mulcibers

[mulcibers]

MARY MACDONALD‌

Consciousness returned to her body before movement did. It felt like it could have been ages that she sat, collapsed, surrounded in broken glass. Mary closed her eyes, opened them. Closed them again. It took longer than it should have to realize she was bleeding, longer still to wonder if she should do something about it. She watched blankly, stoically, the slick stream of red that pooled around her leg where she’d collapsed on a shattered whiskey glass. Another mirror of red puddled beneath her hand. 

Faintly, distantly, she wondered how long she would have to sit there frozen before it all leaked out. She began to shiver, and as she shivered she sucked in the first breath she felt she’d taken in ages. The first, shaky breath of a newborn being thrust from one comfortable life to a much harsher one. It triggered a sob to bubble up within her, but she bit down hard on it, jaw aching. 

There was something of her that wished it had hurt more, wished it had been worse — not because she deserved it, not because she wanted to suffer, but because if it had been worse, if it been an irreconcilable horror, then she could justify this feeling she had of being unspeakably violated. What had she done, really? Dropped a glass, danced a moment, made a mess. These were normal things. This was not traditional, palpable violence. She could be allowed to feel this way, she thought, if it had been violent. If he’d grabbed her, spoken words of hate and anger.  But everything she’d done, they had been accidents. 

She didn’t want it to be an accident. Mary clenched her fists. She wanted her pain to mean something, not only to her but to the people who had made her suffer it.

In the end, it had been nothing. Senseless. A bit of entertainment. They’d likely never think about it again. They’d likely never think they’d done anything wrong, at all. Because after-all, it was just a few broken dishes, wasn’t it? 

Only it wasn’t. It was her will, taken away. How could she say that though? How could she tell someone how it felt so degrading, so horrific, to bow at someone else’s every whim, no matter how silly those whims were? She realized she was crying, the coil in her chest springing free as she released a howl of anger. She couldn’t tell anyone. They wouldn’t understand. It had all been her fault, it was all so mundane. She couldn’t tell anyone. 

Mary stood on shaky legs, she retrieved her wand and hiccuped a healing spell, and then a cleaning spell, and then a locking spell as she wandered blankly to her car. The Winking Wizard looked as it always had. She looked as she always had. But somewhere inside, something had changed for them both. She knew she was no longer all her own, and it was a fear she would have to carry forever now. Quietly, of course, because who — after seeing her cry — would not laugh to learn it had only been a few broken dishes. Who wouldn’t say: could have been worse; well, what do you expect working in a place like that?; that doesn’t sound so bad; you shouldn’t have been there alone, anyway. 

~ Le Fin ~

[mulcibers]

MARY MACDONALD

ASHER AVERY

He didn’t enjoy watching the scene that he had helped sculpt. Every movement felt wrong, and unnatural, and it didn’t matter her skill level. Was this really what he had willingly walked into? Free will had always been a vital part of Asher’s life. He fought tooth and nail for the freedom of his mother, and yet wasn’t this too, a prison? There was no turning back. There hadn’t been for some time. And, despite Asher’s delusions of freedom, he didn’t have any. Not anymore. He and Mulciber were tied together.

Asher remained silent. He didn’t leer. The conversation from a few weeks ago replaying in his head. “She can stop now.” Not even the greatest of imaginations could have swapped the shot girl for who Asher would have preferred to see dancing.

Mary’s breathing was heavy, two parts in for every one part out, the sound of a scream lodged a lifetime away. So far away she forgot she wanted to make the sound at all. 

 But Mulciber didn’t stop her, at least not right away. He hadn’t yet plotted his next move, if even there would be another. He had grown bored already. The high of being able to do it, of the curse working on a human specimen, and at his own hands, had withered. There had been no plan beyond a test. There was nothing more for him here.

“Then we’ll leave her to clean up her mess.” Mulciber, at last, lifted his hold of the blonde, and stuffed his wand back up his sleeve. He opened the door for Asher, and once he’d followed the wizard out, retrieved his wand again. He didn’t need to look through the window to watch the shelf of glass mugs shatter; just feeling his own surge of power accomplish it was enough.

[mulcibers]

MARY MACDONALD

ASHER AVERY

He took in a sharp intake of breath. What the fuck would he even request? What could she, or any of this offer him? Asher’s heart hammered brutally in his chest, a reminder that he was still alive, despite how often he had wished otherwise. Cruelty didn’t come naturally to him, but then again, neither had murder, and look where that got him.

“This is the Winking Wizard. I think we need a dance.”

Each time she blinked she felt she opened her eyes to a new nightmare, first one place and then the other, each scene coming into clarity only in the middle once the action of it it had already begun. But recognizing the nightmare and escaping it was but two puzzles with entirely different edges, and worse still than their incongruence was the desire to stay below and enjoy the dream. Maybe this was somebody else. Maybe she was somebody else. Maybe when she blinked again it would be a different dream, more pleasant, no more demons at the door. 

Mulciber snorted, but he nodded in agreement. Boring as it seemed to him, he would give Asher what he required. “Your wish is my command, oh master.” His eyes glazed over as he watched the blonde move, somewhere far beyond them. Already, he was busy calculating his next move---their next move.

[mulcibers]

MARY MACDONALD

ASHER AVERY

With a crash, Asher watched with curious eyes as the pint of beer came tumbling down. Fear crept under his skin, but with it, a pull, a desire to be closer to something that was both so terrible and so fascinating. Every movement seemed so natural, and still, he could watch as the gears in Mulciber’s mind continued to turn, the actions being performed without delay. Was he a monster for enjoying the second-hand expression of power? Or was Asher just simple jealous at the lack of control he could offer.

“I didn’t think it’d be so–” He wracked his brain for the right wording. “She’ll do anything?”

Mary didn’t remember collecting the glasses, she didn’t remember putting the thick pint glass atop her head, but the shattering of it hitting the floor reminded her that she had done those things. But how, why? Something prickled at the back of her mind. It was the urge to scream, but she didn’t know why she’d want to do that. Except… except her heart was hammering in her chest, and she could feel moreso than she could see the presence of something watching her. It was sinister and it was evil, and it was so close that its magic engulfed her, crawling over her skin, pulling her strings. She wanted to run, but where and what from? Waves of euphoria hit her and she battled them back, desperate to clutch at her fear. 

Instead she stared blankly at the shattered glass, watching the flashing light of the club refract against its sharp edges. Why had she done that?

 Never had anything sounded so enticing, so encouraging, so downright delectable. It was one thing to quietly manipulate the mind; it was another to do it with company to appreciate it.

“Is that a request I detect?”

[mulcibers]

MARY MACDONALD

ASHER AVERY

Though no one else would be able to tell, Asher watched her face for the subtle change. He hadn’t ever seen the imperius curse used on another person, even in the house he had lived in, that hadn’t been a part of his life. He wasn’t ignorant to how often it was used, but to see it now in action, Asher didn’t know if he was more terrified or captivated by the scene that was playing out. Either way, he would be as obedient as the shot girl, finishing off his drink, and standing with Mulciber.

Whatever words Mary had to give back did not so much stick in her throat as it was they disappeared from it completely. The edges of the world began to pulse and ebb, and she found with a degree of increasing panic that when she tried to move, when she tried to open her mouth to say that something was wrong, her body was no longer hers to command. 

There was a moment, though brief, as realization set in and before the mental numbness of the spell hit, that she conjured up the sense to resist. She knew she needed to hold on to her panic, and her fear. They were not things to shy away from, but rather weapons necessary for fighting whatever it was that was happening. But… but she felt so light. She felt so happy. Her eyes were heavy, her mind empty, her lips almost curving into a smile. 

 With a kindly smile, Nicholas laid a few coins on the table. It was, after all, the least he could do, to tip the witch for her troubles. By the time he’d led Avery to the door, he could hear the din of dishes coming together, collecting themselves for the wash. He needn’t look back to know that it was his doing, his commands being followed through down to the t---but still, Mulciber looked.

“Odd sight, isn’t it?” Nicholas asked through a wide, amused grin. He clapped Asher on the shoulder as he nodded at the witch, who had gone about her tasks with a full pint of beer balanced perfectly on her head. “Be a shame if it---” he pursed his lips, knowing what would come next, even before he put the words on the page “---fell.”

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MARY MACDONALD

ASHER AVERY

“We appreciate it.” When Asher smiled, it didn’t reach his eyes. “Lively crowd you have tonight,” he commented, attempting to get to a point without stumbling over himself. “That’s the problem with places like these. Bad crowds means less money.”

“Oh, it wasn’t so bad earlier,” she shrugged. There was a delicate line to walk when it came to talking about money. Some people gave more when they thought you were getting less. Some didn’t. “It’s always a little dead come close.” She knew better than to rush them out, but she was tired and wanted to go home. The sooner they left, the sooner she could too. 

She watched as Joy ushered her own marks out the back and shot her a wink. The girls weren’t supposed to go home with clients, but what the other girls did in the shadows for money was none of Mary’s business. It, however, didn’t escape her that with Joy’s tryst they were now effectively alone.  

 A little dead come close---that was precisely how Mulciber felt now as he regarded the witch and her plastic smile, her stale conversation. It was with boredom that he lifted his drink to his lips, with desperate desire for entertainment that the grip on his wand tightened with purpose, so subtle a flinch that no one would notice. He knew from enough practice sessions with Sadie that he needn’t anything else, not even his own voice---and so quietly, wordlessly, with little care in the world, Nicholas enlisted the blonde in his next practicum: a test of the imperius curse on human form.

“We don’t want to keep you.” With a smack of his lips, Mulciber set the empty second glass down on the table. It was a formality, the conversation; there was no reason to rely on mouths and ears when already there was a direct line from one mind to the other. It was all part of the game, all for show, an establishment of the narrative that would eclipse the night’s reality. Nicholas stood, wand now tucked beneath his sleeve, as he nodded at Avery. “Be good sport and polish off your drink.”

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MARY MACDONALD

ASHER AVERY

Asher suddenly felt as though he had stepped out of his element. Mulciber had clearly done something like this before. The confidence. The manner in which he conducted himself. Calm, cool, calculated. Everything Asher tried desperately to be. He might have even been able to pretend at those things before his mother, before Prija. Now he was always one movement away from snapping.

“She looks like fun, sure.” It wasn’t a lie. She was pretty, and if he thought hard enough, he’d be able to hear her matter-of-fact voice. No reason had been given as to why she had been at Hogwarts. No reason would have been given as to why Asher was at the Winking Wizard, nor why Mulciber had morphed into something inhuman.

With a club-practiced smile and sway of her hips Mary had left the pair, heading for the bar. Beside the bar, there was the office door, and it swung open hastily as Mary passed, her manager and the owner of the institution poking his head out. “How’s the crowd?” he asked her, which really meant can you and Joy manage locking up? I’d like to leave.

Mary gave a shrug of one shoulder. “Unconscious,” she supplied. “Harmless?” Many nights she wouldn’t have given the same answer, but seeing a familiar face placated the self-preserving apprehensions adopted in this business. “You can go.” The bouncer would still be on the grounds outside, she wasn’t worried. She turned back to the bar to pour generously and then headed back to the boys. “I poured a little heavy,” she told them in a voice like honey. There was a certain language one spoke in here. “Late night special.”

 “Cheers.”

[mulcibers]

ASHER AVERY‌

MARY MACDONALD

Rush was a bold word for it. The clock neared four in the morning on a Thursday night, meaning apart from people who shouldn’t be served much more to begin with (unless one of the girls talked them into a champagne room for the late night cash grab) there weren’t many uncrossed eyes in the building left to call for another round. Still she smiled broadly at the words, her eyes flicking between the two men. She recognized the one who hadn’t called her over from their quarantine in the library, but Mary knew better than to say as much. This wasn’t a place people came to be recognized. 

“One for each of you?” she asked. “Is that all I can get you?” The implication was obvious—a girl? A room?

A rush of heat came over Asher as he spied the blonde stepping closer. While he didn’t know her, he had spoken to her before. The conversation hadn’t been good, nor bad, just neutral. Two ships that had been passing, hoping to never cross paths again. For a moment, his throat tightened, as did his hand around his wand. All of his boldness threatened to slip away at the first sign of trouble, and it was all he could do to say–”One for each,” before his eyes slid over to Mulciber.

 Mulciber nodded, rattling the ice in his glass—casually, rhythmically, rather than impatiently. “Cheers.” With that, he plucked out a cube of ice and popped it into his mouth.

“She looks like fun,” Nicholas told Asher once the witch had left them alone. “Don’t you agree?”

[mulcibers]

ASHER AVERY‌

Asher saw it all happening in front of him, it was impossible not to. The Winking Wizard wasn’t a place people went if they were shy. Bold actions and bold decisions were made in the dark, and with the knowledge that he had accepted the darkness as a part of his life, it seemed irresponsible to start backing away now. That decision had happened months ago. Asher took out his own wand, Ebony with Unicorn Hair, and wondered what it might be like when business met with pleasure.

“I think we���ll need somewhere private. I’ve never been one to enjoy an audience.”

“We’ve another twenty minutes before you have to worry about that.” Before the club closed, was what Mulciber meant. But he liked an audience---for the overture, at least. He drained the rest of his drink and signaled to the witch he had been watching.

“Another, if you don’t mind. Before the last call rush.”

@marymacdonaldhadafarm​

[mulcibers]

ASHER AVERY‌

Asher considered Mulciber’s words carefully, finding something different about him tonight. There wasn’t quite a word for it, but something that he couldn’t place his finger on. No one could have doubted what his companion was capable of. Cruelty was a part of him, just as it was a part of Asher. They had plenty of dissimilarities, mostly stemming from Asher’s refusal to give away his heart and shove it in a drawer. He still bleed. He still felt the pain of others acutely, if not more acutely than the ever person.

Maybe that was why he clung to Mulciber. Teach me, he thought. Teach me to care less, and hurt more. The idea was captivating. A world in which he wasn’t tethered in pain in fifteen different directions. Intoxicating was a better word for it. “Sounds like we need to have some fun of our own.” There was no telling what Asher’s intentions were with the comment. He moved so easily between being the kind and gentle boy he was in primary, to the darker distorted version of himself that he was now. “Where do you want to start?”

“Fun.” Mulciber repeated the word with a smirk. He was a dog on the hunt---ears open, body stilled, eyes moving only with the oblivious steps of his prey. Her hair swung behind her, curls as golden as his drink beneath the neon lights. “There is no starting with fun, Asher. Just doing. Appreciating. Living in the moment.” Even the motion of his wand came to a halt as Mulciber grasped the handle. With careful, deliberate touch, he rolled back the sleeves of his shirt. “That’s the fun I’m having tonight,” he declared, not bothering to nod in the blonde’s direction. He knew Avery had taken note of his attentions; the real question was whether he had been observant enough to partake in the festivities.

[mulcibers]

ASHER AVERY‌

WHERE: The Winking Wizard WHEN: 16 April, 1979 WHO: Asher Avery & Nicholas Mulciber

Asher felt off, like there was something crawling underneath his skin, and he just couldn’t get it out. More likely than not, this was just a side effect of visiting Azkaban, of being face to face with his slowly fading away mother. And it was all compounded by the wedding. The fucking wedding. Everything seemed to grow more complicated by the day, and with the fresh memory of Prija’s hand on his shoulder, and their fingers clasped, he felt the need to shake it all off and start anew. Or at the very least, he needed a distraction.

Mulciber had always been good for that. With little care about most things in the world, he had made the ideal friend and confidante. There was a trust there that had begun to run bone deep, and it was to him that Asher turned to. That was why they were standing outside of the Winking Wizard, possibilities remaining endless, a certain charged feeling surrounding them. Asher felt dangerous. He wanted to feel safe. He’d take feeling nothing.

“Interesting venue. Selwyn’s Stag party make you think of it?”

It had not been the stag party, but rather what Mulciber had found there that made him think of the shoddy location. Details, Mulciber thought, as he slowly — carefully — twirled eleven inches of cherry wood between his fingers. Whatever his purpose for returning to the Winking Wizard, whatever his intentions, it had overlapped with Asher’s—and that was as close to a common thread as Nicholas had ever had with someone else. Separate ends, but equal means. That was the philosophy that had drawn him to his fellow Slytherin; the philosophy that had allowed him to so easily accept a crowd of people who had cost him his mother. To accept, but not to forgive, nor forget—and so he had traveled to the Winking Wizard to work towards the former. If only he could understand...

“I have only so much capacity for human interaction, Avery,” Mulciber mused, pressing the butt of his cigar into an overflowing glass tray. He watched, his gaze without focus, as ash spilled over until the old and worn charm it still held finally emptied its contents. Only a ring of gray char remained on the table top. “But what little I have needs tending to, and I’ve no interest in seeing any of our peers during what’s meant to be a holiday away from them.”

[mulcibers]

[mulcibers]

ASHER AVERY‌

With a quick movement, Asher had himself straddling Nicholas, his hand immediately reaching for the book in question, throwing it carelessly to the side. He had to get out his extra energy somehow, and at the present moment, he had no desire to beat Nicholas bloody. Maybe tomorrow. Instead, he leaned down, his mouth as unforgiving as he was.

It took but one movement to regain control. Victory had always tasted sweeter from the higher vantage point, and now, pinning Asher to the bed beneath him, Nicholas found that this was no exception. He pressed his lips to Asher’s in a feverish frenzy, the elixir of power surging through his veins as the fever spread---from lips, to neck, to skin that only a minute before had been safe from his contagious desire beneath layers of clothes. But there was no part of Asher that hadn’t been exposed to his infectious desire, no inch of him that was safe from Nicholas’ consumption---whether he wanted it, or whether he didn’t.

That was what Nicholas was hungry for. Even as his hand slipped beneath the band of Asher’s trousers, even as his mouth followed the trail his hand had blazed against skin, it wasn’t Asher’s body that concerned him. It wasn’t the warmth of wandering hands, the breeze that brushed past his ears with every moan. It was the fact that he could cause it. It was the idea that he could do it. It was the ability to tug so meaningfully at Asher’s strings, only to comply helplessly with the manipulation of his body’s instincts.

More than a warm body, Mulciber enjoyed the power of controlling one. And that---God, did that feel good.

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ASHER AVERY‌

“No, you’re just a cunt.”

Asher sat himself down on the edge of Nicholas’s bed, his eyes roaming over his dorm mate. Though, at this point, they had become more than that. They had joined the Death Eaters together, and the secrets that hung in the air between them were damning. For someone who didn’t trust anyone, Asher sure as fuck trusted Nicholas.

His smirk stayed hidden behind the pages of Nicholas’ book, but his eyes peered curiously over the top. A moment lapsed, interrupted only by the swift turn of the book’s page. As he finished the final paragraph, his eyes turned upward again.

“If you’re planning on making a move, you’d best do it before I start this next chapter.”

[mulcibers]

ASHER AVERY‌

Asher sighed, getting off of his bed and making the short trip to Nicholas’s. He stood, looming. 

“I’m still the prettier one.”

“Just don’t say that makes me the luckier one. I won’t be able to stomach it, and I’m nauseous enough as is with the smell of Snape’s sheets.”

[mulcibers]

ASHER AVERY‌

“When you get better looking than me.”

All Nicholas had to offer in response was a cheeky smile. “And so my prior comment still stands.”

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ASHER AVERY‌

“Come here, then. I can fix your face just fine.”

“I always come to you. When are you going to start coming to me?”