#╰ connection // alecto & amycus. ╯

[amongdistantstars-a-blog]

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[wondernimbus]

everything you didn’t say — draco malfoy

pairing: draco malfoy x female!reader

summary: reader has secrets of her own. a party at the malfoy manor reveals them.

a/n: i had to rewrite this bc im dumb n my first draft didn't save which was Very upsetting but anyways i hope you like it :'') 

“Well, don’t you look dashing.”

Draco’s eyes snap up in the mirror.

[Y/N] is standing in his doorway, having somehow opened the door without him noticing. She has one shoulder leaning on the doorframe, arms folded over her chest, eyebrows raised. There is a glint in her eye that Draco knows all too well; that of playfulness, of fondness. One he has long since associated with safety.

He breathes out a short laugh. “How long have you been standing there?” Draco asks, ringed fingers deftly resuming to work on his tie, but he isn’t having much success. He feels far too jittery, and as a result he keeps accidentally knotting it, only to unwind the silk and try again, over and over like some messed up routine.

Watching her through the mirror’s reflection, he sees [Y/N] step into the room. She’s wearing a plain black dress; lace sleeves, collarbones in display, the silver necklace he’d given her hanging around her neck.

“Long enough to find out that you’re a grown seventeen year old who doesn’t know how to tie his own tie.”

Draco still has it in him to roll his eyes, to let out a short-lived laugh. “I do,” he mutters, yanking a little at the fabric in frustration. “It’s just..”

[Y/N] swiftly pads across his room to join him at the dresser, a tiny grin playing across her lips. Standing in front of him, she gently knocks his hands away so as to work on his tie herself.

“Nerves?” she says quietly. The grin on her lips falls slightly as she fixes her gaze on his tie, hands quickly working to loop the loose ends together.

Draco inhales sharply. His palms are clammy, his heart is beating too fast inside of his chest—to say that he’s dealing with nerves would be an understatement.

”You could say that,” he decides, curling and uncurling his fists at his sides. When she looks up to meet his gaze, he tries for a weak smile, if only to quell the storm inside his heart.

”It’ll be fine,” [Y/N] tells him with a pursed smile. She’s done tying his tie. Her hands move to rest on his shoulders, which are covered with his suit jacket. His mother had insisted he wear it, just as her own mother had no doubt insisted [Y/N] wear her dress; it is somewhat of a special occasion, after all, although what they are celebrating is hardly something that neither draco nor [Y/N] feel too ecstatic about it.

”There’ll be drinks,” continues [Y/N] with a lilting tone, thumbs smoothing over the creases of his suit. “And..”

She trails off. There isn’t really much to say.

”Dancing?” Draco suggests half-heartedly.

There is one brief second in which their eyes meet, and both of their lips are already beginning to quirk up at the corners, and then the next they are both breaking out into laughter. And it’s not the kind that hurts your stomach or has you pounding your fists on the ground, but it’s laughter nonetheless—a little rigid, a little heavy-hearted, but it’s just as relieving.

[Y/N]’s shoulders wrack with subtle giggles. “Yeah,” she agrees, nodding. “And I suspect Greyback will be giving a motivational speech.”

Draco feels his lips tug up into a crooked grin. “Hear my aunt might skip out on the party. She’s got knitting to do, you see.”

Both of them let themselves paint a picture inside their head: the infamous, untamed Bellatrix, sitting in a quiet corner with a quilt in her lap, humming a little tune to herself.

[Y/N] throws her head back in a loud laugh, and this time it’s not quite as tense. Draco watches her, laughing quietly on his own, and suddenly his heart doesn’t feel quite so heavy anymore.

He watches as the last of her giggles dissipate, and she is smiling down at her shoes again, and then back up at him.

“We’ll be okay,” she tells him softly, once more reaching out, but not to tie his tie or to smoothen out the creased fabric of his suit, but to card her fingers through his hair the way she knows relaxes him.

Staring down at her—holding her gaze, which is warm and comforting and reminiscent of simpler times, like when she would sneak into his bed at Hogwarts and they would whisper and laugh quietly into the night, taking care not to wake up any of his roommates—Draco allows himself to breathe. To feel like himself again; a boy in love and nothing more.

”Yeah,” he says, closing his eyes, leaning forward to lean his forehead on hers. “Yeah, we will.”

—

Gatherings at the Malfoy Manor were usually a grand event; peacocks would mill about the lawn, some wandering past the large castle doors and into the drawing room, where the guests would stroke their feathers in admiration with one hand and hold a glass of the finest mulled wine in the other as they spoke among themselves, laughing and boasting offhandedly about the ancient living room set they'd imported from France or their children's future careers. Sometimes one would have enough courage to bring up the notion of arranged marriages, only for Narcissa Malfoy to turn them down and say that Draco would choose for himself when the time came, veering the conversation away towards things like ministry connections.

Parties happened often back then—not as much to celebrate as to fill up the overly large halls of the manor with pointless chatter—but things have changed. It’s been a while since the Malfoys last opened their doors to guests.

Does this count as a party? Draco wonders to himself, watching Death Eaters filter into the drawing room, some wearing sickening grins and others looking dead inside.

There are no more wandering peacocks. No more music, no more friendly guests eager to wed their children into the Malfoy family. There are only murderers. Death Eaters. There is laughter, but the kind that has Draco feeling uneasy.

Things have changed. Draco wonders if it's for the better.

He knows he and [Y/N] can't hide here forever—at the edge of the shadowed banister overlooking the entrance hall—but they stay there for as long as they can, until his grim-looking mother comes up the staircase and beckons for them to join the party.

Party. Ha.

So Draco and [Y/N] trail after Narcissa, who leads them into the drawing room, where most of the Death Eaters have gathered. No peacocks, no music, but there is wine, and almost everyone is clutching a glass of it.

He feels [Y/N]'s fingers graze against his. Looking over at her, she sees him staring placidly in front of her, meeting no one's gaze, but she seems to feel his eyes on her—so she turns her head to the side, and Draco sees her facade slip away for the smallest of split seconds as the look on her face softens and she gives him this small, reassuring smile.

He can almost hear her voice inside his head: we'll be okay.

Draco swallows. Nods just a fraction of an inch.

People clap him on the back as he passes, congratulating him and [Y/N] for a job well done at fixing the Vanishing Cabinet. Draco nods mutely and lets [Y/N] do the talking—she has always been better at keeping her composure, masking her true thoughts.

"Could never have imagined it," cackles Alecto Carrow, marching up to them in the middle of the large room. Her cheeks are already tinged pink with intoxication, voice a higher pitch than usual. "Most I expected from you lot was.. well, nothing, really. Doubted you could even fix a dresser, much less a whole bloody cabinet!" she shrieks with laughter, some of the wine from her glass spilling onto the floor.

[Y/N]'s gaze is stony. "Thank you."

Alecto’s nose wrinkles, her chortles dying down. "Thank you?" she repeats. "S'that all you have to say?"

For a brief, horrifying moment, Draco almost thinks [Y/N] is going to bite back with a sarcastic remark—but things have changed and there is a mark on her arm now, so instead she says, flatly, "It wasn’t an easy feat." A slight pause. "We’re just as surprised as you."

Alecto grins. She seems satisfied. "Well, 'course it wasn't an easy feat, or at least for you." She takes a big swig out of her glass. "Could’ve done it myself in ten minutes, isn't that right, Amycus?"

Her brother Amycus snickers but doesn't reply. Draco knows it's because he doubts Alecto's claims just as much as they do; she doesn't seem capable of writing even a bloody paragraph on her own.

"Well," says [Y/N]. "We appreciate your.. praise."

Draco almost snorts. It’s uncharacteristic of her to be so formal, and most of all to take the high road when being insulted. He knows that if things were different, if their lives weren't on the line, she wouldn't be standing here at Draco's side—no, her wand would be at Alecto's throat.

But that little bit of humor quickly fades when Draco finds Amycus staring at [Y/N], uncouth eyes roaming from her lips to her exposed collarbones, the skin hiding just underneath the lace of her sleeves, the dress hugging her figure—

Draco feels anger flare up, hot and heavy inside of his chest. Unconsciously, he finds himself stepping forward, urged on by that unpleasant feeling worming its way into his stomach, curling his hands into fists, tinging the tips of his ears red as his fingers edge closer to the wand inside his pocket.

¨What are you looking at, boy?¨ Amycus sneers, meeting his gaze.

Draco thinks, at that moment, that magic would hardly be fit to put this ugly brute of a man in his place—no, he´d much rather use his fists, pummel them into that crooked nose of his until he kneels at [Y/N]’s feet and begs for her forgiveness, because no one should look at her like that—

[Y/N] is whispering something, but he can´t hear it through the blood rushing in his ears.

But all of a sudden, Amycus’s gaze changes. He is no longer looking at Draco; rather, at something over his shoulder, and then he is bowing his head, eyes downcast.

All it takes Draco is a brief glance behind him to realize why.

He hears [Y/N] now: he’s here. He’s here.

An odd hush has fallen over the large room. The cause is easy to pinpoint; the Dark Lord has appeared at the entrance of the large drawing room, bringing with him a familiar sense of foreboding as everyone’s breath seems to hitch. It’s funny, in a sick way, how easily the atmosphere has shifted from something like ease to suffocating tension. How Alecto, who had been cackling into her glass of wine just moments before, now looks like a dog called to heel. How Amycus has torn his hungry gaze away from [Y/N] to instead stare down obediently at his feet. How Draco’s own parents, who stand a few feet away from the Dark Lord at the entrance, have their lips pursed and their hands clasped in front of them in submission.

Draco would laugh, but he is one of them now, and his head is hung just like the rest of them.

¨My, my,¨ says the Dark Lord, tone soft. ¨What a lovely party.¨

It had been he, the Dark Lord, who had suggested the idea of a celebration to revere in Draco´s and [Y/N]´s success. Not out of fondness, of course, but out of sheer spite for the Malfoys, caused by Lucius’s failure at the Department of Mysteries. This party was just another part of his little mind games; not only had he forced their son, Draco, to let Death Eaters loose inside Hogwarts, but he was now forcing them to celebrate it.

But why is he here?

It had been he who proposed the party, but no one had expected the Dark Lord to actually come. He had other things of actual importance to attend to: things that involved torture and kidnap and blackmail. He was on the brink of taking over the Ministry of Magic, and thus was a busy man—the Dark Lord only goes where he is needed, and not to pointless parties.

Draco swallows.

So why is he here?

¨It is only right, of course,¨ Voldemort continues, his voice still so oddly soft, like he´s addressing children, ¨That we celebrate the success of our young Death Eaters. The task I gave them was not an easy one, I’m afraid, and yet they prevailed, in the end, and proved themselves to us.¨

He wonders if Voldemort has spotted him and [Y/N], and feels bile rise at the back of his throat. Draco doesn´t want him anywhere near her.

Just leave, Draco thinks to himself, his teeth gritted so tight he hears how they scrape inside his skull. Just leave.

“I must admit, a few months ago I had my doubts.. but now here we are, applauding them, congratulating them for a job well done, treating them as one of our own.. welcoming them.”

“Draco.”

[Y/N] has inched closer to him. A moment later she feels her fingers weaving through his, squeezing his palm so tight Draco knows without having to look that her knuckles have turned a ghostly white.

He squeezes back, thinking that she might just be as surprised as him. Just as nervous.

It’ll be okay, he tries to tell her without saying it out loud. He´s too scared to speak. It’ll be okay.

¨And yet even as we toast to their names..¨

Draco keeps his head down. He can hear the sound of Voldemort´s robes rasping against the floor as he moves about the room.

But that is not the only thing he hears. Cold sweat trickles down the side of his temple, because in the Dark Lord’s voice he hears an edge. He senses danger.

A thought bounces around Draco’s skull as he fixes his gaze intently on his shoes: why is he here?

"Even as we welcome them with open arms.. as we let them walk among us unharmed, revered, almost, for their bravery..¨

¨Draco,¨ [Y/N] repeats, a little louder this time but only for his ears, and if the room wasn´t so quiet he wouldn´t have heard her ragged, almost panicked breathing, but it was and he did. 

He senses uneasy movement from behind him. One of the other Death Eaters.

¨Despite our kindness, one of them dares to turn away from us. One of them dares—¨ The Dark Lord´s voice grows colder, angrier, losing control and then all of a sudden softening again after a pregnant pause; ¨One of them dared.. dares to feed information to the fools that call themselves the Order of the Phoenix.¨

Draco hears the collective murmur of surprise that ripples through the room.

“Draco.” [Y/N]’s grip on his hand, if possible, tightens.

¨One of them dares betray us.¨

There is a brief moment of confusion on Draco´s part. He turns his head to look at [Y/N], brows furrowed as he struggles to make sense of the Dark Lord´s words.

But then Draco meets her eyes. Sees the look on her face.

¨I´m sorry,¨ she whispers, and realization hits him like a burst of icy cold water.

¨Seize her,¨ Voldemort says coldly. When Draco looks up, he sees that he is halfway across the room but his gaze is fixed on them—on [Y/N].

Amycus and Alecto are the first to move. They drop their glasses with no hesitation, sending them to the floor where they break into a hundred tiny pieces, and grab [Y/N] by the arms. She resists, wrestling in their arms, but the string of words that leave her mouth aren´t curses, nor are they pleas to let her go; no, they are apologies, repeated over and over again like a mantra as she desperately holds Draco´s gaze—”I’m sorry, Draco. I’m sorry.”

He watches as they yank [Y/N] across the floor, towards the Dark Lord, away from him. His lungs have stopped working, his heart is pounding wildly somewhere inside his throat, and [Y/N] is being roughly thrown at the Dark Lord´s feet—

Draco can´t breathe. His mind is buzzing, blanking out to a field of white, noise and heat colliding and melting until he can´t think through the blood rushing in his ears.

“Pity,” the Dark Lord whispers, gripping her chin harshly, jerking it up so that she would look at him. 

“I thought you'd proved yourself to be worthy of my praise, but instead it seems you've proved yourself to be rather the opposite—“

She snaps her head away. “Fuck you.”

“You, my child, have proved yourself to be a fool.”

“You´re never going to win.”

The Dark Lord seems unfazed. A grin splits wide on his face, stretching his lips into an uncannily amused grin as he stares down at the girl at his feet for a few seconds before nodding—and then turning around, twirling his wand in his hands—when had he pulled it out?

“And now, my brothers and sisters.”

Draco doesn’t feel his feet move underneath him, but they do.

“Lo and behold what happens to ungrateful fools who turn us away believing that they are saving the world, when in fact they are ruining themselves.”

Everything happens so quickly that Draco barely has any time to react; Voldemort raises his wand, and it seems to almost shine in the light as he points it directly towards [Y/N]—the Dark Lord´s mouth opens, the spell resting on the tip of his tongue, [Y/N] at the opposite end of his wand—

“No!”

It’s as though something inside of Draco has snapped, like he is being jarred awake. He doesn´t think—just darts forward with no real goal in mind other than to put himself in between Voldemort and [Y/N], but then there are hands grabbing at his arms, holding him back—

“Let go of me!” his tone is feral. He jabs his elbow into someone´s stomach, trying desperately to wrestle himself free, but the more Death Eaters he rips off of him, the more take their place. “[Y/N]!” he is breathless. “[Y/N]—”

The Dark Lord is going to kill her. He´s going to bloody kill her.

“Draco,” he hears his mother´s voice but doesn’t see her—he´s too busy thrashing wildly in the arms of whoever has hold of him, yelling out profanities and curses and [Y/N]´s name; “Draco, come. You don´t want to see this.”

“Let fucking go of me!”

But then the Dark Lord´s voice cuts through the havoc—¨Let him stay.¨

“[Y/N]!” Draco shouts, gritting his teeth. There are tears in his eyes; he doesn´t realize they´re there until they´ve fallen and he tastes them on his tongue. “Don´t touch her! Don´t fucking touch her!”

But the Dark Lord is, once again, unfazed. He turns his gaze to Draco but doesn´t lower his wand. “Watch, my child,” he says, voice ringing throughout the room, cold and unforgiving. “And pay close attention. This is what happens to cowards. To fools. To ungrateful scum.”

[Y/N]´s back is turned to Draco, and maybe it is better that way, because when the Dark Lord raises his wand, he doesn´t have to see the light leave her eyes.

Draco feels the entire world slow down. A single thought appears inside the ruined mess that is his mind, almost as if it’s mocking him—[Y/N] has always been better at masking her true thoughts. At hiding things; even from him. 

We’ll be okay, [Y/N] had told him.

She had lied.

¨Avada Kedavra!¨

general taglist:  @dancing-in-the-moonlight3 @kalimagik @alittletoomanyobsessions @hariosborn @obsessedwithrandomthings @emcchi @sxrensxngwrites @enjoying-fantasyland21 @masterofthedarkness @siriusly-addicted-to-writing @bforbroadway @hufflefluff-writer @summer-writes @chaotic-fae-queen @firewhisky-kisses @dracosvftie @heloisedaphnebrightmore @idont-knowrn @dreamer821 @peachesandpinks @slytherinprincess03​ @chocfrogaddict @nebulablakemurphy​ ​@kpopgirlbtssvt​ @lumielikesbooks​ @teheharrypotter​ @susceptible-but-siriusexual @chaoticgirl04

[flowercrwnz]

{ cis woman , she/her , 22 , fah yongwaree } during the trial of voldemort’s last major conspirators, flora carrow was spotted. they work as a seeker for puddlemere united. rumor has it they are amiable + felicific, but i’ve heard they're profligate + histrionic. during the battle of hogwarts they didn’t fight. when i think of them, i’m reminded of whimsical laughter from glossy lips, fluttering lashes, a flirtatious wink, perfectly manicured nails, and never having a hair out of place.{ aya , 25 , cst , she/her , & none }

*  :  𝒃𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒔  .

full name. flora carrow-chen ( though chen is often dropped ) nicknames. flor, petal ( by her close friends and family )  date of birth & age. june 6th & 22 gender & pronouns. cis woman & she/her bloodstatus. pureblood orientation. bisexual ethnicity. thai nationality. english occupation. seeker for puddlemere united

*  :  𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒇𝒊𝒍𝒆  .

hogwarts house. slytherin wand. tba ( haven’t decided but she snapped her first wand in half ) patronus. tba reverse amortentia. morning dew, vanilla, and limes

*  :  𝒑𝒉𝒚𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆  .

height. 5′6″ hair color. dark brown eye color. black tattoos. none piercings. double lobe scars. none faceclaim. fah yongwaree

*  :  𝒇𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒚  .

mother. malee carrow-chen father. achilles carrow ( younger sibling of alecto and amycus ) siblings. hestia carrow-chen ( older twin sister )

*  :  𝒉𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒔  .

smoke. no drink. excessively at quidditch after parties drugs. has dabbled

*  :  𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚  .

positive traits. amiable, felicific, ambitious, self-confident, self-aware negative traits. profligate, histrionic, competitive, possessive, manipulative fears. failing, being unworthy of love desires. to be admired and accepted deadly sins. pride, lust virtues. kindness, charity

*  :  𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔  .

her father was not a first born carrow, though the pressure to have a male child was still ever present. she and hestia were disappointments, but flora was treated as even more of a spare. she was unexpected, somehow evading magical detection in the womb and often forgotten by the family. left to her own devices, she developed a personality so different from the carrow’s usual darkness and cruelty.

she was what her aunt and uncle called a bleeding heart and she was often the subject of ridicule at family dinners, the only time they even paid attention to her was to pass out insults. they found her silly, too much of a romantic to properly exist in the world. she rejected the family’s dark teachings and endured ridicule.

during her aunt’s reign at hogwarts she was forced into performing the dark arts on other students. she was not brave and like many snakes her self-preservation was an all-consuming trait. despite her reluctance to perform dark magic she took to it like a charm. her wand seemed to sing whenever she casted a spell and the part of her that felt disconnected to magic suddenly felt whole. 

she ran from the battle, because while her body rejoiced in darkness she knew her mind and her heart could never take the guilt associated with fighting for the dark lord and she could never fight against her family ( even through years of verbal abuse she still felt connected to them ). she was evacuated with the younger students. 

driven by guilt, she broke her wand in half after news of the battle’s deaths hit her.

she does not believe that her aunt & uncle, or even her father deserves leniency for their war crimes and she refuses to speak on their behalf at their trials. 

while the misogyny of the slytherin quidditch team kept her from playing, she had always been a skilled seeker in casual games. 

rather than going back to do an eighth year, she immediately sat for newts and spent the year after the battle on a broom. she tried out for puddlemere the following year and sat the bench for two years before finally making the starting lineup.

she has disconnected herself from her family, even going so far as to refuse her family’s wealth. this does not mean that she’s had to give up her luxuries, quidditch pays well as do the brand deals and modeling opportunities that have come with it.

more to come when i think of them dskjn

*  :  𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔  .

friends

frenemies

enemies

gym buddies

friends with benefits

one-night stand

unrequited crush

exes

[hoaxhq]

not to be rude but i really wish some people would stop writing about other (not yet played) characters' personalities, mannerisms and such in their bios. it makes it really hard to want to take up that character, no matter how much you want it, since you have to fit into a pattern that someone else wrote for you.

hey there! first of all I want to say a quick thanks for feeling comfortable enough to send this ask; this is definitely a nuanced conversation & I’d rather have it than not have it.  

I don’t know that there’s always a way around this problem. personally, writing extensive bios & family backgrounds for my characters can be helpful in developing their characterization. I wouldn’t want to tell our members that they can’t mention their canon connections in their bios. it can be hard to not mention not-currently-taken characters at all. lily’s writer never expected people to be interested in bringing petunia in. when our group had an arthur weasley, he was written as a dad already even before we got a molly. 

just because I’m not going to ban members from mentioning their characters’ canon connections doesn’t mean the things they write are always 100% set in stone — for example, in alecto’s bio I reference amycus being older. I’m down for that to mean amycus is the older twin, or older by a few years, and if someone wanted to play amycus as younger I’d work with them to adjust whatever in my bio I needed to. I’m sure most of our members are the same; if there’s a character you want to take up with canon connections already in play that you want to take in a different direction, you can reach out to the main to get put into contact with them so y’all can talk things out and reach a decision that works best for everyone involved. something similar happened when andromeda’s writer joined the group — I made a whole group chat with narcissa’s writer and the person who wrote bellatrix at the time, and everyone talked things out. 

it might seem daunting but I know our members would rather work with someone who wanted to bring a character in than never see that character taken at all! 

[the-most-slytherin-hufflepuff]

Chapter 2

Here is today’s chapter. This one is the longest one I’ve written. I hope you enjoy it. As always thank you to @heyitssmiller and her anons for inspiring this AU and Credit for the characters goes to @lumosinlove 

@callithemuse

Finn watched from the shadows as the fancy people put the baby in  Celeste’s arms. The small child tried to reach for their parents. Finn watched the woman’s hands shaking, desperate to grab her baby. 

A sob escaped the woman’s lips as her husband held her close. The three adults were murmuring in what Finn recognized as French. After what seemed like an eternity the couple left and Celeste turned to look around the room with the sleeping baby in her arms. 

“You can come out” Celeste's warm voice called out to the dark room where she knew one of her kids was hiding. 

Finn came out of their hiding place, looking curiously at the small figure Celeste was holding. “Who 's that”. 

“This is Logan Tremblay”- her voice was soft and a little sad. 

“Why was the lady crying” Finn was curious about Logan. Why had his parents left him here? Were they ever coming back for him? 

“Madame and Monsieur Tremblay had to leave Logan here” Celeste really didn't want to explain the war that was going on in France to Finn. He was only four, and wouldn’t understand. 

“Do you know why?” Finn’s voice was quiet and a little intrigued, they had started to stroke their little fingers through Logan's brown curls. 

Celeste refused to tell Finn the complete truth, but she could at least try to explain. “Some bad people are doing bad things in Slytherin. His parents want him to be safe.” 

“What’s Slytherin”. Celeste sighed, at least they weren't asking dangerous questions anymore. 

“It’s a small French island. You remember where Dumo and I are from, non?.”- at their small nod she continued- “Well he is from somewhere similar.” 

After that night Finn rarely left Logan’s side. Even though they were a year older than Logan they always stayed with him. Finn had never really connected with any of the other kids in the orphanage. They didn’t have many friends, and Logan didn’t seem to like anyone except Celeste, Pascal and Finn.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Finn was six years old the first time they heard about the prince. His name never came up, they had just heard the adults and older kids mention him. Celeste was talking to her husband about the prince’s kidnapping in their room when she heard the door open and two sets of small feet enter the room. 

Pascal stood up and picked Logan up. “ Êtes-vous ok, mon enfant?". Logan shook his head, Celeste had picked Finn up and asked a similar question. 

“Do you know what happened with the prince?”. Celeste was abruptly taken back to the night Logan was left in their care. Finn had asked a similar question then. 

“A bad person took him mon fils”. Finn’s eyes widened in surprise and they gasped, their hands snapping up to cover their mouth. 

“Why would someone do that”. Logan’s voice came from where he was placed on Pascal’s arms. 

“I don’t know sweetie”- Celeste tried to keep her tone light- “no one really knows why someone would take him”. 

Both children nodded not really understanding. “Can we stay here tonight?”. Finn and Logan had always stayed with them when they were scared or had nightmares. Celeste didn't know if they thought someone would take them too. She hoped they didn't. 

Years went by, but Finn and Logan never really forgot about the prince. No one did. Every year on his birthday all the citizens of Gryffindor would light a floating lantern in hopes that their prince would see them. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Finn and Logan were walking through the forest, content to be in each other's company. After being friends for twenty years, and in a relationship for five, silence like this was natural to them. 

Logan stopped abruptly when he heard two people having a conversation. The voices were so quiet he almost didn’t hear them. When he saw who it was he was glad he had. Alecto and Amycus Carrow were sitting on the grass talking. 

Everyone in Gryffindor knew who the Carrow twins were. Especially since their most recent crime included breaking into the palace and stealing the prince’s crown. The same crown that now sat between them. 

Logan motioned for Finn to follow him. They had to get away from the twins. 

Once they were far away, enough that they wouldn't be heard, Finn spoke up. “We have to do something”. 

“No, no we don't”. Logan wanted to get as far away from that place as possible. 

“Lo” Finn started before they were cut off by Logan. “No Finn. Those are the Carrows. They are not one of the kids from the orphanage stealing an apple for fun, they are wanted criminals that will kill us if they see us.”  

“They don't need to know it was us Lo.” 

“Really”- Logan was starting to believe his partner had lost their mind- “and how, pray tell, are we going to steal a crown from two criminals.”

“Don’t worry love, I have a plan” 

Logan knew he was going to regret it. He should have told Finn no when they said they had a plan. As it turns out Finn’s ‘plan’ was to wait till the Carrows went to sleep so they could sneak past them, grab the bag, and make a run for it.

He had to admit, Finn was good at sneaking around. They had been doing it since forever. This knowledge did absolutely nothing to calm Logan down when Finn grabbed the bag, or when they started tip-toeing back to where Logan was keeping watch. He knew something had to go wrong. 

Logan started to believe they had gotten lucky, until he saw Alecto waking. 

Logan grabbed Finn by the arm and began running. They had to put as much distance as they could between them and the twins before the two criminals could get up and start chasing them. 

There was a small flaw in Finn’s plan that they had not accounted for. Neither Finn nor Logan knew where they were. They were running blindly through the dark forest, the only source of light was the half full moon above them. 

Finn could hear the twins shouting behind them, but they didn't dare look back. They just kept running. Swerving through trees and rocks to try and lose their persecutors. 

Logan couldn't hear the footsteps behind them anymore. He chanced a glance back at the twins, but they weren’t there. Logan saw a small cave and ran towards it. If they could hide in there they would be fine, they had to be. 

Logan only stopped running when they reached the darkest corner of the cave. He sat down once he was sure they had lost the twins and wouldn't have to start running again. 

Finn sat besides Logan and leaned their head on his shoulder. They decided to break the silence that had settled over them.“Just like old times huh.” 

“No baby”- Logan said in between giggles- “this is nothing like old times. Celeste never tried to kill us for stealing from the kitchens.” 

Both were giggling uncontrollably by the end of Logan’s sentence. Logan laced their fingers together, both of them lapsing back to comfortable silnce.  

Finn noticed moonlight filtering through the ivy that covered one of the cave walls. They lifted their head from Logan’s shoulder and got up. They brushed their hands through the ivy expecting to feel rock, instead their hand went straight through the plants.  

“Sweetheart” they called out to Logan. 

“Yes?” Logan had gotten up and started walking towards Finn. 

Finn waited till their boyfriend was at their side before answering. “Look at this”. Finn walked through the plants, the ivy tickling their face. When they saw what was on the other side they gasped. 

Logan walked through after his partner and froze. Standing in front of them was a stone tower surrounded by a small clearing with a waterfall. The tower only had a small window.  

“Hey Finn”- Logan began- “is there anything we can use to climb this thing in that bag.”

Finn looked inside the bag and saw a pair of daggers. “Would these work?” they asked Logan, showing him the knives. 

Logan grinned and grabbed one of the daggers. It was better than climbing the stone with his bare hands. 

The two of them climbed to the top of the tower and went through the window.

 They didn't get to see much of the inside before something was slammed on the back of their heads hard and the world went dark. 

[carrowscurse]

BASICS

NAME: Amycus Carrow

AGE: 20 years

PRIMARY: Wigtown Wizardry School, 1978

HOGWARTS: Slytherin, September 1978 - Present

OCCUPATION: Sales Associate at Dystyl Phalanges

BLOOD STATUS: pureblood

TRAUMA DUMP

When twin girls arrived, they were accompanied by sighs of relief. The Carrows could barely afford to feed one baby, let alone two. But witches of the Sacred 28 were a valuable commodity. They were happy to secure bright futures with pure husbands, and let the Carrow name die while it still clung to its last few shreds of dignity.

It was Aly who led the way out of the womb, and Amy has been closely following her sister’s direction ever since. Amy would do anything for Alecto, even things she detests, things she doesn’t understand. To let her loyalty to her sister waver would be to betray her.

At the age of eleven, while children all across the world were preparing to begin their magical education, Amycus’ hair began to turn gray. Simple genetics, said the Healers, nothing to be done about it. Alecto agreed; they attributed it to the Carrows’ Curse. Amy has ever since been coloring her hair, usually with beauty potion kits, as her spellwork is too shaky to be anywhere near her head.

Getting into Hogwarts was baffling feat, and to this day, Amy still isn’t sure how she did it. She was kicked out of Cork for poor marks after a single semester, and barely managed a small handful of O.W.L.s. Just enough to apply for her degree: Herbology. After nearly flunking out in her first year, Amy downgraded to a certificate in Herbology. Not only was it more manageable, but it was cheaper.

When Amy arrived at Hogwarts, she fell in love with the Junior Witches League. Finally, a chance to be surrounded by witches like her, to have friends that ran in the same circles as her fiancé. But for Amy, making friends was easier said than done. Most of them, she found their attention difficult to earn, and their respect even more expensive than that. Rather than admit she couldn’t afford to keep up with dues, Amy began to distance herself from the witches. She bitterly wonders sometimes how different things would be if she weren’t a Carrow, but a person who had any money instead.

Amy was twelve when her parents found her a match. For her, it was love at first sight. They began a proper courtship when she turned fifteen, and Amy was head over heels in love. The world came crashing down at her feet in the middle of her first year at university. Her beloved’s family publicly rejected The Dark Lord. The Carrows broke the betrothal at the news, and what was even more devastating was that her now ex-fiancé refused to see her. Amy is still nursing her broken heart, and her parents are still seeking a new suitor.

SEX & DRUGS & ROCK ‘N’ ROLL

** indicates an open connection, as the role is no longer in play

**NAME TBD: August 1975 - February 1979

ex-betrothed; his family spoke out against The Dark Lord, and their parents mutually broke the betrothal

[felixmacmillan]

THE STORY THUS FAR…

EARLY LIFE

Felix is the middle child of the Macmillan bunch—with Fitz (the oldest, Ravenclaw ‘79) and Felicity (the baby, Ravenclaw ‘82). He’s lived much of his life in Appleby.

He learned at an early age that he was a squib and generally took the news quite well. He had a family that loved and supported him regardless of his magical abilities (or rather, lack thereof). Not to mention, his Aunt Liza is also a squib, and helped to co-found the Society for the Support of Squibs and even led activists during protests in 1968. 

Needless to say, he grew up with lots of support and idolized his aunt, wanting to follow in her footsteps. 

1977

In the early spring, Felix and other younger members of the S.S.S. decided to protest a restaurant in Banchory that refused service to a squib. The demonstration quickly turned ugly, with wixen sending hexes and more their way. 

Felix emerged with a few injuries and a whole lot of PTSD. Aunt Liza’s injuries resulted in a permanent disability. 

This was the first time his juvenile youth ever saw how rotten the world could be, and he really started withdrawing into himself. 

In June, he began dating his long-time friend Mae Bragnam. He fell hard and quickly, but the relationship was ultimately a “right person, wrong time” kind of dynamic. 

1978

Felix began slowly pulling away from the Wizarding World, with Mae being one of his few connections left besides his family. 

Their relationship ended in May, and it was pretty bad, emotions definitely running high—which Felix still regrets since they were friends for so long before they dated. 

1979

By this time, Felix fully engrossed himself in the muggle world, hardly having contact with old wixen buddies. Really, he was scared of getting hurt again and was very much still dealing with PTSD but without the proper care he needed. 

His older brother’s long-time engagement (betrothal, depending on who you ask) to Amycus Carrow ended in February. Felix was, admittedly, upset about it because he always found Amy to be friendly albeit somewhat dim. But also, it gave him an excuse to spend more time with Alecto Carrow, whose dynamic energy captivated him. 

Aly and Felix soon began a relationship. A serious one, in his opinion, but Aly really only sought to manipulate and gaslight him. Basically, it was a very narcissistic relationship, which Felix couldn’t see. 

Aly swore him to secrecy so to not upset Amy and Fitz, but in actuality this made it much easier to manipulate Felix—as his family and friends simply couldn’t see the full picture. 

He lost his virginity to Aly and very much so believed her to be his Dream Girl. 

1980 

Eventually, Aly grew tired of Felix and dumped him. On his birthday. He didn’t take it well. 

In August, he started at the University of Manchester for a degree in philosophy. 

He also works an internship at the WWN as an assistant (glorified coffee fetcher). 

Since the fall of the Statute, Felix is starting to get more comfortable within the Wizarding world again. These are scary times, but part of him can’t help but feel hopeful. If muggles can accept wixen, certainly the time will come for wixen to view squibs as equals, right? 

KISS & TELL

1980

June 1979 - 13 April / Alecto Carrow / committed relationship 

1978

June 1977 - May / Mae Bragnam / committed relationship 

[eleanoryaxley]

Where: The Grave Affair cloakroom Who: @alectocxrrow​

As far as Eleanor can tell, no one quite gets twins like another twin. People ask questions and make assumptions but no one truly understands what it’s like to have someone at your side, pretty much from the moment you’re born. Or a few few minutes after in Eleanor’s case. It was half the reason she always thought that her and Victor both got on so well with the Carrow twins. Despite being vastly different, they were both friends with Alecto and Amycus, another pair of boy and girl twins. The point being, twins have a certain connection that others can’t fathom and this connection was leaving a pit in Eleanor’s stomach. 

It always happened really, when she hadn’t seen him in a while, finding the separation a bit unnatural from someone she quite literally shared a womb with. Usually nothing was wrong, but he had just been drawing away from her more than ever lately and the feeling left her on edge. It was this feeling that finally pushed her enough to talk to Alecto, when she noticed her finishing up her shift at the same time. She grabbed her coat and folded it over her arm as she walked towards the red head, a smile already on her face though the nerves in her stomach only grew. This time not over her brother, but how long it had been since she had had a proper conversation with Alecto.

“Hey,” she greeted, running a hand through her hair. “Busy shift tonight?” she asked conversationally. “It looked chaotic from the stage but you know they never put enough staff on Friday nights.”

[alvcto]

( cis woman | she&her | cemre baysel ) —— isn’t that ALECTO CARROW? yeah that is them, sitting there at the SLYTHERIN table with those other SEVENTH years. when sybill looks into that crystal ball of hers, she sees the child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth; a cracked mirror framed with gold; crushing tightness in your chest; spells whispered in the dark; it’s better to not feel anything at all; the calm before a storm; . anyway i’ve heard they’re pretty SHREWD, SPITEFUL, and UNSCRUPULOUS. apparently they’re a VENIT TEMPESTAS/DEATH EATER and PUREBLOOD but i’m sure that’s not related. —— [ aaliyah : gmt+2 : 22 : she&her ]

tw:: abuse

name: alecto amaltheia carrow birthday: june 14th, 1959 blood status: pureblood sexuality: homosexual affiliation: death eaters spoken languages: english, turkish, latin, french

perhaps alecto carrow could’ve been someone else. as a little girl she was soft-spoken, gentle & loved to read. not a mean bone in her body, the carrow’s friends would say. she would spend her free time playing with the house elves or keep herself up all night so she could finish yet another story at the carrow library. her parents thought it was pathetic. 

the carrow household was devoid of any warmth or affection. it was a cold, soulless place. what the carrows considered disclipline would often border with punishment.. and even more often with abuse, both physical and verbal. amycus was her anchor, alecto would say. she couldn’t even imagine surviving any of that without her brother.

there’s a saying that goes, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. that wasn’t the case with alecto carrow. she grew to be full of hatred; spiteful, possessive. she felt the need to be in control of everyone and everything around her; she would switch between aloofness, attempting to bottle up her feelings until.. she couldn’t anymore and simply exploded. slow to forgive & one to never forget anyone who has ever wronged her. her wrath has no bounds.

her parents have never expected anything more of her than keeping her mouth shut & to find herself a nice, proper pureblooded husband. a good match has been in the search for quite some time now; the carrows would throw dinner parties, introduce their daughter to family friends and their sons. being with boys.. it felt wrong. for some time, alecto thought there had to be something wrong with her, or that love had been yet another book trope that only existed in fantasy. that was, until she got her first girlfriend. 

alecto despises her parents. she has always craved power; power of her own. being in the position to hurt someone has always made alecto feel good, even if it’s a short rush. which is why alecto has taken the dark mark; she does believe in the cause, but it’s not her main motivation.

it’s hard to be alecto carrow’s friend or lover; some failed relationships have caused her to close off even more when it comes to letting herself be vulnerable with someone. vulerability equals weakness in her mind.

wanted connections:

best friend/s. i imagine they’d be quite the toxic bunch.

past flings. nothing too serious.

most recent ex. alecto actually ended up falling for this girl. their relationship was messy, but passionate - it made alecto feel alive. the break up was the messiest of them all, though and now these two can barely stand to be in each other’s presence.

partner in crime. someone who’s always down to break the rules or dabble in the dark. 

fake boyfriend. most likely a friend that alecto drags along to family dinner so her parents can get off her back about betrothals. or this person and alecto owe each other favours. 

[chaoswillfallrpg]

AMYCUS CARROW is TWENTY-FOUR YEARS OLD and a BARMAN at THE GRAVE AFFAIR in KNOCKTURN ALLEY. He looks remarkably like DACRE MONTGOMERY and considers himself NEUTRAL. He is currently OPEN.

→ OVERVIEW:

tw: death

The strong, silent and sadistic type, Amycus Carrow has always enjoyed feeling like the most powerful person in the room, no matter what it takes for him to gain that feeling he craves. The eldest child of IRIS HOOKUM and EROS CARROW, Amycus has always been someone who liked to cause mischief but knew when exactly to step aside and allow everyone around him to take the fall when the going gets tough. A strong yet silent charmer, despite his beauty Amycus has been used to being slightly overlooked due to the large personality of his twin sister ALECTO. A few minutes separate Amycus from his younger sister, though in his mind it might as well have been a decade. His best friend from the moment she was born, Amycus wasn’t exactly certain when he had made the pact with himself to protect Alecto but he has spent a lifetime looking out for her and oftentimes taking the brunt of punishment for her actions. A schemer, Amycus enjoyed playing small pranks on the elves they had working at Carrow House. Curious about their magic, Amycus enjoyed prodding the elves to see what magic they might use against him and if despite his youth he would be able to counter their magic. The game between him and the elves was one of cat and mouse and began his interest in pressing the buttons of others to gauge how much he would get away with. For Amycus it was all about power. How much power could he wield over others and what he had in his possession.

When some elves were promptly punished and dismissed by his mother for their insolence, he didn’t feel sorrow as many children did. Amycus felt pride. Proud he had engineered such an encounter and interested to see what else he could get away with. Alecto also enjoyed punishing the house elves, though Amycus noted that it came from a completely different place for his sister. Alecto was consumed with rage, enjoying the pain she inflicted on others and doing anything in her power to feel the thrill of the reactions she garnered from both the elves and their family. At first, his mother presumed Alecto to be behaving out of childish wickedness, but as she got older it hinted as something a little darker. Alecto loved chaos and to be the master of it sitting at the helm and watching drama unfold before her pale green eyes. Despite his sister being quite willing to throw him under the Knight Bus headed straight for London in order to get out of trouble, Amycus felt very protective over her. If Alecto took some scissors to his mother’s gowns in anger, Amycus was found holding them. She wanted to eat biscuits before dinner, he was caught by their father getting them off the shelf and passing them to his sister. Having a very mischievous side, Amycus was always happy to aid Alecto in any of her schemes and took little to no persuasion to be part of her double act, but when their parents eyes focused in on them, Alecto was quick to point the finger and Amycus was happy for her to do it.

They were different in their pursuits of chaos. Amycus liked to get his hands dirty, Alecto preferred to watch other people carry out her dirty work for her. Alecto was the only person he would ever take the heat for, otherwise Amycus was quite a selfish person but his selflessness for his sister cost him his relationship with his father to a degree. Alecto was their father’s undisputed favourite, whilst Amycus held the favour of their mother. Though both the twins were high spirited, Amycus was more predictable than his sister. Away at school, he continued his role of keeper to Alecto. Slotting into a group of mischievous fellow Slytherins which jettisoned off NARCISSA BLACK’s court of subjects, drawing out the cruelty in an otherwise subdued VICTOR YAXELY and giving WILLIAM GOYLE and outlet for all of his most wicked thoughts and feelings. Narcissa might have ruled Slytherin with a cold heart and an iron fist, but Amycus and Alecto left people running scared. Muggle-Borns in particular ran in fear, but some fought back. MEAGHAN MCCORMACK was particularly mouthy, but Amycus enjoyed seeing how his persistence might mentally break her down. That was Amycus bread and butter long before he would learn of the unforgivable curses, toying with the kids of others like a cat with a ball. Even his own friends weren’t safe. Amycus had long suspected his best friend Victor as having feelings for him which Amycus mainly entertained for his own enjoyment. 

The reality of it was Amycus was only drawn in by people of strength and whilst most people found Victor’s twin sister ELEANOR YAXLEY unbearable, Amycus could see more of a future with her due to her unwillingness to be walked on. Amycus had a very high opinion of himself and whilst he has enjoyed various flings throughout his life, he truly believes no one is his intellectual match. At school, this high opinion of himself manifested in his attitude to teachers, constant trips in and out of detention hindering his grades and stunting whatever natural ability he had. Despite being a talented wizard, his arrogance and willingness to protect his sister above all else ensured his future would only ever be as the head of Carrow House. Alecto by his side and elves at their back and call it was enough for him, but his mother wanted more for her children. The Carrow twins might have been horrible characters but they were very beautiful and from a Sacred Twenty-Eight family which instantly made them desirable prospects for people who might try and tame them or had aspirations of marrying into an elite family. Eros had very little interest in marrying off his children, but cared about the continuation of their line and needed at least one child to carry it forward. Amycus had very little interest in children and was bored by the idea of marriage but allowed his mother to do her very best to try and match them up with someone.

If Amycus was to marry he wanted a challenge and would only settle for his equal in charm, beauty, blood and intellect, which was a fairly tall order. PERSEPHONE WILKES was a witch who liked things her own way and played second fiddle to no one which Amycus found interesting. Over the course of their courtship, Amycus tried his best to get in her head and under her skin, but only found boredom and distain from her. Tired, he focused his attention on trying to steal away THORFINN ROWLE from under ANASTASIA DUPONT’s nose but that only entertained him for so long. Iris was irritated by his behaviour who seemingly was showing the door to any suitor who knocked on it including Victor Yaxley but at the very least someone was there knocking. No one was even stupid enough to try to make a play for his sister and this realisation made his mother resort to desperate actions. Urging Eros to join the poker nights of CECCILY GREENGRASS, CYGNUS BLACK, WALBURGA BLACK, ILLAR TRAVERS and EELIS BURKE in the hopes of marrying off Alecto. It was eventually decided Alecto would be passed off to CAIUS BURKE, filling their mother wit joy, Alecto with anger and Amycus into fits of laughter. With his mother drawing up a contract with the Burke family, Amycus was left to his own devices, as was his father who had gotten a real taste for gambling whilst the back of his family was turned. Quietly, Eros had been getting a hole of debt which saw Ceccily Greengrass in possession of their home and demanding money from the family they no longer had. It wasn’t long before RITA SKEETER found out and it became known the family was broke. 

Alecto lost her contract, powerful people lost interest in Amycus and suddenly they had nothing. Power and status was everything to Amycus and now the stares of fear and admiration in his friends and foe had been replaced by pity. He was disgusted. Like a flash, his life had changed. He was the heir of Carrow House and now he was serving drinks to his friends at The Grave Affair. His reputation had followed him and his sister and it seemed that only CHRISTIANO and ANDRESSA PARKINSON felt pity for their situation. Amycus and Alecto did their best to pass their sentence working at the bar, conning people out of their money and mixing drinks that were so strong they could knock you out to those they despised. It was a small shred of what he had but it didn’t make him happy. Then one day he set his sights on someone who brought a glimmer of hope back into his life. LUCILLE JONES was a slightly older witch with so much self-confidence she seemed like a tough nut to crack. From a liberal family with a wicked streak similar to his own, Amycus has been slowly getting to know her and has felt shards of himself return as he watches her from across the bar. Although Amycus never thought someone would be able to play his intellectual games, Lucille has proven a formidable opponent, even if she is only a Half-Blood. With the aim of getting Lucille like putty in his hands, Amycus is interested to see how much he can get to do for him. Give him inside information? Steal from her aunt? Turn her family? Only time will tell.

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION:

Blood Status → Pure-Blood

Pronouns → He/Him

Identification → Cis Male

Sexuality  → Pansexual

Relationship Status → Single

Previous Education →  Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Slytherin)

Societies → N/A

Family → Alecto Carrow (sister/best friend/colleague), Primrose Jorkins (estranged cousin), Daisy Hookum (estranged cousin), Poppy Hookum (estranged cousin/adversary)

Connections  → Victor Yaxley (best friend), William Goyle (close friend), Persephone Wilkes (close friend), Violet Bulstrode (close friend), Lucie Hollow (close friend), Walden MacNair (close friend), Eleanor Yaxley (friend/colleague), Narcissa Black (friend), Rabastan Lestrange (friend), Andressa Parkinson (boss), Christiano Parkinson (boss), Adrasteia Greengrass (colleague), Rita Skeeter (adversary), Lucille Jones (acquaintance), Tilden Toots (former adversary) 

Future Information → Eventual Death Eater, Father of Flora and Hestia Carrow, Defence Against The Dark Arts Teacher and Deputy Headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

AMYCUS CARROW IS A LEVEL 5 WIZARD.

[irresistiibles]

Was that [LEE SOOHYUK]? Oh no no, that was just [AMYCUS CARROW], a [CANON CHARACTER] from [HARRY POTTER]. They are [TWENTY FOUR] years old and [ARE] aware that they are not actually from Washington DC. Too bad they can’t stray from this city for long.

waddup welcome i have decided to play an absolutely asshole

he’s definitely what you would imagine for an asshole slytherin deatheater, so the absolute fucking worst. he’s a cruel little shit, who at the very least believes purebloods should be able to do what they want without a pile of restrictions in the way.

and he’s always really been an asshole. he was raised to be one and then even once he was old enough to think about it for himself his doubts were never really about whether he was better than people, just in smaller things like methods or what expectations he should be forced to follow

he’s still follow them though, just be pissy about it

was a death eater in the first wizarding war and a high ranking one at that. has an easy streak for violence and is almost definitely somewhat sadistic. doesn’t regret getting his dark mark but does find it a little annoying that it was something always guaranteed for him in life. he’s obnoxious enough that he truly wants to be able to do whatever the hell he wants even beyond family expectations, but he does believe becoming a death eater was a step towards that direction. despite that he will always feel the lingering weight of a family name. while also throwing around his background with way too much pride.

a paranoid little shit in the way anyone would be when you live a life that would give you a lot of enemies and grow up expected to continue the carrow line. he doesn’t show it but amycus keeps track of just about any little details he can. the wiki on him says maybe he’s not too smart and i elect to ignore that. he’s not necessarily the best at thinking on his feet but he makes several plans for everything in advance to make up for it. 

all in all likes to feel in control and what better way to get that tha forcing your was to a place of power and hurting other people in the process.

is also pretty self-serving. like he gets along with most death eaters and purebloods, absolutely, but when it comes down to it he’s the number one priority, with alecto probably being second. will he kill people for the death eaters? yes. would he throw one under the bus to get himself out of trouble? probably also yes

would probably be able to get along well enough with any deatheaters or connected purebloods and that’s about it, though he is not above playing friendly to manipulate somebody if it feels like there’s something to gain. if not he’s probably a jackass.

is comfortably betrothed to emma vanity. it’s a necessity for continuing on a pureblood line and they get along well and that’s really good enough. they have a good understanding that nothing is really going to be happening between them and that they can do what they want though not sure how much of a relationship guy amycus is at all. there could maybe be a fling or two to blow off seam but that’s probably it

will flesh out a bit more about job and hobbies and stuff tomorrow today has been a haul but i absolutely wanted to make sure i got this out. he’s probably running some sort of business or something though. he’s definitely got cash money and spends it like someone who wants everyone to know he’s rich.

[camelliacats]

at last, with you (part 4/4)

The conclusion to the Carrows' tale with Rowle—a sequel to this and set partly concurrently with this.

Act III: "Post-Hogwarts" [FFN] [AO3] | ← | start from the beginning

Pairings/Characters: Alecto Carrow/Thorfinn Rowle, Amycus Carrow, Evan Rosier, Mulciber, Avery, Voldemort, & an OC, with supporting roles/cameos from Bellatrix Lestrange, Rodolphus Lestrange, & Barty Crouch, Jr., & mentions of others

Rating: T

Words: ~7,350

Additional info: romance, gen fic, family, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, violence, Dark magic, Marauder era, Harry's era, 3rd person POV

Summary: While incapacitated, Alecto rethinks her life—childhood, school life, adulthood—and wonders if there's still time for a tweak or two. Ch4: Alecto starts life anew without Amycus or Rowle by her side. But the best laid plans don't always happen the way one wants them to play out.

Act III: Post-Hogwarts

       Alecto begins her new life homeless but not penniless. Petronelle thought years ago the goblins had miscounted the gold in the family vault. Alas, the goblins paid the price for Akillios' doting: He's been owling Alecto small amounts of money over the years, like some sort of allowance or perhaps in preparation for the inevitability that Alecto wouldn't come home after Hogwarts.

      With every coin saved and magic on her side, Alecto believes she can brave adulthood, at least long enough to execute her plan. She cannot go after Petronelle immediately, though. No, Petronelle will be on alert, and Amycus must still call that house home for now. He is in danger, but he and Alecto can hang on, must hang on for a little longer…

      The only thing Alecto couldn't've prepared for was the overwhelming loneliness. It doesn't matter where she Apparates. It doesn't matter, the fascinating faces she comes across. It is not the same, not having the boys around.

      She longs for Rowle's arms around her, holding her up.

      But she misses Amycus as though she misses a part of herself.

      (Is it possible? That magic makes them twins anyhow, despite the years between them? Maybe this is just another of Akillios' lies.)

      But lazy, unburdened people have time to be lonely, and Alecto is neither of those. Her last two years of schooling went by too quickly for her liking, and she knows Amycus will catch up to her soon enough, so she doesn't have much time to wrap this all up before he gets involved. She needs to get a move on.

      With her plans to kill Petronelle at the forefront of her mind, Alecto mulls over the old memory of Mulciber and Rosier discussing Bellatrix Black. There are articles in The Daily Prophet about hooded figures committing all sorts of crimes, and the uptick in body count coincides with Bellatrix's life after school. One can only guess at the connection.

      But if there is one, Alecto imagines they have the knowledge, the magic she needs. The trouble is talking to the right people. As Akillios and Petronelle have made so painfully clear over her lifetime, the Carrow name is not one Alecto will find of use anymore. But…but…

      Alecto has no business with the old pureblood families. But many of them still have old family haunts somewhere in Diagon Alley. Evan Rosier's she finds just inside the entrance to Knockturn Alley, which Alecto braves halfway through her first summer as a new, adult member of the Wizarding world.

      The tiny store, a cloak shop, isn't very wide. Alecto turns to her side to avoid bumping into displays of robes made from fabrics she can't name and can't afford. Her entrance earns her the attention of the two patrons and the shopkeeper. One patron narrows his eyes at her.

      "I need to talk with you," she addresses Rosier.

      He straightens up from where he leans on the counter. "I don't speak with people I don't know."

      "Fine. Just tell me where to find Mulciber then."

      His handsome face is impassive, but the muscle twitch in his jaw gives him away. "Why should I?"

      "Are you telling me you're no longer bosom buddies?" Dammit. This isn't how she wanted to address him. Rosier and those sorts—they seem the kind pleased most by groveling. She's gone and fucked this all up, hasn't she?

      Rosier snorts and rolls his eyes. He's…amused? "So adamant. Well, Mulce has less discerning tastes than I," he remarks. He turns on his well-shined heel and beckons with a hand over his shoulder. "Follow me."

      Alecto tenses but goes after him out the back. The entire time, her wand's in her hand, concerned for what to expect.

      Outside, in an even tinier alleyway that leads to nowhere, Rosier and Alecto cross paths with Mulciber, who brushes ash from his dark hair that he wears in a very obvious, very poor imitation of Sirius Black. But Mulciber isn't alone. Sitting on a crate opposite Mulciber is someone who matches Mulciber in terms of nastiness, if Scabior's old gossip still holds true: Avery.

      Alecto has never felt shorter in her entire life. She is outnumbered and completely unaware of what may come.

      Avery eyes her as though he doesn't trust her, but Mulciber simply scowls. "Evan, what the fuck."

      "She barged into the shop," Rosier says. "Wants to speak with you."

      That changes Mulciber's tone. He stops leaning against the building and puts out his cigarette. His grin is yellow as he peers down at Alecto. "I'd say I've had worse, but eh."

      Alecto thinks of Petronelle's stings. It gives her the courage to brandish her wand, press it to Mulciber's throat. "I'm here to talk, pig," she spits. "Sit back down," she snarls when Avery moves out of the corner of her eye. Rosier muffles a laugh, but she considers him a threat, too.

      "Then talk," Mulciber growls.

      "You had an interest in Dark magic at school. I heard you tried to practice it a time or two, even, on some unsuspecting Gryffindors."

      "Your point?"

      "You either teach me every spell you know or take me to someone who can."

      Mulciber furrows his brow. Over Alecto's head, he shares a look with Avery and then Rosier. His dark eyes return to her face. "No clue what you're talking about."

      She pushes her wand harder, forcing the tip under his neck, as though it might pierce the skin before she casts a spell. "I heard you. Nearly two years ago, bragging about Bellatrix Black and bodies. You said you wanted a part of that action. If you're in a grimy place like this on a weekday afternoon instead of at work, I'm guessing you found it."

      What little cockiness he has vanishes. His eyes flicker first to Rosier and then to Avery, keeping the thuggish wizard seated on his overturned crate. "You know nothing. Go home, you stupid bitch."

      It's the mention of "home" that sets her off. It's the only Unforgivable Curse she found details on in one of the Restricted books she selected—the other books were worthless, but Alecto has long figured this spell is fate. "CRUCIO!"

      Mulciber screams and drops to his knees. But Alecto's spell isn't strong enough, for he pants and holds up a hand, again keeping Avery at bay. Rosier, for his part, looks ready to abandon ship. Mulciber staggers back to his feet and glares down his nose at Alecto. "…you learned that on your own, and you want more?"

      She nods.

      Mulciber cocks his head before he laughs, and Rosier chuckles, too. "Consider yourself heard then, witch."

      "My name," she corrects, enjoying his jolt when she points her wand at him again, "is Alecto Carrow. Do not make me repeat it and do not forget it."

      Avery does not seem inclined to speak with her around, so whatever his opinion is he shares it via glares and furrowed brows before Mulciber and Rosier escort Alecto back through the shop, Mulciber leading the way. Avery tags along, reluctantly, pulling up the rear behind Rosier, who only ever gives Alecto the impression that he keeps with this crowd because they entertain him.

      Back out on Knockturn Alley where they have more room to move, Mulciber waves to Rosier. "Evan, if you will."

      Alecto glances up at Rosier. He doesn't grab her. He waits patiently for a second, with the sophisticated air that Alecto thinks she's seen before, in someone else, many years ago. His hair is a reddish brown and his eyes are a deeper brown, but his poise reminds her too much of Narcissa Black. And Narcissa's shadow threatens to return, to follow Alecto once more as Rosier says, "Side-Along Apparition. You ready?"

      Avery scoffs. "Soft," he growls before Disapparating. Mulciber shrugs and follows, glad he doesn't have to assist.

      Alecto's resigned to her fate and takes his hand. "Carry on, then."

      Side-Along doesn't hit her the way it did that first time, her first trip to Diagon Alley before she began school. Perhaps because she's gotten more used to practicing Apparition? She prefers flying, but she knows they would've doubtful taken her anywhere to which she could retrace a path via air or ground.

      But once her reminiscence fades, Alecto seizes for half a beat, fearing she's back home. It takes her another moment to realize the footprint's wrong, that there's a doorway missing where she'd expect to see one at home and that it's too black and shiny here. At the house Akillios and Petronelle keep, it's muted blues and grays mostly, but that's because the last house-elf Petronelle keeps can't keep up with all his tasks since Petronelle's terrorizing is a constant interruption.

      Rosier and Avery watch her closely, but Alecto marches after Mulciber down a black marble hall. Mulciber walks around as though he owns the place…until he comes upon a cracked set of double doors and leads their group inside.

      There rests a long table that seats a dozen. The table is empty, but at the head sits a jet-haired, curly-haired woman with a gaunt man behind her chair. Both heads swivel their way.

      "Fresh meat," Mulciber announces, as if that's any sort of introduction.

      The woman, a witch, flicks her wand, and Alecto draws close to the new duo against her will. "We don't take your leftovers, Mulciber," the witch says.

      "Not this one," he insists. "She came looking for us. Not me, really—for you. She wants to sign up."

      The witch's eyes light up. When the whites of her eyes show, her irises and pupils blend to endless night. A person could get sucked in and drown. "Really, now?" The arch of her eyebrows is interested and elegant and a trademark of the Black sisters. Bellatrix Black's attention is on Alecto Carrow.

      "My name is—"

      Bellatrix narrows her eyes at Alecto. "I wasn't speaking to you." She looks behind her, to the trio of young wizards. "And who thought you'd just bring her here, directly to me and Rodolphus?"

      One of them swallows nervously. "She—She cast the Cruciatus Curse on me," Mulciber weakly points out.

      "Boo-fucking-hoo, Mulciber. What do I care?"

      "She learned it on her own. That's Carrow's girl, fresh out of Hogwarts."

      Silence. Ticking fills the room, echoes in the house; there's a grandfather clock somewhere nearby. Then Bellatrix smiles at the wizard trio. "Leave us."

      A minute later, the doors are closed and Alecto's back on her feet, standing on her own without the help of magic. Bellatrix rises from her chair while Rodolphus circles the two slowly.

      "Your name," Bellatrix prompts.

      "Alecto Carrow," Alecto says, proud of the confidence in her voice. (Akillios' teaching sticks with her. A Carrow is confident. Always.)

      Bellatrix can go for a long time without blinking; it's unnerving. "Which Carrow line?"

      Ah. So she knows the old families better than does Alecto, to know about the split. "Akillios is my father; Ajax is his."

      Bellatrix pulls a face. It's like watching Narcissa evaluate her after all this time, a dark-haired Narcissa who finally was made aware of her existence and now agrees that Petronelle could've had better. But Bellatrix doesn't wipe her memories and turn her away. "What brings you here?"

      Alecto clenches her teeth. She had hoped to learn magic and leave, not disclose her plans.

      "What brings you here?" Bellatrix repeats, her voice louder, stronger. Rodolphus stops his loop at Bellatrix's right hand, watching the exchange.

      "Petronelle. I want to kill Petronelle."

      Bellatrix…smiles. No, sneers? No, smirks. In truth, there is no word that exists to describe the evil thing painted across Bellatrix's dark red lips. "Rodolphus, dear, remind me: Didn't Petronelle marry Akillios?"

      He nods, his black hair moving like a flimsy curtain around his face. "Their Carrow line comes from Akillios' marriage to Petronelle Blishwick. The Blishwicks are still purebloods. But the Carrows have been half for generations."

      "So tell me, Alecto Blishwick Carrow," Bellatrix taunts, "why should I condone the killing of a pureblood? You have no idea what it is we do around here, do you?"

      Alecto nearly drops her eyes to the ground. It's as though fifteen years have been all for naught, surviving, making it this far. She has never been called that, had her name associated with her mother's, and she never wants to hear it again.

      But what can she do to convince them? Maybe she didn't understand Mulciber's meaning of "filth," but—oh.

      "I want to rid the world of those who are less than me. And I want to start with Petronelle." She pours her fury and vengeance into those words. She wants Bellatrix to read her intent without peeking behind the curtain and checking the history as to how Petronelle has earned Alecto's ire.

      Bellatrix cackles and claps her hands. "Oh! I love it. You can never have enough witches with murderous intent. Can you, Rodolphus?"

      Rodolphus shakes his head in agreement.

      "Well, then, Alecto. Your head's in the right place. We'll just have to see if your heart's in it."

      Alecto looks between them as they proceed to exit the room, Alecto hustling behind them. "Does that mean—magic? I only know a little Dark magic—but I want to know more. I'll do whatever it takes—"

      Bellatrix whirls, her black skirts billowing around her. She's only a few inches taller than Alecto, but she seems like a giant as she leans over her, that evil almost-smile back on her pale face. "That's what he likes to hear."

      And then Alecto meets the man with red eyes.

      Christmas comes and goes. Alecto hops between homes. Sometimes she sleeps in a spare room at Bellatrix's—the Lestranges'—and sometimes she shares a room with Wilkes, one of the few other witches in this growing organization, at an old house that the Rosiers don't disclose they own to the Ministry. But, sometimes, Alecto is happiest to find a spot outside, on the street, away from it all, where she could fly if she needed to (and, of course, if there were no bloody Muggles) and where she can close her eyes and dream of her room with Amycus or the Rowle home, with room enough for everyone.

      The last few months have worn her down. She thought it too easy, winning over Bellatrix. And she'd been right. Bellatrix Black Lestrange is the last hurdle before the big boss, the man with red eyes.

      Lord Voldemort.

      Even in a world full of magic, he is otherworldly. It's not just his eyes. His hair is thin and his nose too flat, as though he's a sketch of a wizard than actually a wizard. And his gait… He doesn't walk into a room. Lord Voldemort glides into a room, like a god come down to walk amongst lesser beings and impart his wisdom.

      Ha… "Lesser." "Wisdom." Alecto thought she knew what these words meant, but then Lord Voldemort spoke.

      Alecto gazes up at the twinkling stars on a rare, cloudless sky in January while she reflects on her first meeting with him. Lord Voldemort and his followers, the Death Eaters, have asked her to do many horrible things since she joined, but crime and Dark magic don't bother her the way Lord Voldemort does.

      Much as Mulciber and his boys brought her to Bellatrix and Bellatrix interrogated her, Lord Voldemort sent Bellatrix away before he exchanged his words with Alecto last summer. "So young," he said.

      "Willing to learn," she corrected, but respectfully so, with her head bowed.

      "Lift your head, Alecto Carrow. Only those who have displeased me or are against me must show me their humiliation."

      She lifted her eyes then, but still it was hard to focus on that ruby stare.

      "Bellatrix tells me that you have fire, that some of your desires overlap with our own. But that you also wish to snuff out a pureblood line." He tutted then.

      Alecto furrowed her brow. "Please! Petronelle—"

      "Around here, pure is sure," he said, as if he'd recited this a thousand times. "Pureblood lines guarantee magic."

      (Did they? Even now, Alecto's so confused. She's never heard or read that. But far from her to doubt this powerful wizard.)

      "Some half-blood lines are better than others. But Muggles? And Mudbloods? We have a mission, Alecto Carrow. No, we have a sworn duty to protect the purity, the continuation of magic. We need to wipe them out to do so. So, tell me: Why should the Blishwick line end with her?"

      Alecto opened her mouth, frantic for anything but the truth. But…he was not Bellatrix. Something told Alecto, at the time, that Lord Voldemort was someone who demanded the truth. It wouldn't go anywhere unless he saw it fit. And it would only work to her advantage here.

      It was the first and only time she ever told anyone of the stings. Of the abuse, the torment, the torture, the death sentence.

      "I need to get to her before she gets to my brother," Alecto finished.

      Lord Voldemort was quiet awhile. His eyes were half lidded; his lips were a straight line devoid of emotion. Then he sat up straight in his high-backed chair, which never made a sound. "I understand."

      He did? He knew the need to kill a parent?

      "I will make an exception in Petronelle's case, but we otherwise condemn the spilling of good blood, Alecto Carrow."

      She wanted to cry in relief. "Thank you. Thank you so—"

      "Do not thank me. She is your final task. Bellatrix and others can help you improve your Unforgivables. Then, when you are ready, you will kill Petronelle. Only then will you be one of my Death Eaters."

      And that led to Alecto now, preferring not to spend her free time with the Death Eaters if she can manage it. The Unforgivables take so much from her.

      The soft part of her Rowle likes? It's hardening.

      The endearing, protective sister Amycus needs? She's turning dangerous.

      The cowering little girl Petronelle birthed? …well, that's the whole point of this exercise, but still.

      Dark magic—it changes people. Alecto feels it in her blood and bones. She feels stronger sometimes but weaker at others.

      And the Death Eaters. They're a menacing bunch, secretive and something of a who's who of the old pureblood families. Both Lestrange brothers are involved. Rodolphus didn't marry into this and drag his younger brother, Rabastan, with him; Rabastan came of his own volition. There's Severus Snape, too, which still surprises Alecto because for years Slytherins whispered behind his back and mocked him openly to his face about his Mudblood best mate, that Evans girl. Alecto's own classmate, Regulus Black, seems less alive than ever, yet he's esteemed by several older members, making her doubt just how long he's been a part of things… But it's Lucius Malfoy who catches Alecto off-guard. His engagement and marriage to Narcissa was in the papers, an extravagant event. Does perfect, pretty Narcissa know what her husband, sister, and cousin get up to most days?

      But the unpleasant company and Dark deeds are things Alecto can compartmentalize. It's tougher, getting the creep out of her skin whenever she has to meet with Lord Voldemort. She tries to chase away the idea of revulsion for her new master, for fear he might smell it on her or peer into her mind (there are Legilimens among them). She doesn't want to be deemed an imposter. Besides, he offers her a haven, if she can prove herself.

      Proving…that's easier said than done, she knows as winter melts into spring. She can do the magic. The Imperius Curse comes naturally to someone bossy like her—Avery hates how easily he falls under when she practices on him, ripping peals of laughter from Mulciber and Wilkes and drawing a smirk from Rosier and even the tiniest approving nod from Snape.

      The Cruciatus Curse requires more concentration for Alecto. But that's not too hard. All it takes is summoning years of people's snide remarks about her, Petronelle's included, to cause waves of pain. (Briefly, Alecto considers asking someone if they know of her mother's particular stinging spell…but then she dismisses the thought. She can't bring herself to use that magic. She will use anything else. Anything but that magic.)

      The Killing Curse is Bellatrix's specialty. Each week, her "body count" (yes, Mulciber's still keeping tabs) goes up, and she's quite proud of herself and should be, because the Aurors are too thick to catch her. At least Bellatrix says nothing the first time Alecto kills something and the younger witch fights back her breakfast. But that's Alecto's only clumsy move.

      Her first kill is a Muggle bystander, just outside London, not far from home.

      (If only she could leave the body for Petronelle, as a message.)

      …that reminds her…

      Amycus' sixth year is coming to a close too fast for Alecto's liking. If she doesn't want him around for Petronelle's death, then she's got to keep him away from that house. She hasn't figured out what to do about Akillios yet; perhaps luck will be on her side and their father will be on a bender somewhere safe and sound.

      Alecto checks the spelled pockets of her outer cloak and then her inner pockets…no, nothing useful. She resorts to tearing a page out of Wilkes' journal because the poetic thing leaves it out half the time, and Alecto doesn't feel too bad about taking it and borrowing a quill and ink since Wilkes has stolen bobby pins from Alecto. When amongst thieves, do as thieves do.

      It's June, so she's cutting it close. But she has to get a warning to him, of some sort, even though she still refuses to tell him of her plans. Alecto sends him this, careful of the contents:

      It has been nearly a year, I know. I won't apologize; I know how much you hate those. Please do not ask anything of me or try writing me. Just believe me when I say I'm fine. (Rowle bitches when I say that, but then he never believes me when I say I do. I know you trust me to watch out for myself.)

      I hope the year was good to you. I imagine it was; you're brighter than you realize, the both of you. That's why I'm writing. Because you're both older, wiser, stronger now. But you—you are still vulnerable. So please, for me, do not go home. Even briefly. Go home with him, where you are welcome, where you are safe. His parents won't even question it by now, I presume? If they do, enclosed are some Galleons which Father gave me a long time ago; tell his parents that ours are on a trip and this will cover any expenses, past and future, while you stay with them.

      Alecto hesitates. There is one more thing she wants to add and one more thing she needs to add:

      I want to see you again, I do. But I cannot promise you anything.

      Go home with him. And do not keep this letter. Burn it after reading twice.

      She doesn't sign it. The mention of Rowle should be enough that Amycus shouldn't question the sender, and the letter's contents are harmless enough that no one can get in trouble if it happens to fall into the wrong hands.

      She Disapparates from the Rosier "home" to Diagon Alley, to owl Amycus her letter and a few Galleons from the Post Office there. Keeping the hood of her cloak up, Alecto meanders up the street afterwards, pausing outside the stationers.

      She could always buy some parchment and ink. It'd be better than scrounging for it elsewhere.

      But Alecto walks away and returns to her shared room with Wilkes. No, parchment and ink are a temptation, and she's got to focus on the task at hand.

      A few weeks later, after several nights and days spent scouting her childhood home, Alecto plans to make her move. Amycus is not home (did he get her letter?), Akillios cannot be found (luck is on her side), and Petronelle's life is ripe for the taking.

      But, though a few others have assisted with the scouting—namely Rosier and Wilkes—Alecto must face her task alone. She creeps up to the house in the middle of the day, peering in the windows on both floors, knowing that, if the house-elf is still alive, he'll be sleeping long before he has to prep dinner.

      Alecto rounds the home, gray on the outside just like the inside, and scans the back. It's empty. She hurries to the back door and peers through the inlaid window there—

      Petronelle peers back.

      Alecto's heart jumps into her throat. She wrenches back out of sight and Disapparates on the spot. Whether by chance or Petronelle was on alert or Petronelle knew—

      "Told you she couldn't do it," Avery scoffs. He stands by the doorway to the dining hall in the Lestrange home with Mulciber. His grin is troll-like, the gaps between his teeth too large, as Mulciber ponies up some Sickles.

      There are others watching, too, but Alecto could care less.

      Because Petronelle might've been on alert or known something before…

      …but she sure as hell knows now.

      And Alecto's just made her job ten times harder than it has to be.

      She is a failure at long last, but Lord Voldemort says nothing of it. He tells the others one final scouting before the attack is always wise. That's it. That's all.

      Alecto heaves a sigh of relief. She's got one more chance.

      That changes her mind about him, a little. She's not settled with the idea of pureblood supremacy yet. She understands the concept of "lesser versus better," but names seemed to be the only things that mattered to her parents, growing up. Alecto doesn't give a damn about names and hasn't really thought about blood. She doesn't think it so bad that she, Amycus, and Rowle are half-bloods. But there are certainly those who are lesser than them.

      The months blur together, as do the faces. Rodolphus and Rabastan look too much alike—she can't recall which one is better at Binding Curses. Avery's grin brings to mind Mulciber's guffaws. The older members like Nott move slowly as if they're as old as Merlin himself. And wait—when's the last time anyone saw Regulus?

      Alecto's curious if something bigger is to come as the decade rounds. Lord Voldemort seems less and less concerned with the horror stories they let splash across the front page of The Daily Prophet. That's confidence she can't help but admire… To do things out in the open, as he pleases. He envisions a particular world, and he will do anything he can to make it come true.

      That's it. That's how Alecto comes around. She's not here for the blood supremacy. She's here to reshape the world. For Amycus, for herself, for Rowle, she will reshape the world.

      April rolls into May rolls into June rolls into July. New faces come and go. Some the Aurors manage to kill or capture. Some Lord Voldemort dispatches himself, because they are not worthy of being Death Eaters. Some are just plain not useful.

      A stunningly young face appears as the Lestranges' door in late July. It is a pointed face, with small eyes and framed by greasy hair. He looks like someone Alecto might've seen back in her school days.

      "You need something?" she asks the young wizard, reluctant to let anyone into the house. (Can't be too careful these days, with Aurors on the case.)

      His tongue darts out between his lips and slithers back in. He blinks a lot, too. "I'm one of you," he insists.

      Alecto stifles a groan. Sweet Salazar, does Mulciber round up every last eager spirit nowadays? "Look—"

      "Crouch. Name's Barty Crouch. I enlisted months and months ago, brought info on my dad."

      She studies him again, no longer in a hurry to slam the door in his face. "…the younger girls in our House hated you, you know."

      He grins and his tongue darts out and in again. "I know. You older girls knew better."

      She pauses. She doesn't know if he's testing her or if she's being tested. Their ranks change all the time. "You joined by telling on your dad?" she prompts.

      Crouch jams his hands in his pockets, impatient. "He's a Ministry bastard. There's got to be something fun they can do with that. Now, may I please come in, you stupid cow?"

      "Don't call her that," snaps someone from behind him.

      Alecto stops breathing for a few seconds.

      But…it can't be. It shouldn't be. A letter and no more. He shouldn't be here—

      "What are you doing here?" Alecto says to Amycus, swinging the door open wide, never mind protocol.

      Lo and behold, down the steps and a skip up the path to the Lestrange house stands an enraged Amycus, glaring daggers at Crouch. But, of course, Rowle is at his side, angry at Crouch, as well, but keeping a hand clamped down on Amycus' shoulder to keep him in place.

      "Amycus," Alecto says.

      His name is enough to redirect their attention. Both boys—young men, because they just won't stop growing taller than her, growing older—ease up a smidge. Rowle even lets Amycus go. "He's safe," Rowle reports.

      Alecto gawps at him. She hustles to them and slaps Rowle away because how is Amycus being here safe?! But then she gives Amycus a shove. He can handle it. He's slim but not a waif anymore. He's flourished with the Rowles. "You imbeciles!" she snarls.

      "Told you she'd react this way," Rowle informs Amycus.

      Amycus grunts at Rowle. But he meets his sister's glare. "I won't let you do this alone, Alec."

      She freezes. How? How long has he known? Yes, all right, that letter implied enough and Amycus has been catching up to her thoughts and plans faster with each passing year, but—

      Crouch coughs behind the reunion. "Since I brought fresh meat this time, I'm going to head inside and kick back." He snickers at them and disappears inside. "Nice you got to see your sissy again, Carrow!" he hollers over his shoulder at Amycus. Amycus flips him off.

      Damn. With Crouch inside, with them here… It won't be long before they're dragged before at least Bellatrix. Alecto can't picture them surviving one meeting, let alone advancing to Lord Voldemort. Before either can protest, she grabs them and Disapparates.

      The trio reappears in an empty storefront. Alecto found this a few weeks ago, when the Muggle shop closed for good. The windows are plastered with signs proclaiming a new health clinic "Coming Soon! Fall 1980," so it's safe for now.

      "WHAT THE HELL—"

      Amycus crushes her in a hug. He's spent years, trying to pull away, pushing her away. But suddenly, in a hug, that doesn't matter. He's Amycus. Her Amycus, again.

      Alecto returns the embrace, at the same time surprised at how far Amycus has come with Rowle, so open around him. She glances at the large boy, and Rowle gives her that sheepish smile. She shakes her head, exasperated.

      And Rowle? He gently pries one of her hands free, gives it a squeeze, and kisses the backs of her fingers.

      The siblings break apart, Alecto still shaking her head. "Did Crouch get sent out to scout you? Did you follow some trail I mistakenly left behind? I…" Her voice breaks. She thought she did all she could, to keep them from this.

      "I told you, you two come as a set," Rowle teases them. He tugs on Alecto's hand, drawing her to him.

      "Then how the bloody hell does that explain you?" she retorts into his chest.

      "I'm the Carrow Whisperer, of course."

      Alecto and Amycus groan in unison. Rowle laughs.

      "It was my idea, Alec," Amycus says, beginning a slow walk around the empty store's inner perimeter. "I know you plan to kill her."

      Alecto tenses, and Rowle strokes her upper arms. "Amycus! You shouldn't—"

      "He knows enough. Rowle had to, in order to assist me in our final school year. Then…graduation…and Rowle needed a final goodbye with his parents…and then we sought out Crouch, because he was always a dodgy sort, but he was easy to find and track because his parents haven't disowned him yet." Amycus pauses. "This group you've joined really ought to have smarter, less obvious sorts. Crouch hangs around the Ministry of Magic a lot."

      She grimaces. "…so noted." She looks up at Rowle and narrows her eyes. "Do you mean to tell me that you two wasted your seventh year to come after me and talk me out of this?"

      Rowle's smile falters. Ugh, wimp. "Of course not."

      "Rowle wanted to."

      "Amycus!"

      "Alec prefers honesty, you moron."

      Alecto pushes Rowle away and gestures between the boys before putting her hands on her hips. "Then what on Earth is your plan? Hmm?"

      Amycus' eyes hold no trace of weakness when he looks at her. "I will help you kill Petronelle."

      Her hands slip. "No, you won't."

      "You asked my plan. That's my plan. You and me, together, Alec. Never apart."

      "Amycus, that's not what I meant—"

      "You can't change his mind, Allie," Rowle whispers against her temple, bending down, wrapping his arms around her again. Does he need the constant contact? Or is he aware her knees might give out, hearing Amycus got caught up in this mess she tried so hard to avoid?

      Alecto closes her eyes. She breathes (one, two, three). She pats Rowle's arm, and he releases her to take a step back. "You two don't know the things I've done," she states.

      "The Unforgivables," Amycus says. "We know. What we couldn't work out from the Restricted Section, we had Crouch give us the gist."

      "You think too much like me."

      Amycus grins, the glint in his gaze dark like what Alecto sees in her reflection nowadays. "That's not a bad thing."

      "But have you used them?" she asks.

      Amycus jerks his chin at Rowle. Then he slips his wand from his waistband. "Rowle, ready?"

      Alecto's pulse picks up. She glances between them, back and forth. "Ready? For what? Amycus, Rowle—"

      To her horror, Rowle grits his teeth and nods.

      Then Amycus raises his wand…and says nothing.

      Rowle fights the spell for a second. Then he bows forward. He takes a knee, he's on both knees, he's on all fours—then his arms bend, he can barely prop himself up on his elbows, he opens his mouth, he will scream—

      Nothing comes out. Rowle endures the Cruciatus Curse in silence.

      A flood of emotions crashes through Alecto. Amazement, that they've reached this skill level, nonverbal magic, especially with an Unforgivable. Broken-heartedness, that Amycus can cast this curse so well… Pain, Rowle's pain, seeing him in pain.

      "Stop it already!" Alecto snarls at Amycus. Or, she thinks she snarls. Her voice is thick and wet to her own ears as she drops to Rowle's side and cradles the big lug in her lap once he goes still.

      Amycus lowers his wand. "I told you. He and I have prepared for this. That should be enough, Alecto."

      Alecto smooths back Rowle's hair, the way she's so used to seeing Rowle do before he goes home. She can't picture Rowle not going home. She glares at Amycus. "It's not my place to say whether that's enough, Amycus."

      Oh. His confidence vanishes, and his eyes drop to his shivering friend in his sister's lap. It never occurred to him that bossy Alecto wouldn't still be pulling the strings.

      Three days. They have three days to kill Petronelle or he will kill all three of them.

      Lord Voldemort's final gift? "Count yourself lucky, Alecto Carrow, that I will kill you all at once. I could, instead, kill your friend and then your brother for each day you don't kill your mother, saving you for last."

      Alecto doesn't care that she's once again the laughing stock. Bringing Amycus and Rowle to him has both saved their trio and condemned them in the same breath. She has bigger problems than to deal with Avery attempting to start an incestuous rumor about her and Amycus. (Besides, Wilkes' irritation at being kicked out of their shared room for two hours that evening so Alecto and Rowle could be reacquainted ought to compete well enough with Avery's stupid rumor.)

      The morning comes. Alecto wakes in her shared room with Wilkes…but, no, Wilkes has moved elsewhere now that Amycus and Rowle refuse to leave Alecto's side. It's the first time in years she has a moment of peace, waking with Rowle at her back and spying Amycus in the bed Wilkes gave up. Alecto allows herself the tiniest of smiles before her boys open their eyes.

      The day's events do not concern them, not where the Lestranges go, what Dolohov does, that Crouch has a fresh mark on his face.

      No. To the Carrow house they go.

      Rowle keeps quiet when they arrive the next street over and make their way to the house. He raises his eyebrows when he sees the house and its neighbors, almost close enough to be townhouses but distant enough that bystanders pretend not to hear a child's screams. He pulls up the rear and half ushers the siblings along. If this weren't such a dire situation, Alecto would laugh. Have they found themselves a protector, a bodyguard at last?

      Amycus goes first this time, because he makes the least noise. He checks around back while Alecto checks through the windows. The trio convenes on the other side of a neighbor's home, away from Petronelle's sight and hearing.

      "Well?" Alecto asks her brother.

      "No sign of Father," he assures her. "No Petronelle, either. That concerns me."

      Alecto thumbs her chin. "No sign on the other floors, either. I bet my fuckup last summer means enhanced charms and everything around here, though."

      The wizards exchange a look (damn, that used to be Alecto and Amycus' thing). "That wasn't your fault. Purely coincidence," Rowle assures her.

      She scowls. "Coincidence or not, it's her dead body or ours, Rowle," she snaps at him.

      Rowle merely shakes his head.

      They wend their way back to the house, towards the back door. Amycus goes first again. He checks the inlaid window and, seeing nothing, grabs the handle. With a furtive look to the other two, wands at the ready, he yanks the door open.

      It swings open with ease.

      They creep inside. Alecto runs through a mental list of everything wrong right now—she hates the door opening, she hates having no trace of Akillios or Petronelle, she hates that Amycus and Rowle are here, she hates that she appreciates having Amycus and Rowle here by her side—but it's not a distraction. It all keeps coming back to why they're here in the first place. More than anything else, she hates Petronelle.

      The back room is clear. It hasn't been disturbed in a while. There's a little bit of dust on the coffee table and on the arms of the worn sofa Alecto and Amycus loved as children.

      No one treads the hall from there forward. Akillios' study is empty but tidy. The kitchen is empty but pristine. The sitting room's the same as the back room.

      Rowle's shoulders drop and he pulls a face, confused. He's not wrong to doubt that Petronelle's home, but there's still a lot of house left to check.

      Upstairs, brother and sister find old memories in their room, but they take nothing with them and they shove Rowle out before he lingers too long. Petronelle's room down the hall—because Akillios usually sleeps in his study or elsewhere—stands vacant, and it's disturbing, coming in here. It's all blue and silver velvet brocades and black trims. It's as though she's never stopped trying to be a part of the rich Black family's crowd. Her furnishings and clothing speak to an elegant lady, not the monster she is.

      They check downstairs, too, but that's mostly just storage anyway. Coming back up to the ground floor, Alecto deems it safe to speak. "We've even checked the loo," she grouses. "Not a bloody hair—"

      "Because you still have so much to learn, girl," Petronelle's disembodied voice informs her.

      Alecto, Amycus, and Rowle jump apart, scanning all around them. But there's nothing! No one! Does Petronelle have an Invisibility Cloak?!

      Petronelle cackles, but it chills Alecto's blood in a way that Bellatrix's laughter does not (ah, has at least one Black sister endeared herself to Alecto?). They run around the ground floor, rechecking every last room, flinging Stunning Spells at inanimate objects just in case ("Just in case," her nanny house-elf used to say), but the cackles grow loudest and most taunting in the sitting room. They converge there.

      That is when Alecto understands she should've paid better attention in McGonagall's class. No sooner do she and Amycus and Rowle crash into each other than does Petronelle's beloved blue armchair morph and grow in size. The arms become human arms, the chair back gains a head, and the seat flares out into Petronelle's endless robes.

      "You've disobeyed me for the last time," Petronelle proclaims.

      But that is the last time she speaks.

      Rowle's Silencing Charm and Binding Curse are nonverbal—he will later give credit to Amycus' tutoring—and come half a step early. The surprise redirects Petronelle's attention to him, and that unspeakable thing flashes in her light brown eyes.

      But Thorfinn Rowle will never know Petronelle's stings. Because Alecto and Amycus move together, twins neither in blood nor magic but of trauma, and aim their wands at her.

      "AVADA KEDAVRA!!!"

      (And these three will receive their Dark Marks for completing this first of many missions. The rest, as they say, is history.)

      Her life is full of nothing but stings. She was born into them and she will die by them.

      That's what Alecto believed, growing up. And that's a mindset she has fought hard to break in joining the Death Eaters. And, so far, she has done well to avoid further stings. She has done the impossible, making it to adulthood with Amycus and Rowle by her side.

      But, with another war coming to a head, can she really believe they've changed their world? It's not reshaped, not yet. And children…children these days…they fight back so much harder than she and Amycus ever did…that's why she's facing the stings again…

      "…ecto. Alecto. Alecto, luv, are you awake?"

      She breathes—it's so hard to do, because it stings even more when she does—

      "Alecto, Allie, luv, c'mon now. Amycus will kick himself…well, no, he's going to kick me for being the first to see you're back, but you are back, right?" There's a crack in his voice. His voice grows small, quiet…it won't match his size, she knows, if she looks at him. "Alecto, please wake up."

      It…doesn't sting so bad to open her eyes. It doesn't sting at all to turn her head, but there's a crick in her neck. She's so stiff. But the pain's worth it, to see him.

      Thorfinn.

      The big lug still draws in on himself even though he's in his mid-thirties and not thirteen anymore. But that sheepish grin grows wide and bright (this part of him that doesn't delight in Dark magic—this is the part of him that was Sorted wrong, that doesn't fit in quite right with her and Amycus, because Thorfinn Rowle is evil by proxy, not by choice or by circumstance).

      Alecto closes her eyes, comforted by the soft kiss Thorfinn presses to her forehead. She has so much left to do before the world is right for her Amycus, for Thorfinn, for her…

      …but it's nice to have one good thing (Thorfinn's love) while she works towards the rest.

This is a story of vengeance. That became especially clear to me as I wrote an older Alecto, one who'd grown up in this environment. I knew that I wanted to frame the story with her critical event from "bad blood" (caught in a D.A. trap), but I never imagined that so much would need to be shown (or implied, which—in the case of Petronelle's awfulness—is scarier) to paint the complete picture. This was a story that wanted to keep being written, because every time I thought I could skip to the end, more, new, important threads would pop up (and some very crucial pieces came into play that shocked me, even—the money twist wrote itself). But this was also a fun challenge to explore; as I mentioned in the A/N for "close to you," these stories don't look to excuse the Carrows in their later life but rather explain them…and who knows what happened in their lives without asking them, right? So these were some v interesting headcanons to explore and expand upon, with a few nods to canon throughout (the Black brothers, Barty's cameo…which is amusing given that Amycus speaks of him rather fondly by the late '90s when "bad blood" takes place, Petronelle's trick à la Slughorn's intro scene in HBP, things like that). Also! I totally forgot that Wilkes was never mentioned to be witch or wizard, so I decided on witch for this fic since the Death Eaters are, primarily, a boys' club.

A few writer thoughts: I confess that I waffled as to where to end the fic (give an epilogue or not), but this has a satisfying ending where it needed to stop (besides, there's a bit more story afterwards in "bad blood"). I also waffled as to whether Alecto would kill Petronelle alone—v difficult, but I'm satisfied with this outcome and having them join the Death Eaters together this way, altho it seems as tho Rowle's assistance doesn't quite make sense in terms of earning his Dark Mark given that the Carrows did the killing…but perhaps there was some flourishing when recounting events? Ah, Idk. There were also some old ideas I had as to how Thorlecto's relationship would morph as they got older, but the snippets we got here wrote themselves, *lol*. I'm glad that happened and I nixed some ideas. (Some things got nixed simply bc the format of this story wouldn't work with certain ideas.)

Last thoughts: Well, given that this was a vengeance story, it's good that the romance wasn't a primary theme, either, tho I have this marked and tagged as a Thorlecto fic on FFN and on my HariPo fic tumblr (camelliacats). This is deffo one of those stories where the genres are several (family, friendship, horror, romance), so AO3's expansive tagging suits its needs better. Ah, well… Writing dark!fic takes a lot outta me…

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this! (Anyone else pleased to see the trio stuck together?? Anyone screaming over a soft!Rowle with me???)

~mew

And if you want to support at last, with you, please swing by its FFN and AO3 versions to review/comment/fav/leave kudos and like and reblog these posts on my HariPo fic tumblr!

[yletylyf]

Loaded Shadows, Chapter 24

Sirius Black/Severus Snape AU. In Harry’s fifth year, Voldemort kills Dumbledore at the Ministry. Harry is missing. The Order is scattered and aimless. The Ministry is rapidly losing the war, with important officials dying left and right. And Sirius Black does not trust Severus Snape.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Major Character Death, Graphic Depictions of Violence

My contribution to Whumptober 2021. Day 24: One down two to go (revenge)

[Chapter 1] | [Previous chapter]

[Next chapter]

"What now?" Sirius asked, looking around. "Are we running because you don't think you can duel anyone with a wand that isn't yours?"

"More or less," said Severus, retreating to the opposite wall of the room. "And you don't have a wand at all."

"Where does that door go?" Sirius asked, indicating the door to the left. "Should we take it?"

"It's a dead end," Severus said. "It's a stairwell that only goes up to one floor to a bedroom, and isn't connected to any other rooms on that floor. For privacy, I assume."

"You know this place suspiciously well," Sirius said.

Severus laughed. "I've spent a lot of time here. I don't know who built it or why or what shape it was in before he found it, but the Dark Lord took it over last July. He lives here some of the time, and holds Death Eater meetings, and all that."

Sirius ignored the thumping at the door behind him and started exploring the office. Maybe it held a useful weapon or two.

Speaking of which—

"Hey, look at this," Sirius said, picking something up off the table in the middle of the room. "A wand."

Severus quickly came to join him. "It's my wand!" he exclaimed, sounding triumphant, exhilarated. "Trade you?"

Severus offered Carrow's wand out to Sirius. Sirius was conflicted for a moment, but he had already trusted Severus with so much, so why not this? He placed Severus's wand in his palm, and accepted Carrow's wand.

He could immediately tell what Severus had been complaining about. The wand felt malignant, unhappy to be wielded by Sirius.

"How come your wand was in here?" Sirius wanted to know.

"The Dark Lord took it from me, remember? This is his office."

"Shit," Sirius said. "We chose You-Know-Who's personal study to hide in?"

"Yes." Severus did not sound overly worried.

With a great splintering crash, the door behind them broke open and Amycus Carrow charged in.

But Carrow was now facing two armed wizards. Severus and Carrow exchanged spells and curses faster than Sirius could follow. The wand in Sirius's hand still felt uncooperative, so he cast something simple: he aimed it at a chair and sent it crashing into Carrow's body.

It knocked Carrow sideways, and he missed a beat in the duel with Severus. Severus's curse hit him in the ribs. Sirius immediately followed it up with the Cruciatus Curse.

Carrow started screaming. Beside him, Severus immediately cast a silencing charm.

Sirius pouted. "Why are you ruining my revenge?"

"Don't be a reckless fool," Severus said tiredly. "Just kill him. I should have done it when I had the chance."

Sirius was momentarily taken aback by the suggestion, but now that he thought about it, he agreed with the principle. One less Death Eater in the world? Yes, please.

"Avada Kedavra," Sirius cried, and—to his astonishment—the spell worked. A green jet of light left the wand and hit Carrow in the chest.

Carrow died without making a sound.

"One down, two to go," Severus quipped.

"Wait, what two are left?" Sirius asked warily.

"Alecto is running around here somewhere," Severus reminded Sirius. "And... there is always the Dark Lord to worry about."

"Right," Sirius agreed grimly. He knelt down to examine the wand Carrow had been using. He found, with a surge of glee, that it was own wand—the one he had been missing since he entered this fortress. It was spruce and dragon heartstring, and it had been his great-grandfather's wand. Sirius had found it in the attic in Grimmauld Place after escaping Azkaban, and to his surprise, it had responded very well to him.

He was glad to have it back. He stowed Carrow's wand in his pocket as a backup, and curled his fingers around his own wand. He was wielding it with his non-dominant hand, as his right hand was still injured, but he was reasonably adept at it. He finally felt prepared to take on anyone in this fortress.

"Where to now?" Sirius asked.

[shadowandbonehqs]

𝘼𝙈𝙔𝘾𝙐𝙎 𝘾𝘼𝙍𝙍𝙊𝙒 / an introduction . 

Is that AMYCUS CARROW we can see entering the Ministry of Magic? Our records tell us that they were born on 15 MARCH and are a TWENTY FOUR year old, PUREBLOOD who currently works as a OBLIVIATOR. Some have said that they can be described as being CHARMING, LOYAL & RESOURCEFUL, however, they also see themselves as being VINDICTIVE, UNSTABLE & HOSTILE. Apparently, HE look(s) a lot like JAKE MANLEY, whoever that is, and if they had to pick a side in the war, they would choose to JOIN THE DEATH EATERS.

Full Name: Amycus Basil Carrow

Name Origin:           - Amycus: In Greek Baby Names the meaning of the name Amycus is: Friendly. Son of Poseidon in Greek mythology.           - Basil: Basil is a very old name, derived from the Greek name 'Basileios', which means 'kingly or royal'. There are a number of different spellings of this name, from Basil to Vasile.           - Carrow: English surname of Celtic origin, possibly meaning ‘rock on the spur of a hill

Nicknames: No one but Alecto is allowed to call him Amy. 

Age: Twenty Four 

Birthday: 15 March 

Sexuality: Asexual. 

Relationship Status: Single.

Patronus: Amycus cannot cast the paronus spell. 

Boggart: Alecto dead. 

Wand Type:           - Chesnut: This is a most curious, multi-faceted wood, which varies greatly in its character depending on the wand core, and takes a great deal of colour from the personality that possesses it. The wand of chestnut is attracted to witches and wizards who are skilled tamers of magical beasts, those who possess great gifts in Herbology, and those who are natural fliers. However, when paired with dragon heartstring, it may find its best match among those who are overfond of luxury and material things, and less scrupulous than they should be about how they are obtained. Conversely, three successive heads of the Wizengamot have possessed chestnut and unicorn wands, for this combination shows a predilection for those concerned with all manner of justice.           - Dragon Heartstring: As a rule, dragon heartstrings produce wands with the most power, and which are capable of the most flamboyant spells. Dragon wands tend to learn more quickly than other types. While they can change allegiance if won from their original master, they always bond strongly with the current owner.           The dragon wand tends to be easiest to turn to the Dark Arts, though it will not incline that way of its own accord. It is also the most prone of the three cores to accidents, being somewhat temperamental.           - Unyielding

Occupation: Obliviator. 

Affiliation: Death Eaters. 

House: Slytherin Alumnus. 

Key information / Biography: I’ll write out a full bio for his muse page, but for now all you need to know is the following.            - Amycus isn’t the exact type of pureblood heir his parents were looking for. They wanted someone who would follow their every command and that’s not really how Amycus is. Though he and his parents share the same opinion on the war, he absolutely isn’t the sit down and shut up person his parents wanted.            - In school, Amycus was pretty much one of those students that never did homework. The professors were always on him about it. Usually, he just turned in something shitty because he’s really stupid.            - He only got his job because of family connections. He’s not very good at it either, but he doesn’t care. Amycus just needs something to do to earn money.           - He lives with Alecto in an apartment that they got after they graduated because neither of them wanted to continue living at home. Amycus is a neat freak though, so he’s always organizing and yelling at the house elf because it’s not his form of perfection.           - He’s easily the “if you piss me off I’m killing everyone in this room” kind of person, and gives off those vibes, though he can be charming when he wants to be. He just cannot control his anger. 

[theivy-rosmerta]

connections

dorcas -- little sister // dorcas might be quite a bit younger than ivy, but there’s something about the girl that makes ivy’s protective side come out, even if she knows that dorcas can protect herself. she’s become like a little sister to ivy, and she would protect dorcas and her secrets at all cost.

alecto -- friend // unlikely though it may seem considering how reluctant ivy was to be engaged to her twin, alecto has always been a good friend to ivy. ivy might not agree with what side alecto chooses to fight on, but she’s made it her stance to keep out of any ‘sides’ and just run her pub. the only disappointment to breaking her engagement to amycus was losing having alecto for a sister.

rita -- tbd?

fabian -- friend // she always loved fabian and gideon and the antics that they would get up to, even when it caused a bit of chaos in her pub. she became close to both brothers, and was sad and a little angry when gideon was killed. she keeps an eye out for fabian now, knowing that he’s hurting but wanting to find some way to comfort him.

amycus -- former betrothed // unlike his twin, ivy has always found amycus to be annoying. it was almost a relief when her father died and they could break off the betrothal, considering neither of them wanted it. the only thing they have in common now is alecto.

emmeline -- friends // 

bellatrix -- antagonist // ivy knows better than to be anything but polite to bellatrix, but she can’t stand the other woman. from their time in school together, bellatrix was always someone she would rather avoid than engage with. it’s only for the sake of her pub that ivy keeps her mouth shut when the other is around.

freya -- enemy // freya has always gotten under ivy’s skin. there’s something so fake about her, and ivy can read right through her actions. she plays along with her niceties, knowing it’s better not to be outright with her dislike of the other woman, but it’s only a matter of time before ivy’s temper gets the best of her when it comes to freya. 

[carrowxmycus]

connections 

Alecto - twin – partner in crime - some people may say “the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb”, but for the twins it’s the other way around. The two of them are as close as siblings could be. the war isn’t making it easy, with death and destruction at every turn. but amycus would do anything to protect his older sister. if you see one without the other, run.

Rodolphus – best friends – he is the brother that amycus never had. while not as close as his actual siblings, the two are as still thick as thieves and hatching out plots of chaos. if you see them both together, run.

Bellatrix – friend - he enjoys bullshitting her and being the friendlier of the twins. the two can usually be found sharing cigarettes and laughing at whatever chaotic thing bellatrix did that day.

Freya – friend – a very casual friendship. freya is sometimes a bit much for his likening, but sometimes that’s what need when you’re at the seediest bar you can find, talking shit without a care.

Gideon – enemy – it’s fun to torture the other prewett twin. rod has fabian and so it made sense for amycus to take gideon. really, there’s no true hatred for the other man. sometimes it’s just because amycus is bored and there’s no better way to spend his time. 

Greta – enemy – another fun mouse to play with. he knows he shouldn’t play with his food, but he can’t stop with greta. the naive girl who honestly has a boring life. well, amycus is there to make it a little more exciting.

Regulus – “mentoring” – somehow amycus got stuck with the task of keeping the younger Black sibling on task. he’s there to make sure regulus is focusing on the cause, the bigger plan and goal. even if it’s just a glorified babysitting job.