Amicus Draconis (5c/13), English Version
Title: Amicus Draconis: 1st Cycle - Cycle of the Badger (5c/13)
Author: yamato__ishida
Rating: PG-13
Beta: notsosaintly, Lici (goodbye_rose)
Spoilers: PS/SS, CS, PoA, GoF
Summary: In the Trio’s seventh year, the wizarding world has lost its second war against the Dark Lord. The Death Eaters conquered Hogwarts, defeated the Order of the Phoenix and overthrew the Ministry of Magic. Forming a new government with Voldemort as the supreme ruler, they take control of Wizarding Europe, spreading terror and destruction everywhere. Harry and his friends are forced into hiding, but far from giving up hope they form their own secret rebellion.
In four cycles, Amicus Draconis tells the story of a world shattered and rebuilt throughout three wizarding wars, of two masterminds moving people like figures on a chessboard, and a boy torn between his destiny and his one true love.
Starter Page & Episode List
Episode 1: Children of Magic
Episode 2: Encounter at Hogwarts
Episode 3: The Underwater Quidditch Game /Part A/ /Part B/
Episode 4: Offers and Offerings /Part A/ /Part B/
Episode 5: Owl SMS /Part A/ /Part B/
* * *
At first, Bridget had been taken completely by surprise, making no attempt to resist her boyfriend’s manhandling. Facing these two strangers in her kitchen, however, planted the first doubts about his honesty. “Marcus, who are these people? What’s all this supposed to mean?”
“Don’t worry, they’ll protect us….” Marcus was still digging for words when one of the Red Robes cut him short. ”Leave that dumb Muggle now, get your wand and help us!”
“Certainly.” Marcus ran to the counter, searching for his wand. Bridget was in no immediate danger now; he would explain everything later when this situation was sorted out. Now they had to get those Order girls and arrest them … He was sure they put his wand somewhere here … Ah, there it was.
“You bloody liar!” Bridget yelled at him. “You deceived me all along!”
She turned on her heel and stormed out into the hallway. The Red Robes didn’t pay her any attention; a Muggle was completely irrelevant when they had to deal with the alleged Order of the Phoenix. They took position and blasted away the door…
Marcus felt cold sweat trickle down his back. If he abandoned the battle now to go after Bridget, it would be treachery. No one could get him out after that, not even Macnair. Everything would be over…
They would take him to Azkaban. Or worse.
But he couldn’t just stand there and let her go. Couldn’t lose her. He needed his Bridget.
No, he wouldn’t lose her. On the contrary, if he helped to arrest known enemies of the Dark Lord, it would be a great achievement, and he would never need to worry about his private life again.
No, he didn’t turn his back on her. The decision to stay would help her as much as it helped him. It was the right choice, wasn’t it?
Wasn’t it?
The door was blasted apart in a blaze of light. As they looked into the next room, all they could see was a dead girl lying on her bed and three very much alive girls flying out the window on their broomsticks. The spells they sent past them hit nothing but air.
“Call your Nightmare, Flint,” one of the Red Robes ordered. “Bring them back, dead or alive.”
* * *
“Fly around the house,” Hermione shouted against the wind. “We’ll grab Bridget and be off; she can’t be far yet! If I heard right and she ran out the front door, she must be somewhere on the stairs by now.”
“There’s no need to save Flint,” Lavender muttered. She and Parvati followed closely when suddenly a blurry shape chased past them, almost knocking them off their brooms. Hermione gasped, clawing her fingernails into the sleek wood, and turned her head. At this speed, the thing was impossible to make out, but it was huge and black and shadowy, and definitely not the kind of creature you wanted to meet in the middle of the night. A screech, a terrible hissing sound, and within the blink of an eye it was gone.
Only these eyes didn’t look as if they needed to blink. They were like glowing embers in the dark.
* * *
Marcus stumbled over the remains of what had been once an entry door and ran out on the balcony. He reached for the small bone whistle he carried around his neck and gave it a mighty blow. The sound was too high for human ears, but his Nightmare would hear it wherever she was and come to him immediately.
Down the stairs he saw a small slender figure scurry away. Damn, Bridget, where do you think you’re going? I’ve got everything under control; I’ll get us both out of here in a couple of seconds.”
The very next moment his steed came galloping through the skies, her fiery eyes locked on him. Marcus climbed the balustrade to jump into the saddle. He wasn’t going to lose any more time.
However, the demonic horse didn’t stop to let him mount. She was already carrying a rider. And both rider and steed raced past him to swoop down on Bridget.
* * *
The last thing, Hermione, Lavender and Parvati saw of Bridget as they turned around the corner, was a large shadow and a flowing black robe, snatching her away. Flint was standing on the balustrade of the balcony screaming her name into the darkness.
“Hermione, we need to follow!” Lavender shouted.
It was pointless, completely pointless. Following a Nightmare on a broomstick was like chasing Buckbeak on a tricycle. Flint was the only one who could get her back now.
‘But will he even try?’ Hermione thought, looking down at the desperate young man. ‘Or will he be a good little Death Eater and go for us instead?’
* * *
Marcus looked up and saw Granger and the other two girls on their broomsticks at the very same moment his own Nightmare finally descended from the cloudy night sky. There they were, his enemies from the Order of the Phoenix, ready for battle. But there were still three of them and only one of him. And what about Bridget? That other bloke, that Ghost Rider, had kidnapped her; there was no time for fights with the Order lot right now. He couldn’t just leave her to her fate.
But what would the Blood Legion say if they saw him walk away from a fight to chase after a worthless Muggle? It would be treason.
Yes, but they couldn’t see it, could they? They were still inside the flat, probably contacting Lord Macnair for new orders. They couldn’t see what was happening on the other side of the house, nor did they have any idea that Bridget was in danger. He could fly off and rescue her and later pretend to them that he had been chasing the enemy. They would never know the truth, and he wouldn’t need to take any risks.
What would he have done if there had been a risk? Saved Bridget, or followed his orders?
It was a good thing that he didn’t have to worry about such stupid questions. When this was over, everything would be different. He would be different. He would stand up to Macnair and demand better protection for Bridget. Perhaps a Fidelius charm on her flat or a secret place to hide her. Also, although this wasn’t official, there were ways to mark Muggles so that other wizards could see they belonged to someone and know they weren’t allowed to harm them. There were rumours that the members of the Dark Council sometimes used Muggles for their purposes and they needed to make sure that no Muggle-basher accidentally interfered with their business. So why shouldn’t he be allowed his own Muggle? It wasn’t a big thing to ask, no more than a little favour.
And Macnair owed him. Macnair owed him big time. After all, Macnair’s silence about the whole Bridget affair hadn’t come cheap.
First, there was information. Anytime, a member of the Dark Council sent the Ghost Riders on an errand, Macnair wanted to know all about it. Marcus doubted that any of the things they did were important, but still, the knowledge gave Macnair a certain insight into the plans and schemes of the other council members. It could prove valuable intelligence in his struggle for power.
Second, there was loyalty. Officially, Marcus owed the same obedience and loyalty to all council members, but it was always Macnair’s business that came first. Sometimes it seemed that Macnair commanded not only the Blood Legion but the Ghost Riders as well. Not that Marcus cared; having a powerful protector usually paid off. Macnair had kept his word, hadn’t he? He had sent men to help him.
Marcus forced his thoughts back to his present situation. He had to get Bridget back, and everything else could wait.
* * *
I won’t fail this time!
Adrian Pucey’s second plan was simple, direct, and fail-safe. He would rise high up into the sky and then push the Muggle off his horse.
He had followed Flint back to the flat and taken position on the roof, soon realizing that his curse had hit the wrong girl and that the right one was still inside. Now all he had to do was wait for an opportunity to strike. Whatever Flint, the Blood Legion and the Order of the Phoenix were doing there was none of his concern. He wasn’t going to get involved in anything, least of all in any battles. He was going to do his job and collect his reward. Nothing more, nothing less.
His job was done. With a satisfied grin, he let go of the screaming girl and watched her tumble through the clouds. As she disappeared into the foggy night air, he leaned back with the satisfaction of a job well done.
“Why, what’s going on with you, Pucey?” a drawling voice asked with mild curiosity, and a second rider emerged from below, pulling the still screaming Muggle girl nonchalantly behind him. “Muggle-bashing, all on your own? How bored can you be?”
“Get lost, Malfoy!” Adrian snarled. “This is my Muggle, so if you want to play, go get your own.”
“Now she’s mine.” Draco smirked mischievously. “If you want her back, come and get her!”
Playfully, he circled Adrian and closed in on him only to make his steed leap away the very next moment. He probably did think that Adrian wanted to kill some time with Muggle-bashing; it was a popular sport among the Ghost Riders. Still, you could never know with Malfoy. Maybe he knew about the job and was trying to butt in. Jealousy, perhaps?
It was strange anyway; why hadn’t Malfoy received the job instead of him?
Now what should he do about the whole situation? Tell Malfoy the truth? No, that would be a foolish thing to do. Pull rank on him and order him to surrender the Muggle? No, that would only raise his suspicions. It was best to play along for now. There would be plenty opportunities to kill the girl later. These little games usually proved fatal for Muggles.
And Malfoy enjoyed killing very much. Wouldn’t it be a twist of fate if Malfoy did the job for him, and he, Adrian, received the reward?
He loosened the reigns and galloped through the skies towards Draco, pretending to aim for a head-on collision. Instead of showing fear, his opponent only laughed at him, holding up the girl as if he were a matador and she the red cloth. “Toro, Toro!” he shouted. As Adrian approached, Draco put spurs to his horse and pulled the reigns at the same time, which caused her to rear up, her sharp hooves only inches away from Adrian’s head. Adrian steered his Nightmare a bit lower to avoid getting hit.
He stopped a moment later, spun around on the spot, frantically looking for Malfoy, but he was nowhere to be seen. It was as if he had vanished into thin air. Only seconds later Adrian heard a yell and felt something touch his head.
He looked up and startled in his seat. It was a hand, the girl’s hand to be exact. Malfoy and his steed were hovering above Adrian, and Draco held the once again screaming Muggle girl by her ankles, letting her dangle above Adrian’s head. With an angry snarl Adrian tried to grab her, but Malfoy had already pulled her back up on his horse.
Adrian’s patience was wearing thin. He would finish the girl, and there was no need to physically touch her for this. What did he have a wand for? All he required was an opportunity to cast a killing curse on her without hitting Malfoy. It was a bit risky, yes, performing an illegal curse in front of a witness, but then, who was Malfoy to tell on him? That bloke had AKed more Muggles than he had fingers on his hands and toes on his feet.
For the moment, casting a spell was too difficult because the girl was in the saddle with Draco and they moved very fast. He had to change that, perhaps trip him up a bit, make him lose his cool. Why shouldn’t Malfoy be the one to get angry? After all, it was the Blood Legion who taught its members about psychological warfare, and Adrian had just the thing to strike Draco where it hurt.
“So, you’re worried about losing another girl to me, aren’t you?” He circled Draco with a half-hearted attempt to reach for the Muggle. “Losing the first one must have been tough. I remember it well, it was a June weekend in Hogsmeade, and a hot day it was. I believe it was right before your year’s NEWT exams….”
He watched Draco’s face intently as he spoke, but couldn’t see any reaction on it. The smirk was still in place, although it seemed a bit frozen. “Pucey, you dunderhead, what are you talking about? When my NEWTs came up, I was a good boy for once and spent my weekends studying. I never went to Hogsmeade that June; ergo, I don’t have the faintest idea what you’re trying to imply.”
“I know you weren’t there.” Adrian made no attempt to hide the malice in his voice. “You weren’t there when she needed you the most. Say, did I ever tell you that it was your name she screamed when the Dementors ripped out her soul? But you weren’t there to hear her cries, and you couldn’t do a thing to save her.”
“It’s good that I don’t have a saving people thing, then.” His opponent’s voice still didn’t betray any emotion, and Adrian couldn’t see his face anymore because Draco kept moving. Draco’s Nightmare made a huge leap over Adrian’s, and he had to turn around to continue the conversation. ”How does it feel, Draco?”
“How does what feel? I still have no idea what you’re talking about. If you want me to get angry at you or have a crying fit, it would really help if you gave me some clues. That girl’s name, perhaps?”
“Wait a minute!” Adrian pretended to be thinking hard, although he had no idea about the name. He only wanted to give Malfoy the impression that he wasn’t paying attention to him at the moment. Perhaps it would lure him into a false sense of security and make him stop all that jumping around.
“Don’t worry about it. Do you think I keep a list of names from all the people I knocked off?” Draco was closing in on him, the Muggle girl, still before him in the saddle, a perfect target. Not close enough to grab her, but close enough for a spell.
It was time. This might be his one chance, and he wouldn’t miss it.
“Some people simply aren’t worth being remembered. Accio badge!”
Adrian felt his rank insignia being pulled off his cloak and suppressed the urge to forget all about the Muggle and curse Malfoy instead. Yes, he would make him pay. Malfoy would pay dearly for his insolence, but the job came first, and this was his chance to strike. “Avada - ”
A glint of triumph in Draco’s cold eyes warned him that something was wrong, very wrong.
He would never know what it was…
“Petrificus Totalus!“
It wasn’t Draco who had cast the full Body-Bind on Adrian Pucey. It was a third rider who had suddenly appeared behind Adrian. Marcus Flint had never been a fast thinker, but seeing a wand pointed at his girlfriend and hearing the first few syllables of a killing curse was enough to make him react.
Unable to stay in the saddle, reins slipping from his stiff fingers, Adrian fell over. He tumbled through the clouds and vanished into the foggy night air.
A moment later, an ear-splitting bang could be heard, much like the sound of bursting stone.
* * *
He was in trouble. Oh, Merlin, he was in such trouble. He had killed, he had murdered one of his comrades, and he had done so for no apparent reason. A Muggle girl wasn’t a reason. This was treachery. They would kill him or worse. He had to run, run fast, run far and never come back. No, he couldn’t run; Malfoy still had Bridget.
Bridget … I have to save Bridget….
Oh, Merlin, what should he do? Fight Malfoy? No, he couldn’t kill him as well. That would make everything much worse. Try and bribe him into letting her go? But what did he have to offer? He wasn’t rich or powerful like the Malfoys. He was just a normal guy.
Oh, Merlin, what should he do? He was in so much trouble.
“I owe you my life, Marcus. That was bloody close!”
What if he just stunned Malfoy and grabbed Bridget before….
“What?”
“My life. You saved my life, Marcus. That nutter was about to kill me, and you arrived just in time to save me. One second later and I would’ve been the one lying down there. I’m still recovering from the shock.” Draco ran a hand through his windswept hair as if he was trying to put it back into place.
Then he lowered his glance to check his fingernails.
That changed everything. All the images of danger, fighting and running away in Marcus’ head burst like soap bubbles. He didn’t care whether Malfoy truly believed that his life had been saved or whether he was simply putting up an act. All that mattered was that Malfoy wasn’t going to turn him in. He was safe. Pucey had tried to murder Draco, and he, Flint, had killed Pucey in self-defence. It was a perfect official version of Pucey’s death, and there was a witness to confirm it. And if they were going to investigate - the last spell of Pucey’s wand was an attempted killing curse. It all fell into place. Nicely.
“Marcus, you’re a bastard!” That was Bridget’s voice, grief-stricken and hoarse with sobs. In his relief Marcus had forgotten all about her.
“You know the Muggle?” Draco raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. “Could it be that the curse was meant for her? I remember Pucey saying something about giving you some wand, so maybe he wanted to kill her to take revenge on you. Anyway, he was a difficult person, more trouble than he was worth. No wonder they kicked him out of the Blood Legion.”
Draco steered his Nightmare beside Flint’s and lifted a sobbing Bridget over. “Here we go. If I had known that she’s yours, I would have been more careful with her, but she’s not damaged. I suppose we’d better not mention her when we report Pucey’s death. It would only make the whole thing seem fishy. We’ll just stick by the old version that he tried to kill me and you accidentally killed him in self-defence. Oh, and Pucey dropped this.”
He held out his hand and showed Flint a small silver badge. Marcus knew it well; it was the rank insignia Pucey had worn on his cloak.
Marcus nodded slowly; he had been expecting something like this. Help was never for free, and he had already been wondering about the cost of Malfoy’s. Well, he needed a new second-in-command anyway, and Draco was the obvious choice.
“Draco Malfoy.” Marcus took the badge from Draco’s hand and, with a flick of his wand, stuck it to his newly appointed officer’s cloak. “I hereby promote you to commander of the Ghost Riders. May you prove yourself worthy for the honour bestowed upon you.”
* * *
“Did we fail Bridget, Lavender? What if the Death Eaters killed her just because we were too stupid to help her?”
“We did everything we could, Parvati. We tried so hard to save her.” Lavender’s voice sounded small and choky. “I don’t think they got her. I wish we knew, though. Not knowing, that’s the hardest part of it.”
“Coming home from a mission used to feel so good, like we made a difference and all. But I don’t have that feeling now.”
“We won’t be successful all the time, you know that, Parvati. We won’t be able to save everyone. Remember what Harry said? We’re not heroes, we’re just … people.”
After a desperate and completely fruitless search for Bridget, the three Gryffindor girls had flown back to their hideout to inform the others about the battle and what they felt was a failed mission. Lavender and Parvati had finally returned to the girls’ dormitory to catch some sleep while Hermione was still with Harry, talking strategy and forging new plans.
Lavender was so exhausted that her eyes hurt and she could barely walk a straight line. She dropped down on her tatami mat and waited for sleep, but sleep wouldn’t come. As she listened into the silent darkness, she could hear Parvati rolling around as restlessly as she was. Finally, despite Tara’s and Eloise’s protests, they had lit some wands and candles and started talking. About Bridget. About Marcus. About failed missions, failed battles and failed love.
“I think Hermione was right about us being too naïve.” Lost in her thoughts, Lavender gazed at a tiny spark emanating from the tip of her wand and slowly floating upwards. “If Marcus had truly loved Bridget he would’ve stopped supporting the Death Eaters.”
“Hermione’s always right,” Tara mumbled into her pillow. “And that’s exactly what makes her such an insufferable know-it-all.”
Normally, Lavender would have gladly latched onto the change of subject and joined in in another light-hearted Hermione slagging-session, but somehow it felt childish to do so. She couldn’t go back to every-day school-girl life as if nothing had happened tonight. Why did Bridget’s fate have such an impact on her? Was it because she was a young woman her own age? Or was it because in those few fleeting hours they had had a much closer look at Bridget’s life than the lives of all the other Muggles they saved before?
Or was it because, for once, the story didn’t have a happy ending with the damsel-in-distress happily snogging her prince and the heroes riding off into the blazing sunset?
We’re not heroes. We’re just ordinary people.
The spark had reached the ceiling now and slowly died down.
“We should talk to her once she’s back.”
“Talk to who?”
“Hermione?”
“Why?”
“Is there a problem?”
Lavender got up, looking at all the confused faces around her. “Yes. Of course, there’s a problem. There’s been a problem for about seven years now, and that problem is that we don’t talk to each other. Hermione does things her way and we do them our way. We don’t want her in our lives and she doesn’t let us in hers. We’ve been living in totally different worlds all these years, not even bothering to take a peek over the walls.
“Yes, but we’ve learned not to constantly fight with her anymore, haven’t we?” Eloise pointed out, and Parvati added, “She isn’t going to change, no matter what we say or do.”
“No, I don’t want to change her, that’s not what I meant. I just want to understand her. I want to know how she’s ticking, get all those unsaid things out in the open. Do you know what I mean? I mean, look at us! Talking about injustice and discrimination all day long, and in the night we fly out fighting for a better world and all that. But if someone’s just a little bit different, we can’t cope with it, and instead of talking things over, we slag her off. You see, we pretend to be heroes, but we can’t even deal with our own differences. How pathetic is that?”
And besides, I’m dying to hear that Viktor Krum story, Lavender added silently to herself.
“Wow, what a speech, Lavender.” Parvati giggled. “Harry couldn’t have put this better himself.”
* * *
“Bloody women!”
Marcus hurled his empty beer bottle away and watched it shatter to pieces on the road. The two young men sat on the roof of the Leaky Cauldron while down below them some metal band bawled about death and destruction. The Cauldron itself was almost empty; second shift was over, and the first sliver of dawn was beginning to creep over the ghastly silhouettes of houses in the east.
The birds had already started their morning noise, but you couldn’t really count their whistling and screeching as singing.
“It’s over, she told me. Dumped me, just like that. Never wants to see me again.” Marcus was struggling with his tears and the stubborn cap of the next beer bottle. “I promised her I would take care of her. No wizard would ever lay a hand on her again; I would’ve made sure of that. I’m not just anybody, you know?”
Although his head was already floating on clouds of alcohol, the memory of his last conversation with Bridget was cold and clear, cutting like ice through his dizzy mind. Nothing had gone as expected. He had saved her life. He had risked his neck for her. And was she at least a tiny bit grateful for all that? No, not at all!
“You’re asking too much of me,” she had said. “You want me to forgive you your lies? I could do that. You want me to forgive you the crimes you committed against other people like me? Maybe even that. But to think you could just go on as if nothing happened, that's definitely the pits!”
“Well, what did you expect?” he had shouted back at her. “It’s not me, it’s just the world we’re living in. I can’t do anything about it. Do you want me to throw away my life and die for you? For a bunch of crazy ideas that don’t work in this world anyway? Do you want us to be fugitives when we could live safely and happily? You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into! They’d kill us both!”
“I can tell you what I expect from the man I want to share my life with.” Her voice was firm and clear despite the tears still running down her cheeks.” I expect that he doesn’t support a system which considers people like me less than dirt. How can you say you love me and kill others like me?”
He couldn’t answer her question, and there was no point in even trying. What answer could there be to a question as old as humanity itself, and who was he to find it?
Instead he begged her not to leave him. Promised that nothing would happen to her ever again. A powerful protector would guarantee her safety.
Not that he truly believed in his own words; after all, Macnair hadn’t been able to help him. But it didn’t matter; he would’ve said anything just to make her stay.
She didn’t. “Just be careful that your powerful protector doesn’t backstab you one day. Or perhaps your new second-in-command when he doesn’t want to be second anymore. That’s how things work in your world, isn’t it? Well, I’m not going to be a part of it. Adieu, Marcus!”
And then she had turned around and walked away. “I could kill you,” he had yelled after her. “I could kill you right now and no one would stop me!” But she hadn’t stopped walking, and she hadn’t turned around either.
And he certainly hadn’t done anything to her.
He lost patience with the cap, smashed the bottle’s neck instead and wanted to gulp down the beer. Draco took the broken bottle away from him before he could cut himself and gave him another one, already open. It was good that they had taken the entire crate, Marcus considered as he took a deep swallow.
He was too much engulfed in his own worries to notice that Draco, too, was lost in thought. These thoughts, however, had little to do with his captain’s present situation and love life. They dwelled on a dinner at Malfoy Manor, which had taken place a few nights ago. The Malfoys had been visited by their old friends, the Macnairs. Father and Walden Macnair had exchanged Death Eater stories from the good old times while Alice Macnair complained to Mother about her eldest son’s girlfriend: “I don’t trust that little jezebel with her slit eyes and her fake smile. Mark my words, Narcissa, she is going to break my poor Tod’s heart.”
Draco couldn’t fail to notice that politics weren’t an issue during the dinner conversation. It seemed that both his parents and the Macnairs carefully avoided the subject. He was curious to find out whether his father and Macnair had certain disagreements, but his curiosity wasn’t satisfied until the Macnairs had left and his parents had returned to the drawing room, believing themselves alone.
“What an ungrateful little snot your so-called friend has turned into!” Narcissa could barely hide her contempt. “Has he already forgotten that it was your influence that brought him to power? Where would he be today if you hadn’t pointed him out to our master?”
“Don’t be too harsh on him, Narcissa,” Lucius answered with a benevolent smile. “He’s going through hard times at the moment. Things are not going too well with the Blood Legion. All these rebel attacks - dreadful, dreadful.”
“Did you know that he’s found a new way to snoop around the rest of the Council? Alice let slip something earlier; after all these years the woman still hasn’t learned how to keep a secret.” Narcissa sneered, an expression all Malfoys could do in their sleep.
“Yes, dear, I’m aware of it.” Father leaned back comfortably in his armchair. Like the lynx, the crest animal of his family, he could be an image of utter relaxation on the outside and yet never slack in his vigilance. ”I already managed to find out about his new source of information. He’s blackmailing Flint, the captain of the Ghost Riders.”
“Blackmailing Flint?” Narcissa raised her eyebrows. “Shouldn’t you do something about it, then? Walden already has the Blood Legion under his thumb; he doesn’t need the Ghost Riders as well.”
“No need to worry,” Lucius replied calmly. “The necessary counter measures are already in preparation.”
Narcissa stood by the window, looking out into the rambling park of the manor. “Who would’ve thought,” she said, more to herself than to anybody else, “that Marcus Flint of all people has a skeleton in the closet?”
“Well, she’s not a skeleton yet,” Lucius’ fingers stroked the stem of his wine glass, “but she will be. She will be.”
Father’s counter measures had worked perfectly well, except for one slight change of plan. However, the only one who had any reason to complain lay scattered all over London. Bad luck, Adrian. Rest in pieces.
Pansy, wherever you are, I hope you were watching.
Draco raised his bottle. “To power! A much more consistent force than love and much more reliable, too.”
Marcus shook his head in disbelief. “Power … it’s always about power! And what‘s all this power good for if you can’t be with the one you love?”
“You’re drunk, Marcus. That question is pathetic and unworthy of a Slytherin.”
Shrugging, Marcus turned his eyes back to the road, staring without focus. Preoccupied with his own thoughts, he missed the glint of triumph in Draco’s eyes and the way his fingers stroked the new badge at his shoulder.
“It’s simply a question of how much power you have to gain.”
Tsuzuku… (to be continued)
*
Dark night, nothing to see,
Invisible hand in front of me.
Scared to death there's someone near,
Scared to move but you can't stay here.
You know me, evil eye!
You know me, prepare to die!
You know me, the snakebite kiss!
Devil's grip, the Iron Fist!
*
extra Extra EXTRA!!!!
“Ah, Fred, there’s romance in the air.”
“No, there’s not.”
“Yes, there is. Just look at all these letters: People keep firing questions about possible Harry/Ginny, Harry/Ron, Harry/Draco, Harry/Cho, Harry/Lisa, Harry/Hermione, and Harry/Millicent Bulstrode pairings.”
“Except for ali from my-son-is-obsessed-with-pokémon country. ali thinks that Harry has other things on his mind than romance. He is trying so hard to be a leader (Harry, not ali) and he is busy being ambiguous with Snape.”
“No, he’s not.”
“Spoilsport!”
“Kaelin-Hikaru from I-use-a lot-of-…s country is worried about horrible fandom names. Oh, we do so love horrible fandom names. Sevvie and Hermy and Drakey-Poo…”
“Freddy, Georgie, Nevvy, Marcy Flinty, Ollie Woody, Auntie Voldie …”
“Uh Fred?”
”Yeah, George?”
“We do use Auntie Voldie."
“Oh, uhm … how about we forget everything I just said and tell our dear audience something about Episode Six! It’s a double episode, so brace yourselves.”
It’s October and Hallowe’en is coming up. Auntie Voldie has very special plans for this night, and all of these plans have to do with finding Golden Boy’s hideout. Three witches will gather at midnight in the moor for a secret ritual that, if successful, breeches even Dumby’s most powerful protection magic. So, will Urdy, Skuldy, and Verdandy triumph or can Harrie, Hermy, Ronnie and Nevvy save the day?
“Uhm, Fred?”
“Yeah, George?”
“That’s about enough silly nicknames for one summary.”
“So, stay tuned for:”
*
Amicus Draconis - 1st Cycle: Cycle of the Badger - Episode 6: Blood Oracle - Part I
Amicus Draconis - 1st Cycle: Cycle of the Badger - Episode 7: Blood Oracle - Part II - Priori Incantatem
Banner by blackelf23
*
Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus
* * *
Author: yamato__ishida
Rating: PG-13
Beta: notsosaintly, Lici (goodbye_rose)
Spoilers: PS/SS, CS, PoA, GoF
Summary: In the Trio’s seventh year, the wizarding world has lost its second war against the Dark Lord. The Death Eaters conquered Hogwarts, defeated the Order of the Phoenix and overthrew the Ministry of Magic. Forming a new government with Voldemort as the supreme ruler, they take control of Wizarding Europe, spreading terror and destruction everywhere. Harry and his friends are forced into hiding, but far from giving up hope they form their own secret rebellion.
In four cycles, Amicus Draconis tells the story of a world shattered and rebuilt throughout three wizarding wars, of two masterminds moving people like figures on a chessboard, and a boy torn between his destiny and his one true love.
Starter Page & Episode List
Episode 1: Children of Magic
Episode 2: Encounter at Hogwarts
Episode 3: The Underwater Quidditch Game /Part A/ /Part B/
Episode 4: Offers and Offerings /Part A/ /Part B/
Episode 5: Owl SMS /Part A/ /Part B/
* * *
At first, Bridget had been taken completely by surprise, making no attempt to resist her boyfriend’s manhandling. Facing these two strangers in her kitchen, however, planted the first doubts about his honesty. “Marcus, who are these people? What’s all this supposed to mean?”
“Don’t worry, they’ll protect us….” Marcus was still digging for words when one of the Red Robes cut him short. ”Leave that dumb Muggle now, get your wand and help us!”
“Certainly.” Marcus ran to the counter, searching for his wand. Bridget was in no immediate danger now; he would explain everything later when this situation was sorted out. Now they had to get those Order girls and arrest them … He was sure they put his wand somewhere here … Ah, there it was.
“You bloody liar!” Bridget yelled at him. “You deceived me all along!”
She turned on her heel and stormed out into the hallway. The Red Robes didn’t pay her any attention; a Muggle was completely irrelevant when they had to deal with the alleged Order of the Phoenix. They took position and blasted away the door…
Marcus felt cold sweat trickle down his back. If he abandoned the battle now to go after Bridget, it would be treachery. No one could get him out after that, not even Macnair. Everything would be over…
They would take him to Azkaban. Or worse.
But he couldn’t just stand there and let her go. Couldn’t lose her. He needed his Bridget.
No, he wouldn’t lose her. On the contrary, if he helped to arrest known enemies of the Dark Lord, it would be a great achievement, and he would never need to worry about his private life again.
No, he didn’t turn his back on her. The decision to stay would help her as much as it helped him. It was the right choice, wasn’t it?
Wasn’t it?
The door was blasted apart in a blaze of light. As they looked into the next room, all they could see was a dead girl lying on her bed and three very much alive girls flying out the window on their broomsticks. The spells they sent past them hit nothing but air.
“Call your Nightmare, Flint,” one of the Red Robes ordered. “Bring them back, dead or alive.”
* * *
“Fly around the house,” Hermione shouted against the wind. “We’ll grab Bridget and be off; she can’t be far yet! If I heard right and she ran out the front door, she must be somewhere on the stairs by now.”
“There’s no need to save Flint,” Lavender muttered. She and Parvati followed closely when suddenly a blurry shape chased past them, almost knocking them off their brooms. Hermione gasped, clawing her fingernails into the sleek wood, and turned her head. At this speed, the thing was impossible to make out, but it was huge and black and shadowy, and definitely not the kind of creature you wanted to meet in the middle of the night. A screech, a terrible hissing sound, and within the blink of an eye it was gone.
Only these eyes didn’t look as if they needed to blink. They were like glowing embers in the dark.
* * *
Marcus stumbled over the remains of what had been once an entry door and ran out on the balcony. He reached for the small bone whistle he carried around his neck and gave it a mighty blow. The sound was too high for human ears, but his Nightmare would hear it wherever she was and come to him immediately.
Down the stairs he saw a small slender figure scurry away. Damn, Bridget, where do you think you’re going? I’ve got everything under control; I’ll get us both out of here in a couple of seconds.”
The very next moment his steed came galloping through the skies, her fiery eyes locked on him. Marcus climbed the balustrade to jump into the saddle. He wasn’t going to lose any more time.
However, the demonic horse didn’t stop to let him mount. She was already carrying a rider. And both rider and steed raced past him to swoop down on Bridget.
* * *
The last thing, Hermione, Lavender and Parvati saw of Bridget as they turned around the corner, was a large shadow and a flowing black robe, snatching her away. Flint was standing on the balustrade of the balcony screaming her name into the darkness.
“Hermione, we need to follow!” Lavender shouted.
It was pointless, completely pointless. Following a Nightmare on a broomstick was like chasing Buckbeak on a tricycle. Flint was the only one who could get her back now.
‘But will he even try?’ Hermione thought, looking down at the desperate young man. ‘Or will he be a good little Death Eater and go for us instead?’
* * *
Marcus looked up and saw Granger and the other two girls on their broomsticks at the very same moment his own Nightmare finally descended from the cloudy night sky. There they were, his enemies from the Order of the Phoenix, ready for battle. But there were still three of them and only one of him. And what about Bridget? That other bloke, that Ghost Rider, had kidnapped her; there was no time for fights with the Order lot right now. He couldn’t just leave her to her fate.
But what would the Blood Legion say if they saw him walk away from a fight to chase after a worthless Muggle? It would be treason.
Yes, but they couldn’t see it, could they? They were still inside the flat, probably contacting Lord Macnair for new orders. They couldn’t see what was happening on the other side of the house, nor did they have any idea that Bridget was in danger. He could fly off and rescue her and later pretend to them that he had been chasing the enemy. They would never know the truth, and he wouldn’t need to take any risks.
What would he have done if there had been a risk? Saved Bridget, or followed his orders?
It was a good thing that he didn’t have to worry about such stupid questions. When this was over, everything would be different. He would be different. He would stand up to Macnair and demand better protection for Bridget. Perhaps a Fidelius charm on her flat or a secret place to hide her. Also, although this wasn’t official, there were ways to mark Muggles so that other wizards could see they belonged to someone and know they weren’t allowed to harm them. There were rumours that the members of the Dark Council sometimes used Muggles for their purposes and they needed to make sure that no Muggle-basher accidentally interfered with their business. So why shouldn’t he be allowed his own Muggle? It wasn’t a big thing to ask, no more than a little favour.
And Macnair owed him. Macnair owed him big time. After all, Macnair’s silence about the whole Bridget affair hadn’t come cheap.
First, there was information. Anytime, a member of the Dark Council sent the Ghost Riders on an errand, Macnair wanted to know all about it. Marcus doubted that any of the things they did were important, but still, the knowledge gave Macnair a certain insight into the plans and schemes of the other council members. It could prove valuable intelligence in his struggle for power.
Second, there was loyalty. Officially, Marcus owed the same obedience and loyalty to all council members, but it was always Macnair’s business that came first. Sometimes it seemed that Macnair commanded not only the Blood Legion but the Ghost Riders as well. Not that Marcus cared; having a powerful protector usually paid off. Macnair had kept his word, hadn’t he? He had sent men to help him.
Marcus forced his thoughts back to his present situation. He had to get Bridget back, and everything else could wait.
* * *
I won’t fail this time!
Adrian Pucey’s second plan was simple, direct, and fail-safe. He would rise high up into the sky and then push the Muggle off his horse.
He had followed Flint back to the flat and taken position on the roof, soon realizing that his curse had hit the wrong girl and that the right one was still inside. Now all he had to do was wait for an opportunity to strike. Whatever Flint, the Blood Legion and the Order of the Phoenix were doing there was none of his concern. He wasn’t going to get involved in anything, least of all in any battles. He was going to do his job and collect his reward. Nothing more, nothing less.
His job was done. With a satisfied grin, he let go of the screaming girl and watched her tumble through the clouds. As she disappeared into the foggy night air, he leaned back with the satisfaction of a job well done.
“Why, what’s going on with you, Pucey?” a drawling voice asked with mild curiosity, and a second rider emerged from below, pulling the still screaming Muggle girl nonchalantly behind him. “Muggle-bashing, all on your own? How bored can you be?”
“Get lost, Malfoy!” Adrian snarled. “This is my Muggle, so if you want to play, go get your own.”
“Now she’s mine.” Draco smirked mischievously. “If you want her back, come and get her!”
Playfully, he circled Adrian and closed in on him only to make his steed leap away the very next moment. He probably did think that Adrian wanted to kill some time with Muggle-bashing; it was a popular sport among the Ghost Riders. Still, you could never know with Malfoy. Maybe he knew about the job and was trying to butt in. Jealousy, perhaps?
It was strange anyway; why hadn’t Malfoy received the job instead of him?
Now what should he do about the whole situation? Tell Malfoy the truth? No, that would be a foolish thing to do. Pull rank on him and order him to surrender the Muggle? No, that would only raise his suspicions. It was best to play along for now. There would be plenty opportunities to kill the girl later. These little games usually proved fatal for Muggles.
And Malfoy enjoyed killing very much. Wouldn’t it be a twist of fate if Malfoy did the job for him, and he, Adrian, received the reward?
He loosened the reigns and galloped through the skies towards Draco, pretending to aim for a head-on collision. Instead of showing fear, his opponent only laughed at him, holding up the girl as if he were a matador and she the red cloth. “Toro, Toro!” he shouted. As Adrian approached, Draco put spurs to his horse and pulled the reigns at the same time, which caused her to rear up, her sharp hooves only inches away from Adrian’s head. Adrian steered his Nightmare a bit lower to avoid getting hit.
He stopped a moment later, spun around on the spot, frantically looking for Malfoy, but he was nowhere to be seen. It was as if he had vanished into thin air. Only seconds later Adrian heard a yell and felt something touch his head.
He looked up and startled in his seat. It was a hand, the girl’s hand to be exact. Malfoy and his steed were hovering above Adrian, and Draco held the once again screaming Muggle girl by her ankles, letting her dangle above Adrian’s head. With an angry snarl Adrian tried to grab her, but Malfoy had already pulled her back up on his horse.
Adrian’s patience was wearing thin. He would finish the girl, and there was no need to physically touch her for this. What did he have a wand for? All he required was an opportunity to cast a killing curse on her without hitting Malfoy. It was a bit risky, yes, performing an illegal curse in front of a witness, but then, who was Malfoy to tell on him? That bloke had AKed more Muggles than he had fingers on his hands and toes on his feet.
For the moment, casting a spell was too difficult because the girl was in the saddle with Draco and they moved very fast. He had to change that, perhaps trip him up a bit, make him lose his cool. Why shouldn’t Malfoy be the one to get angry? After all, it was the Blood Legion who taught its members about psychological warfare, and Adrian had just the thing to strike Draco where it hurt.
“So, you’re worried about losing another girl to me, aren’t you?” He circled Draco with a half-hearted attempt to reach for the Muggle. “Losing the first one must have been tough. I remember it well, it was a June weekend in Hogsmeade, and a hot day it was. I believe it was right before your year’s NEWT exams….”
He watched Draco’s face intently as he spoke, but couldn’t see any reaction on it. The smirk was still in place, although it seemed a bit frozen. “Pucey, you dunderhead, what are you talking about? When my NEWTs came up, I was a good boy for once and spent my weekends studying. I never went to Hogsmeade that June; ergo, I don’t have the faintest idea what you’re trying to imply.”
“I know you weren’t there.” Adrian made no attempt to hide the malice in his voice. “You weren’t there when she needed you the most. Say, did I ever tell you that it was your name she screamed when the Dementors ripped out her soul? But you weren’t there to hear her cries, and you couldn’t do a thing to save her.”
“It’s good that I don’t have a saving people thing, then.” His opponent’s voice still didn’t betray any emotion, and Adrian couldn’t see his face anymore because Draco kept moving. Draco’s Nightmare made a huge leap over Adrian’s, and he had to turn around to continue the conversation. ”How does it feel, Draco?”
“How does what feel? I still have no idea what you’re talking about. If you want me to get angry at you or have a crying fit, it would really help if you gave me some clues. That girl’s name, perhaps?”
“Wait a minute!” Adrian pretended to be thinking hard, although he had no idea about the name. He only wanted to give Malfoy the impression that he wasn’t paying attention to him at the moment. Perhaps it would lure him into a false sense of security and make him stop all that jumping around.
“Don’t worry about it. Do you think I keep a list of names from all the people I knocked off?” Draco was closing in on him, the Muggle girl, still before him in the saddle, a perfect target. Not close enough to grab her, but close enough for a spell.
It was time. This might be his one chance, and he wouldn’t miss it.
“Some people simply aren’t worth being remembered. Accio badge!”
Adrian felt his rank insignia being pulled off his cloak and suppressed the urge to forget all about the Muggle and curse Malfoy instead. Yes, he would make him pay. Malfoy would pay dearly for his insolence, but the job came first, and this was his chance to strike. “Avada - ”
A glint of triumph in Draco’s cold eyes warned him that something was wrong, very wrong.
He would never know what it was…
“Petrificus Totalus!“
It wasn’t Draco who had cast the full Body-Bind on Adrian Pucey. It was a third rider who had suddenly appeared behind Adrian. Marcus Flint had never been a fast thinker, but seeing a wand pointed at his girlfriend and hearing the first few syllables of a killing curse was enough to make him react.
Unable to stay in the saddle, reins slipping from his stiff fingers, Adrian fell over. He tumbled through the clouds and vanished into the foggy night air.
A moment later, an ear-splitting bang could be heard, much like the sound of bursting stone.
* * *
He was in trouble. Oh, Merlin, he was in such trouble. He had killed, he had murdered one of his comrades, and he had done so for no apparent reason. A Muggle girl wasn’t a reason. This was treachery. They would kill him or worse. He had to run, run fast, run far and never come back. No, he couldn’t run; Malfoy still had Bridget.
Bridget … I have to save Bridget….
Oh, Merlin, what should he do? Fight Malfoy? No, he couldn’t kill him as well. That would make everything much worse. Try and bribe him into letting her go? But what did he have to offer? He wasn’t rich or powerful like the Malfoys. He was just a normal guy.
Oh, Merlin, what should he do? He was in so much trouble.
“I owe you my life, Marcus. That was bloody close!”
What if he just stunned Malfoy and grabbed Bridget before….
“What?”
“My life. You saved my life, Marcus. That nutter was about to kill me, and you arrived just in time to save me. One second later and I would’ve been the one lying down there. I’m still recovering from the shock.” Draco ran a hand through his windswept hair as if he was trying to put it back into place.
Then he lowered his glance to check his fingernails.
That changed everything. All the images of danger, fighting and running away in Marcus’ head burst like soap bubbles. He didn’t care whether Malfoy truly believed that his life had been saved or whether he was simply putting up an act. All that mattered was that Malfoy wasn’t going to turn him in. He was safe. Pucey had tried to murder Draco, and he, Flint, had killed Pucey in self-defence. It was a perfect official version of Pucey’s death, and there was a witness to confirm it. And if they were going to investigate - the last spell of Pucey’s wand was an attempted killing curse. It all fell into place. Nicely.
“Marcus, you’re a bastard!” That was Bridget’s voice, grief-stricken and hoarse with sobs. In his relief Marcus had forgotten all about her.
“You know the Muggle?” Draco raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. “Could it be that the curse was meant for her? I remember Pucey saying something about giving you some wand, so maybe he wanted to kill her to take revenge on you. Anyway, he was a difficult person, more trouble than he was worth. No wonder they kicked him out of the Blood Legion.”
Draco steered his Nightmare beside Flint’s and lifted a sobbing Bridget over. “Here we go. If I had known that she’s yours, I would have been more careful with her, but she’s not damaged. I suppose we’d better not mention her when we report Pucey’s death. It would only make the whole thing seem fishy. We’ll just stick by the old version that he tried to kill me and you accidentally killed him in self-defence. Oh, and Pucey dropped this.”
He held out his hand and showed Flint a small silver badge. Marcus knew it well; it was the rank insignia Pucey had worn on his cloak.
Marcus nodded slowly; he had been expecting something like this. Help was never for free, and he had already been wondering about the cost of Malfoy’s. Well, he needed a new second-in-command anyway, and Draco was the obvious choice.
“Draco Malfoy.” Marcus took the badge from Draco’s hand and, with a flick of his wand, stuck it to his newly appointed officer’s cloak. “I hereby promote you to commander of the Ghost Riders. May you prove yourself worthy for the honour bestowed upon you.”
* * *
“Did we fail Bridget, Lavender? What if the Death Eaters killed her just because we were too stupid to help her?”
“We did everything we could, Parvati. We tried so hard to save her.” Lavender’s voice sounded small and choky. “I don’t think they got her. I wish we knew, though. Not knowing, that’s the hardest part of it.”
“Coming home from a mission used to feel so good, like we made a difference and all. But I don’t have that feeling now.”
“We won’t be successful all the time, you know that, Parvati. We won’t be able to save everyone. Remember what Harry said? We’re not heroes, we’re just … people.”
After a desperate and completely fruitless search for Bridget, the three Gryffindor girls had flown back to their hideout to inform the others about the battle and what they felt was a failed mission. Lavender and Parvati had finally returned to the girls’ dormitory to catch some sleep while Hermione was still with Harry, talking strategy and forging new plans.
Lavender was so exhausted that her eyes hurt and she could barely walk a straight line. She dropped down on her tatami mat and waited for sleep, but sleep wouldn’t come. As she listened into the silent darkness, she could hear Parvati rolling around as restlessly as she was. Finally, despite Tara’s and Eloise’s protests, they had lit some wands and candles and started talking. About Bridget. About Marcus. About failed missions, failed battles and failed love.
“I think Hermione was right about us being too naïve.” Lost in her thoughts, Lavender gazed at a tiny spark emanating from the tip of her wand and slowly floating upwards. “If Marcus had truly loved Bridget he would’ve stopped supporting the Death Eaters.”
“Hermione’s always right,” Tara mumbled into her pillow. “And that’s exactly what makes her such an insufferable know-it-all.”
Normally, Lavender would have gladly latched onto the change of subject and joined in in another light-hearted Hermione slagging-session, but somehow it felt childish to do so. She couldn’t go back to every-day school-girl life as if nothing had happened tonight. Why did Bridget’s fate have such an impact on her? Was it because she was a young woman her own age? Or was it because in those few fleeting hours they had had a much closer look at Bridget’s life than the lives of all the other Muggles they saved before?
Or was it because, for once, the story didn’t have a happy ending with the damsel-in-distress happily snogging her prince and the heroes riding off into the blazing sunset?
We’re not heroes. We’re just ordinary people.
The spark had reached the ceiling now and slowly died down.
“We should talk to her once she’s back.”
“Talk to who?”
“Hermione?”
“Why?”
“Is there a problem?”
Lavender got up, looking at all the confused faces around her. “Yes. Of course, there’s a problem. There’s been a problem for about seven years now, and that problem is that we don’t talk to each other. Hermione does things her way and we do them our way. We don’t want her in our lives and she doesn’t let us in hers. We’ve been living in totally different worlds all these years, not even bothering to take a peek over the walls.
“Yes, but we’ve learned not to constantly fight with her anymore, haven’t we?” Eloise pointed out, and Parvati added, “She isn’t going to change, no matter what we say or do.”
“No, I don’t want to change her, that’s not what I meant. I just want to understand her. I want to know how she’s ticking, get all those unsaid things out in the open. Do you know what I mean? I mean, look at us! Talking about injustice and discrimination all day long, and in the night we fly out fighting for a better world and all that. But if someone’s just a little bit different, we can’t cope with it, and instead of talking things over, we slag her off. You see, we pretend to be heroes, but we can’t even deal with our own differences. How pathetic is that?”
And besides, I’m dying to hear that Viktor Krum story, Lavender added silently to herself.
“Wow, what a speech, Lavender.” Parvati giggled. “Harry couldn’t have put this better himself.”
* * *
“Bloody women!”
Marcus hurled his empty beer bottle away and watched it shatter to pieces on the road. The two young men sat on the roof of the Leaky Cauldron while down below them some metal band bawled about death and destruction. The Cauldron itself was almost empty; second shift was over, and the first sliver of dawn was beginning to creep over the ghastly silhouettes of houses in the east.
The birds had already started their morning noise, but you couldn’t really count their whistling and screeching as singing.
“It’s over, she told me. Dumped me, just like that. Never wants to see me again.” Marcus was struggling with his tears and the stubborn cap of the next beer bottle. “I promised her I would take care of her. No wizard would ever lay a hand on her again; I would’ve made sure of that. I’m not just anybody, you know?”
Although his head was already floating on clouds of alcohol, the memory of his last conversation with Bridget was cold and clear, cutting like ice through his dizzy mind. Nothing had gone as expected. He had saved her life. He had risked his neck for her. And was she at least a tiny bit grateful for all that? No, not at all!
“You’re asking too much of me,” she had said. “You want me to forgive you your lies? I could do that. You want me to forgive you the crimes you committed against other people like me? Maybe even that. But to think you could just go on as if nothing happened, that's definitely the pits!”
“Well, what did you expect?” he had shouted back at her. “It’s not me, it’s just the world we’re living in. I can’t do anything about it. Do you want me to throw away my life and die for you? For a bunch of crazy ideas that don’t work in this world anyway? Do you want us to be fugitives when we could live safely and happily? You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into! They’d kill us both!”
“I can tell you what I expect from the man I want to share my life with.” Her voice was firm and clear despite the tears still running down her cheeks.” I expect that he doesn’t support a system which considers people like me less than dirt. How can you say you love me and kill others like me?”
He couldn’t answer her question, and there was no point in even trying. What answer could there be to a question as old as humanity itself, and who was he to find it?
Instead he begged her not to leave him. Promised that nothing would happen to her ever again. A powerful protector would guarantee her safety.
Not that he truly believed in his own words; after all, Macnair hadn’t been able to help him. But it didn’t matter; he would’ve said anything just to make her stay.
She didn’t. “Just be careful that your powerful protector doesn’t backstab you one day. Or perhaps your new second-in-command when he doesn’t want to be second anymore. That’s how things work in your world, isn’t it? Well, I’m not going to be a part of it. Adieu, Marcus!”
And then she had turned around and walked away. “I could kill you,” he had yelled after her. “I could kill you right now and no one would stop me!” But she hadn’t stopped walking, and she hadn’t turned around either.
And he certainly hadn’t done anything to her.
He lost patience with the cap, smashed the bottle’s neck instead and wanted to gulp down the beer. Draco took the broken bottle away from him before he could cut himself and gave him another one, already open. It was good that they had taken the entire crate, Marcus considered as he took a deep swallow.
He was too much engulfed in his own worries to notice that Draco, too, was lost in thought. These thoughts, however, had little to do with his captain’s present situation and love life. They dwelled on a dinner at Malfoy Manor, which had taken place a few nights ago. The Malfoys had been visited by their old friends, the Macnairs. Father and Walden Macnair had exchanged Death Eater stories from the good old times while Alice Macnair complained to Mother about her eldest son’s girlfriend: “I don’t trust that little jezebel with her slit eyes and her fake smile. Mark my words, Narcissa, she is going to break my poor Tod’s heart.”
Draco couldn’t fail to notice that politics weren’t an issue during the dinner conversation. It seemed that both his parents and the Macnairs carefully avoided the subject. He was curious to find out whether his father and Macnair had certain disagreements, but his curiosity wasn’t satisfied until the Macnairs had left and his parents had returned to the drawing room, believing themselves alone.
“What an ungrateful little snot your so-called friend has turned into!” Narcissa could barely hide her contempt. “Has he already forgotten that it was your influence that brought him to power? Where would he be today if you hadn’t pointed him out to our master?”
“Don’t be too harsh on him, Narcissa,” Lucius answered with a benevolent smile. “He’s going through hard times at the moment. Things are not going too well with the Blood Legion. All these rebel attacks - dreadful, dreadful.”
“Did you know that he’s found a new way to snoop around the rest of the Council? Alice let slip something earlier; after all these years the woman still hasn’t learned how to keep a secret.” Narcissa sneered, an expression all Malfoys could do in their sleep.
“Yes, dear, I’m aware of it.” Father leaned back comfortably in his armchair. Like the lynx, the crest animal of his family, he could be an image of utter relaxation on the outside and yet never slack in his vigilance. ”I already managed to find out about his new source of information. He’s blackmailing Flint, the captain of the Ghost Riders.”
“Blackmailing Flint?” Narcissa raised her eyebrows. “Shouldn’t you do something about it, then? Walden already has the Blood Legion under his thumb; he doesn’t need the Ghost Riders as well.”
“No need to worry,” Lucius replied calmly. “The necessary counter measures are already in preparation.”
Narcissa stood by the window, looking out into the rambling park of the manor. “Who would’ve thought,” she said, more to herself than to anybody else, “that Marcus Flint of all people has a skeleton in the closet?”
“Well, she’s not a skeleton yet,” Lucius’ fingers stroked the stem of his wine glass, “but she will be. She will be.”
Father’s counter measures had worked perfectly well, except for one slight change of plan. However, the only one who had any reason to complain lay scattered all over London. Bad luck, Adrian. Rest in pieces.
Pansy, wherever you are, I hope you were watching.
Draco raised his bottle. “To power! A much more consistent force than love and much more reliable, too.”
Marcus shook his head in disbelief. “Power … it’s always about power! And what‘s all this power good for if you can’t be with the one you love?”
“You’re drunk, Marcus. That question is pathetic and unworthy of a Slytherin.”
Shrugging, Marcus turned his eyes back to the road, staring without focus. Preoccupied with his own thoughts, he missed the glint of triumph in Draco’s eyes and the way his fingers stroked the new badge at his shoulder.
“It’s simply a question of how much power you have to gain.”
Tsuzuku… (to be continued)
*
Dark night, nothing to see,
Invisible hand in front of me.
Scared to death there's someone near,
Scared to move but you can't stay here.
You know me, evil eye!
You know me, prepare to die!
You know me, the snakebite kiss!
Devil's grip, the Iron Fist!
*
extra Extra EXTRA!!!!
“Ah, Fred, there’s romance in the air.”
“No, there’s not.”
“Yes, there is. Just look at all these letters: People keep firing questions about possible Harry/Ginny, Harry/Ron, Harry/Draco, Harry/Cho, Harry/Lisa, Harry/Hermione, and Harry/Millicent Bulstrode pairings.”
“Except for ali from my-son-is-obsessed-with-pokémon country. ali thinks that Harry has other things on his mind than romance. He is trying so hard to be a leader (Harry, not ali) and he is busy being ambiguous with Snape.”
“No, he’s not.”
“Spoilsport!”
“Kaelin-Hikaru from I-use-a lot-of-…s country is worried about horrible fandom names. Oh, we do so love horrible fandom names. Sevvie and Hermy and Drakey-Poo…”
“Freddy, Georgie, Nevvy, Marcy Flinty, Ollie Woody, Auntie Voldie …”
“Uh Fred?”
”Yeah, George?”
“We do use Auntie Voldie."
“Oh, uhm … how about we forget everything I just said and tell our dear audience something about Episode Six! It’s a double episode, so brace yourselves.”
It’s October and Hallowe’en is coming up. Auntie Voldie has very special plans for this night, and all of these plans have to do with finding Golden Boy’s hideout. Three witches will gather at midnight in the moor for a secret ritual that, if successful, breeches even Dumby’s most powerful protection magic. So, will Urdy, Skuldy, and Verdandy triumph or can Harrie, Hermy, Ronnie and Nevvy save the day?
“Uhm, Fred?”
“Yeah, George?”
“That’s about enough silly nicknames for one summary.”
“So, stay tuned for:”
*
Amicus Draconis - 1st Cycle: Cycle of the Badger - Episode 6: Blood Oracle - Part I
Amicus Draconis - 1st Cycle: Cycle of the Badger - Episode 7: Blood Oracle - Part II - Priori Incantatem
Banner by blackelf23
*
Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus
* * *