hadn't been doing much talking at all, actually.  He seemed to think bothering her with his problems right now was not a good idea, but he also had never asked Dazmond anything about the kidnapping at all.  Once she was home, he just let her do her thing.  No overly-protective-brother-saves-the-day bollocks, and Dazmond was touched that he finally recognized that she could take care of herself.  But he had picked her up a handful of times over the last month to take her to their family home for an evening with mum, dad and Dom. 

One of the most painful parts of being with Dazmond was  seeing how unlike herself she was. She tried so hard to be the person everyone was used to her being - but Dolly could feel what a farce it was. There was something broken in her friend and it was something she couldn't fix. Desperately she wanted to, she wanted to piece back together their old lives. She wanted to be eighteen again and running around the countryside getting into all the trouble they could find. She wanted them to share her over stuffed bed in her too quiet house; curled around one another like sleepy kittens as they giggled late into the night. She wanted to pad barefoot in the summer 'round the Wiedman cottage with no sense or rush, or worry, or notion of what the future would hold for them. Life had been an open book with blank pages; now the pages seemed filled with nightmares for both of them.

She watched carefully, for any signs of new distress as the other witch took the wine and headed toward the pile of pillows. She was brewing a lot; under normal circumstances that would have been a reassuring trend. Daz was at her best when she was working; in the past she seemed to radiate pure joy while stirring the massive cauldrons. Now...now Dolly wasn't sure what she saw, but it wasn't anything like the happiness that used to bubble from the waif like witch. Daz had always functioned beautifully in the middle of chaos - like the eye of a storm with the world twisting around her she still managed to find her center. Dolly wanted so much to fix everything, to put it back together in some shape that resembled normality... but she couldn't. Nothing in her own life even felt right, even being with Darian felt wrong - that was something new and awful.

Slipping off her ridiculously high heels she followed Dazmond and carefully lowered herself on to a lush cushion of green and gold, she was debating about even telling Daz all the things that had unfolded since March between she and Dom. It was all just so ridiculous. Taking a small sip she settled back and turned her eyes toward the ceiling, "What hasn't he done? Niobe tattled on me months ago and he still randomly gets a bee up his broom about me being nice to the nasty wench," there was a slight scowl to her normally pretty features as she quickly downed the entirety of the glass... Maybe Dom was the reason she was an alcoholic. Interacting with him certainly made drinking seem like a good idea at the  very least. It probably wasn't fair to say that though, Dolly had been a fan of the "demon alcohol" in many situations that had nothing to do with Dom. Still, if she wanted to fling hateful insults at him that one might be worth filing away.

"I don't do much of anything anymore Daz, you know that. Everything bores me to tears; even very attractive men. I believe I've finally developed a conscience and it's spoiling all my fun," her tone was jesting, but it wasn't so far from the truth. By nature Dolly had always been a glutton, a hedonist, act first and never think about the consequence unless it landed you in a lot of trouble. Even when she had been with Eli she was always just a hair's breadth from stepping over the disaster line. She drank too much, smoked too much, danced too much, laughed in the face of conformity too much - and now at twenty-five she felt twice her age. Part of it was because of March...but part of it was because she was just plain tired.

Raking her fingers through her hair she shot the other witch a sidelong look, "Did he tell you he locked me in a closet and decided it was a proper time for a snog while you were being kidnapped? I swear - I come within an inch of moving on with my life and BAM he's right there to make sure it never happens. Bastard". The last word was punctuated by the sound of wine spilling into her glass, a small scowl etched into her features, "It isn't even as if he means it. He's probably just figured out that even Niobe Thursby doesn't want his trifling arse".  She paused to look at Dazmond seriously before stating very plainly, "I'm bloddy sick and damn tired of being second choice. I'm fucking fabulous".

Daz's lips skewed as she listened.  She did not like Niobe Thursby because Niobe Thursby wrote stories about her friends and family and then exposed them to the entire Wizarding population of the British Isles.  She seemed to write every story that Daz did not want in her Daily Prophet, the bearer of bad news which hovered suspiciously close to her own home and heart.  She'd meant to give her a good toss last June but had gotten distracted by the fact that she was stuck in one of a particular crime lord's grimy pockets.  Now Niobe Thursby had been sleeping with her brother again, which did not do well for any of them.  Who knew how close he may have gotten to revealing things about the Wizarding Blood Alliance or Cinaed Tawse?  For a quick kiss or a dinner date?  Even aside from that, seeing him all doe-eyed and mopey was annoying enough.

And why couldn't he just be with Dolly?  Well, they all knew:  It was complicated.  Daz's eyes fell on the emptied glass and she made a little panic sound, her eyebrows lifting with a playful look of concern.  "Don't drown in it!" she said, then lightening up from panicked to pouty she added, "Vine snake wine's meant to be appreciated."  She threw out her bottom lip, thinking of the syrupy bittersweet wine as the liquid essence of their young adulthood.  Even having said this though, Dazmond took a big sip of her own wine to keep pace, draining the entirety of her own glass.  Hearing what Dolly had to say next, Dazmond managed to malfunction and found herself holding a hand to her face as wine dribbled down her chin.  She swallowed.

"Wait a minute, wait a minute - he kissed you!?"  The question came out as dramatic as it was tinged with eager faith.  Dazmond had always been pro Dom and Dolly.  As far as she knew, this was the first time they'd touched lips since their rendezvous in Paris when Dolly was just a teenager!  This was bloody exciting!

"Salazar it's so romantic!" she said, full smile blooming on her lips.  "Well Dolly, he must have been thinking about how important you are to him!  Niobe Schnobie, you know you're his number one Witch.  Because you are fucking fabulous, yes, but you're also you.  I mean, my brother has issues but he has always needed you.  Sometimes I think he's held back because he's scared of having something good in his bloody life.  Like he doesn't deserve you or something.  Salazar, he really kissed you?"  Daz squinted at her friend.  It was perplexing in a way.  Why had he kissed her then and not all the other times he could have?  Had he thought they were going to die?

"I appreicate," Dolly paused to grin at the other witch, "how quickly it makes me forget your brother is a giant troll who goes around stomping things in my life," she gave a succinct nod to punctuate the statement, her blue eyes going a little cross as she inspected the liquid left in her glass. Vine Snake was potent stuff and wine always had a sharper effect on Dolly's brain than regular alcohol. She had always chalked it up to the fact that wine was so sweet you didn't realize you were getting drunk while you were getting drunk. Still, she knew how much Daz loved it and decided to slow her pace because it really had been a present for the other woman. Dolly just wanted to be numb for this particular conversation because she could see the wheels turning in Dazmond's head and she didn't want to ascribe meaning to something meaningless...or something it was too late for. That was how he really felt about the situation; that now it was just too late. He had broken pieces of her that couldn't be put back together. She'd loved him so long and so hard that she was worn out on loving - and all of that while getting nothing back.

Sighing she sunk lower in the pile of pillows and closed her eyes, deciding she should start from the middle, "It happened before that night too," she paused lifting heavily lidded eyes at Dazmond, "don't go getting excited until after I tell you the version of events as I remember them. I'm sure he has a much different story, bloody Git that he is," taking a moment to empty her third glass she tucked her legs carefully and let her eyes drift closed lazily, "You remember you made us make up, staging that little meeting at Calavera's. After that things were alright for a little while. We spent time together and tried not to fight - and then round about the first of March he decides we should have a picnic, in my apartment because you know what the weather is always like," she was rambling and getting off topic, the alcohol making her tongue loose on secrets she had kept tucked away.

"I gave him back the Wiedman ring," she let the words sort of hang between them, hoping that Daz would understand what she meant. The ring that was more than a ring, the ring that Dolly had thought was a promise, the ring that was a curse, the ring that was a reminder, "I'd carried the damn thing around too long anyway. Even after Elliot and I got engaged- Merlin that poor bastard; I don't know how he stomached being with me," rubbing her forehead she took a deep breath and shook her head, "Anyway I gave it back. I thought, I don't know, with his contracts coming up he'd stop being such a fatalist. Everything was going really well -  I gave him this beautiful symbol of hope - and the first thing that bastard wants to talk about is my being rude to Niobe. Now you know damn good and well I am never nasty first; but he just accused me of being awful to her"! There was a deep wounded outcry to her voice as her blue eyes flew fully open and she looked to Dazmond, the sting of his words still pricking her skin.

Chewing the inside of her cheek she twisted the ring on her finger and looked down shaking her head, "So I yelled at him, I told him I was sick of being precious Dolores tapped the cage he built around me. I was sick of being lovable but never loved. I just... I said it all Daz; and then he kissed me! It was like something out of the books - but even more unstatisfying because he just left. Then I didn't see him again until he and Tappy were ready to go at one another over my half dead body on the 11th, then again nothing until the night of your party," she shook her head and looked helplessly at Daz. She knew that his sister wanted this fairy tale to end with the two of them being married and happy. Dolly just didn't know if that was really possible anymore. She wanted to have that childlike faith that true love could topple anything...but maybe it couldn't,  "I just don't know anymore Daz. I really don't. I can't pin my heart on a kiss when he's still mucking about with that nasty bitch".

Dazmond listened and gradually her expression changed from overly excited to wearily empathetic.  She did want the best for them, together, and knew just as well as her mother that Dolly was the perfect Witch for Dominik to settle down with.  She was rightfully afraid that he might have missed that boat - if Dominik didn't marry soon her parents would doubtlessly stop tolerating Nathan and demmand that she produce purebloods of her own.  They wanted so badly to be grandparents, though they had suspiciously never brought the topic up with Dazmond since she'd been married to Nate.  Though it was weird to think about it... she didn't feel nearly as opposed to having children as she had been a year ago.  She took a deep breath after Dolly had finished, clearing her head of the thought and the residual blues from hearing the low-down on her friend's romance with her brother, if you could call it that.

"I don't know, Dolly."  Dazmond took a drink and looked to the ceiling pensively.  "You know, Dom has really repressed everything that could possibly be good in his life ever since the end of the war.  Is he really still seeing Thursby?  He's such a bloody masochist."  Dazmond rolled her eyes.

She could remember how drastically Dom had changed during the trials - he had never been so angry in all his life, so moody and mean.  He hardly would talk to anybody.  Then when everything settled for him and her father had manoeuvred to keep him out of Azkaban, Dominik spent all his free time brooding and getting drunk by himself and knocking blokes down on their arses for looking at him wrong.  By now Dazmond was used to it, but she also knew that as destructive as he was Dominik would write poetry and short stories like a fiend at night; his paintings were so beautiful that she cried when she saw him incinerate them moments after they were finished.  But where Dolly thought that the old Dominik, the care-free and charismatic little boy, was still in him somewhere - Daz was pretty sure that that part of him was gone. 

Sometimes people just changed.  The thought stirred her too deeply and she let it go, distracting herself with a different puzzle.  She cradled her glass, looking into the purple drink with eyes that looked beyond their target into space. 

"I can't believe you gave him the ring back," marvelled Dazmond.  "That thing meant so much to him and then he realized what it meant - eleven generations and they were all used up.  Pretty horrible thing for him to find out after being bloody branded.  I swear - he must've thought he was supposed to die in the war making sure we'd all live for the new golden age.  He's got a monkey on his back the size of England.  It's not your fault he's blind to true feelings, love.  Who knows though...," Dazmond took out two cigarettes, sticking one between her lips and handing the other to Dolly, looking over to her again.  "Maybe with all that's been going on he's ready to stop being such a miserable loaf and get on with his bloody life."  She lit her fag with her wand's end, then reached out to do the same for Dolly's.  "Not like that's going to happen overnight; boy's got some serious issues.  Though the only thing that would ever really make sense to me," said Dazmond, "is if he would end up with you.  If you can even stomach him any more - and believe me, I'd understand if you can't."

She took to swirling her wine round in her glass as another thought stewed in her head.  "It almost seems as if he was bringing Thursby up as a defence of some sort," she mused.  "Dom's like Pandora's box, y'know?  He's a bitch to get open and you might not even want to get inside!  I don't know what to tell you.  I'm sorry you ever got mixed up with my brother."  Daz shrugged and shook her head.  "He's impossible."

It was a hard sell, making people understand what she saw in Dominik. She was not delusional; she knew that parts of him had died in the war. She knew that he would never be as carefree and wild as the boy she had fallen so helplessly in love with over buckets of mud when she was three... but in all the years since the war she had not lost faith that there was still someone worth loving underneath it all. Beyond the anger and the self loathing, the nasty surly drunk she had always believed was the heart of her poet. He was so talented and for so many years she thought she could piece him back together. She thought, as foolishly as Elliot had thought of her, that she could love him enough for the both of them.

She did not hold this hope blindly, she did not just cling to the memories of their childhood together as some people might accuse - no there were breaks in the clouds. Dominik was not always awful. He could still charm the skirt off any woman; should he so choose. He was funny; not on purpose but he did make her laugh, and in the private moments when they were alone she could see beyond the wounds to the flicker that lived in him. She couldn't explain that to Dazmond or Tappy. She couldn't even explain, fully, to herself what it was she still saw that made leaving so hard - but she had seen it until just this last year. This last year had not been kind to her love for him, she had started questioning herself and what she was waiting for.

"I don't see it anymore," she inhaled a sharp breath, letting the smoke fill her lungs as Dazmond waxed on about what could possibly be going on with her brother. She wet her bottom lip, eyes on the ceiling before she slowly exhaled. Her expression melted from tense to pensive as she traced the stitching on the cushion beneath her, "No matter how bad it got, ow angry I was, when I would look at him I could see it - I could see how we would be. Even the whole time I was with Elliot, when he would owl, when we'd get drinks... I could feel the rightness of the way he would say my name. I never felt that with any of the others... but I don't anymore".

She turned her head to look at Daz, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, "All I hear is desperation, all I feel is if he had me he'd throw me away again". It was sacrilegious, saying these things out loud - especially to Dazmond. Dianora and Daz had always wanted the two of them to be together; they had been the ones to salve her wounds when she felt cast aside. Curling onto her side, facing Dazmond she looked at the other woman earnestly, "I think...it broke when he took her side; when he assumed I was just nasty and awful to her for no reason. I've fought so hard for him Daz...and to have him just..." she could even finish the sentence, her voice was too thick with emotion and tears she didn't want to cry anymore. "I'm just so tired Daz, too tired to be just twenty-five".

Dazmond's posture had slunk and her expression was a dubious frown.  She didn't know what to say to her friend.  It was messy playing the middle man, even after all of these years talking to one and then the other.  For such a fated pairing they certainly had forces to contend with.  Dominik was such a martyr and would forever deny what would make him happiest, while Dolly was exactly like him and would wait forever.  Only their storyline seemed to change with all the rest of her life experience in the past year.  Nothing was quite how it used to be; even her union with Nate had changed.  And now the love story had fully switched.  Dominik had come to his senses just as Dolly stopped waiting.  Nothing good could come of that.

But seeing the tears in Dolly's eyes jerked Dazmond out of her passive state of mind with an abruptness, her own laments curtailed by the other Witch's distress.  She stood on her knees and automatically went to Dolly, putting her arms around her in a protective and nurturing stance. 

"Oh, oh Dolly," she said with a sad laugh.  "Don't let the terror consume you.  You're in safe hands and all will work out exactly as it's meant to!  We'll get by."  She held her close for a long moment, cradling her like she'd been cradled a thousand times in her life.  She pulled back, wiping an errant tear from beneath Dolly's eye and smiling reassuringly before jumping up to fetch something.  "I have just the thing for us!" she said, a sentence that had quite frequently fallen from her lips during the course of their friendship.

Dazmond plucked two phials off of the mantel and tucked one neatly in Dolly's hands. 

"Something that's always come in handy, but worlds more for this year than any other," she explained, uncorking her own dosage and imbibing in the whole of it, which tasted sweet like warm, honeyed water with a slight undertone of wild berries.  "Takes the troubles away and blows them to the wind like bloody fairy dust," said Daz.  "Not like poison-yourself-to-death-to-get-the-memories-back but, more in the realm of ease-into-the-moment-and-don't-fret-cause-everything-is-very-beautiful.  Believe me I've more or less mastered this bad boy in recent times.  Rather pleasant way of living if you ask me."  She drew on her cigarette, eyes trained on Dolly with a mix of concern and appeasement as she nodded in response to her own statements. 

For the first time in a very long time their roles were reversed. Dolly had always been a bit mother hen-ish of the finely boned witch now cradling her shoulders. Even when they were in Hogwarts, whatever trouble they got into Dolly tried to bear the brunt of it rather than letting it all fall on Daz to save her own ass. When it came to friends there was a soul binding loyalty she felt toward Dazmond (which somehow made the fact she had ever slept with Landis seem even worse and made her more guilty). With that in mind, it was strange that Dolly let herself slump against the other witch and actually cry; usually - even when she was so frustrated with Dominik she thought she might burst she buckled it all down and refused to be touched. It was one thing to let someone make you cry; it was quite another to fall apart in their arms.

Dolly prided herself on being strong, though in recent months she had begun questioning exactly what her definition of strong meant. In their wild and wicked youth she had believed it meant not giving a damn about anyone else, about taking care of herself above all else - even if there was some disagreement on the ways she went about doing that. Everything was changing; and so to did Dolores St. James. It felt more weak to hide away from the universe and her pain than to just let herself feel it in the hopes of moving on. She had clung to the idea that somehow they would, could recreate the past if they just got drunk enough; if she just slept with enough men, she might find that future  she had lost so long ago with Dom. She was literally trying to shag her way back in time to a different version of herself. She was sick of the fame, she was sick of the lies, she was sick of not being able to fully trust the people she had always trusted.

There was a deep rooted sadness that took hold of her as Dazmond moved toward the hearth. Things were obviously worse than either of them wanted to acknowledge. They hadn't resorted to using mood enhancers since they were in their early twenties - of course referring to it as their early twenties made Dolly feel much older than just twenty-five. She had packed a lot of living into a very short span of years and it had all but burned her up. Placing the cool phial against her lips she downed the whole thing in one go and sunk back on the cushions. It didn't take long (even faster than the wine in fact) to feel it moving through her veins; calming the panic and worry that had been twisting her stomach.

It was because of this Dolly simply let Dazmond's mention of the night she'd nearly kill herself simply slip away. Closing her eyes she curled onto her side and reached out to the other witch. Dolly had always been the sort of person who craved physical contact - it was probably because she had received so little of it from her mother or some other inane reason a muggle psychologist would come up with and prescribe a pill for. Who needed pills when you had a Dazmond. Her voice was distant and mellow when she spoke again, all traces of tension melted away, "D'you remember the winter we spent in the Tarentaise Valley at that adorable chalet"? The question sort of hung in the air as she slowly opened one eye, "Lets go again, we'll leave the dreadful boys at home; just us - maybe ask  Melanthe"!

Dolly liked planning impractical trips; also she liked running away from reality, "Or maybe Barbados, think of all that sun and sad and gorgeous water". She stretched languidly, rolling onto her stomach and looking at Dazmond as seriously as one could under the effects of the daught they'd just taken. Realistically she could make up a million reasons why this trip needed to happen. Dazmond was working too hard (as though she had a choice), "Oh we could even take the twins and Livi! They're sixteen now, we were off having zany adventures by that age - if we don't usher them into the phase who will"? Resting her chin in her hand she looked at the other witch expectantly, "If we don't make sure otherwise they could end up as housewives," she didn't actually think this was true - but is sounded like a valid argument.

Dazmond leaned back against her pillow and watched Dolly roll like a contented cat with some amusement; she hadn't fed her potions of this sort in quite a long time but for Daz they had always been a staple part of her diet.  They probably had a part to play in her energetic, plucky persona that was never faded by anything outright.  No matter what happened, she could always modify her mental state in any way that she chose - that was something that she had learned fast to take advantage of.  This was not the only potion that she'd been drinking as of late, though one probably couldn't tell from her person that she was altered.  She was very well adapted to personal alteration by now.  And it was not like drugs in the least, but rather suited her because she lived and breathed potions and simply always knew what she needed to find the balance she required.  She was very practical about it all.

And for all of it, considering all that had happened in the last year, Dazmond was markedly unconcerned in her demeanour.  It was a subtle shape-shifting that hid her true concerns from being out in the open, where they could play to her detriment.  Dazmond was a very loyal person, but she was also quite a Slytherin, as had probably been discovered after her stunt last month, shamelessly setting up her closest friends and forcing them into certain roles and positions for her own benefit.  Telling them only what would aid her to tell them, and keeping the most important bits to herself.  But Daz was more than happy to ignore problems and pretend they had never existed as long as she possibly could - she merely thought that one could accomplish more if one didn't worry about things they couldn't change.  Not that she wasn't secretly trying to change everything in the most drastic way possible.

"Of course I remember that," she said a little whimsically.  "Good times, good times."  Something about the thought of going away again seemed utterly inconvenient, however.  She'd already spent so much time avoiding reality that now she just wanted to get some work done.  Soon it'd be Summer and she'd have all sorts of responsibilities to the young again, and it did almost seem like an impossible chore, pretending that nothing had changed in front of all of them.  Rebuilding damaged business relationships would take up most of her time.  But she was offered some levity in the form of imagining that Liviana and Beatrix and Bellatrix might suffer the fate of being housewives.  It was such a strange thought that Dazmond burst out laughing, mostly because of the incongruities involved.

"Oh Salazar," she said.  "I don't even know.  Remember when that was what we both planned for ourselves?  That seemed like the best of all possible worlds.  What if it is?"  There was still a tone of hilarity in her voice, though she seemed somewhat unsure.  "Damn, Dolly, what if?  I could have six babies with Malcolm right now.  Or Landis, really, considering how he was worlds better for me than Malcolm in so many ways.  Woof - nah, I'm happy with what I got."  She laughed, a consequence of two worlds of thought clashing inside her organism.  "Sometimes I think I'm really not the best role model for little girls to take after," she mused.  "I'm surprised my mother still lets me near them.  I imagine we would have got along much easier and saved ourselves a lot of trouble if we'd just went the way of tradition."  She seemed to be joking, but then she'd never said anything to that effect before and something in her truly believed it.

She pressed her glass to her lips and drank, took one last drag from her cigarette and stubbed it out in their ashtray on the floor.

"Who knows, maybe Winter Holidays we could all go away together," said Dazmond.  "I'd love to visit my grandmother in Italy again."  A true smile bloomed on her lips as she remembered picking herbs in the orchard and surrounding gardens on her family's farm.  She shrugged slightly and sighed.  "They are growing up though, aren't they.  Seems like only yesterday we were their age."

Dolly didn't exactly sober at the memory but she did stop to consider that time in her life. Once in awhile, very secretly, in the inner most part of herself she regretted not...being able to have that life. How different a universe would it have been if Landis and Dazmond had stayed together? She was reminded of her visit to Hogsmeade, to the bitterness that seemed to ooze from every pore of the librarian. He had not been a happy child; but there had been moments, she believed, when they had all been happy together. Their shared life had been a good life; and then Dazmond gave way to the pressure of family and now Landis Morgan had a shell so thick and an emotional depth so small he didn't even realize it was obvious he was in love with one of the most gorgeous women in the history of mankind.

Jules had her faults like anyone else; but there was a lot to be said for a pretty face. Closing her eyes she took a deep breath and blew wayward bangs from her eyes, "If you're a bad role model what the feck am I," she laughed out right at this - because it wasn't really a question. "I don't just do naughty things I write about them for a living. You, at least, have maintained some of your cloak and dagger mentality," reaching for her wineglass her face grew pensive. Maybe neither of them were the best role models for the girls; but then she thought of her mother and what a dreadful mess she had been. Perhaps no woman was ever really rightly suited, at least a pureblood used to being spoiled rotten and the center of attention, to raise babies. How could she, Dolly St. James, ever serve as anyone's moral compass when hers seems to be so damn faulty and only showed up in the last three months or so?

 "I suppose I'm just selfish, really, Livi is finally at the age where I can be the delightfully eccentric Godmother who whisks her away," she sounded mildly amused at the thought. She did feel a sort of kinship with the youngest Wiedman; she too had once been ushered through life's most important moments by Dianora Wiedman. She had learned the most important lessons of life, death, and holding on to what you believed in from the sharp featured witch. The Wiedmans adopted misplaced purebloods like crazy old ladies collected cats. Once Dianora had found out that Beatrix had taken a liking to Dolly she was more than thrilled. They really needed to open an adoption agency. Taking a languid slip from her glad she sighed and looked at Daz with a comically pouting expression, "But winter is so far awaaay! I want to go now".

Logically she was well aware the reasons not outweighed the reasons to; and she knew that when she sobered up the reality of both her work load (she did have to start the final book some time) and the likelihood of her best friends new taskmaster being violently unhappy that Daz took any time away from the work he wanted done would have no positive outcome. In the distant part of her brain; some part of her still nagged at the question of Liviana's safety in this whole mess. She had no doubt that even in their, shall we say advancing age, Dianora and Aliec were capable of taking care of themselves. The children that littered Dazmond's life had not that luxury. Some part of Dolly wondered if that wasn't what Malvivicus had her over a barrel with; since Daz would never bloody say Dolly couldn't know. All were too dark thoughts to pollute her fizzled giddy brain at the moment.

"Life might have been easier Poppet," she paused to reach out for Dazmond's hand; "But when we're old and gray think of all the stories we'll have to tell all the brats everyone else had. And you know I'm sure your  mother would come to love whatever ape babies you have with Briggs; so long as they're not as hairy and look very much like you," Dolly really did believe that, to a degree. The pureblood drive was deeply ingrained in both Aliec and Dianora; but Dolly knew how desperately they wanted grandbabies. Di was pea green with envy any time Dolly mentioned one of their old friends being sprog'd up. Livi was getting older now, forming opinions of her own; and really babies were too sweet a temptation to deny outright even if they were half Briggs; the Wiedman half would win out in the end, "Unless you're still planning on being like a gerbil and eating your young, then pregnancy is ill-advised...well more ill-advised than usuaal".

"Yeah, easier and a whole lot less amusing," agreed Dazmond.  The adventures they'd chosen over the outdated niceties of tradition had often meant danger, hardship, and public strutiny, yet it had also likely saved them from a lifetime of ennui.  Even now if Dazmond had children it would not be the same kind of life as that.  She would never be able to extract herself from the criminal world to lead any decently normal existence, and her little Briggs babies would likely grow up in Knockturn, learning their manners from  Cináed Tawse and Mannie Ashford's ghost.  She kind of liked it that way.  There was the question of whether or not it was fair to bring a child into this sort of mess where threats on lives were a common theme.  But Dazmond did happen to be selfish enough to respond to sort of dying by giving life so that she had the experience before her own was robbed.

"Nathan and I haven't discussed it," she said.  She had always had more than enough toddlers following her around for his tastes.  He fancied hags as much as she but because they ate babies.  "I wouldn't mind it, you know.  I think I'd like to be a mother," admitted Dazmond.  "Salazar knows I could make it work with the rest of my responsibilities - what's a kid on my tit going to do to stop me from brewing?"  She giggled and drew towards her wine, casting a glance at Dolly with more than a little love attached. 

"Let's talk some more about trips this Summer," she consented.  "You're right about the girls - they should have what we had... I could probably get away with weekend excursions at the least."  Travel wasn't a problem for them of course.  Three second transit to foreign destinations was a given for the Witches, and was also part of the reason that they had been able to travel so extensively in their youth.

Dazmond, for all her amusement with Dolly's easy satiation, was quite coiled up with the cusions like a kitten herself.  Dolly's disposition had an effect on her own, though it was curiously to her own benefit - the same motion she'd had during her birthday celebrations prior to the kidnapping, in fact.  It was both for her own emotional balancing act and for their mutual bonding and resignation to the fact that they were - despite everything - together and united throughout the past and present.  Dazmond was bordering between dangerous manipulation and loving connection.  She hardly recognized what it was that she was doing, yet she felt the power of its effect as a reassuring factor.

"You know what?" she asked, "I'm fairly sure we haven't done in several long years but - let's guess at where we'll be in ten.  It's been forever since we've done so - but where would I like myself ten years from today?  Lessee, I'd be thirty-six.  Definitely have a garden terrace and a room all my own to brew in; maybe kids as we've discussed, and Nate is a model parent in the way of corrupting our youth and figuring out his puzzles.  Lazy Summers galore.  What about you?"

Dazmond felt the pain of it as well, the unlikeliness of everything in the pit of her.  She knew her days were short and numbered - knew as well that those who'd already left their deepest mark were those who'd truest hold her fast to the world past her departure.  It hardly seemed a governing theme that she'd be let to continue on.  Nevertheless she felt that she could be sustained in the relations that she'd developed.

Onward ho... for if she didn't, then what?

Resting her chin in her hand she eyed Dazmond carefully, "Well, you should probably include him on the decision making process, no? Maybe not, with the way you two are," there was a trace note of laughter that echoed in her wine glass as she drained it. To say Nate and Daz were unconventional would be an understatement. Maybe that was why it worked though, in the long run. Dazmond had never been a fan of feeling tied down; from what Dolly had seen...Nate didn't tie up much of anything. Wiedman came and went as she pleased; it was why it had taken so long for anyone to really notice that something was wrong when the spry witch went missing the first time. It really was not unlike her to be go on gatherings for a month at a time. The only reason Dolly even suspected anything was because she didn't contact any of them.

Something like babies though...even in their strange neo-bohemian marriage, it was something to talk about. It was a bit of a mind bend to think of Dazmond as a mother. Of course Dolly was probably biased, she was so protective of the other witch - especially now. Now was definitely not the time to be bringing a baby into the world, Merlin what a mess that would be! She doubted very much that Kronos would grant his new Potion Guru substantial or even adequate maternity leave. A baby would be something else to Lord over her as well...the dark twisty turning paths of the disastrous effects a pregnancy could have on Dazmond's life (and in turn a child's life) began to gum up the happy feelings that had formerly replaced the twisting stomach churning thoughts of Dominik.

Thankfully Daz piped up in agreement that the girls really should have the same oppertunities they were afforded at fifteen. Trip planning was always good and distracting, thinking about where you wanted to be as opposed to where you were. Chewing her bottom lip Dolly tried to remember her favorite city; at least the one she had most enjoyed the summer before sixth year. There were so many and the summers and all the years after bled together, Paris trips had always been frequent and relatively easy; it wasn't far to travel at all. Of course now there would be the high likelihood of running into Elliott. She wasn't sure she wanted to deal with that while the girls were hanging about.

"Does Liv talk about Paris much in her letters to you? She wrote me quite a few times last fall while I was working on the book; presumably the family home is still in one piece though I haven't been there since October," there had been no frantic howlers from her mother at least. She'd have to see if anyone had dibs on the expansive mansion over the summer. She highly doubted it; both her mother and father spent most of their time in Egypt - though Merlin knew why. "We might confer with the girls; see where they actually want to go - Liv won't spend it with Durin surely," it was not actually a question; but more a statement of fact, Daz had her own kind of fondness for their uncle he was a bit of a tool in Dolly's book. Of course Dolly had only started feeling that way after seeing how much he upset Liviana when he visited; she might have been biased.

Reaching for the bottle of wine, she poured herself a small glass as Dazmond waxed on about where she thought she might be in the coming decade. It had been a good many years since Dolly had had anything like a ten year plan. She never looked that far ahead anymore; the last time she had her hopes had ended up dashed on a pile of rocks and she was only just now getting her footing again. Giving a small shrug she shook her head, "Salazar only knows, Darling. I try not to plan. Of course, if I had my druthers - obviously I'd be done with these wretched books and ended them on some sort of mildly satisfactory note. Maybe married - though I couldn't even hazard a guess as to who," the ten year game wasn't as much fun when it meant forty loomed in front of you. Actually; being almost forty seemed like a wretched place to be in life.

"Bollocks. You know I'm no good at planning. Every time I do it falls spectacularly to pieces; i.e. my original plan of being happily married to your brother by the time I was twenty-five and sprog'd up," she at least had the good humor to laugh at herself. It was true; there was a time in her life when that had been all she needed for a plan. She wanted Dom and babies and everything else would just be frosting. She'd been thirteen at the time, granted, but still - it had heavily influenced the first two books at least. "Here is what I will say; if I'm not dead from the booze, then I just hope I'm happy being a beloved Auntie to your little hairy Briggs babies," that was a fair enough answer. Wasn't that what everyone wanted; to just be happy and loved?