The Marauders - Order of the Phoenix Part Three

They've Taken Her

Antonin Dolohov might not be able to read minds like Snape, but he certainly could tell when there was some bullshit being served up and Matija Blagojevic reeked of it so much the flies were sure to start gathering.

They'd been discussing the deal - the intricacies they'd been discussing for weeks, hammering out, making perfect to get the vampire monarchy on board Voldemort's campaign to take over the wizarding world... and suddenly, Blagojevic didn't remember what he'd been so passionately fighting for? Suddenly, he was asking questions about things they'd already discussed, weedling and hedging through the bargaining, relenting on things he'd been deeply assertive about the week before, and simply... not acting himself.

"So you're willing to do the deal even if we can't get Draculari out of Azkaban?" Dolohov had asked.

"It could be discussed," Blagojevic had murmured.

And it had been then that Dolohov had slammed the fake's head to the bar top so hard that the man may very well have received a concussion - who ever he was. 

"This is an imposter - is it not?" Antonin Dolohov's hand clutched the back of the neck of the Matija Blagojevic that he'd been speaking with at the bar. "Confirm it, Snape, and I'll bleedin' twist his neck and tear his head apart from his body, right here and now."

Antonin Dolohov's threat was anything but empty. He'd done it before. Snape had seen him do it. So had anyone who had been at the gatherings of the Death Eaters over the past couple of years. He'd twisted more than one muggle's neck, more than one unfaithful follower of the Dark Lord... which is why Snape did not hesitate - "Unhand him! That's not imposter! Are you an idiot, Dolohov? What will the Dark Lord say when he hears that you assaulted Mr. Blagojevic?"

Snape's hand was still splayed on Dolohov's chest, Dolohov's hand having released Blagojevic's throat, the man stumbling and landing on the bar stool behind him with a dumbfounded look upon his face.

People all around them were panicking, running out of the pub, the bartender shocked and rushing toward the telephone to call the police. "Stupefy!" Dolohov's wand whipped toward the bar tender and he went down, crashing into the sink board, sending glasses shattering to the ground, making the chaos even more profound. Dolohov turned toward Snape and shoved his wand against Snape's throat. "You're a liar."

Snape kept his cool, staring out of the bottom of his eyes at the wand extending from Dolohov's fist. He kept his breathing and heart rate even, although his mind was racing.

The Blagojevic on the stool was still coughing, clutching his throat, blood on his temple.

"Let's see what the Dark Lord thinks of him, if he thinks it's a fake, yeah?" Dolohov grumbled and without waiting for a response, he grabbed hold of Blagojevic's arm and disapparated out of the pub. 

Snape cursed and without pause, disapparated, too. 

And so did another of the Blagojevics.

Three others were running for the door, hurrying as they'd been instructed to do, to get out before any Death Eaters had spotted them. They were halfway through the kitchens before Dolohov, Snape, and the two Blagojevics had disappeared - they thought there were four of them running out of the pub, in fact... and then they were in the back alley behind the pub - the chef having stared in confusion as three copies of the same person ran out the back door, dodging through the steam of a freshly opened dishwasher and jumping over empty crates that bottles of beer had been shipped in. 

The first Blagojevic let out a hoot of excitement. "We did it! Bloody hell we did it!"

The second bent forward, clutching his knees. "Blimey I can't believe Snape pulled through though."