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kiss with a fist.
prologue.
an ode to emeric davies.

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note! i recommend reading this chapter with standard (light) mode, as otherwise, the graphics will end up looking odd!

MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE OF EMERIC DAVIES: A REPORT
WEDNESDAY, June 13, 1983

Written By Milton Carneirus

       IT IS WITH GREAT REGRET that the Ministry of Magic announced late last night, the disappearance of thirty-two-year-old, Emeric Lincoln Davies. Investigations continue into the mysterious vanishing, widely believed amongst the Auror front to be the work of the remainders of You-Know-Who's followers. While there have been no witness reports, nor has an alibi been provided for where Mr. Davies might have last been seen, reporters for the Auror office have managed to gain a slightly resistant audience with his remaining family in their private residence.

       Speaking to reporters in her home foyer, Mrs. Saoirse Davies, wife to the missing Emeric Davies, hugs her young children. "I'm at a loss. For him to up and disappear like this, it's... it just doesn't feel right." Referencing her children, Mrs. Davies adds, "For me to lose my husband is one thing, but for them to lose their father... it goes against everything... everything right in this world. It shouldn't happen. It shouldn't." Mr. Davies' mother, Mrs. Greta Davies, was unavailable for comment.

       Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, issued a public announcement early today on the disappearance. "I assure you, The Ministry is doing everything within its power to find Mr. Davies. We do not take the loss of one of our own employees lightly and will be deploying a highly skilled team of Aurors to investigate further into the situation. There is communication with all essential parties as to what must be done in order to find Davies. We will not give up hope."

       Mr. Davies is 6 feet, three inches tall, and has dark brown hair and a dark goatee. He was last seen wearing a pinstriped, grey and white suit. If anyone has any information regarding the whereabouts of Mr. Emeric Davies, they are encouraged to contact The Minister's office immediately.

***

THE SOUND of the newspaper slamming hardly onto the wooden tabletop echoed off of the empty walls of the room, giving way to the scene unfolding before an exasperated Greta Davies. The woman's red eyes, a symptom of insomnia of the past miserable weeks, followed the pacing figure of her daughter-in-law whose body appeared all but a fastened jar of pent-up rage, desperate to explode at the simplest touch. Greta watched with weariness but said nothing, and simply clasped her hands across her lap in waiting.

"Bullshit. That article is bullshit. 'Doing everything within its power', my ass. They're doing squat shit about it — never. Never in my life—" Were the words that spewed from Saoirse Davies' lips, but they weren't aimed at her mother-in-law. "Completely vile. Lawless, Greta. Fudge is — he's a pig. This is — this is—"

Not a single muscle of the elderly Davies woman flinched at the outcry of her daughter-in-law, who had paused, lips twisted, near the window to lean her hands against the rocking chair that overlooked the pavilion beneath the second-story window. Saoirse hovered for a moment, gnashing her teeth so viciously against her bottom lip that the taste of iron seeped fleetingly onto her tongue. Drawing a great breath, she allowed her eyes to wander towards Greta, who still sat as motionless as stone. Uncontrollably, a rush of righteous frustration flooded into Saoirse's stomach.

"Are you going to say anything?" She quipped, her expression hardened as she slowly turned to fully face the woman.

The older Davies woman raised a simple eyebrow. "What would you like for me to say?"

The scoff that left Saoirse's lungs burned hot against her throat as her eyes narrowed on her mother-in-law. Words were lost upon her mouth — the sheer amount of broiling emotions housed within her body left her stunned, and Greta knew it.

With a sharp inhale, Greta pushed herself slowly to her feet, her eyes surveying the overwhelmed figure of her son's wife. "Perhaps, you'd like me to pace back and forth with you and shout profanities at the heavens. Perhaps you'd like me to cry — maybe fall to my knees and profess my apologies for my horrid parenting. Or, perhaps, you'd like me to pull any strings I may possess at the Ministry to have my son found."

The breath in Saoirse's throat hitched, her chest inflating in small fractures.

Greta took Saoirse's continued silence as her approval to continue, and paced slowly around the chair she'd inhabited moments before.

"I want him back. Do not mistake my silence for indifference. I simply do not believe shouting insults about the Minister of Magic is going to help any case for finding him."

Silence. But Saoirse swore the world could have heard her heart pounding between her ribcage. Her eyes brazen, she took a step forward.

"I apologize that my reaction to my husband's disappearance and butchered finding is not first calculation, but anger. I know how that so sincerely bothers you, Greta, but in case you've turned a blind eye to the past ten years, shall I remind you that I don't particularly pay mind nor care to what bothers you," Saoirse flared piercingly, her chest rising and falling heavily. "I will not make myself smaller for your convenience. I will fight to have him back, I will fight to give my children their father back-"

"Don't," Greta snapped. "Don't bring the children into this. Your anger is purely your own and for yourself alone. The children know nothing different than what you show them, and anger is not healthy for children as young as they are. Your anger is reckless, Saoirse, and it will cut you and the children down faster than you can blink."

The shortened distance between the two women in the midst of their clashing was made glaringly clear as the older Davies woman's words hung in the air like a sharp, chilly mist. Lips pressed tightly together, Saoirse took a single step backward, a glistening layer of tears gathering in the base of her eyelids.

Her lips parted quickly, sharply, to deliver the two words she so desperately wanted to shout, when a fluttered movement, followed by the creaking sound of the door, gathered both women's attention.

Eyes glued to the doorframe, Saoirse's heart lodged in her throat as the fur of a familiar stuffed bear peaked through the crack. The woman's features softened, and her shoulders dropped as she turned to face the door. Greta's frame stiffened.

"Elle?" She called gently, her eyebrows furrowing. A few moments passed, and as the door slowly swung wider to reveal the doll-like frame of the young brunette, Saoirse drew a soft smile to her lips.

Saoirse's hands reached toward her daughter, and as the young girl stepped cautiously into the room, her stuffed bear clutched desperately in her arms, her small eyes drifted worriedly to her mother. The moment her tiny fingertips brushed Saoirse's, she was swept into a warm embrace.

"What are you doing up, love?" Saoirse hummed, trailing the palm of her hand across Elle's back.

Elle sighed quietly, almost a whisper. "I heard shouting."

Saoirse's eyes flickered towards her mother-in-law, who stood stiff beside her chair. Greta's expression was unreadable. The narrowed eyes of her daughter-in-law set harshly upon her figure prompted the woman's gaze to divert quickly to the floor beneath her.

With a soft sigh, Saoirse pulled herself away from Elle and allowed her eyes to fall to her daughter's face. "I'm sorry, angel. We didn't mean to wake you."

A mumbled 'it's alright' from her daughter's mouth fell silent upon her ears as the sharp echo of Greta's footsteps drew her attention from Elle and toward the older Davies woman, who hastily roped her bag over her shoulder. Saoirse's eyes narrowed definitively.

"Your Nan was just leaving," Fell intentionally, harshly, from her lips. Without a breath's hesitation, Greta's eyes darted away from her granddaughter, and with only the deathly echo of her heels against the hardwood floor in her wake as proof of her presence, her figure was soon gone from sight.

The gentle falling of Elle's head against Saoirse's shoulder called her from the brief trance of the hallowed air still hung in the atmosphere from her mother-in-law's existence, and she brought her hand to Elle's back in a quick but gentle motion. Soft snores trailed from the young girl's mouth, and with a silent smile, Saoirse allowed her fingers to find the stuffed bear that had been abandoned as sleep had overtaken her daughter. As she lifted her daughter from the floor, her eyes flickered to the newspaper that was still laid facing upward on the tabletop and made contact with the eyes of her husband's image on the page. Her stomach lurched.

      The image was one she knew all too well from the frame that still rested atop her husband's desk in his now abandoned office. He'd only just then received his new appointment in the Ministry and he was happy. Proud of his achievement. Excited to return home and share  the news with his family.

And he was gone.

Her heart burst from her chest, and with a definitive motion, Saoirse exited the room and allowed the door to close behind her.

***

author's note.
ahh hi & welcome to the
very first installment of
kiss with a fist (revamped)!
words cannot explain how
absolutely excited i am to be
back to writing this book and i
can't wait to share more of the
mystery behind elle's dad with
you as the story progresses!

a huge huge shoutout to everyone
who has supported this drawn out
journey. you'll have your elliver
content soon <3. i hope you guys
enjoy reading as much as i have,
and will, enjoy writing it!

thank you for reading! <3