It's not possible to keep this from the Muggles – not entirely – it's too much, too big, too noticeable. If Andrew Oldham had been paying closer attention, he'd have noticed that the stories on the television and the radio were somehow off, imprecise and improbable, more speculation than fact . But he hadn't been, not really, except to shake his head over it, to react with the vague sense of horror and slightly guilty fascination and relief that other people's tragedies evoke.
He doesn't recognize the young woman waiting outside his gate until she says hesitantly says his name . Even then he can't place her – did they meet in the pub? – until she says, "I'm Ursula. Imogen's sister."
Then he remembers dancing with her, laughing and a little tipsy, at the reception three months ago, when his brother married her sister. "Martin," he says. "Something's happened to Martin."
She nods, looking over her shoulder, back up the street. "It's not safe to talk in the open right now," she says. "Can we go in?"
"Not safe?" Andrew repeats. "What do you mean? Safe from what? What happened? What’s going on?"
"Please," Ursula says. "Please. We can't talk here."
Andrew looks at her, her eyes wide in fear, and nods, briefly, then opens the door.
They're gone ten minutes later, when she apparates into Andrew’s kitchen, wand out and ready. Nothing left but a message from her sister, the same message she found in her flat, and at Martin's parent's house – TRAITOR, trickles of blood still dripping down the wall from both R's.
Imogen Rosier-Oldham sits down at her brother-in-law's kitchen table and weeps.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2006-06-24 01:46 am (UTC)He doesn't recognize the young woman waiting outside his gate until she says hesitantly says his name . Even then he can't place her – did they meet in the pub? – until she says, "I'm Ursula. Imogen's sister."
Then he remembers dancing with her, laughing and a little tipsy, at the reception three months ago, when his brother married her sister. "Martin," he says. "Something's happened to Martin."
She nods, looking over her shoulder, back up the street. "It's not safe to talk in the open right now," she says. "Can we go in?"
"Not safe?" Andrew repeats. "What do you mean? Safe from what? What happened? What’s going on?"
"Please," Ursula says. "Please. We can't talk here."
Andrew looks at her, her eyes wide in fear, and nods, briefly, then opens the door.
They're gone ten minutes later, when she apparates into Andrew’s kitchen, wand out and ready. Nothing left but a message from her sister, the same message she found in her flat, and at Martin's parent's house – TRAITOR, trickles of blood still dripping down the wall from both R's.
Imogen Rosier-Oldham sits down at her brother-in-law's kitchen table and weeps.