Alecto knew better, but she couldn’t keep the pitying look off of her face. She knew that it was just the way to rile Regulus up, but she felt a little of herself in him. He was ice where she was fire, but they lashed out in similar ways. She remembered what it was like to have the weight of the world on her shoulders, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as what Regulus faced. And she couldn’t imagine what he was going through with Orion’s death.
It was hard to take any of his words seriously. She felt oddly protective of him, and she realized why-his sneering, cold words reminding her of Amycus when she had left. And then she had seen the pain and disappoint and confusion in her twin’s eyes. She wondered if Regulus felt the same way, having someone ripped away from him. Except, Orion hadn’t left by choice. But she had.
“I’m a Carrow, babe, of course I fit in,” she said with a haughtiness of her own, though it was forced and fractured. Her eyes scanned over his face slowly, taking in whatever hint of expression she could. He was blank, impassive, but turbulent in his own way. The calm before the storm. “I just came to pay my respects. My father knew Orion.”
Very, very distantly. The Carrows were much more in the Malfoys orbit than the Blacks, but with the Lucius and Narcissa’s marriage, Iapetus had reason to meet Orion once or twice. Not that her father was any excuse to be here, she hadn’t seen him in years, and had no reason to represent him. In fact, the very notion of her showing her face in front of important people and mentioning him would likely incite rage, perhaps an angry phone call.
If he would acknowledge that she existed.
“Why, do you have any rich friends that need seducing?” She smiled slightly, and the action was brittle, a strained attempt at humor in an incredibly awkward situation. Alecto didn’t quite know how to deal with death, she’d never truly been confronted by it. She never really cared.
He scoffed, under his breath, watching her smile and flirt and feign confidence. Even with her pathetic excuse for a reason to be there, she was glaringly obvious in her intentions. Just like she always was.
Subtlety, maybe, wasn’t one of the useful tricks in any whore’s toolkit.
“Everyone knew Orion,” he said, his voice taking on a derisive edge. He wasn’t going to let a little sadness or mourning cloud his judgement; he’d spoken to Alecto before, seen what she wanted, seen what she’d tried to do to lesser men than him, men like Malfoy and Augustus, and he wouldn’t fall for it. Wouldn’t even give her the time of day. “Your father isn’t special. If everyone who’s father knew Orion was here, we’d have needed to find a bigger cemetery.”
The Carrows were the kind of blue-blooded filth that called the Malfoys kin and kind, the kind of blue-blooded filth that Orion had despised when he founded the Syndicate and climbed his way to the top of the world. The kind Regulus still shuddered to acknowledge his own cousin had married into. And even then, Alecto was, what? The fallen child? The prodigal daughter, still yet to return to her family’s cold but bejeweled embrace?
“Unfortunately for you, my rich friends have something you seem to lack: taste.”
















