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@augrookwxxd-blog
Cassandra Burke + ( closest ) Relationships
Augustus Rookwood Isabella Greengrass Benjy Fenwick Cyrus Borgin Amos Diggory Evan Rosier Caradoc Dearborn
[ @augrookwxxd , @isabellagreengrass , @xbenjyfenwick , @cyrusborgin , @amxsdxggory , @evanrosierx , @caradxc-dearbxrn ]
Difficult Questions for Muses
plasticdynasty :
(Please remember to use trigger warnings as and when necessary)
Do you think that youâre a good person?
Do others like you? Do you want others to like you?
What do you think others like or admire about you?
How do you know when youâre in love? (romantic or platonic)
Would you or have you ever killed? What would drive you to kill?Â
Do you think that killing is ever justified?
Have you ever done anything that you feel to be very morally wrong?
Should all people be treated as equal, and have the same rights?
If you committed a crime, would you accept punishment willingly?
Is suicide ever the right choice?
Is euthanasia ever the right choice?
Is it right to have an intimate relationship with somebody you donât love?
What could make you break your own moral code?Â
Have you ever doubted your own beliefs? (Spiritual, philosophical)
Would you always be loyal to your loved ones even if they wronged you?
What would you consider a fate worse than death?
Why do you love the person or people you love? (romantic or platonic)
Do you agree with capital punishment?
Could you ever forgive your worst enemy?
What would you like to achieve before you die?
School Reunion | Augustus & Emme
» e. vance:
  It had clearly been a mistake coming to the cafe at this time of day. Emme frowned and looked around, trying to find an open table. She just wanted to read for a few minutes before she ran her errands but that looked less and less likely the longer she stayed in this spot. Her indecision also led to some very unhappy looks so murmuring apologies, Emme began easing through the tables slowly until she finally spotted an open seat. She moved before she realized that the empty chair didnât indicate an empty table but she was too close to stop now and to her surprise, she recognized the inhabitant of the other seat.
  âOh - Augustus.â They had been at Hogwarts together, not close at all, but she thought he would most likely remember her to some degree. She hoped anyway; she knew she wasnât really the type of girl who stood out but she didnât think she was forgettable. âDo you mind if I sit? I just wanted to finish this chapter and drink my tea.â She had half-forgotten the little crush sheâd developed in school, but it hadnât faded in the slightest, and he every bit as cute as she remembered.Â
  Augustus for once was fooled by the words of others, and at this point he wasnât sure what to do. An important informer was supposed to talk to him, give him insides on a few particular personas in the wizarding community. Strangely enough, that said person was a muggleborn, a filth, and sometimes Rookwood wondered how was he able to even b r e a t h e around them, on top of that holding a straight face too. He ran a hand through his hair and rolled his eyes, almost standing up and re-thinking other ways of contact, of reaching his goals like he always did.
  His thoughts were disrupted by rudeness, but Augustus started calculating again once he actually saw who the person was. It was someone he didnât need at all, someone that he wasnât interested in. EMMELINE VANCE, year below and stupidly crushing on him while they were in Hogwarts. She perhaps thought it wasnât obvious, but if anything, Rookwood was able to read body language, so hiding it didnât work with him. A sudden idea ran through his mind a second after she spoke, an instant smile slapped on his face almost instinctively. The half-bred could as well turn out to be useful or at least interesting to play with. He wondered if she was still interested in him, because that would mean she could perhaps at least be an entertainment for him.
  âOf course itâs free, Emmeline.â his sights shifted to the book, eyebrows slightly rising. âWhat do you have there?â Augustus seemed easy-going, charming and welcoming, warm on the outside, but manipulating the fragile girl was all he had in his head. Who knew what kind of information she had? âLong time no see, we can talk too if you wish?â His lips twitched up in a smile, and eyes turned to warm blue, reminding of ocean water. Just a casual conversation, by any means not a trap, Vance, I assure you.
revenge | a&fenrir
@creatureofnightmares
  A notice from Fenrir Greyback was the last thing Augustus expected. The vicious werewolf, hunted by Aurors and the entire government, a beast man who had death and the skill to kill in his veins sought Rookwoodâs intelligence and simple advise, from what it seemed. The handwriting on the parchment was exquisite, every line weaved and produced so gently and almost perfectly, the Unspeakable guessed he had a servant or someone that helped the werewolf with correspondences.
  With his wand tucked in his sleeve, Rookwood made his way to the darkest alley of Knockturn Alley. Normally he wouldnât even dare to agree to the call for help, out of the very few people he was unsettled by, Cygnus and Fenrir topped the list by far. But now, the odds and advantage were his, as Greyback was an individual who was far too useful and important to have in debt. However, one could never know, but keeping beasts and ravenous animals like him at not one, but two hands distance was the perfect method of staying alive in a simple conversation with a man like Fenrir. Who knew what would Augustus need in the future?
  Fenrirâs large frame was distinguishable for anyone who knew that he was hiding in the shadows, who knew he was expecting him. Perhaps that was one of the many disadvantages of his human form, but Augustus was sure as hell he wasnât alone. That man wasnât a lone wolf, in the literal meaning of the phrase, so fear and rudeness were things Rookwood had to suck in and never show, at least for the duration of the encounter. Light blue eyes focused on a single dark curl illuminated by a slight hint of moonlight, two eyes staring at him in the shadows of a Knockturn Alley shop corner. Augustusâs wand slid down his sleeve and proceeded casting charms, used for protecting from curious ears and sights. He couldnât risk anything, not with a filthy beast like Fenrir.
  âI heard you were requiring my... assistance, was it?â
the intricacies of persuasion | a&lily
@hoursandwitheringflowers
                                DECEMBER 17th, 1978
  The wailing souls and voices coming out of the Veil filled the Death Chamber with songs of the dead. The fine, thin layer of ghostly white stretched on the borders of the otherwise beautiful stone frame was inviting, the enormous concrete pedestal almost deceivingly unreachable for the human being. But it was for Augustus, and being in close proximity with it was only exhilarating his body. Heart pumped out blood at fast rates, the tiny whispers continuing their chatter, as he left the Chamber and was once again alone in the darkness, that the Department of Mysteries prided themselves with.
  He was holding a letter in his hands, for an immediate report back to the small offices of that very same Department, used only for people to pointlessly inquire and ask questions. Augustus just wasnât sure if it was always him that they sent there. Sometimes he felt like his colleagues, who were working in the noticeably less important sections of the Department, were never called to report there or deal with dumb fucks. Rookwood fixed his tie before entering the office area, running a hand through his hazel hair and trying to pin his eyes on whoever that person could have been.
  Today, there were TOO MUCH people in the pale rooms, and to his surprise, Augustus was probably the last person sent to this place of hopelessness. He saw many familiar faces, most of them people that have communicated with him, only a handful foreigners batting eyelashes politely while denying offers and demands. Thoughts and careful observation was interrupted as a gentle, a little bit too over-excited voice called right behind him, causing Rookwood to turn on his heels and raise his brows at a sun-kissed woman, holding folders and a certain glimmer in her eyes. In a matter of a second, her face instantly connected to the word âmudbloodâ, a disgrace to the wizarding society.
  âMay I help you?â
books and screams | a&septima
@vectoriisms
  Part of the facade Augustus Rookwood wore, sometimes gave him excuses to visit places like Flourish and Blotts. A heavy book for advanced potions was in his hands, in the corner of the shop trying not to draw too much attention to him. For the man, the shop was tranquil and calm, but sometimes it was too crowded even for him. Augustus was used to compensate for his lack of true social interactions, one filled without lies and games of pretend, with reading and trying to look as natural as he could.
  Finger trailing over a list of particularly hard to make potions, his hands were abruptly pushed, forcing him to drop the heavy book on the ground. A roll of his eyes and a sigh, his hand still in the air tracing the air around him instead, he focused on the one who had interrupted him so rudely. Perhaps a mudblood, and Merlin did he hope so. Any Pureblood seeing Augustus in a book store, trying to research Potions would have started whispers all around, and it wasnât that he couldnât deal with that, he was just too exhausted of threatening people subtly.
  Eyes pinned on the dark-haired girl, a head tilting and fingers intertwining. âAnything I can help you with?â he almost hissed the word âhelpâ, a single blink of the eyes until they completely froze and their gaze penetrated the othersâ gentle face. He stepped a bit further, his feet barely missing the hard covers of the book.
knockturn alley | a&lucius
@heofbadfaith
  It had been five days until the âtragicâ event, as others would call it. Yes, his father was dead, but not a single muscle or part of Augustus ached for the man. The manor and wealth was his now, because the fool was too stupid to put a restriction over the fortune or something stopping his own son of retrieving it, pathetic. Rookwood was practically a man leaking with money, but that wouldnât help him further down the web that was his life.
  He was walking down the main path in Diagon Alley, ready to steer left and be greeted by the darkness and filth of Knockturn Alley, rats, spiders and sewer water decorating the buildings and floor that were present at this lovely place. âBorgin and Burkesâ, he was to visit for an artifact much in his interests of stopping his mental illnesses, though by that point, Augustus was convinced that was impossible. The man took a big breath, before the smell hit him, the whole street reminding of rotten eggs, but a hint of strong cologne mixed with expensive rose perfume dominated over the otherwise terrible scent.
  Suddenly, in the side street just a few shops away from his destination, Augustus could swear that a voice called out to him, a hand visible in the distance begging for help, a shadowy apparition. The hazel-haired man shut his eyes closed, taking a big breath and opening them after good twenty seconds, only to find the face of Lucius Malfoy approaching from his left side. Fucking great, Rookwood thought, faking a convincing smile and turning to the blonde man.
  âGood evening, Lucius.â
âgood nightâ | a&alastor
» a. moody:
  âNoâ Alastor whispered, this could not be true, these could not be his thoughts, he loved these kids, he would never wish them harm. He struggled with the chain on his arm, tugging and tugging, the pain shooting through him was nothing compared to the panic he was feeling. âItâs going to be alright, itâs going to alrightâ he kept saying over and over, he knew deep down it was mostly for him, but if he could give them a bit of hope then he would keep trying. Then a voice, his voice? the voice, said it was all in his head.
  How could it be all in his head? When every time he looked at their eyes he wanted nothing more than break his own arm to make it to their side. How could these be his own thoughts? He loved these kids. He would never harm them. Alastor was ashamed to admit that there had been times when he had wondered how easier things would be if they were not in his life. But that didnât mean, he would never. They were all he had, they were all he was ever going to have. The only family left to him.Â
  âStop⊠pleaseâ he was begging now, the one thing he had vowed he would never do. But for them, for those kids lying there, dying there, he would do anything. As whoever was doing this finally let Benjy go free Alastor let out a sigh of relief. âBen, Ben listen to me, you have to get out, you have to get her out-â the look on the boyâs face was something Alastor could not take. This was his fault. He had let this happen, and there was nothing he could do or say to fix it. âI know, I know. Iâm sorry. But please just get Charity and get ou-â the words died on his lips.Â
  A knife on his hand, ânoâ he tried to say but words would not come, âthis isnâtâ he whispered, Benjyâs eyes full of fear, of hate. âThis isnât realâ Alastor screamed as he plunged the knife into Charity, âthis isnât realâ it could not be real. This could not be real because he knew that Benjy wouldâve jumped in between the knife and Charity. Alastor knew that Benjy would die protecting those he loved. This wasnât real, because as much as it hurt him, the one thing he could be certain of right now, was of how much Benjy was always willing to give in order to save a life.Â
  âThis isnât realâ Alastor said in defiance as he watched Benjyâs body hit the floor, as he was forced to watch Charity exhale her last breath. âWhat do you want?â he screamed at the voice.
  Oh this is very much real, dear Alastor. Itâs your fault. You couldnât save them, you failed to win this. And I want nothing in particular, just your sanity.
  Augustus released a thick layer of smoke forcing the chained manâs view to blur, as the scenery changed. From the heads of the dead bodies around them both, tomb stones raised, bone-white and with engraves names and years on them. The dead bodies sunk to the ground, and neatly formed into rows and columns, so perfect, that it was almost beautiful. On the place of the two children Alastor so dearly loved rose an angelic weeping angel, holding a knife placed on its own throat.
            âTo Benjy Fenwick and Charity Burbage              for they fought bravely but  no  one              could save  them from  their demise.â
  See Moody? See what you did, they fought bravely but you couldnât save them. You killed them, led them in the wrong cause, the voice whispered, tingling Alastorâs brain and pushing further inside his secret thoughts only to extract a name that was as precious as the other two, innocent faces that not so long ago laid dead on the ground. Blood spots were painting the statueâs throat, heart and temples in crimson, the moonlight illuminating its eyes and tears, and it seemed like diamonds rolled down the memorialâs cheeks.
  Behind the Auror, a simple grave with a cat ornament engraved on the top part of it and the initials M. M. laid isolated from all the rest, almost like their tutor, guardian and companion in the afterlife. Rookwood flicked his wrist from behind a tree, hidden in the shadows with his silver mask on, forcing Moodyâs body to twist around and see the cold stone, forcing him witness the death of yet another precious human being in his life. Augustus smirked, almost too amused by how frightened he was, for how easily he was actually to break like a twig. The almighty Alastor Moody, head of the Aurors and a man made from steel... bullshit, the torturer said to himself.
  The Death Eater took the form of a shadow, slowly flying behind Alastor and instantly turning into a ghostly, light-blue apparition of the woman itself, the oh so famous lioness and Transfiguration professor. Alastor Moodyâs valued friend, Minerva McGonagall. âAlastor,â she whispered, blue skin turning pale and flesh forming on the base that was Augustusâs apparition. âIâm here, Alastor.â She knelt down, placing a hand on his shoulder and letting sun-kissed hair trail over his shoulders. âIâm here.â
⯠: Genderbent headcanon
  Perhaps if her father wasnât such an idiot, Augusta would have lived a proper life, the one that she was supposed to live. But then again, the girl wasnât stupid, and even with her mother gone under a terrible lie and a brain filled with madness, she still craved knowledge. She understood, that Pureblood life was just a game of marriages and wealth, who will make the best match. But Augusta much more preferred being left alone, and not being under someoneâs control. She wasnât going to allow a drug addict to control her own life. Contrary to popular belief, she much more liked controlling than being controlled.
  When her fatherâs life starting going downwards, she took the control in her fragile fifteen year old hands. At the age of nineteen, she was already a member of the Death Eaters, gaining her Dark Mark because of the things she did for knowledge, for information and to distract herself from the raging monster in her body. With vivid images and insomnia clouding her mind, she was able to build the perfect facade, hiding her true self underneath layers of everything she was not. Marriage wasnât for her, suitors and seeking a husband was never in her blood, ever since the day she was born. Her mother wouldâve been proud of her.
  Now twenty-two and an orphan, she has everything she needs to make sure she succeeds, to make sure she has everyone else under her fingertips, while abusing a carefully-crafted image - just so the real, manipulative, and rutheless monster doesnât get out.
         » STARTER CALL «
  I need some new threads on Augustus, so if youâd like for me to come up with something for him and your character like this post! I will try my best to think of an original and interesting starter! Capping this up to 4 or 5. I will come to you, so we can plot stuff out if I struggle to think of something.
series pilot | augustus&alecto
» a. carrow:
   SO MUCH FUCKING NOISE. She almost wanted to scream at the world, at the cottage, at the man in front of her who just wouldnât stop talking, but she knew better, she was raised better, she needed to maintain a calm mind and stay still, not betray her weakness because Merlin fucking knew if she even began to start talking about everything that was causing the voices, or the headache, or even the fact that she didnât even know what the fuck was causing them, she would explode and her mind would explode and Augustus would goddamn explode with them.
           Oh dear, youâre ranting to yourself.            I canât be that bad, c a n  I ?
   An agonising moan left her lips and she sat up straight, her head against the wall as she stared straight ahead at him. âOh, shut up, you came here voluntarily, remember?â Alecto made a face at him - for all her power, and insanity, and even ruthlessness, there was a streak of immaturity within her which shone during times of distress.
   When he sat down next to her, her voices SCREAMED. She immediately clutched her head, feeling extremely nauseous. âFuck, itâs what it is every goddamn time.â She pulled her own hair in an effort to get the pain to halt. At his words, she looked back at him, her eyes narrowed. âThat we can, but itâll have to be the person you so clearly need to murder. That face when you entered was not one you make after a normal day at work. Iâm not a fool, Augustus.â
  Her skin was p a l e, too pale, cheekbones popping up, Merlin, someone could mistake her for a starving woman. The ginger hair was burning bright, yet it also seemed like a gigantic flame devouring her head entirely, wrapping it in its jaws like a monster would. Sometimes, Augustus thought what exactly was going into the redheadâs mind, what drove her to continue the Cause. What made Alecto Carrow who she was.
                 Perhaps nothing, a fucking blank space                                 his brain told him, inner self                                                smirking.
  Her words made Rookwood close his eyes so he could calm himself down. Augustus hated exactly that part in a person, immaturity and childish behavior, stupidity overall. âAnd I can also go away voluntarily. Nothing nor anyone chains me here. I can simply click with my fingers and disappear, would you like that?â Eyes squinted and pointed towards Alecto, his gaze piercing.
  âEvery time?â A smirk followed, aquamarine eyes getting back to that blood stain on the floor. âOh no, did you fucking kill someone and felt something? For a Mudblood? Shame, Carrow.â His lips curled into a teasing smile, legs navigating to a crystal bottle of gin. Fingers trailed over it, skin touching glass and almost s h i v e r i n g from the coldness of the material. âIâd gladly accept,â Augustus poured a glass of the alcoholic liquid, spinning it around with his hand. âAnnoying letters from the family, thatâs all. You know, itâs rare for me to show any antipathy or distaste at all. So why donât we focus on you?â
             You and your stupid little brain.
@augrookwxxd
Headcanon Meme
âŸÂ : Sleep headcanon
â Â : Drinking/drunk headcanon
âŒÂ : Childhood headcanon
âŻÂ : Genderbent headcanon
â : Sex headcanon
âźÂ : Bedroom/house/living quarters headcanon
â : Any AU headcanon (modern, school, medieval, and so on)
â€Â :  Cooking headcanon
â : Talents/hobbies headcanon
â»Â : Mood headcanon
â : health headcanon
âżÂ : happiness headcanon
â : anger headcanon
â : body headcanon
ÏĄÂ : mental state headcanon
áŠÂ : love or sexuality headcanon
âĄÂ : relationship with (give name or url)
â Â : religion headcanon
â : pet peeve headcanon
â : food headcanon
â : Any other question of your choosing
Ask my muse the most insane âWould you rather?â questions you can come up with. Get creative.
series pilot | augustus&alecto
» a. carrow:
   No matter the fact that she knew that Augustus thought her to be a dumbfuck, no matter the underestimation he regarded her with, and no matter the actual fact that he was smarter than her, there was a sense of RELIANCE she felt when she thought of him. Despite everything, she knew that he would come if she ever called him to the cottage. It was a constant in their acquaintanceship; it had started so unpredictably that she didnât even remember how, but it stuck all this time, and she was truly thankful for it.
   There was the factor that he had no idea about her voices, and probably just assumed she was bloodthirsty or dealt with really bad headaches, but heâd never questioned the root cause and she was g r a t e f u l for it. As soon as he walked in, her eyes flicked to him, a heaviness settling in them. She took in his appearance - his Ministry robes were still on, which meant he apparated directly from work, but never had he looked so distressed before.
   Something was definitely wrong, she could sense it in the air. A sharp bolt went through her mind, making her wince and clutch her head hard, but his dishevelment did not escape her thoughts. After all - if he was going to say she looked like shit, he deserved a stab back. Her voice peaked out from under the curtain around her face that had been formed by her hair.
             âHave you seen yourself?               You look like youâre about to murder someone.â
  He wasnât sure why she had called him in. It could be family trouble, an existential crisis, a simple freak out. Augustus was bored from people anyways, so dealing with Alectoâs stupid ass was a breath of fresh air for him. The two didnât share a past, really, it had been more of a recent thing, but this cottage was somewhat a s a n c t u a r y for their madness, and he sometimes wondered if she had any mental stability problems as well. And even if she did, Rookwood still would never be able to explain to himself how could one lose his intelligence and grace like she had.
  He lifted the piece of parchment up, the scrabbled and ugly handwriting on it noticeable from miles away. âYou called me here, remember?â someone commenting on his looks was his least favorite thing, partly because Carrow was absolutely correct, he was about to murder someone. And if the woman in front of him, looking like a piece of trash didnât start talking soon, the victim would be herself. âI am not the one to be discussed.â
  He went next to her, while his calm hands folded the piece of parchment and left it on a table near the small sofa. âNow, Alecto,â he began, voice calm and reserved. âSpill the beans, whatâs wrong? Never seen you so distressed since weâve first talked.â His eyes fixated on a particular crimson stain on the wooden floor, a memory sparking up in his mind. âWe can go entertain ourselves later, if you wish.â
cygnus & augustus
» c. black:
  Three minutes to seven.
  Cygnus Black bit his lower lip to keep from chiding Augustus as he entered the dimly lit room, his distaste for the other close to slipping out. Their game would be precise and he would not allow himself to be the first to falter, if either of them showed a single weakness throughout the impromptu dinner.  He did not think the man to be weak, though. He expected their game would be unique in wit and ultimately strong-willed, something he ached for in normal conversation. Playing was a personal pleasure of his, much as it seemed to be with his daughter. But his guest arriving so close to their discussed time dissatisfied Cygnus, and he felt himself grow increasingly disappointed. What if this was not as fun as he had planned?
   âAs you should be.â Cygnus replied, placing his glass gently on the table as he moved forward to offer out his now empty hand. âI am rather pleased that you accepted my invitation. I thought, perhaps, that you wouldnât. We donât know each other as well as Iâd like.â He tilted his head down in a half nod before turning his attention back towards the table. âPlease, help yourself to wine. Or I have brandy, if you prefer, though Iâve chosen this wine specifically to pair with the ham. I pay special attention to detail.â His last sentence was pointed, though he didnât move to meet eyes with his guest. He was at least determined to make the evening fun, though as poised as one would imagine the grande Black to be.Â
  One wrong move was all he needed to get under the other manâs skin, and he was almost desperate to tug it out of him. For years he had perfected his manipulation to levels beyond his wildest dreams, though he always thought his opponent might be too clever to fall for simple jabs. Men with short tempers became susceptible to manipulative, as did the dim-witted, but Augustus did not strike him as stupid or angry. In fact, the man did not leave much of an impression on him at all. That was, perhaps, the reason why he could not put the man out of his mind.Â
   âTell me, mister Rookwood, do you have living family? You see, my father taught me to cook and admire the senses while my mother taught me patience. It was a shame she could not learn to prepare a simple meal. My father was not a happy man for that reason, of course, but he was a wonderful teacher.â He paused, finally turning his attention back to his guest. âI have invited you here to learn more about you. We could be friends, I believe. I do hope youâd like that as much as I would.â He was proud of his features remaining stone-cold through his lies, and hoped his opposite would do he same. No fun in spoiling the mood so soon. âWould you like that, mister Rookwood? Becoming friends?â
  The whole setting of the place was almost inviting. The wretched place still made Augustus feel uncomfortable, which was something rare for him. Normally, that was what he avoided, to feel low on his manipulative power, to feel like he was swimming in foreign waters. With Cygnus Black, everything was peaking, going over the limit, and the sense of self-consciousness was high. As you should be. Augustus almost scoffed, completely mocking down the man. He could see where the older man was going with all this - he wanted a night with Rookwood to sate his need for power, to draw secrets from him most probably, but the younger man would not crawl in the feet of someone as disgusting as Cygnus Black.
  âWhy wouldnât I? I would never miss out on such an opportunity.â A lie, something he knew Cygnus was fully aware of. Thank Merlin it was the safety of the wand pressed against his chest, that kept him sane. A smirk crawled on his lips. âYes, we donât, but the night is young and I look forward to doing exactly that, getting to know you, mister Black.â His feet directed him towards the table with the drinks, fingers trailing over the brandy, one finger popping it open while he served himself a glass of the fine alcoholic liquid.
  And wrong move is what the other was waiting for, Rookwood knew that. But on the other side of the coin, Augustus was waiting for that as well, something that would let an entrance, even the smallest door leading to the core of Cygnus Black, one of the people the wizarding community was most terrified of. He could only imagine what power he would have if someone of his likes was in his friendly circles, however unsettling the old man was. His question made his mind freeze for a while, as he took a sip in order to win himself good three seconds to consider his reply.
  âWell, from the day I was born I was left without a mother, thatâs a well known fact. My father, he was a notorious man, taught me many things. An exquisite individual, showed me how to value the important things in life.â Lies were dripping from his tongue so lightly, a smile on his lips, that was nothing but perfectly faked. Not even Cygnus Black could read it, he was sure. âIâd like to think that my mother would have taught me patience too, but that was left entirely to me. I learned this by myself, to be patient.â Friends? Augustus would deny the offer in a heart beat, if it wasnât for the possible positive outcomes.
  âI thought youâd never ask, mister Black. Of course I would.â
snowflakes | a&marcus
» m. mckinnon:
  He raised his eyebrow and took a long sip once Augustus had touched the tip of his glass to his own. As an Obliviator, he saw many things that he was not allowed to speak of, but Augustus as an Unspeakable had many more things he could not talk about, he was sure of it. No-one quite knew what unspeakables did and most people were not foolish enough to ask. Marcus, a curious Ravenclaw, had always wanted too but he had reigned himself in. âIndeed, our department if running with a limited number of obliviators and the numbers of incidents are multiplying every weekâ he said, grimacing a little. He was reminded of how little sleep he had been getting lately because of this.
  âAnything you want to get off your chest?â Marcus offered, seeing the other manâs face turn stony as he remarked on seeing better in his life than he did at that moment. He nodded and sipped the whiskey in his glass, enjoying the burn in his throat as he did so. it had taken him several years but the taste was finally satisfying too him. âIndeed we do, this war only adding to the piles that were there before. Iâm not surprisedâ he added, sighing, âhalf of the time, I feel as though itâs a dream and the other half⊠it is all too real. Thereâs no⊠in betweenâ.
  The number of accidents are multiplying each week. Stupid wizards unworthy to walk on this planet revealing magic to muggles, pathetic attempts of show-offs leading to a risky threat to the true wizarding community. Marcus McKinnon was a man that could perfectly fit for the cause, but no, he had to be the goody two-shoes he was. âOh well, that sounds terrible, really. But life is terrible, and so is everything happening in this world right now, is it not? Working is just another distraction, though I suppose the recent events is tied to the Obliviators too.â Augustus shrugged, raising a hand for one more round to be served.
  This was his opportunity to fish something out of the man. Any lie, anything that could show Rookwood his weaknesses. âEver been in love, Marcus?â he began a lightly threading topic, something that was so distant for Augustus Rookwood. âEver been in love, but not sure if you are worth it for that other person? If you are able to you know, protect them?â Score, Rookwood, he said to himself, curious eyes stuck to the tip of his empty whiskey glass. âThere is an in between, we havenât just found it yet. I know people that live in this world as though as itâs a dream, and they are one of the most fooled people Iâve seen. They just canât accept everything, and this war wonât be over until they open their eyes, you know.â
