This photo of Lyle's nicknames for Melody (Flower Witch) and Draco (Blond Prat) was made by a fan on Quotev.
I had never wanted to take and Arithmancy exam so badly in my entire life. I had never desired normalcy so much in my entire life. Because even to struggle through magical math that made absolutely no sense would have been better than watching the wind whisk away the ashes of my dead brother on the dawn of that Friday morning.
Eventually, as the fire had begun to burn out, the Death Eaters had Disapparated, leaving Evan, Astoria, and I as the only moving bodies. The two of them curled up against a tree, as silent as either one of them had ever been, and watched the flames trickle away. I could not sit with them; I could not relax. After Bellatrix released my hair and neck, my body drooped into nothingness as I fell to my knees and remained there, motionless.
Garren woke up as the sun began to rise, and upon realizing that our worst fear had been accomplished, he fractured both of his hands from repeatedly punching a tree. They were so bloody and so broken that I was not sure if even magic could heal them. Due to the fact that Bellatrix had taken my wand with her, I was unable to attempt to fix my brother's hands, though I doubted that I would be able to produce even a simple spell in my current state. All magic seemed to have drained out of my numb body, my hollow soul. I was a corpse, a weak body with no mind, no emotion, no life. Voldemort had murdered my twin brother, and it had been entirely my fault. There would be no forgiveness from anyone for this, and I didn't want their forgiveness or need their forgiveness. I deserved to die.
Eventually, Lupin stirred, and while no one uttered a word, he saw the embers and the dark soot, which was all that remained of my twin brother. There should have been some bones maybe—something left, something that the fire hadn't been able to destroy, but it had been Voldemort's fire: a magic fire.
Magic. Cursed magic. I wished that I were a Muggle like my twin had been before that inhumane monster burned him. I wished that I'd never gone to Hogwarts. I wished that I'd never learned that my mother was a Gaudium or that I was a Seer. I wished that I had never made that prophecy as a baby, because the prophecy had stated that I would turn to darkness, and at the moment, I felt very inclined to turn to darkness. Never would I join that nose-less, worthless scumbag, but I was feeling particularly murderous and extremely vengeful.
When Lupin finally mustered the strength to un-paralyze Melody, I closed my eyes with the comfort that within seconds, I would be dead. Though under the influence of a Full Body-Bind, Melody's open eyes had seen me take the stick and touch Lyle with the fire that killed him; she would obliterate me.
But, after a few long minutes of silence, I looked up to see that Melody was standing calmly at the center of the clearing, staring at Lyle's ashes with the same remorse and almost...sadness as everyone else. When she twisted around to face me, however, I noticed that deep within her eyes there was an untamable fury festering, and the color of her irises had now settled in a green so dark that it was humanly unnatural.
"You're pathetic," she spat with her upper lip curled. "Don't look at me like that, Fitzroy. I don't want to hear some bloody apology that won't make either of us feel better."
"I wasn't going to apologize," I mumbled as I stared down at my fractured arm that's pain had been shoved into the back corners of my brain by the more prominent agony of my brother's demise. "I don't want forgiveness, and I shouldn't get it—"
"You're trying to make me feel bad for you, are you?" Melody interrupted snidely. "That's low, Fitzroy, even for a pitiful piece of trash like yourself. I know how much you loved Lyle. I know you didn't willingly light him on fire. I know that Voldemort had you under the Imperius Curse—"
"It wasn't the Imperius Curse," I corrected in a stronger tone. "I would have been able to fight him off—I was trying—it was different—"
"Whatever it was, it wasn't your doing—"
"I'm the reason he came here—I'm the reason he killed Lyle—"
Melody let out a mocking laugh as she shook her head. "I see it now, I see it. You want me to kill you—right here, right now. You're so unhappy with yourself that you're trying to provoke me to kill you."
I said nothing and kept my head low as the others' eyes bore into me.
"Well, I'm certainly not going to give you the satisfaction of death. Perhaps if you live, you'll screw up your other brothers' lives as well. That would be a just punishment, wouldn't it? To see the lives of every one of your family members crumble because of your idiocy? Sounds splendid to me—"
"Melody," Astoria interjected with a hiccough. Not far from us, she was curled up next to Evan with red eyes and makeup smeared around her face. "Why are your eyes so dark?"
"Why are you such an emotional wreck?" Melody countered coolly. "You haven't lost anything. Your—your Muggle hasn't died—"
"But I've n-never seen someone burn to death!" she wailed as fresh tears spilled out of her eyes.
"Well now you have," Melody snapped before retrieving her wand from the dewy ground and stalking toward the trees.
"Wait, Melody!" I called after her, but she didn't even bother to slow her pace as she entered the forest. "What did Lyle mean about your necklace? He wanted me to save you! Melody!"
"Lainey," my uncle said softly as he placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. "It'll be best not to draw attention to ourselves out here. Come along. We should get back to the apartment and see if Gibbon is still there."
"If he is—" I started, but the words got caught on my tongue. I wouldn't be able to kill a Death Eater. I hadn't even been able to kill Voldemort to save my twin brother. I wouldn't ever be able to kill anyone, and I had never been so bitter about that fact.
"Let's go," Lupin prompted as he grabbed my left arm and hoisted me to my feet. Every part of my body ached, but not even my broken arm could compare to the tender sting that emanated from behind my right ear, from where my mysterious tattoo lay.
"We can't just leave—leave Lyle here," Garren insisted as he motioned toward the ashes. "We should bury him—"
"All that remains of him will be gone by the time we dig a hole, Garren," Evan retorted as he and Astoria got to their feet.
"How about we make a gravestone?" Lupin suggested before my only brothers could commence a heated argument. "Fetch me a rock, Garren."
He grumbled to himself while searching the forest floor for rocks. When he finally did find one, he was unable to pick it up due to his terrible maimed fingers.
"Forgot about that," Lupin said as he Summoned the rock to himself. "We'll have to take you to the hospital later today... Don't try to move them, it'll only make it worse..."
Wordlessly, Lupin transfigured the small rock in his hand into a large gravestone that was much too heavy for him to hold. With the aid of Evan and myself, the three of us were able to haul the stone over to the tree that Lyle had been burned on, the tree that stood unscathed. Lupin held up his wand to write an inscription on the rock, but before he could, I gently took it from his hand and gave him a sad smile. He nodded silently while taking a step back, and I waved his thin wand to compose words that did Lyle's short life no justice.
Lyle Fitzroy
January 8, 1981 – June 18, 1996
A kind friend, a loyal brother, a brave soul
"Voldemort took hold of my mind," I said blankly, to no one in particular, as I mindlessly handed Lupin his wand. "I looked into his eyes, and he stole my mind from me. He made me take the fire, and he made me light Lyle up in flames. He made me...he made me kill my brother—our brother—my twin brother. He made me kill him—"
My words cut off into nothingness as a sob escaped my throat. Before the tears could spill onto my cheeks, both of my living brothers wrapped an arm around my shoulders, Garren's bloody fingers getting stuck in my messy hair.
"It's good that you don't wear makeup," Astoria told me as she gingerly placed a tissue in my left hand. "If you did, you would look just as ugly as I do right now."
I sputtered a weary laugh as I rubbed my eyes with her tissue and then handed it back to her. My brothers held auras of trauma, as I knew they would for some time, but there was no hint of malice that was directed at me. We all wanted to murder Lord Voldemort, I was sure, though I don't believe there were many people in the wizarding world who did not.
"Do you know why he can control my mind?" I asked Lupin as the five of us trekked back through the woods toward the apartment. I had once found comfort in nature, though now I doubted I would ever want to look at a tree again.
"Snape knows," my uncle replied vaguely, "though he hasn't revealed all of the details to the entire Order. I assume Dumbledore knows..."
"Snape told me that there was no way for me to combat Voldemort's invasion. I know that to be true now."
"It is curious that there is a form of magic that cannot be fought... It must be very dark or very old... Something I have not read about, perhaps..."
"I find it hard to believe that there's something you've never read about," Evan chimed in. "You're always reading."
Lupin let out a brief chuckle, and Evan forced a grin. I felt very Harry-like at the moment, however; I was in a state of brooding. As much as I wanted to find a way past the impossible and discover how to deflect Voldemort's power, I would almost be more content with the simple fact of there being no way. While I felt tremendous guilt over my brother's fate, as it had been my fault in more than one way, I could at least console myself with the notion that it had really been Voldemort to light the fire and not myself. But, if there really was a way to fight off Voldemort, and I hadn't been able to do it, every point of blame would be on me, and there would be no hiding myself from the shame.
"Well, my prophecy came true," I sighed as we entered the apartment building. "I predicted that two people I loved would die because of Voldemort, and they did. I'm just the greatest Seer, aren't I? All of my hellish predictions come true. Wonderful."
"Yeah—uh—I lied to you in the Hall of Prophecy," Astoria confessed, biting her lip uneasily. "I told you that some prophecies don't come true but, well, they all do. I didn't want you to be upset..."
"No, I'm not upset at all," I snipped sarcastically. "Thank you, really."
"She says she's not upset, but she sounds upset," I heard Astoria whispering behind me as we all ascended the stairwell.
"She's just being bratty," Evan muttered in response. I held back a cheeky retort.
"How do you stay so strong?" I asked Lupin, who was walking up the steps beside me. "How are you so happy? Your best friend and your nephew both died last night—they were both murdered. Where are your emotions?"
"I learned not to dwell on emotions at a young age, Lainey, though perhaps not as young as you," he added with a heavy sigh. "It was probably when James and Lily were killed and Sirius was imprisoned that I began not to get too attached to feelings... But, that doesn't mean we shouldn't focus on the good in life, on what makes us happy. We've lost much, yes, but what we still have is even more."
He glanced back at my two remaining brothers and Astoria, who were all still fully alive. I was thankful that they had not been killed as well, but I couldn't help but wonder how much longer it would be before Voldemort decided to murder everyone I loved just to spite me for some unfathomable reason.
When we arrived at the apartment, we found that Gibbon, the Death Eater that Melody had knocked out, was absent, and Melody had not retreated back here either. With no signs of trouble, Lupin cast some tough enchantments that apparently could be broken by no one but himself, and then he and Garren set off for St. Mungo's, where my oldest brother's broken fingers would be mended.
Over the next few hours, I sat on my brothers' decaying couch with my Air Wave Silver in my lap, watching blankly as Evan and Astoria failed to cook a meal. I offered to help. They declined. And I realized, with their eyes upon me with pity and their lips twitching with wariness, that I no longer received trust from either of them. They did not even want to give me the responsibility of preparing a meal. I might burn down the building, they thought. Voldemort might suddenly take over my mind and force me to kill them, they feared. I was a liability to every person that I loved.
It didn't miff me, though, that they felt animosity toward me now. I couldn't let it miff me because the hostility and suspicion were rational. I shouldn't want to use a stove anyway, as a stove required fire. Even to watch the flames heat the bottom of Astoria's pan of eggs was tormenting.
I would eat the eggs, though. I would eat what I had to, and I would do what I had to, and I would survive. I would not fall into the same pit of self-despair as I had after my father's death. I would rise to a state of hard emotionlessness, and unlike last time, I would bring no one with me to my place of grief. I would love no one, and no one would love me. That was not the way I wanted it to be, but it was the way it had to be for the sake of everyone but myself.
"Fingers are healed," Garren announced, wiggling his fingers at us as he and Lupin walked through the front door a few hours later. Evan, Astoria, and I were seated at the table, and the couple had been speaking ambiguously about tentative plans for the summer.
"Oh thank God," Astoria said as the two men joined us at the table. "I didn't want to tell you before, but they were really disgusting."
"Lainey, you should have gone to St. Mungo's with them—for your arm I mean," Evan added as he shoved a spoonful of cold eggs into his mouth. "You're a terrible lefty. I'm sure I wasn't the only one who was shocked that you could throw a punch with your left arm...last night, I mean, when you—er...well...never mind..."
Everyone nestled into an awkward silence until I finally said, in my most Melody-like tone, "It would have been pointless to go to the hospital."
They all stared at me, expecting me to elaborate, but I added nothing, so Garren finally cleared his throat and moved on.
"You'll never believe the Healer that fixed me, though—it was Bethanne's aunt."
"Bethanne, as in your ugly-haired Muggle girlfriend Bethanne?" Astoria prompted with an eyebrow raise.
"Yeah—Muggle," Evan confirmed skeptically. "How does she have an aunt that works at the wizard hospital?"
"You know she's got an aunt that's a witch, Evan," Garren insisted impatiently. "We've gone over this before—"
"I never listen when you gush on about your girlfriend—"
"Anyway, she was really kind and didn't ask us to pay for the finger healing," Garren continued. "She didn't know about—well—last night, but when she found out I was dating her niece—and then she said she's heard a lot about you, Lay, from her sons because they go to school with you—well, she decided to do us poor people a favor, I guess..."
I expected Astoria to inquire about which Hogwarts students were cousins to Garren's girlfriend, but she didn't, and I wasn't about to ask. To ask would imply that I cared, and while I did care, I wanted to give off the impression of carelessness.
"Bethanne should be here soon," Garren informed us, which was echoed by a sarcastic "Great" from Evan. My oldest brother scowled. "She doesn't know about...well she doesn't know about what happened to..."
"Lyle," I finished in a clear and blunt tone. "His name was Lyle. His name isn't taboo now that he's dead—"
"Lainey," Garren said roughly as he rubbed his forehead. "This is just as hard for us as it is for you, all right? We feel just as angry and awful as you do—"
"Really? Were your eyes open to witness our brother burn to death? Were you the reason that he was murdered? Did you light him on fire—"
"Perhaps we should discuss what's going to happen now," Lupin interjected briskly. I blinked back the emotions that were threatening to explode and sat back calmly in my chair. Garren's healed knuckles were white with rage that he managed to suppress.
"Evan," our uncle began, "you'll continue to go to work, if you wish, and I will accompany you wherever you go. Astoria, I've spoken with your parents. They're both pleased to hear that you're all right after what happened at the Ministry last night. Your father is devastated over the loss of prophecies, of course...but they've agreed that you may stay here for a few more weeks, as they'll be busy at the Ministry and it's best not for you to be alone."
Astoria gasped as she grasped Evan's hands and stared lovingly into his eyes. "A few more weeks with Evy-poo? Oh, what a dream."
Garren rolled his eyes, and while I normally would have as well, there was something about the way they gazed at each other that made me envious, and I couldn't bring myself to even jokingly mock it.
"Garren," Lupin addressed, "you may also go back to work, and Tonks will accompany you. She'll be in disguise, as you know she's rather talented with disguises."
Evan snorted. "Oh, yeah, I know. One time she assumed...Lyle's form," he said slowly, shooting me a look, "and the two of them spent the entire day making me guess who was who. I was angry at the time, but now it's funny... I wish I had laughed..."
Lupin smiled reminiscently. "I do remember that day... Lyle did enjoy pestering you... Does anyone else have any stories of Lyle they'd like to share? Perhaps we could go around and—"
"I'd rather not," I lied blandly, dampening their spirits in a way that brought my self-loathing to an all time high. "Who will be accompanying me to Madam Malkin's for the summer? If you say Mundungus—"
"You won't be going back to Madam Malkin's this summer," my uncle interrupted in a formal manner. "The Order has agreed that it's best for you to stay out of the magical community for some time. You'll remain here at the apartment with an Order member. I believe Professor Snape was the one who volunteered—"
"Snape?" I blurted, the panic prominent in my voice. I had hoped not to see Snape until the next school year, as I had promised I would tell him about all of my visions and I clearly hadn't. He probably wanted to babysit me just so he could berate me to no end.
"Yes, and Dumbledore has agreed that he is the best for the job. He'll know all of Voldemort's plans before anyone else, and he will protect you well," Lupin explained.
"Yes," I agreed once I'd extricated my emotions from existence. "That will be fine."
He was suspicious of my unexpected compliance, but he did not press on. "At nights I will stay here, as I have been. We have been discussing a place to relocate you all to, but we haven't found one yet. I do know that you're all at risk here, and once other matters are attended to, we will swiftly find a solution of safety."
I had already come up with a solution of safety in my head, however, and as much as I hated it, I would find a way to execute it before more casualties occurred. I would die before I would let Voldemort slay another one of my family members and that meant that the next Fitzroy to die would definitely be me.
∆
My plan formed slowly. I decided on the first part of it when Bethanne showed up that day and didn't leave for weeks. We talked a lot, as most days it was just she, Astoria, and I at the apartment. She told me that her rich family owned a massive house over in Russia. I didn't ask where it was specifically. I didn't want to know where it was specifically. But the fact of its existence sparked a new string of ideas.
As Remus had told us, Snape spent his days at the apartment "guarding" us. He hadn't said much to me, though his level of hostility didn't exceed its usual amount. I didn't bring up the fact that I'd lied to him and kept secrets from him, and he didn't either. Most of his time was spent reading, and from what I got a glimpse of, making lesson plans for the new term. I had almost forgotten that Snape was the Potions Master, but now that he was here, I realized that I could us his skill to my advantage. He had not been particularly keen on helping me when I had asked, but he eventually concurred, and we commenced the three-week-long process of creating a secret potion. Two secret potions, actually.
July 13th was the first day of the summer that was truly eventful and out of the ordinary. For one, Snape showed up at our apartment, which he never did on Saturdays, as Lupin was usually there. Secondly, the moment Snape arrived, Lupin left without an explanation, which was beyond odd. Then, as Garren, Bethanne, Evan, and I sat placidly around the living room, an eagle owl came soaring in through the window and landed directly on Evan's shoulder. The presence of Dev was not particularly strange, but what really put me off was the fact that Evan didn't even flinch.
"You're not afraid of Dev anymore?" I asked, blinking slowly as my brother untied the letter on Dev's leg.
"Fear is for the weak, Lain," Evan scoffed as he began to unravel the scroll. Snape stalked over and snatched it from him before he could even glance at a word of it, and Evan jumped in his seat. I found it very hard to stifle my laughter. Being cold to my brothers over the past three weeks had proven nearly impossible, especially given the events that I soon planned to unfold. I wanted to talk to them, laugh with them, share emotions with them, but because of the future that I had not Seen but chosen, detachment was the only realistic way.
"I've been instructed to read all letters first," Snape snapped icily as he began to skim the parchment.
"I bet it's from the redhead that you fancy," Garren said to me. "Have you heard from him at all lately?"
"No," I lied immediately. I had a pile of letters hidden in my trunk, all from Fred. I hadn't opened a single one. He'd also been writing new messages to me on the chalkboard every hour. I hadn't even skimmed a word. I had the desire, but I didn't have the heart.
"That's a shame," Garren replied. "We liked him."
"Speak for yourself," Evan griped. "He and his twin always used to prank me when they were here."
"Where did your girlfriend go, Evan?" Bethanne asked politely.
"Her parents wanted her home for a few days," Evan said with a shrug, and I struggled to keep my expression neutral. I'd lied to Astoria and told her that her parents wanted her home this weekend. The plan would never work with her here. The plan might never work at all.
"You've passed your Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L.," Snape informed me with indifference as he handed me the letter.
"Fred will be unhappy," was all I could think to mutter as I skimmed the page. Two summers ago we had made a bet when I'd claimed that I could receive more than six O.W.L.s, more O.W.L.s than both Weasley twins combined. The twins never forgot their bets. Though, given my new outlook on life, I also doubted they would lose.
"Professor," I began as I folded the paper and slipped it into my pocket, "would you fetch us all some water, please?"
Snape blinked languidly, his lips pursed, but he did not object. He knew what he was really being asked to do.
"It's a nice day today," I said casually as Snape carefully handed out four glasses of water. The other three were hesitant, but I brought my glass to my lips and drank normally. "Perhaps we could go for a walk later, if the Order will allow such things."
Snape's lips remained in a frown as he said nothing.
"Drink up," I told the others.
"What's in it?" Garren asked skeptically.
Evan slowly brought the water to his lips, and once the taste was on his tongue, his eyes lit up. "You put alcohol in this? Remus never lets us drink! Why haven't you brought this creepy professor around before, Lainey?"
"I s'pose we all do deserve a drink," Garren agreed as he cautiously began to sip. Bethanne, immediately after drinking her water, furrowed her eyebrows at me in an expression of silent questioning. Because Bethanne's drink tasted the same as mine: like nothing but water.
"I've been thinking a lot about the future," I started casually. "None of us are safe in the future. None of us are safe now. The only place that's safe is somewhere far, far away, where Voldemort can't find us and won't bother to look."
"Bethanne's house in Russia," Garren suggested immediately. "You said it was big, didn't you? Would it fit us all?"
Bethanne's mouth fell open as she stammered a response. "I—uh—yes—of course. You're all welcome to stay there, if you believe it will be safe."
"Good. You'll ask one of your magical relatives to place enchantments over the place," I commanded before giving my brothers an opportunity to comment. "And you'll remain there unless it becomes dangerous."
"Why can't you just do the charms?" Evan asked after downing his entire glass of water. "Don't you know how?"
"I won't be joining you," I answered absently. "There are things that I must do here if I ever plan to avenge our brother's death." Evan opened his mouth but I spoke over him. "It will be best if both of you are out of Voldemort's reach."
"We're not leaving you here to be murdered by that snake-man," Garren insisted after a moment of contemplation. "You're my baby sister and I'm not abandoning you—"
"I'm not a baby anymore, Garren. I'm a target, and in order to get to me, Voldemort's going to shoot everything around me. I don't want either of you to be in danger."
"We'll do anything for you, Lainey," Evan said as he squinted at the floor. "I'll break up with Astoria. I'll move to Russia. But I won't leave you to die—"
"I'm not asking either of you to leave me. I'm telling you that you must," I interjected firmly. "You'll leave with Bethanne immediately. And...after today, you won't remember the wizarding world. You won't remember your crazy mother, your dead father, or your burned brother. You won't remember me. And you—" I stared Bethanne in the eyes "—you won't tell them about any of it, ever."
"How do you expect us to just forget everything that's happened?" Garren questioned as he slammed his empty water glass on the old coffee table.
"Some people tend to forget things when they drink alcohol," I responded vaguely. Both of my brothers stared down at their empty glasses, and when Garren gazed back at me his eyes were hard.
"You put a potion in our drinks. A bloody potion—"
"A Forgetfulness Potion," I confirmed flatly. "You won't forget everything, but you'll forget most things. Bethanne, you'll have the wonderful pleasure of creating their pasts for them. Telling them lies about their childhoods to keep them in the dark. Are you capable?"
Bethanne nodded as she stared with uncertainty at my two brothers, who both now held their heads in their hands. I stood from my seat and crossed the room to where Bethanne sat. A sigh escaped my lips as I closed my eyes and removed two vials from my pocket. Each one said "Drink if captured by masked men."
"Give these to them," I told Bethanne when I finally looked into her warm brown eyes. "Make sure they have these with them at all times. They're Anti-Flammable Potions. I don't want either of them to suffer the same fate as Lyle. I love them—I love them so much, and they won't remember, but please just let them know that they are loved—that people love them, that you love them."
"Of course," she vowed as she took the vials from my hand. "I will do everything in my power to ensure their safety. And...and I wish you luck with whatever it is you plan to do. You can always contact me if you need—"
"I won't," I assured her briskly. "I won't burden you with worries about me. I don't see a good outcome for me, and I don't think you should dwell on it. Take them now. When they become confused, tell them that you were simply on vacation here and that you'll be returning to your home in Russia. Can you do that?"
She nodded selflessly, and a small, sorrowful smile snuck onto my lips.
"You're a hero, Bethanne. More than I'll ever be. C'mon you two. Time to leave," I announced as I hoisted Evan up from the couch. Bethanne did the same to Garren, and she led the two groaning boys out of the apartment without looking back.
I tried not to think about the fact that I'd just surprise-forced an innocent girl to leave her homeland of England and forever live in Russia with two memory-less boys. I tried not to focus on the fact that I'd just seen my only two remaining family members for the last time. I tried to stop myself from hyperventilating when I glanced around the empty apartment and realized that I was alone.
Perhaps the most bizarre aspect of this day was not that Lupin had disappeared mysteriously or that I'd passed my first O.W.L. or even that I'd willingly erased my brothers' memories, but instead the fact that Severus Snape was the only reason I hadn't broken down into a pool of tears. Because with his harsh, apathetic eyes glaring at me from the other side of the room, I recognized that he had felt the pain of loss before. From what I'd gathered from that picture on his nightstand, he had once been in love with Lily Potter, and she had been murdered, but yet he still carried on. How did he carry on? He became the meanest, rudest, most emotionless professor at Hogwarts.
And, if I planned to live a life without my brothers, without my friends, without love, I would have to mold my life in that fashion; I would have to become Severus Snape. And Severus Snape did not cry.
∆
"Lainey, dear, would you go see who's entered the shop?" Madam Malkin asked me from within one of the closets. I'd been stitching up a pair of pants rather poorly, and I was beyond relieved to remove myself from this stuffy back room. "I'll be out in just a moment... Trying to find this thread..."
I ignored her mumbling as I stood up from my chair and waltzed out into the main shop, which contained many racks full of robes, as well as a front counter where transactions were made. The shop, and Diagon Alley itself, had been fairly empty this summer, and business was not going well for old Madam Malkin. She had had to dock my pay significantly due to lack of sales, and the only reason I was still here was because I had no where else to go.
Lupin, at first, had been beyond infuriated with the fact that I'd secretly relocated my brothers and then sold everything that remained in the apartment. But, after I explained the rationality of it, he came to terms with the fact that his nephews were forever gone, and he knew I was right not to tell him where they'd fled to. No one in England knew exactly where Garren and Evan had disappeared to, and that meant that Voldemort would not be able to torture the information out of anyone. My plan had worked flawlessly...for now...
I had given my uncle all of the money I earned by selling my brothers' belongings, as he had no where to live now either, though he assured me that he would be safe living at the Order's headquarters, Sirius's old house. He was utterly opposed to the notion of me going back to work at Madam Malkin's shop, given that I was, apparently, one of Voldemort's biggest targets—probably second, only behind Harry Potter. But, I had assured him that I would be safe in a community with so many other wizards. The wizarding world knew of Voldemort's return now, yes, but that did not mean he would be parading the streets of Diagon Alley just to seek out a measly little Seer like myself. Er—I sincerely hoped he wouldn't do that...
Regardless of the immanent threat, I'd gone against Remus's will and returned to Madam Malkin's, where I'd been working, undisturbed, for over two weeks since my brothers had left. However, Fred Weasley, who's new shop was just down the road, had actually come to Madam Malkin's to disturb me almost every day, but each time I'd swiftly retreated into the back room and asked her to remove him from the shop. He thought I was angry with him; every few hours he would write a new apology on the blackboard, saying how sorry he was that he hadn't been able to arrive at my brothers' apartment to save them. His guilt was immense, I knew, because I'd asked him to check on my brothers only hours before Lyle had been murdered. But, I blamed him in no way, and I was glad, honestly, that he had not been there. Voldemort likely knew that I was close with the Weasleys, but I did not need him to know how close I really was with Fred. And that was precisely why I could not speak publicly with him. Not now, and if Voldemort continued to rise, maybe not ever...
Today it was not Fred who entered the shop, though. When I stepped up behind the transaction counter, I found that three familiar Slytherins were now browsing through the racks of robes, completely oblivious to my presence. When one, the only girl, found a robe that she liked, she yanked it off of the rack, brought it over to me, and gasped dramatically as she dropped it on the ground.
"Oh—oh—LAINEY!" Ashley Pucey squealed as she threw herself over the counter to hug me. "I didn't know you worked here! Hey, guys! Lainey's here!"
Vince Anderson and Brian Urquhart both averted their attention toward us, though neither looked particularly affected.
"Yeah, we know," Anderson said as he strolled over to the counter. "I thought that's why you wanted to come in here."
"No, I came in here for a robe. My parents said I could get a new one because I've been given the title of Prefect!" Another squeal escaped her lips as she grabbed the collar of my shirt and began to shake me. "Prefect, Lainey! I'm Slytherin's Prefect!"
"We know, you won't shut up about it," Urquhart grumbled as he stepped up on the other side of Ashley and then gave me a head nod. "Fitzroy."
"If you both knew Lainey was here, why did you not tell me?" Ashley questioned. "You both walked right in here and didn't even say hello to her! Oh, we're awful friends!"
I couldn't supress a tiny grin over Ashley's enthusiasm. I would not be able to encourage our friendship much longer, I knew, but I would smile at her funniness while I could.
"Mud's a worse friend than you are," Anderson insisted as he glowered at me. "She set me up with Weasels when she knew we were doomed to fail."
My brow furrowed, and I found myself unable to contain my curiosity. "What are you talking about, Anderson?"
"Weasels cheated on me," he replied dramatically.
"Ginny cheated on you?" I clarified with a flat tone. "I find that impossible to believe."
"Well, believe it," he snapped irritably. "After I set her and her friends free that night, I started to feel really ashamed for betraying my fellow Slytherins—"
"As you should have," Ashley added quietly.
"—and, well, I couldn't be at odds with my own House, and I knew Weasels would be sad if I dumped her, so I just stopped talking to her. Ignored all of her owls, had Travis tell her that our cat died when she showed up at my front door a few weeks ago... It's been a tough process, let me tell you."
"So...you ignored Ginny rather than dumping her and now...she's dating someone else?"
"Yeah—a Gryffindor prat. Thomas Dean, or something like that," Anderson scoffed carelessly. "Dumb name, if you ask me."
"His name is Dean Thomas, actually," Urquhart piped up matter-of-factly.
"Damn, Dean is a cool name..." Anderson grumbled as he stared at the floor. "She found someone cooler than me, Mud! You ruined my life!"
"You ruined your life," I corrected blandly. "How's your Beauxbatons girlfriend, Urquhart?"
He shrugged indifferently. "Don't know, don't care. She's old news. I've sorta got a thing with Sadie Morton now—"
"Dammit!" Anderson shouted as he kicked the counter. I was very surprised that Madam Malkin did not come bumbling out with that noise. "All of my girls are being stolen by cooler guys!"
"True," Ashley agreed with a head nod. "So, how was your summer, Lainey? Super duper awesome?"
"Don't ask her about her summer," Anderson hissed as he backhanded her arm. "Didn't you read Astoria's letter? Mud murdered her own brother with fire. Doesn't sound so super duper awesome, does it?"
"Oh no I forgot," Ashley moaned miserably. "I'm so sorry, Lainey! Tell me all of the details about how your brother died, just let it all out, it's okay to cry—"
"I'm here, I'm here," Madam Malkin announced as she scurried out from the back room. "What can I help you dears with?"
"Fitzroy," Urquhart muttered as Ashley began babbling to Madam Malkin. "Come show me which robes are best, will you?"
My eyebrows creased in befuddlement, but I complied and warily trudged over to the robe racks with Urquhart.
"How'd you get stuck with those two?" I asked plainly once they were out of earshot.
"Saw them at Quality Quidditch Supplies and Pucey started ranting about Quidditch, and well, there's no stopping her once she's started."
A light laugh came out of my mouth, but I quickly muffled it by ducking my head into one of the robes.
"This one might fit you," I told him once my face had resume a neutral expression. I removed the robe from the rack and handed it over to him.
"Eh, I don't know," he said as he surveyed the fabric. "This might be too appealing. I want a robe that's just ugly enough that Sadie will constantly want to tear it off of me. And then when she does, well, you know where it goes from there."
My eyes rolled as I rehung the robe. "Boys, of course..."
"So, you really work here, then?" Urquhart asked casually. "This isn't just some cover because of what...happened...last month?"
I sighed heavily before replying, "Nope, I really do work here. Glamorous, isn't it?"
He snorted amusedly. "Yeah, right... Well, if you prefer to keep this hushed up, I won't tell any of the other Slytherin boys that you work here. They're all still interested in 'mating' with you so they can raise Gaudium kids and live forever. That's their delusional dream, anyway..."
I paused and glared over the rack at him with ominous eyes. "No one wants to be a Gaudium. It's a curse to be a Gaudium. I'll never have kids for I run the risk that one of them will bear the curse. And I only hate the Slytherins more now than I did before. I'd rather have their hatred and bullying than their senseless and shallow affection."
Urquhart's wide green eyes blinked with bemusement. "Well, this conversation has taken a dark turn. Not sure when you became such a cynic, Fitzroy, but it's intriguing."
"Don't become infatuated with me—"
"Relax, Fitzroy," he said as he held up his hands with innocence. "You're not really my type. I like them dumb and blonde."
"You like dumb blondes?" I clarified disbelievingly.
"Don't be so patronizing. You've got a thing for dickheaded blonds," he retorted coolly. "We all have our strange preferences."
My mouth remained sealed, because to deny his statement would be to admit that I still fancied Fred, and I did not want anyone to know that sorrowful fact.
"Can you write 'Prefect' on this robe?" Ashley was asking Madam Malkin. "I know I'm going to lose my badge—probably the first day I get it—but I want everyone to always know that I have authority."
"You're into dumb blondes," I started as my gaze fell back on Urquhart. "Are you into Ashley?"
Urquhart's eyebrows jumped ambiguously. "Wouldn't that be something?"
I was perplexed by the obscurity of his response, but I didn't press on as we continued to search for the perfect robe. By the time both Ashley and Urquhart were pleased with their selections, the workday was coming to a close, and Madam Malkin told me to lock the door behind my friends. However, only a minute after the three of them had disappeared down the darkening alley and I'd begun sweeping the shop, a fist knocked on the front door's glass. Deep in thought, I didn't hear it until the knocker had resorted to banging.
My head whipped around to see the warmness of his white-blond hair gleaming in the setting sun's rays but the coldness of his agitated grey eyes. He had grown in only a month, and never had he resembled his father so strongly. I wanted to run into the back room and cry. But with what little strength resided within me, I dropped the broom I'd been sweeping with and stepped over to the front door.
"We're closed, sir," I said through the glass in the most distant tone I could muster.
"Open the door, Fitzroy," he commanded, his voice muffled by the glass between us.
"I said that we're closed—"
I saw him reaching to get his wand, so with reluctance, I unlocked the door and peered my head through the doorway.
"What do you want?" I hissed in annoyance. "You just bought new robes last year, if I remember—"
"Do I look like I'll still fit into them, Fitzroy?" he retorted with the same impatience, and I knew that he would not still fit into them. He now towered over me as much as Garren did.
"I don't think Madam Malkin will want to fit you now—"
"I'm not going to buy robes today," he drawled with an eye roll. "I'm here for you, actually. Thought you'd be in the Weaselbee's blasted shop, but it looks like you're still working at this dumpy place—"
"You came here to mock me, then, is that it?" I snapped hotly. "Would you really like to get into an argument with me right now? Would you really? Because I have a few things that I'd like to say to your father, but since he got his ass landed in Azkaban, I s'pose I can say them to you instead—"
"I don't want to quarrel with you," he growled through gritted teeth. "I want to—do you want to—are you allowed to leave?"
His question startled me to the point that my brain couldn't compute a snooty enough response. "The shop is closed so yes."
"Good," he said haughtily. "You'll come get ice cream with me, then."
My eyebrows shot up as I cocked my head to the side. "You...want me...to come get ice cream with you? After your father tortured my mother into insanity? After Voldemort killed my brother—and you knew it would happen? After everything—after everything you've done—"
He stared at me, nonplussed as he took a step back from the door. "What are you—what do you mean?"
My brow set with deep rumination, and after a pensive moment, I finally said, "Perhaps we should get ice cream. C'mon...stop looking at me like that and move, will you?"
He staggered back as I shoved through the doorway without bothering to tell Madam Malkin of my temporary absence. Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor was directly across the street from Madam Malkin's, and though the lights were on, the place appeared to be much more desolate than previous years. If I cared much about my own wellbeing, I would have felt apprehension about venturing into the open with Draco Malfoy, but caring was no longer one of my traits.
"You're paying, right?" I asked as I stopped short in the middle of the road. "For the ice cream, I mean?"
His nostrils inflated as his normally defensive demeanor resurfaced. "My father's in Azkaban—"
"My father's dead," I countered tonelessly. "I think we both know who will always win the 'who's poorer' fight."
Incoherent grumbles emitted from his mouth, but he made no argument before stalking toward the ice cream shop. I felt more genuinely accomplished in that moment than I had upon learning that I'd passed my D.A.D.A. O.W.L.
"One Goblin Sundae," Malfoy demanded from the man behind the counter without even walking up to greet him. The worker blinked, dumbfounded, but Malfoy said nothing else before situating himself in one of the empty booths. For a brief instance I was appalled by Malfoy's rudeness, but then I remembered that rude and unlikable was exactly what I now strived to be.
"You like the Goblin Sundae?" I asked him as I slid into the opposite side of the booth. "And you only ordered one? I'm not sharing with you—"
"You're not paying," he reminded me smoothly as his lips twitched into a condescending grin. "You're too poor, remember?"
My eyes slivered as I stifled a smirk. "Fine, but I will have you know that I prefer the Unicorn Sundae."
"Shocking," he said with heavy sarcasm. "Thought you would have liked the flavor that's named after Gryffindor House, since you're so bloody in love with your Weaselbee."
I kept my lips pressed in a thin line as I carefully skirted around his statement. "Did you know that your father was the one to torture my mother?"
His pretentious smirk faded into a frown. "He may have failed to mention that part of the story."
Relief permeated through me, but I did not let it show. "Did you know that your father and my mother were friends at Hogwarts?"
Malfoy's lips contorted with dismay. "You're lying. Why would my father ever be friends with your mother?"
"I don't know, but I Saw it—in a vision of the past," I added in a low voice. "I saw a lot of visions, actually..." My eyes traveled to his left arm that rested on the table, the left arm that I had predicted would soon bear the Dark Mark. "Did you...did you know Voldemort would kill Lyle? Did your father tell you? Did you hear them talk about it?"
"No," he snapped, staring down at the table with hard eyes. "But I don't know what you would have expected me to do if I had known. You think I have any say in what the Dark Lord does?"
"No, but I would have expected you to tell me so that I could have stopped him."
"Well, from what I've heard, you could have stopped him, but instead you lit your twin on fire—"
"You don't understand the level of control he has over me," I snarled as I slammed my fist on the table.
A throat cleared beside our table, and I slowly turned to see that the worker was standing there, gingerly attempting to place our large bowl of Goblin Sundae before us.
"Sorry," I muttered before he scurried away. Malfoy appeared rather bored as he picked up his spoon.
"I'm not really interested in all of the petty details of your brother's death," he drawled after swallowing a spoonful of ice cream. "I'm more interested in whether or not you passed the Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. In case you're wondering, I passed all of my O.W.L.s."
My lips pursed as he stuck another spoonful of ice cream into his mouth. "I passed the O.W.L. too. And, actually, it doesn't surprise me that you didn't fail any of your exams. You're smart."
Malfoy's pompous expression faltered as he studied me with skepticism. "You never compliment me. What are you playing at, Fitzroy?"
"Nothing," I replied honestly. "I'm just sick of you trying to prove yourself to me. I know that you're smart. I know that you can do magic. I know that you have feelings, like every human being. And I know what it feels like to be without a father. You don't have to pretend you're not upset—"
"I'm not, I'm fine," he snipped venomously. "I only want to avenge my father—just like you do—"
"Good, then we have the same goal," I interjected simply. "To kill Voldemort."
Malfoy's face twisted with outrage. "He wasn't the one to get my father imprisoned—Potter was!"
"If your father hadn't been blindly following Voldemort, there would be no reason for him to go to Azkaban. It wasn't Harry's fault. All Harry's ever done is fight for his own life. Don't try to convince me otherwise, because you know you're wrong. Besides, I don't think we should get into an altercation about such things in public. Now, if you'll excuse me—"
"You didn't even eat any of the ice cream," he complained lamely.
"I told you I don't like Goblin Sundaes—"
"Hold on," he insisted, grabbing my left hand before I could scoot out of the booth. "Your arm—it's still broken. Let me heal it."
"No need. It's already healed."
Malfoy's brow furrowed as he glared intently at my arm. "Then why is it in a sling? To make people feel sorry for you?"
"No, it was broken earlier today, but it's mended now. It began to heal when we started our conversation at Madam Malkin's. And now I should get back—"
Malfoy's grip on my hand tightened, and I glanced up at him quizzically.
"I didn't come to you to chat, Fitzroy," he said darkly. "I've been asked to retrieve you. The Dark Lord requests your presence. It's my first mission."
My gaze fell onto his left arm with remorse. "You've already got the Mark then."
"No," he sneered, dropping my hand as though I'd hurt him. "But maybe I will—soon—if I do all that is asked—"
"I don't understand your need to please this evil wizard just as much as I don't understand why you think I would willingly come with you to meet with him."
"Do you think anyone has a choice? He'll punish us both if you don't come. He's already particularly irked with you. He knows you moved your brothers—"
My eyes went wide and I gasped as the realization hit me. "He—knows? Snape told him? That greasy traitor—"
"Not Snape, Rookwood," he corrected wryly. "You didn't think Rookwood would still be spying on you? You're a blithering idiot, Fitzroy, and the Dark Lord's probably going to kill you for it."
"And you're going to let him, I assume?" I questioned as my eyebrows shot up. "You know he's going to murder me and you're going to bring me to him anyway."
Malfoy's jaw clenched as he glowered down at his hands. "I overheard him say that he wants to negotiate a deal with you."
"And...if I don't oblige...?"
"He'll find you and he'll kill you! How many times—"
I put my hand gently on his before he could explode in a screaming fit. "What do I need to do?" I asked placidly.
Malfoy let out a breath as his red face paled and he flinched his hand out from underneath mine. "Follow me," he said as he threw a few coins onto the table.
Before stalking out of the shop behind Malfoy, I shot the shop-worker an apologetic look, maybe my last apologetic look if Voldemort decided to kill me tonight.
The sun had disappeared, leaving Diagon Alley dark, with only a few lanterns lining the shops. I realized suddenly, as I threw off my sling, that I was about to go face Lord Voldemort wandless.
"I—uh—need to stop at Ollivander's before we go," I announced as I felt around for coins in my pocket.
With a hint of amusement to the curve of his lips, Malfoy reached into his pocket and then pulled out an ombré-colored wand—my wand, which Bellatrix Lestrange had stolen a month ago. The elation that welled up in my chest could not be reduced, and as he placed the wand in my hands, he cocked his head to the side and suavely said, "No, you don't."