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[clumsy_auror]

"And that," Nymphadora says cheerfully to her son, pointing to the Soho storefront they're passing, "is called a fetish shop. But you won't be needing to know that for a long, long while, will you? Of course not. And if you do, don't tell me about it. Deal?"

Anthony gurgles his agreement, kicking a little from where he hangs on his mother's chest. He seems to be enjoying the late afternoon sunshine from beneath the brim of his green bucket hat.

"Ah! Here we are, then. This is Aziraphael's shop. Isn't it lovely? Fell Books, it's called." The witch opens the door, and the bell jangles merrily. "Hello?"

Comments

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

"I'll be right with you!"

The voice floats out from the back room, sounding entirely distracted and more than a little abrupt. It's not any different from his usual means of dealing with customers, but the fact that he hasn't recognised 'Dora's voice is perhaps an indication that he is more than usually occupied with other things.

[clumsy_auror]

"No worries, it's only me!" she calls back, shutting the door behind her and pulling off her sunglasses. "Just came by for a bit of a visit."

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

"'Dora?"

A fluffy blond head appears at the door to the back room, somewhat incredulous smile in place.

"Gracious, what an honour! Come on through and I'll pop the kettle on."

[clumsy_auror]

"That sounds lovely, cheers." Beaming back at him, 'Dora walks around the counter, and Anthony shouts his own greeting to the angel, kicking energetically enough to nearly dislodge one of his wee trainers.

In the back room, Nymphadora settles herself on the couch and begins unbuckling Anthony from his carrier. "How're you this afternoon?"

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

"Oh, fine, fine." He goes back to the table and finishes scribbling something in a notebook that's sat next to an enormous dusty book, tapping the pen against his teeth for a moment or two before he puts it back down with a decisive click. "Tea, right."

Aziraphael disappears into the kitchen.

"Any preference, dearest?"

[clumsy_auror]

"Hmmm. Something fruity would be nice, I think."

She casts a thoughtful glance on the ancient volume as she lifts Anthony up for a kiss.

"What're you working on, there?"

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

"Fruity, fruity..."

Vague mutterings from the kitchen. It's possible he didn't hear the question, although it's rather more likely he's pondering how to answer.

"There are various apples, lemon and ginger, or something called 'Very Very Berry' and I'm sure I have no idea where it came from."

[clumsy_auror]

"Oooh, that last one sounds rather intriguing, actually. Let's give that a go."

She rummages in her bag and produces a ring of brightly-colored plastic keys for Anthony to amuse himself with.

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

More sounds of bustling; eventually he emerges with an entirely sensibly coloured cup of tea for himself, and one that's red (bordering rather heavily on pink) for 'Dora.

As she takes a sip, he eyes her warily. He's not sure it's natural for tea to be that colour.

[clumsy_auror]

With her free hand, Nymphadora takes a sip of tea and hums appreciatively; her other arm is wrapped around Anthony, securing him as she bounces him gently with her leg.

"Anyway. What's new?"

Her smile is bright enough, but now that she's settled, the lines around her eyes belie her apparent fatigue.

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

"Not an awful lot. I'm far more comfortable with the old and the slightly decrepit, you know me." He smiles slightly. "Although I suppose I can make an exception for you, my dear."

He takes a seat next to 'Dora on the sofa and gently takes hold of Anthony's foot, undoing the trainer that very nearly went flying before and relacing it a little bit tighter.

[clumsy_auror]

A wry smile. "I'm honoured, really." For his part, Anthony peers intently at the lacing-up process, his solemn blue gaze taking in Aziraphael's every move. "Working on a project?" she asks again, nodding to the book.

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

"Revision, really. It's all information I'm sure I knew once, and I'm sure I'm expected to know in very great detail now, judging by the rather brief - well, briefing - that Above saw fit to give me."

He looks at her for a moment or two then stands, going to fetch the book and then returning to sit next to her again with it spread open on his lap.

The woodcut on the open page is, although crude, quite recognisably a Dementor.

[clumsy_auror]

Nymphadora's eyebrows disappear into her hairline. After a moment or two, she reaches out a hand, cautiously touching the haunting illustration.

She shivers unconsciously, pulling Anthony closer, and turns her gaze back to Aziraphael.

"What's Up There wanting you to do with Dementors?"

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

"Well they've always been my business in a limited sort of way."

His fingers tap lightly, a little nervously, on the lines of text which is... recognisably English, certainly, but not particularly readable perhaps.

"How much do you know about what they are?"

[clumsy_auror]

"Well, they feed on positive emotions. Happiness, joy. And they're... they're impossible to kill, so far as we know."

'Dora sighs, and rubs one eye, thinking.

"Only known defense is the Patronus Charm. But it's a difficult spell at the best of times, and incredibly so when the goodness is in the process of being sucked out of you."

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

"All correct, yes, but I rather meant... well, where they come from, that sort of thing. I mean, they're a worry for Above, of course they are, but they wouldn't take nearly so personal an interest if what they appear to be were really all they are."

He takes a bolstering sip of tea.

"Dementors are - were, in any case - a sort of demonic experiment. Sloth is one of the deadly sins, I suppose, and Dementors, in theory, could save an awful lot of work for the demon types. A means of collection which saves rather a lot of effort, in the long run. Only it was never so effective as all that, of course, because they weren't nearly so biddable as had been hoped. They sought out food sources, and not all of those food sources were souls that were useful to Below."

He takes another sip of tea, fingers still moving restlessly.

"It's not so simple as merely getting hold of the souls, you see. Above or Below must have a right to them; in the case of Below, a lifetime of evil acts or some sort of pact is usually required, do you see?"

[clumsy_auror]

Silence, for a moment, and then it's broken by a quiet gurgle from the baby. Nymphadora bends her head, eyes still on the book, and kisses Anthony on the cheek.

"I think so, yes," she says finally. "So they're just sort of... in limbo? Neither here nor there? The souls, I mean."

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

"Precisely. Except there's really no hope of their being of any use to Heaven, of course; if positive emotions are eaten by the Dementors, you can imagine what it might do to any positive aspects of a soul."

He stares down at the text, not really looking at it.

"I'm not sure entirely if that's something which has evolved over millenia; I rather think if it were an effect of the original experiment Hell might have kept an entirely tighter rein on their creations. They've evolved, it would appear, and now the only thing for it is to our very best to keep the things out of Hell's hands."

[clumsy_auror]

"Er. Well."

'Dora speaks tentatively.

"Not to put too fine a point on it, but... given that they've sided with Voldemort, hasn't that ship rather sailed? I mean, I'm assuming he's allied himself with Down There, at some point or another. Or is he working independently, as it were?"

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

"He isn't allied, directly. Or, at least..."

He neglects the book in favour of wrapping his hands around his mug of tea.

"He wasn't."

[clumsy_auror]

A raised eyebrow. "Have you got reason to believe there's been a change, on that score?"

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

"The reason I didn't respond to your letter wasn't, believe it or not, your common or garden neglect. Above wanted to grill me about the whatever-it-was, the event, and happened to mention that I might want to be keeping an eye on developments with Dementors along with it."

He fastens a smile carefully in place, keeping his voice light.

"I've deliberately not let Crowley know I'd appreciate any information he can give me, of course. Made sure to follow Heaven's instructions and most certainly Not Tell him what's going on. He's promised to keep an ear open. And in the meantime I'm doing what I can to keep on the ball."

[clumsy_auror]

"Sounds like it's all you can do -- both of you," 'Dora replies quietly, sipping her tea. "I dunno. I mean, I'd love it if we could get the Dementor problem sorted. I've never thought they were a good means of keeping prisoners in check, and now we know they'll turn on us at the drop of a hat... but I don't want you doing yourself an injury, either. I've no idea if Dementers can have an effect on ethereals, but I haven't got any desire to find out."

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

Aziraphael's smile twists a little, thins.
Looks, just for a moment, almost cruel.

"I suspect whoever this demon is that thinks he's onto a terribly good thing will have another think coming. From what you've said, from the various sources I've come across, it doesn't seem like what they are is nearly what they were. I should imagine they can be entirely unpleasant to the ethereal or the occult, although I'm almost certain I'd be inflicting rather more damage than I'd experience."

There's a determined rattle of plastic as Anthony makes his presence known, and Aziraphael bends to pick up the plastic keys, handing them back to his godson with a smile that's a little tired and very fond and far more him.

"I'm getting ahead of myself, in any case. We can but see."

[clumsy_auror]

She watches the angel as he speaks, and remembers that he's just that -- an angel -- and shivers in spite of herself.

Holy though angels may be, they're powerful.

Not for the first time, Nymphadora finds herself glad that Aziraphael and Crowley are, whether by chance or design, on the side of her and her family.

The alternative isn't a pleasant thing to ponder.

"Yeah, I suppose we will. But... keep me posted, yeah? I mean, as much as you can. I might be able to help you, somehow."

Anthony goes quiet, responding to the grown-ups' more somber tones, and looks between the two with wide blue eyes that are the exact shade of his father's.

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

"As soon as I have anything in the least bit concrete, my dear, you'll be the - well, probably second to know."

He looks faintly abashed, but not very, hooking his finger through the plastic keyring and tugging on it gently.

[clumsy_auror]

Lightly, "Okay."

Anthony tugs back, and belly-laughs at the tug-of-war game.

She grins for a moment, and then sighs, slipping into her thoughts once more.

She wants to trust that this'll work out, but it's difficult.

So many things could happen.