Steal Your Pain - Chapter 1: Stay Home Next Time the Horrors Come Calling
The beginning of a new chaptered story I'm starting! I've talked about for it awhile but it wasn't until I finished rereading Book 7 that it started to click. I'm not promising anything but so far I'm enjoying this story!
This won't go out to the communities I wrote it for until my betas come back with the "all clear" but I'm hoping to get it soon.
I'm not going forward with this storyline. It's too complicated and there isn't a good middle to this story. Only a good beginning and ending. Maybe later. The new Mari/Greg story can be found here
Title: Steal Your Pain
Chapter: 1 - Stay Home Next Time the Horrors Come Calling
Pairing: Marietta Edgecombe/Greg Goyle
Other Characters: Walton (ooc)
Prompt: 001. Doubt at 100quills and 060. Carnation at 100_colours
Word Count: 3397
Summary: Time has passed and a lot has changed. The New Ministry has taken over and things are looking up for the Wizarding Community... all except Marietta. She feels weighed down by the past when she should be looking to the future.
Marietta never slept a complete night, closing her eyes at twilight and opening them again at dawn. It seemed like a lifetime ago that she’d been a normal sleeper. It didn’t matter that she worked her body to exhaustion or that she was quite capable of vanquishing the thoughts and problems of the day before dropping into a well-deserved slumber, most often on the couch near her books. There were piles and piles of them so that they formed a fortress that no one could penetrate. Sleep came easily within this castle of words and her body was always weary from the busy day on her feet, sorting and filing and trying to make the new Ollivander ‘s Wands shop into something of a success.
Regardless of how she got to sleep, the nightmares always found her. Cruel, painful memories of a time when she never seemed to be on the right side. Instead of waking with a scream like she often read about the characters of her books reacting to their nightmares, she woke in a full body cramp with every muscle in her body locked into a spasm so tight that she spent an hour or so relaxing them again. Her nightmares weren’t from emotional stress but her body’s reminder of a time when it almost wasn’t able to carry on. No manner of relaxation after that could force her body back into slumber so she pulled on whatever clothes were laying closest and went back to the shop.
Ollivander’s Wands had barely survived the downfall of the Past Ministry and the destruction of the Dark Lord, not to mention the fact that Mr. Ollivander had been gone for such a long time before that. She’d only been employed for a few short months before he’d gone missing, leaving no note or notion where he was going or when he’d be back. She’d continued on the best she could, fulfilling the orders that had already been completed and doing general upkeep to the shop but there had finally come a day when she had no reason to keep the shop open. She’d still come in everyday, pretending there was a reason for the strange, new compulsion but really it was because she had nowhere else to go. When she’d fled Hogwarts, she’d left behind the only family that counted. This job had been her salvation and had kept her sane until the day she’d been taken in for questioning.
Every part of her life before the questioning was pleasant compared to what was come. Even her betrayal of Dumbledore’s Army and subsequent loss of all the people she had thought of as friends didn’t leave painful memories in the wake of what she experienced during the questioning.
And so she walked alone, bereft of friendship save for an old shopkeeper who wasn’t nearly the man he’d been before he disappeared. He welcomed her into his shop each day but she doubted he would welcome confidences when he still hadn’t shared anything about his ordeal. They both wore their torture as a hint of sadness in their eyes, a stiff posture when the bell rang to announce a visitor to the shop.
Tonight, she tried not to let her path take her toward the shop but it was impossible. No matter where she wandered, she ended up on Diagon Alley, standing across the street from the shop as if it was a surprise that she needed to see the store front to be assured that it was still there. Sometimes she let herself in and made a cup of tea that she drank down one of the endless aisles of wands. Her favorite area was near the wands made from cherry. The slight scent in the air made her think of springtime in the country. She’d never spent a single spring in the countryside but it was restful, nonetheless.
Instead of fighting the impulse, she finally gave in to the urge to see the shop. It would speed the night up and perhaps she could sleep for a little when she got home. Diagon Alley was quiet, a fine mist hovering just above the cobblestones so that the scene took on a fairytale quality.
“And what part of your life is a fairytale?” she whispered to break some of the tension of the scene. Not all fairytales were happy places to be, after all. There could very easily be a dragon waiting just around the next corner. She was fairly certain there wasn’t but it wasn’t something she could dismiss out of hand. A dragon from a fairytale could take any shape in this existence that wasn’t a fairytale. A huckster wanting some money. A little old woman with an urge for vengeance on the next person to cross her path. One of the people that used to be her friends, looking at her for a split second before their eyes blurred and they were looking through her. Anything and everything could devour her, given the chance.
The storefront was in front of her as she realized she’d stayed on the same side of the street instead of crossing over. This was the way she came to work every morning, acting as if she didn’t wander the streets like a vagrant in the deep darkness on the other side of the street. Both times of the day, she was on autopilot so tonight’s misdirection wasn’t from lack of thought.
With a start, Marietta realized where her mistake stemmed from. A light flickered in the shop, much as it did in the earliest part of the morning when Ollivander first arrived and began walking the aisles, taking stock of the reality of the shop once again. She looked up at the placement of the moon and stars, confirming what her mental clock was telling her. It was still the middle of the night. Ollivander never arrived before 5am, even on the darkest of days.
Drawing her wand, she took stock of the facts once again. Calling for help wouldn’t make the situation any better, especially not at this time of night. She’d only draw unnecessary and unwanted attention to herself. If it really was her boss coming to the shop early, he wouldn’t welcome the attention either. Thankfully the skill was still there even if she hadn’t completed her formal education. She’d continued to practice the spells she’d learned in her brief time with Dumbledore’s Army, even if it really was only for her peace of mind. There was no threat of harm now that the Dark Lord had been killed and the Death Eaters sent to their just rewards.
The door opened at her gentle insistence. A quick spell silenced the bell that normally rang out a greeting. She snuck through the opening and closed it firmly once again, blending into the shadows at the edges of the shop. Sure enough, there was a murmur of sound from the far end of the shop. It might have been Ollivander muttering to himself but she doubted it. Who in their right mind would try to steal anything from a wand shop? The merchandise was all under a spell that even she didn’t understand and wouldn’t move except on the insistence of a true wand master.
A sharp curse word ripped through the dampened silence of the night. She couldn’t contain a giggle at the thought that anyone would be stupid enough to try something so foolhardy. They would have been better off trying to get something out of the ruined Gringott’s Building.
The barest whisper of sound alerted her that her merriment had been heard by the intruder and she dropped to the ground. Unfortunately her wand was underneath her and she wasn’t able to counter the spell that ripped overhead, missing her by those all important inches. Instead of turning away, she watched the dazzling carnation lights shoot toward her. The bright path burned itself into her corneas and everything else became dark for a few precious moments.
“Expelliarmos,” she yelled as she rolled to her side. The wand wasn’t pointed in the right direction but she needed to do something to show that she wasn’t going to sit back and let the attacker get the upper hand. The light of the spell ricocheted off the glass of the counter, leaving a blazing path behind it. Her eyes burned from the intensity of both spells lighting up the room, leaving the room even darker when they fizzled out.
She heard the new spell coming from the man’s lips, wished she could get away but knew it was utterly impossible. Her eyes couldn’t tell her which path would take her safely away and wand was still pointed in the wrong direction. Another spell cast in the wrong direction would only alert the intruder to the fact that she couldn’t harm him.
“What do you think you’re doing? Trying to kill her? That wasn’t part of the plan.”
The world was righting itself slowly but Marietta could make out a second shape alongside the first. Her savior, perhaps? She wanted to scream out a warning that she’d been attacked, that this was her store and she could be here but he couldn’t.
“Told you we needed to keep this quiet, Walton. No disturbing the peace. No calling attention to ourselves. Everything hush hush.”
The slow cadence made her pause. Each word was ugly, brutish, forced out as if the speaker would have preferred to stay silent and just have his will be known by a simple thought. The voice of her nightmares. In response, her muscles spasmed and she screamed through vocal chords that rebelled from the misuse.
“What did you do to her?”
“Nothing. I promise. Nothing at all. My first spell didn’t even hit her. See the wall? See the burn mark? Nothing at all. I swear to you.”
She wanted to slap the man to keep him from the hysterics she could hear in his garbled words. Even through the intense pain, he annoyed her. Didn’t he know that the man would kill him anyway, regardless of the furtive pleas? If she could get close enough, she wanted very much to spit in his face. It would show him that she wasn’t afraid of him. Through everything he had done to her, she wasn’t afraid. Her body, on the other hand, was very afraid of what the man with the disused voice might do to it once again.
“If you didn’t do anything, why is she keening like a broken bird?”
“Broke some… birds in your… time, have you?” she whispered through clenched teeth between wails of pain. “Get… out of… here.”
“Or you’ll do what? Flay me to death with your flinty gaze.”
“She’s going to kill us with her eyes?”
The stammering fool backed up and out of her range but she was glad to see him leave. If she was going to get out of here in one piece, she needed to concentrate. Her spasms or his whimpers - she could only handle one distraction at a time. The other blurry shape moved out of range so that she could almost imagine she was alone on her couch, trying to unclench from a normal dream instead of lying in a pool of cold sweat on the floor of the wand shop.
“Shut up, Walton. Go get the sack from the back of the shop before I decide to leave you here as punishment for completely forgetting yourself in a moment of panic. My father would have killed you where you stood. Be content that I am not like him.”
Her eyesight sharpened back to normal as the thieves conferred but there was still nothing she could do about the rigidity of her body. It fought her efforts to relax, defying her to walk away from the voice of her nightmares. The conversation died down and as the harsh man walked back, she tried to crane her head around to face him, showing him she wasn’t afraid, but it was useless to try to move. She’d have to wait for him to come to her.
“Where are you hurt?”
“Go away.”
His large hand on her hip forced an unconscious tremor that gave her as much pleasure in the loosening of several of her back muscles as pain in the rest. “It wasn’t my intention for anyone to be hurt. We were meant to come in and leave quickly.”
“Go to hell.”
“Not yet, but soon,” he murmured, running his fingers along her spinal column. “Spasm. There’s nothing I can do to help you but if you’re talking, it can’t be that bad.”
“Bad enough.” The irony was thick in her voice even as she tried to think of a way to salvage this situation and turn it in her favor. “Don’t think you can just run off with whatever you’re trying to steal.”
“And you plan on stopping me? I welcome the challenge if this is the best you’ve got.” His laugh bruised already bruised ego. The wand in her hand might as well have been a bubble blower. “Oi! Walton! You ready to go?”
As soon as he turned his attention away from her, she concentrated on raising her wand arm up. He was still on the wrong side of her so she couldn’t see him but she could sense where his bulk was. With one last deep breath, she confirmed her direction.
“Stupify!” The strangled sound told her she’d hit him full on. “Take that, Goyle.”
The force of the spell caught the attention of the bumbler who ran back into the room. “Venus’ tits. She got you, Greg. You’re dead. What’m I going to tell the boys. They’re going to tell me I should have stayed away from you and they was right. I should’ve run first time you talked to me. Should’ve never agreed to this scheme. Now she’s going to kill me next.”
His exit from the shop was loud, leaving behind a trail of confiscated goods. It wouldn’t be hard to find him again as soon as she was on her feet. If he bumbled along the street leaving a path for her to follow, she would be able to return everything to the shop before Mr. Ollivander came in for the day.
For several moments, she concentrating on deep breathing exercises that sometimes helped. With a grunt of satisfaction, she was able to drag herself to the wall and pull herself into a sitting position with only a modicum of pain. She was working on stretching out her leg muscles when she heard the groan coming from the prone body she’d attacked.
“How?” she gasped, her breath leaving her body as she saw him stir. “But…”
His laugh was a grating to her sensitive system. “Anti-curse widget I bought off a guy in a dark alley. Figured it for a fake but can’t be too careful these days.” With a groan he rose to his hands and knees. While she might not have actually stupefied him, she’d done enough damage that he wouldn’t hurt her for a few more minutes. It could save her life if she could move out of his reach. Maybe she could find something heavy and hit him over the head.
“Don’t even think of it.” Another groan and he was hunched over but had gained his feet, the dark leather of his jacket giving off a delightful scent as he flexed his arm muscles where her spell would have hit him. “Since you seem to be doing well enough, I’ll find my cohort and get my share of the loot.”
Rage filled her. Once again, she was made to suffer for his deeds. Nothing she had done warranted this behavior from him. She hadn’t asked him to come rob Ollivander’s Wands nor had she left the door unprotected when she’d left yesterday evening. This man… this tormentor was going to get away from her again.
“Not again,” she shouted, bringing her wand up with a strength she didn’t know she possessed. “You’ll not humiliate me again.”
“Whoa. Put that thing away.” Instead of bringing out his own wand, the man held his hands up in a defensive gesture. A beam of light caught his jaw and Marietta stumbled back. This wasn’t…
“He called you Goyle.”
“It’s my name. Wasn’t supposed to use names but nothing gets through that thick skull of his.”
“But you aren’t… that’s not… Gregory?”
A flush crept over the skin she could see in the light. “The way you say my name makes me think I’m back in school again and McGonigal’s caught me in the halls after hours. Not exactly endearing me to you.”
“Lumos.” Her wand flared and the room was lit with enough light they could see each other. Just as she’d changed in the past three years since the Past Ministry failed and the New Ministry came to power, so too had he changed. The heavy face had grown leaner, as if he failed to eat enough meals to give him the look of a predator, and there were scar lines that criss-crossed his cheeks. Flecks of grey made the hair at his temple shine in the sudden light. He was still large but it was muscle and moxie instead of the stout bully she remembered.
“I thought you’d disappeared, Marietta. Heard you ran away to France after you broke the trust.”
With a shaky hand, she lifted her fringe off her forehead. Because she looked at them every day in the mirror, she knew he would see the scars she still bore on her skin. “I don’t cower easily. I’ve paid for my sins.”
Understanding darkened his features as the understanding of her words dawned on him. “You’ve been tortured. That’s why your muscles spasm like that. I’ve seen that many times… but you survived.”
“Yes, I survived your father.” It felt good to spit out the words at him, as if it might have been his fault she was discovered and taken to the MOM for questioning. She had, after all, been a member of Dumbledore’s Army even though she’d betrayed them. There might have been more secrets inside her head. The only useful things they’d been able to get from her were the combination to her Grandmother’s potting shed the color of Flitwick’s drawers. The first batch of Veritaserum had wiped her clean of any useful secrets.
Her wand swayed slightly as he advanced on her. “I told you I wouldn’t hurt you. I don’t plan on doing it now.”
“But I hurt you. Aren’t all bets off?” It was impossible to make her voice harden like she imagined it should sound, standing up to a bully.
“Odds are I won’t get close enough to use my fists and that’s all I’ve got these days.” His hands were still empty but it could be a trick. He was still a Slytherin. Still dangerous, regardless of what he did or did not hold in his hands.
He stopped moving forward but that didn’t matter. He was now close enough she could see the banked anger in his eyes, impotent against all that had happened tonight. “I didn’t come here to make trouble. Last thing I want is for the Ministry to be alerted that I was here.”
“Then why come in the first place. Maybe you should think about going to France. There are woods full of displaced Death Eaters.”
A split second of fear washed over his face. There was humanity on the face of a man who should have been her enemy on the simple fact that he shared blood with her tormentor. “I’m not one of them. Never was.”
“No, you were just a thug in student’s clothing.”
He grinned at that. “He paid the right price. Who was I to turn down the money he gave out for protection. Everyone thought we were Draco’s friends. Draco doesn’t have friends. He has minions. He flashed the right amount of Sickles for to be worth my while to…”
Whatever he was going to say was lost in the cacophony of sound and lights that exploded from the front door. With a groan, Marietta realized she wouldn’t be able to cover this up because Ollivander had arrived on the scene.
This won't go out to the communities I wrote it for until my betas come back with the "all clear" but I'm hoping to get it soon.
I'm not going forward with this storyline. It's too complicated and there isn't a good middle to this story. Only a good beginning and ending. Maybe later. The new Mari/Greg story can be found here
Title: Steal Your Pain
Chapter: 1 - Stay Home Next Time the Horrors Come Calling
Pairing: Marietta Edgecombe/Greg Goyle
Other Characters: Walton (ooc)
Prompt: 001. Doubt at 100quills and 060. Carnation at 100_colours
Word Count: 3397
Summary: Time has passed and a lot has changed. The New Ministry has taken over and things are looking up for the Wizarding Community... all except Marietta. She feels weighed down by the past when she should be looking to the future.
Marietta never slept a complete night, closing her eyes at twilight and opening them again at dawn. It seemed like a lifetime ago that she’d been a normal sleeper. It didn’t matter that she worked her body to exhaustion or that she was quite capable of vanquishing the thoughts and problems of the day before dropping into a well-deserved slumber, most often on the couch near her books. There were piles and piles of them so that they formed a fortress that no one could penetrate. Sleep came easily within this castle of words and her body was always weary from the busy day on her feet, sorting and filing and trying to make the new Ollivander ‘s Wands shop into something of a success.
Regardless of how she got to sleep, the nightmares always found her. Cruel, painful memories of a time when she never seemed to be on the right side. Instead of waking with a scream like she often read about the characters of her books reacting to their nightmares, she woke in a full body cramp with every muscle in her body locked into a spasm so tight that she spent an hour or so relaxing them again. Her nightmares weren’t from emotional stress but her body’s reminder of a time when it almost wasn’t able to carry on. No manner of relaxation after that could force her body back into slumber so she pulled on whatever clothes were laying closest and went back to the shop.
Ollivander’s Wands had barely survived the downfall of the Past Ministry and the destruction of the Dark Lord, not to mention the fact that Mr. Ollivander had been gone for such a long time before that. She’d only been employed for a few short months before he’d gone missing, leaving no note or notion where he was going or when he’d be back. She’d continued on the best she could, fulfilling the orders that had already been completed and doing general upkeep to the shop but there had finally come a day when she had no reason to keep the shop open. She’d still come in everyday, pretending there was a reason for the strange, new compulsion but really it was because she had nowhere else to go. When she’d fled Hogwarts, she’d left behind the only family that counted. This job had been her salvation and had kept her sane until the day she’d been taken in for questioning.
Every part of her life before the questioning was pleasant compared to what was come. Even her betrayal of Dumbledore’s Army and subsequent loss of all the people she had thought of as friends didn’t leave painful memories in the wake of what she experienced during the questioning.
And so she walked alone, bereft of friendship save for an old shopkeeper who wasn’t nearly the man he’d been before he disappeared. He welcomed her into his shop each day but she doubted he would welcome confidences when he still hadn’t shared anything about his ordeal. They both wore their torture as a hint of sadness in their eyes, a stiff posture when the bell rang to announce a visitor to the shop.
Tonight, she tried not to let her path take her toward the shop but it was impossible. No matter where she wandered, she ended up on Diagon Alley, standing across the street from the shop as if it was a surprise that she needed to see the store front to be assured that it was still there. Sometimes she let herself in and made a cup of tea that she drank down one of the endless aisles of wands. Her favorite area was near the wands made from cherry. The slight scent in the air made her think of springtime in the country. She’d never spent a single spring in the countryside but it was restful, nonetheless.
Instead of fighting the impulse, she finally gave in to the urge to see the shop. It would speed the night up and perhaps she could sleep for a little when she got home. Diagon Alley was quiet, a fine mist hovering just above the cobblestones so that the scene took on a fairytale quality.
“And what part of your life is a fairytale?” she whispered to break some of the tension of the scene. Not all fairytales were happy places to be, after all. There could very easily be a dragon waiting just around the next corner. She was fairly certain there wasn’t but it wasn’t something she could dismiss out of hand. A dragon from a fairytale could take any shape in this existence that wasn’t a fairytale. A huckster wanting some money. A little old woman with an urge for vengeance on the next person to cross her path. One of the people that used to be her friends, looking at her for a split second before their eyes blurred and they were looking through her. Anything and everything could devour her, given the chance.
The storefront was in front of her as she realized she’d stayed on the same side of the street instead of crossing over. This was the way she came to work every morning, acting as if she didn’t wander the streets like a vagrant in the deep darkness on the other side of the street. Both times of the day, she was on autopilot so tonight’s misdirection wasn’t from lack of thought.
With a start, Marietta realized where her mistake stemmed from. A light flickered in the shop, much as it did in the earliest part of the morning when Ollivander first arrived and began walking the aisles, taking stock of the reality of the shop once again. She looked up at the placement of the moon and stars, confirming what her mental clock was telling her. It was still the middle of the night. Ollivander never arrived before 5am, even on the darkest of days.
Drawing her wand, she took stock of the facts once again. Calling for help wouldn’t make the situation any better, especially not at this time of night. She’d only draw unnecessary and unwanted attention to herself. If it really was her boss coming to the shop early, he wouldn’t welcome the attention either. Thankfully the skill was still there even if she hadn’t completed her formal education. She’d continued to practice the spells she’d learned in her brief time with Dumbledore’s Army, even if it really was only for her peace of mind. There was no threat of harm now that the Dark Lord had been killed and the Death Eaters sent to their just rewards.
The door opened at her gentle insistence. A quick spell silenced the bell that normally rang out a greeting. She snuck through the opening and closed it firmly once again, blending into the shadows at the edges of the shop. Sure enough, there was a murmur of sound from the far end of the shop. It might have been Ollivander muttering to himself but she doubted it. Who in their right mind would try to steal anything from a wand shop? The merchandise was all under a spell that even she didn’t understand and wouldn’t move except on the insistence of a true wand master.
A sharp curse word ripped through the dampened silence of the night. She couldn’t contain a giggle at the thought that anyone would be stupid enough to try something so foolhardy. They would have been better off trying to get something out of the ruined Gringott’s Building.
The barest whisper of sound alerted her that her merriment had been heard by the intruder and she dropped to the ground. Unfortunately her wand was underneath her and she wasn’t able to counter the spell that ripped overhead, missing her by those all important inches. Instead of turning away, she watched the dazzling carnation lights shoot toward her. The bright path burned itself into her corneas and everything else became dark for a few precious moments.
“Expelliarmos,” she yelled as she rolled to her side. The wand wasn’t pointed in the right direction but she needed to do something to show that she wasn’t going to sit back and let the attacker get the upper hand. The light of the spell ricocheted off the glass of the counter, leaving a blazing path behind it. Her eyes burned from the intensity of both spells lighting up the room, leaving the room even darker when they fizzled out.
She heard the new spell coming from the man’s lips, wished she could get away but knew it was utterly impossible. Her eyes couldn’t tell her which path would take her safely away and wand was still pointed in the wrong direction. Another spell cast in the wrong direction would only alert the intruder to the fact that she couldn’t harm him.
“What do you think you’re doing? Trying to kill her? That wasn’t part of the plan.”
The world was righting itself slowly but Marietta could make out a second shape alongside the first. Her savior, perhaps? She wanted to scream out a warning that she’d been attacked, that this was her store and she could be here but he couldn’t.
“Told you we needed to keep this quiet, Walton. No disturbing the peace. No calling attention to ourselves. Everything hush hush.”
The slow cadence made her pause. Each word was ugly, brutish, forced out as if the speaker would have preferred to stay silent and just have his will be known by a simple thought. The voice of her nightmares. In response, her muscles spasmed and she screamed through vocal chords that rebelled from the misuse.
“What did you do to her?”
“Nothing. I promise. Nothing at all. My first spell didn’t even hit her. See the wall? See the burn mark? Nothing at all. I swear to you.”
She wanted to slap the man to keep him from the hysterics she could hear in his garbled words. Even through the intense pain, he annoyed her. Didn’t he know that the man would kill him anyway, regardless of the furtive pleas? If she could get close enough, she wanted very much to spit in his face. It would show him that she wasn’t afraid of him. Through everything he had done to her, she wasn’t afraid. Her body, on the other hand, was very afraid of what the man with the disused voice might do to it once again.
“If you didn’t do anything, why is she keening like a broken bird?”
“Broke some… birds in your… time, have you?” she whispered through clenched teeth between wails of pain. “Get… out of… here.”
“Or you’ll do what? Flay me to death with your flinty gaze.”
“She’s going to kill us with her eyes?”
The stammering fool backed up and out of her range but she was glad to see him leave. If she was going to get out of here in one piece, she needed to concentrate. Her spasms or his whimpers - she could only handle one distraction at a time. The other blurry shape moved out of range so that she could almost imagine she was alone on her couch, trying to unclench from a normal dream instead of lying in a pool of cold sweat on the floor of the wand shop.
“Shut up, Walton. Go get the sack from the back of the shop before I decide to leave you here as punishment for completely forgetting yourself in a moment of panic. My father would have killed you where you stood. Be content that I am not like him.”
Her eyesight sharpened back to normal as the thieves conferred but there was still nothing she could do about the rigidity of her body. It fought her efforts to relax, defying her to walk away from the voice of her nightmares. The conversation died down and as the harsh man walked back, she tried to crane her head around to face him, showing him she wasn’t afraid, but it was useless to try to move. She’d have to wait for him to come to her.
“Where are you hurt?”
“Go away.”
His large hand on her hip forced an unconscious tremor that gave her as much pleasure in the loosening of several of her back muscles as pain in the rest. “It wasn’t my intention for anyone to be hurt. We were meant to come in and leave quickly.”
“Go to hell.”
“Not yet, but soon,” he murmured, running his fingers along her spinal column. “Spasm. There’s nothing I can do to help you but if you’re talking, it can’t be that bad.”
“Bad enough.” The irony was thick in her voice even as she tried to think of a way to salvage this situation and turn it in her favor. “Don’t think you can just run off with whatever you’re trying to steal.”
“And you plan on stopping me? I welcome the challenge if this is the best you’ve got.” His laugh bruised already bruised ego. The wand in her hand might as well have been a bubble blower. “Oi! Walton! You ready to go?”
As soon as he turned his attention away from her, she concentrated on raising her wand arm up. He was still on the wrong side of her so she couldn’t see him but she could sense where his bulk was. With one last deep breath, she confirmed her direction.
“Stupify!” The strangled sound told her she’d hit him full on. “Take that, Goyle.”
The force of the spell caught the attention of the bumbler who ran back into the room. “Venus’ tits. She got you, Greg. You’re dead. What’m I going to tell the boys. They’re going to tell me I should have stayed away from you and they was right. I should’ve run first time you talked to me. Should’ve never agreed to this scheme. Now she’s going to kill me next.”
His exit from the shop was loud, leaving behind a trail of confiscated goods. It wouldn’t be hard to find him again as soon as she was on her feet. If he bumbled along the street leaving a path for her to follow, she would be able to return everything to the shop before Mr. Ollivander came in for the day.
For several moments, she concentrating on deep breathing exercises that sometimes helped. With a grunt of satisfaction, she was able to drag herself to the wall and pull herself into a sitting position with only a modicum of pain. She was working on stretching out her leg muscles when she heard the groan coming from the prone body she’d attacked.
“How?” she gasped, her breath leaving her body as she saw him stir. “But…”
His laugh was a grating to her sensitive system. “Anti-curse widget I bought off a guy in a dark alley. Figured it for a fake but can’t be too careful these days.” With a groan he rose to his hands and knees. While she might not have actually stupefied him, she’d done enough damage that he wouldn’t hurt her for a few more minutes. It could save her life if she could move out of his reach. Maybe she could find something heavy and hit him over the head.
“Don’t even think of it.” Another groan and he was hunched over but had gained his feet, the dark leather of his jacket giving off a delightful scent as he flexed his arm muscles where her spell would have hit him. “Since you seem to be doing well enough, I’ll find my cohort and get my share of the loot.”
Rage filled her. Once again, she was made to suffer for his deeds. Nothing she had done warranted this behavior from him. She hadn’t asked him to come rob Ollivander’s Wands nor had she left the door unprotected when she’d left yesterday evening. This man… this tormentor was going to get away from her again.
“Not again,” she shouted, bringing her wand up with a strength she didn’t know she possessed. “You’ll not humiliate me again.”
“Whoa. Put that thing away.” Instead of bringing out his own wand, the man held his hands up in a defensive gesture. A beam of light caught his jaw and Marietta stumbled back. This wasn’t…
“He called you Goyle.”
“It’s my name. Wasn’t supposed to use names but nothing gets through that thick skull of his.”
“But you aren’t… that’s not… Gregory?”
A flush crept over the skin she could see in the light. “The way you say my name makes me think I’m back in school again and McGonigal’s caught me in the halls after hours. Not exactly endearing me to you.”
“Lumos.” Her wand flared and the room was lit with enough light they could see each other. Just as she’d changed in the past three years since the Past Ministry failed and the New Ministry came to power, so too had he changed. The heavy face had grown leaner, as if he failed to eat enough meals to give him the look of a predator, and there were scar lines that criss-crossed his cheeks. Flecks of grey made the hair at his temple shine in the sudden light. He was still large but it was muscle and moxie instead of the stout bully she remembered.
“I thought you’d disappeared, Marietta. Heard you ran away to France after you broke the trust.”
With a shaky hand, she lifted her fringe off her forehead. Because she looked at them every day in the mirror, she knew he would see the scars she still bore on her skin. “I don’t cower easily. I’ve paid for my sins.”
Understanding darkened his features as the understanding of her words dawned on him. “You’ve been tortured. That’s why your muscles spasm like that. I’ve seen that many times… but you survived.”
“Yes, I survived your father.” It felt good to spit out the words at him, as if it might have been his fault she was discovered and taken to the MOM for questioning. She had, after all, been a member of Dumbledore’s Army even though she’d betrayed them. There might have been more secrets inside her head. The only useful things they’d been able to get from her were the combination to her Grandmother’s potting shed the color of Flitwick’s drawers. The first batch of Veritaserum had wiped her clean of any useful secrets.
Her wand swayed slightly as he advanced on her. “I told you I wouldn’t hurt you. I don’t plan on doing it now.”
“But I hurt you. Aren’t all bets off?” It was impossible to make her voice harden like she imagined it should sound, standing up to a bully.
“Odds are I won’t get close enough to use my fists and that’s all I’ve got these days.” His hands were still empty but it could be a trick. He was still a Slytherin. Still dangerous, regardless of what he did or did not hold in his hands.
He stopped moving forward but that didn’t matter. He was now close enough she could see the banked anger in his eyes, impotent against all that had happened tonight. “I didn’t come here to make trouble. Last thing I want is for the Ministry to be alerted that I was here.”
“Then why come in the first place. Maybe you should think about going to France. There are woods full of displaced Death Eaters.”
A split second of fear washed over his face. There was humanity on the face of a man who should have been her enemy on the simple fact that he shared blood with her tormentor. “I’m not one of them. Never was.”
“No, you were just a thug in student’s clothing.”
He grinned at that. “He paid the right price. Who was I to turn down the money he gave out for protection. Everyone thought we were Draco’s friends. Draco doesn’t have friends. He has minions. He flashed the right amount of Sickles for to be worth my while to…”
Whatever he was going to say was lost in the cacophony of sound and lights that exploded from the front door. With a groan, Marietta realized she wouldn’t be able to cover this up because Ollivander had arrived on the scene.