BETTER TO REIGN IN HELL

Amycus Carrow. Co-Chairman of Carrow Energy Ltd. Sacred 28 member.

[mzabini-deactivated20200620]

LOCATION: the waterfront restaurant, london

TIME: 7:50pm 

CLOSED FOR: @avcarrow

Maya was pretty damn proud of herself. It’d been about a week since she’d strutted into Amycus’ office in Carrow Energy, palm up and all but demanding their cell phone and email address to create them a Tinder profile. She was growing quite tired of the one-sided catching up when it came to all things related to their love lives. She refused to be the only one with such bounty, so naturally, as their friend, she needed to share her wealth, do her best to get Amycus a date….or at least laid. So they could talk about it…

Updates pinged on her phone sporadically throughout the days as interested parties across London flooded into Amycus’ inbox – and as the self-proclaimed guru of all things related to no strings attached relationships, Maya gave them her expert advice where she could. She even went so far as to type literal scripts for Amycus to follow, manicured nails tapping rapidly against her screen as she navigated them through the art of online flirtations. All of this was fun for her, and now, they had a date. Well…Amycus had a date, but little did their date know that Maya was going to be there also, just in case. 

She’d be the fly on the wall, hiding in plain sight. Unseen but all knowing. The earpiece in her ear, and the matching one in Amycus’ would be their saving grace, and hopefully it’d help them to relax a little with the knowledge that she’d be there, something like a safety net in case they fell. So now, she was seated in her own booth, close to the back of the restaurant, dressed in what she dubbed as her ‘incognito MI6 gear’ – her baseball cap, cashmere turtleneck, jeans and leather over-the-knee boots all in the deepest onyx, perfect for such a mission. Amycus had quite the laugh when she called it that, but she was more than serious about this.

“Ooh, I see him,” Maya whispers lowly, excitedly, “And he’s early, that’s a good sign, Amycus…” 

[avcarrow-blog]

“I’m early,” they hiss back in response, glaring in the approximate direction of her table before schooling their face back into a neutral expression and taking a sip of their water. It’s because of this fact that they force themselves to stay still for half a second longer before glancing nonchalantly over their shoulder, towards the front of the restaurant where, true to Maya’s words, they spot their date heading towards them and offer a small smile.

It’s been a while since Amycus has been on a date -- and, honestly, they’re a bit nervous. They’d scowled and blushed and protested last week when Maya decided to stick her nose into their love life (or lack thereof), but ultimately it’s probably for the best: their job doesn’t give them much of an opportunity to meet potential partners in the traditional way, and they do have enough common sense to know that late nights spent scrolling through Rabastan’s social media accounts isn’t exactly healthy.

And, as it turns out, there is something to be said for online dating. It’s liberating to know that whatever happens, they’re no more than a couple of taps from severing contact with whoever they’re talking to permanently, and it’s actually fun to be Amycus, the single person looking to get laid, as opposed to Amycus, the chairperson, for a while. Where they’re a little (or a lot) rusty, Maya is never more than a message away with advice, suggestions, and sometimes entire pre-written messages ready for them to copy and paste -- and tonight, she’s there as a fall back, just in case things go horribly wrong.

Not that they should -- they initially picked the person mainly because his job as a West End actor and disinterest in current affairs made it very unlikely that he’d know who they were, and only agreed to the place after Maya reassured them that it was private enough that even if they were recognised, people wouldn’t look twice at them, and anyway, it hasn’t been that long since they last went on a date -- but it’s nice to know that Maya’s there anyway, even in that ridiculous outfit of hers.

They stand up as their date (Damien, twenty-six years old, proud father of two cats) reaches their table and hold out a hand because, well, because that’s how they normally greet people in meetings and a date is just a slightly more intimate meeting, right? But Damien pulls them closer to kiss their cheek (Amycus widens their eyes at the potted plant next to Maya’s table and tries to figure out whether this is normal first date behaviour or whether they’re just that out of practice) and say, “It’s nice to meet you in person.”

“You too,” Amycus replies with the half-arsed grace that comes from too many interviews run on autopilot, their brain still half a beat behind as they sit back down and blurt out, “You’re taller. Than I thought you’d be, I mean.”

[avcarrow-blog]

florencevane:

Florence scoffed. She liked Amycus. They were less serious than others of their ilk, able to joke around and relax. It didn’t feel as if Florence were being judged by her bank balance just by being around them. She nudged them lightly with her elbow, lips curving into a grin. “Oh come on. You’re handsome, charming and rich. That goes a long way.” She didn’t know what their preferences were in terms of gender, but those qualities could work for anyone, surely. They’d have worked on her if Amycus wasn’t firmly cemented in ‘gym buddy’ territory.

Florence remained at Amycus’ side as they made their way to the bar. “Shame it’s not a free bar, although I suppose some of our alumni can get rowdy enough even when they’re paying for their drinks.” God help them if they came across an unlimited supply. “I suppose we’re both slaves to our parents’ expectations,” she mused.

“Why, Florence,” they teased, hand on heart, “anyone would think that my charms were already working on you.” Amycus glanced around conspicuously and leaned in with a wink to stage whisper, “Keep quiet about it, though; you’ll ruin my evil plan to secretly get Detective Inspector Vane head over heels for me.” They knew her well enough by now to be comfortable joking about something like that -- or, at least, they’d been sweaty and half naked enough around her with nothing but the odd appreciative glance to let them know that, even if they had been interested, Florence wouldn’t be.

“I guess so,” they agreed, waving over the closest bartender. “Scotch for me, plus whatever the lady’s having.” They turned back to her with a half smile to ask, “What would you have done with your life, if you hadn’t joined the police?”

[avcarrow-blog]

ALECTO: This news about Corban makes me nervous.

ALECTO: Do we have any way to protect them if it goes further?

ALECTO: Or better yet to insure it doesn't.

AMYCUS: It won't.

AMYCUS: Right now all they have is a speculative piece from a news source no one worthwhile pays any attention to. I'll pay Tonks a visit soon and find out what else he knows -- likely nothing, but better to be safe than sorry.

AMYCUS: If it turns up anything interesting I'll let both of you know and we'll deal with it before it can become an issue.

[avcarrow-blog]

blazingmarlene:

She brought a hand to her chest in a mockery of offense. Loneliness was not a problem. Not with the light and the fast mind, the assurances that she would find decent company in nearly anyone that came her way in that state.

“I know we’re not quite in the same circle anymore, but honestly, Amycus, there’s no need to resort to such base fucking insults: I have always been a friend to deviants. And they’re around – somewhere. Some people did have actual friends in their university days they lost touch with and are looking forward to seeing again, you know?”

“I don’t recall us ever sharing a circle,” they replied coolly, debating whether the brief respite from the crush of people inside the great hall was really worth Marlene’s company.

They arched an eyebrow at her own base fucking insult, the itch to throw her own words back in her face distracting them enough from the low, low blow that they didn’t react. “They can’t have been very good friends if you didn’t bother to keep in contact.”

[ofoliivia-blog]

AMYCUS CARROW // @avcarrow

“Its very impressive.” She tries to be delicate, to say something true and make it sound like a good thing even though nothing about this building appeals to her. Olivia walks by their side down the halls of Carrow Energy. Every inch of the space is as magnificent as it is cold. To her it seems so impersonal, foreign. It’s so different from her little pub, all warm and soft surfaces, built to welcome people. Even Olivander’s seems friendlier than this with its bean bag chairs and colorful walls.  She knows Amycus is doing her a favor by bringing her here, and yet every part of her aches to turn tail and run. She doesn’t belong in this world, and she never has despite all it’s given her. But she doesn’t say it, and she doesn’t run because she has a responsibility to stay here, for her father. And Amycus is one of the best people to show her how to manage it. 

[avcarrow-blog]

“Thank you,” they say, smiling graciously. It’s not difficult to see how uncomfortable Olivia is but unfortunately there isn’t anything they can do to help with that, other than make sure she feels as welcome as possible here. “I know it’s not quite what you’re used to from your own establishment, but the bare bones of any business are the same.”

Amycus leads her further through the corridors, finishing up the brief tour and heading towards the elevators to bring her up to their office. “You’ll have people to take care of the everyday workings, so I wouldn’t worry too much about that side of things unless you’re particularly interested in micromanaging. Your biggest problem will likely be boardroom politics.”

[avcarrow-blog]

di-dolohov:

They appear from nowhere, suddenly too close, elbow digging into his side. Fuckkk. Antonin freezes up, fingers fumbling around the glass they push into his hands, brain screeching to a halt. He’ll admit under duress to glancing around when he first arrived, body filled with sickly relief when they were nowhere to be seen. Tonight was already going to be full of people he was not up to dealing with; the last thing he’d needed was that deadly smirk and those knowing eyes.

Speak of the devil though and Amycus will appear. 

His hands are clammy, heart stuttering at the mention of Henry, at the too close heat of their body. He’s fucked up, he knows then and now, and he’s had a few too many to survive this conversation. It’s not the first time Amycus has brought up Henry, not even the worst circumstances, brick against Antonin’s back, pants at his ankles, hands everywhere, but he still flinches. It’s a tell he can’t help. 

Somehow manufacturing a smile, strained as it is, he replies in starts and stops, “Amycus, yes. It’s been ages, hasn’t it. I’m good, he’s good. Everything’s great.” The smile’s one thing but he has zero idea how to make his words sound sincere. He can feel his old classmates eyes on him, curious, dissecting. Can they see what he’s done, who he is? Dirty cop, murderer, cheater. “He couldn’t make it unfortunately,” he says dully, just for their audience. Amycus knows Henry isn’t here though they probably knows exactly where he is. The desire to send Henry a quick text churns in his stomach, a mix of fear and guilt. Guilt heavy in his lungs. 

Instead, he says as calmly as he can manage, “Excuse us. Sorry, I just need a quick word with Amycus.” He reaches out to grab their forearm to tug them away before thinking better of it, hand falling back to his side. He tilts his head indicating the corridor beyond them, hoping futilely that Amycus follows. Antonin doubts they’ve ever done anything in their life they didn’t want to do. Fuck. He reaches out against his better judgement, clamping his hand down on their wrist, tight, tight, and gives a sharp tug. “Remember, Amycus, you wanted to ask about that,” he lowers his voice into a false whisper, “addicts anonymous group the department hosts.”

It’s probably a mistake, dropping to Amycus’ level, essentially consenting to their game, clearly though he does not know what’s good for him. 

“Good, that’s good,” they smile, nodding along like Antonin’s words are clear and coherent and they’re actually interested in what he has to say. “Oh, that’s a shame.” A slight frown, their eyebrows drawing together ever so slightly, real disappointment showing in their eyes and their tone -- they’re showing off, almost too genuine in the face of Antonin’s fumbling attempts at sincerity.

His reactions to their presence haven’t gone unnoticed -- the flinch, the deer in the headlights expression when they first appeared, the underlying tension in his expression and tone. They lean ever so slightly closer, the side of their body pressing against his as they turn to his companions, pointedly ignoring him for a few moments, and smile warmly, offering them a few handshakes and polite introductions and natural, charming smiles, in direct contradiction to Antonin’s only mostly recovered state beside them.

Amycus ignores all attempts to remove them from the conversation until Antonin reaches out to try and grab their arm and they turn, eyebrow arched pointedly as they stare him down. Apparently he doesn’t get the hint and reaches out, again, to catch hold of their wrist and tug on it. Their eyes narrow but their expression doesn’t otherwise change at his words and they nod, using his grip on their wrist to yank him close enough to throw an arm around his shoulders and start to turn them both away from the group.

“Of course,” they say seriously, quietly, but just loud enough that the closer member of the group could overhear them as they walk towards the corridor that Antonin had indicated. “I wouldn’t want to think that Henry was getting anything less than the best help, after all.”

[dilskaplan]

                                                      N a r c i s s a  &  A m y c u s .                                                         { @avcarrow }

She hadn’t thought anything of it earlier that week when Amycus had requested that they change the location of their lunch from their favourite cafe to one that was entirely out of the way and caught in the shadow of the nearby football stadium. She also hadn’t thought anything of it when they’d requested that the two of them take a walk afterwards, their gaze drawn every now and again to Wembley’s architecture as if appreciating the structural composition. 

She likes to be kept in a half darkness – vaguely knowing what they do is enough, she doesn’t want details of their plans. But what she does like to be informed on is who they consist of. Of the Carrow twins, Alecto was, perhaps, an obvious choice. Amycus, on the other hand, had never seemed the type. Not until she flicks on the morning news and catches sight of the smouldering skeleton of Wembley Stadium.

Narcissa is quick to grab her phone. Her gaze remains fixed on the television screen as she listens to the dial tone, each ring echoing through her mind. When they do pick up, she doesn’t wait for them to speak. “I need to talk to you. Meet me in Regent’s Park in an hour.” She hangs up before they can respond and exhales a weighted breath.

[avcarrow-blog]

The call comes as they’re in the middle of typing an email -- nothing urgent, just sending out some feelers for a new initiative they’re considering, but they won’t be able to even think about trying to get it past the board for a few months at least, and so they don’t feel too bad about abandoning it for a little while as they reach for the phone vibrating quietly in their pocket. Narcissa’s face on the screen makes them frown, though -- have they missed a meeting? It’s not unusual for them to get caught up in their work but usually Vivienne will discreetly remind them if they don’t emerge from their office in time to make it.

They’re cut off before they can ask the question and sigh heavily, eyes closing as they pinch the bridge of their nose and listen to the silence echoing from their phone’s speaker. They don’t need to check the screen to know that she’s hung up on them. Sure, they knew this moment would come sooner or later -- Narcissa isn’t stupid, and with the company they keep it’s not exactly difficult to figure out their involvement with a group like the Death Eaters -- but they’d hoped it’d be later, much later.

Truthfully, they thought she already knew the identities of most of the group, what with her sister and fiancé both being members, but apparently either she didn’t know of their involvement, or she just didn’t want to know who else was involved.

Amycus takes the tube to Regent’s Park. It’s not often that they use public transport but the crush of people and the relative anonymity help to calm them enough that they can actually admire the scenery when they get there with fifteen minutes to spare instead of obsessing relentlessly over what they should say, how they should handle this, whether there’s anything they can actually do to make this easier.

They’re very nearly properly calm by the time Narcissa arrives and they manage a small, only slightly strained smile, offering her an arm more out of habit than anything else. “Shall we walk?”

[elcctriic-blog]

AMYCYS CARROW // @avcarrow

She pauses for a moment as they bring it up again. Killing the man who tried to hurt her, the man who did hurt her. It’s been months, and he still walks the streets, he’s still fucking breathing. She knows her brother hates it as much as she does. She can feel their desire as much as her own, feeding off one another, aching for the same conclusion. A mangled body on the floor. She can see it in her mind, and with them by her side it could become a reality so easily. “Not yet.” She begins to move again.  Alecto is pacing the length of her brother’s room, unable to keep herself still. This topic doesn’t make it any easier. “Alice is still digging around, she came up to me at the reunion, spouting shit about how I need to talk to someone about what happened.” She shakes her head, annoyance unrestrained in her voice. When its just the two of them its rare for her to hold back. Hell even when there are other people, its rare.

[avcarrow-blog]

Where their sister can’t keep still, Amycus is motionless, leaning heavily against the wall with their arms tightly folded over their chest. The only parts of them that move are their eyes, following her movements across their floor, and the muscle that jumps in their jaw at her words. Not yet. It’s been months -- months of placating words, months of excuses, months of Alice fucking Fortescue. Honestly, they’ve considered offing her themselves a few times just to get rid of the need for restraint.

“So talk,” they say, like it’s that easy, like they have heart to hearts like normal siblings all the time, like the only time they’re on the same page anymore isn’t when there’s a body lying on the floor between them. “If not to me, then to someone else. If she thinks it’ll help, you might as well just try it -- she’s had more experience with this shit than either of us.” As much as they hate to admit it, it’s not such a bad idea in the first place, and probably something they would have suggested themselves, had Alecto asked them. “If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work, and you can go back to whatever it is you’re doing now.”

[evanrosiier-blog]

closed starter: @avcarrow date: wednesday, august 9th 2017 time: 10:00 am 

The headquarters of Carrows Energy looms over him. Evan scans the dark building and scowls. He would much prefer to discuss business on his territory, but unfortunately Co-Chairman trumps Finance Director, and so here he is, briefcase in hand and the scent of rain on his lapel. He travels up the elevator with a handful of other professionals, willing himself to keep a cool head. However, his chance encounter yesterday evening with Alecto has left him unsettled with an ill taste in his mouth.

They have never gotten along. Pen it down to Amycus’ brotherly feelings over their sister, or Evan’s overly competitive nature; either way the two have always been trying to outsmart, outdo, out-whatever the other. Amycus, a king of the energy world, has much more power and influence, a fact Evan would only willingly admit with a knife to his throat. On the other hand, Evan knows his financial genius is unparalleled, and is much more admired in the public eye. Sometimes, though, that just isn’t enough.

Amycus’ office soon swims into view. A secretary glances up and opens her mouth, but Evan simply ghosts past her toward Amycus’ door. He doesn’t need to be told what to do. Knocking once, he enters without waiting for a reply, and finds the other Death Eater sat at their desk. He catches their eye, and instantly feels a sudden heat in his veins. Calm. You’re here on business, not about their fucking sister. 

“Let’s get to it, shall we?” Evan imposes, sitting opposite their desk and fanning his fingers over one knee. “Or should we pretend we actually care about each other’s lives and make small talk?” he scoffs with a smirk.

[avcarrow-blog]

There are very few people who would have the audacity to stroll into their office like they own the place.

Unfortunately for Amycus, they know exactly who’s about to walk in before the door handle turns and the nails of their left hand dig into their palm, hand hidden under the desk, as they force a polite smile (something that’s always so much more difficult than usual around Evan) and look up. But despite his attitude, Evan is in their territory now, and so they hold up a finger without a word as he sits down and go back to typing for just long enough to let the man know just how little they care about this meeting.

(It’s good for business, the Sacred 28 companies working together, and that’s the only thing that got Evan through the door in the first place. It’s not that they don’t want to work together -- had it been Narcissa or Maya or even Bellatrix or, really, any other House of Black employee attending this meeting they would be nothing but friendly and helpful. It’s just that Evan brings out the worst in them, as the stapler that they so very nearly threw at his head at their last meeting likes to remind them, and they really should have put that away before he arrived but, well, it’s nice to have the option readily available.)

“Sorry, what was that?” they ask finally, turning away from their computer screen and doing their best to look like they’re giving Evan their complete undivided attention. “You want to make small talk? How uncharacteristic of you. Let’s just get down to business and get this over with so I can get back to doing some real work.”

[avcarrow-blog]

florencevane:

“I take the protect and serve part of my job very seriously,” Florence joked, grin spreading across her deliberately pale features, her red lipstick and dark eyemakep contrasting with the light blue of her eyes to make all her features pop. “Well, if you’re going to be throwing punches, at least you’ve got the arms for it.” She ran a hand over the arm of Amycus’ suit. “Even if your current apparel doesn’t show them off.”

Of course Amycus didn’t know she went here. She’d have left before they came along, and she doubted they were doing any facebook stalking about the moody but witty detective they always saw at the gym. “Criminal Justice. Call me predictable, I suppose. Or just a product of my father’s morals. What about you?” She’d have placed any amount of money she had on either accounting of business studies, probably due to similar familial pressure.

Amycus grinned back, the compliment radiating warmth though them and causing them to stand up a little straighter. “Now, now, Florence,” they teased, “just because you like to see me sweaty and half naked doesn’t mean everyone else wants to.”

“Makes sense to have a grounding in what you planned on having a career in,” they nodded. “Besides, there’s nothing wrong with being predictable -- sometimes the road most travelled can have some of the nicest scenery.” Amycus laughed, shaking their head as they reached the bar and attempted to catch the attention of one of the bartenders. “I studied business, which I guess makes me just as predictable as you.”

[avcarrow-blog]

extension394:

The smile that raises the edges of his mouth is a rare expression that reaches his eyes for a moment. It could have been the familiar touch against the small of his back, or the closeness of someone else which he had considered a rarity as of late or perhaps it was simply the fact that he had finally found himself in company that he appreciated. It almost would give him hope that accepting the invitation hadn’t resulted in a pointless evening.

The question quirks his brow upward, long fingers reached over to brush some imaginary lint off of the sleeve of Amycus’ suit while his stare moved past them to Fawley and a snicker rose from the back of his throat. “He looks like he should be teaching here,” the comment laced with mild disgust, “One look in the mirror should have told him that he looked ridiculous, he’s just annoyed that he wasn’t smart enough to realise it before everyone else had to tell him. It will make anyone who takes a photograph with him look better though.”

“He isn’t the only one taking advantage of the open bar, have you seen Goyle? Eleven o’clock. I’m almost certain he’s been trying to convince Professor Sprout to come back to his room, either that or I’m mistaking bedroom eyes for a stroke.” Severus shrugged, unapologetic in his comment, knowing that one of the reasons which he liked Amycus’ company was that he did not have to be so cautious about what he said as he did with others. 

A derisive laugh falls from their lips at Severus’ comments as their eyes rake back over the man, now starting to turn a definite shade of red as he speaks angrily to those around him. “At least there’s a silver lining,” they agree. While they aren’t particularly fond of Fawley and would usually avoid him where possible, Amycus has to admit that getting their photo taken with him tonight wouldn’t be so bad, if only because, as Severus so rightly said, he’d make them look so much better, even in their third best suit and lucky tie.

They catch a glimpse of a reporter in their peripheral vision, just shifting into the right position that should he turn in their direction he’d have a mostly unobstructed view of them from across the room, and sigh minutely, reluctantly removing their hand from the small of Severus’ back. They stay close, though, close enough that they can feel the warmth of him through both of their suits. If they close their eyes they can almost believe that they’re in their booth at their favourite bar, judging the other patrons with Severus after a long day.

“Oh, dear--” Amycus breaks off, biting their lip to stop themselves from laughing too loud as they turn to witness the spectacle for themselves. “Does he not remember she’s gay?” Their shoulders shake slightly with the effort of holding back their laughter but they can’t keep the wide smile off of their lips. “Oh, god, what I would give to be a fly on the wall of that conversation. Shall we see if we can sneak a little closer?”

[avcarrow-blog]

cyaxleymp:

Corban shook their head, knowing just how correct Amycus was. Even when they had been in school, it had been much of the same way; they had been lucky enough to avoid most of that nonsense, though, thanks to the others who chose to study political science. And Durmstrang had been another story entirely. “You’re right. And it helps that I’ve got a sixth sense for drama. I lie in wait, making trivial smalltalk until I smell blood, and then I put myself in the perfect position to benefit from it. If any of these liberals are planning on causing problems, I’ll be right there. Stick with me, love, and we’ll be the talk of the press for days to come,” Corban nodded, a sly smile on their lips as they gave Amycus a reassuring pat on the back.

“It would be something grand to say the least,” they said with a shake of their head. It felt like a small feat that none of them had managed to attract disaster yet, considering their complete inability not to lump together. They were certain that the two of them stood a good chance of sympathy, if put in the right situation. But brining Alecto into things could change that, given her own reputation, no matter how much they both cared for her. “I have a feeling not even Lucius could stop the press from finding a way to use any disaster the three of us would attract against us. They’d probably think I was sleeping with both of you, or some other ridiculous nonsense. How I’ve avoided those rumors thus far is actually beyond me, in all honesty. But Alecto should be showing face with her ‘date,’ anyway.”

“Well, since you’re offering so politely, who am I to turn down good press for free?” Amycus raised their glass and tapped it gently against the side of Corban’s, flashing them a smile before taking a small, restrained sip of their drink. They only had three more after this one, after all, and while it was tempting to down it they knew that they’d have much more of a need for such actions later on tonight, when talking to strangers and people they wouldn’t be able to get through a conversation completely sober with.

They couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of Corban’s statement. “That sounds like the sort of piece a struggling self-proclaimed journalist would throw together in five minutes along with a badly photoshopped picture of the three of us for the ad revenue,” they said dryly, not even bothering to pause to give the notion any more thought than that. Corban was like a sibling, to both them and Alecto, and even the suggestion that there was anything more than that was laughable.

“That’s true.” The fact that their sister was actually making an effort to get some good press, for once, definitely wasn’t going unnoticed by them. Even if it was just a fake relationship conceived to make both of them look better in front of the cameras, it was refreshing to read the news in the morning and see harmless relationship gossip as opposed to, say, articles about anything else Alecto did ever. “Speaking of, I haven’t seen anyone on your arm lately. Is that by design, or is there someone you’re hiding?”

[avcarrow-blog]

cissas:

“That,” Narcissa said, careful with how she approached the topic of their sister, “is very true. Alecto isn’t exactly the subtle, charming type. Although I would hope that she realises how many journalists are present – perhaps any drama tonight will be kept to a minimum.” It was unlikely, but with Amycus’ mind elsewhere she was under the impression that the last thing they needed was bad press. Her nod of agreement was a gentle one, the sentiment shared. “This evening is certainly a good opportunity for everyone in the Sacred 28 to share their success stories, but you and I both know that you have to be in the right mindset when dealing with the press. Don’t push yourself too hard or it will only end in tears.” Whether her concern stemmed from wanting to look out for Amycus or merely protect the reputation of their social circle as a whole, it was unclear.

Their question was responded to with a reply that fell from her tongue like clockwork, accompanied by a bright smile which also took little to no thought. “Wonderfully, thank you.” It wasn’t that she disliked talking about it, rather that she feared giving too much away and risking ruining the romantic uncertainty which thus far surrounded the day. She paused, a faint smile toying across her lips. “It’s going to be beautiful.” Her gaze lifted to study their profile, politely curious. “What about you, darling, any romantic endeavours? You’ve always done well to keep things out of the public eye. I suppose Alecto’s relationship with Rodolphus is enough Carrow gossip for the public to speculate over.”

Amycus makes a mostly noncommittal noise of acknowledgement low in their throat, both at her assessment of their sister and their own state. They know, logically, that she’s right, that they ideally shouldn’t be around journalists and photographers and other people in general in their current state of mind, they know that even if they were back in the great hall they’d be avoiding contact with anyone they didn’t know, but every minute snatched to themselves feels like an admission of weakness, like they can’t handle being back here.

“I’m glad to hear it.” It’s accompanied by a genuine smile and a pause -- while Narcissa seems to want to brush over the subject like she’s giving a soundbite to a reporter and they don’t want to push if she doesn’t want to elaborate, they’re enjoying the shift in focus of the conversation to someone other than themselves, even if it’s just for a short while. “Yeah?” they say, with enough interest in their tone to indicate that they’d be interested in her elaborating, but not enough to sound pushy. “Have you set a date, then?”

They laugh, once, a dry sound with just the slightest hint of derision to it. Romantic endeavours? Not in the sense she means, nothing that would end in pretty photos and exchanging rings -- nothing that would ever see the light of day. “Not for some time, I’m afraid,” they say with a wry smile. “My line of work doesn’t leave too much time free for dates." What they neglect to mention is that this is mostly by design -- they made time for Severus, before; they make time for illicit rendezvous, now. “I doubt I’d find many people who are willing to both fit themselves in around my schedule and keep things quiet.”

[avcarrow-blog]

blvcknwidowed:

Maya’s lips pursed, head tipping to the side as she fixed Amycus with a look that clearly said: Who are you kidding? They both knew that Amycus wasn’t the kind to go grinning in people’s faces just for the hell of it. No – such emotions, for them, weren’t connected to anything other than a facade they had to place on for certain people when in certain places. But every once in a while, something more genuine would seep into their smile, and those were the moments she held onto, reminding her that the Amycus everyone else saw wasn’t always the true one, but she was granted access to them. 

“Thank you,” she says, graciously, before rolling her eyes, instantly waving away their words. “You’re so modest. Amycus, please.” While chiding them for such humbleness, she had to admit it’s one of the things that made her friendship with them so easy. They weren’t completely full-of-themselves like the people she was surrounded by on a day to day. 

Joining them, Maya laughs as well, knowing she could share her knowledge gap with Amycus. “I’m so out of the loop with politics, Corban Yaxley called themselves and MP and I struggled, Amycus. I struggled to put two and two together.” She places a hand to her forehead, shaking her head, disappointed and a little embarrassed in herself. She was smarter than that.  “Not to worry, though, darling. None of that talk here.” 

Immensely touched, Maya sends them an endeared smile, coupled with the gentlest squeeze of their arm, “My white knight, I knew I could entrust my hand with you.”

Maya’s complete lack of knowledge about politics startles a genuine laugh out of them and they stare at her for a moment, only half expecting her to say she’s kidding, before wrapping an arm around her shoulders in a half hug that’s the closest thing to a public display of affection they’re likely to show. “Oh, Maya,” Amycus smiles, shaking their head fondly down at her, “never change.”

Their usual company would never have admitted to a lack of knowledge such as that -- it would have been viewed as a weakness, an oversight, something to be kept hidden and corrected. Maya’s frankness is, as always, refreshing, a reminder that despite everything, they don’t have to pretend with her -- especially about things such as current affairs. They flash her a relieved grin. “I knew I could count on you for a fun evening.”

“Of course,” they say seriously, with another smile -- it’s easy to smile around her, they’ve found, and they’ve also found that trying to fight the urge doesn’t work so well, so they don’t bother fighting it anymore. “Only the best for Maya Zabini -- all your second rate suitors better watch out, they’ve got to deal with me first.”

[avcarrow-blog]

blazingmarlene:

“Yep. Did it say bland young shite with daddy issues or is that a fashion statement on your part?”

She met their gaze with little more than indifference, tapping her feet to the rhythm of the distant music. They didn’t deserve more than a little disdain. It wasn’t as if she hated them. Not that night, at least. Not until the glorious day she got to see everything they and their kind treasured crash and burn.

“Amycus, love, you are still about as fun as a genital wart.  Warms my fucking heart. And don’t you go and think wearing daddy’s tailored suits makes you any more interesting than one either!”

Where usually the insults wouldn’t stick, tonight they were on edge enough that some of the hits found purchase. Not many, not enough to invoke a response besides their usual derision -- it wasn’t like she was deliberately insulting them personally, it was more a reflexive response to anyone with any kind of status above that of degenerate -- but enough that they felt it.

“I’m sure you’d know all about those,” they said, drily, brushing a nonexistent speck of lint from their blazer. “Tell me, are you planning on spending the whole night sulking out here by yourself? No deviants -- sorry, you call those friends now -- to spend your time with?”

[xenoteros-blog]

@avcarrow –hogwarts reunion.

Tap of shoes on the well-worn stone. Silence come stilted. The hallways remember the echo of Xenophilius, vicious knife-edge of xem, damp coverings of carelessness hiding that black tar core- a decade ago and knowledge decays in half of that, only the ghost here of what had been.

Still, something trembles.

Xe finds Amycus at a turn, every thought of the past run aground with the sight of dark hair and straight shoulders- an exhale catching in the mouth, curling to a secret smile.

No greeting offered, no murmur of surprise. Only the space between them, closing with every measured step. Fingers loosely draped over Amycus’ collar, smoothing some non-existent crease. Lingering at the side of their throat.

The steady pulse of found life.

A moment too long and xir hand drops to rest on a bannister. “I didn’t see you earlier. I’d have asked you to a drink.” The lie drops- disappears beneath the cracks of stone at their feet. Earlier the trickle of conversation from the side of the hall, the sight of the young heir in the crowd, every spilled word, every note of spun charm. Watching them leave. Waiting a moment. Following.

There’s hunger given home in the stomach, sense of purpose in every languid motion. In the slow tilt of xir gaze appraisal that lies waiting. “Which graduation year?”

[avcarrow-blog]

They can’t get two minutes to themselves tonight, it seems -- just as they’re trying to leave for some fresh air, the echo of footsteps following not too far behind brings them to a halt and they arrange themselves into picture perfect nonchalance, leaning ever so slightly against the top of the staircase and swiping through messages on their phone.

But as they spot who’s coming around the corner it becomes clear they don’t need to fabricate a reason for being out here. Phone placed on silent and dropped neatly into their pocket, pushing away from the stairs ever so slightly to wait for xem, they think that perhaps this isn’t necessarily a bad interruption.

They manage to suppress their shiver at xir touch -- too close, too personal, too intimate, yet they can’t bring themselves to look away from those dark eyes -- but their swallow is audible in the quiet hallway, their skin tingling through their shirt at the loss of contact.

“I didn’t know you went to Hogwarts.” A rude interjection, perhaps, but it’s disquieting, this newfound knowledge -- almost every other person they’ve talked to tonight, maybe one in three, has known who they are, and they don’t like the idea that maybe xe might, too. But if xe did, xe would’ve said something before now, surely? They tell themselves they’re just worrying for nothing and try to push it from their mind, try not to think of xir hands on their skin.

Irritation flares up sharply as xe continues talking. They both know xe didn’t follow them to talk, but since they’re not about to suggest they find an empty classroom and they’re definitely not looking to start anything in a public hallway, even one as empty as this seems, they have little choice other than to follow the pacing xe sets.

(They like to pretend they don’t crave this. It’s a lie as transparent and flimsy as clingfilm, but they hold tight to it anyway like it can shield them from the truth.)

“2012.” Then, more out of reflexive politeness than anything else, “And yourself?”

[avcarrow-blog]

florencevane:

Of all the people who could have said hello to her, Florence was glad it was Amycus of all people. They couldn’t exactly be called close. While Florence’s family was better off than most people, they weren’t in the same calibre as people like the Carrows. Their fortune must have been in the millions by now. She didn’t know how Amycus chose their friends, but she assumed they were less likely to become besties with people who weren’t at all the same parties, even if they were always friendly, never snobby. Their paths just didn’t cross that often.

“I think you’ve known me long enough to call me Florence now,” she said with a grin. She wondered what Amycus was drinking tonight. They had seen them in the gym, and those abs didn’t come from downing pints. “As long as you’re buying,” she teased with a grin, looking over her shoulder at the red-faced men Amycus had left behind. “Friends of yours? They look overjoyed to see you.” She let her hand rest on Amycus’ arm. “Don’t worry. I’ll look after you. You’ve seen me punch.”

“My hero,” they said, free hand on their chest, only half joking as they led her swiftly towards the bar -- and away from the fuming men behind them. “Two more minutes with them and I might have been the one doing the punching,” they confided in a low voice, bending their neck to murmur in her ear, “and that wouldn’t have been good for any of us.”

“I didn’t know you went to Hogwarts, though,” they continued, straightening up and weaving through the crowd as it started to thicken. It was a lie -- the first time Florence had let slip what she did for a living they’d done their research and found out everything that there was to know about Florence Vane, from her GCSE results to what places she liked to frequent, just in case they needed to bump into her on short notice. “What did you study?”