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PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
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@nick-mulciber
FULL NAME: Nicholas Aaron Mulciber AGE: 23 GENDER & PRONOUNS: cis man, he/him OCCUPATION: Obliviator BLOOD STATUS: half-blood pureblood ALIGNMENT: chaotic neutral, death eater SEXUALITY: bisexual AMORTENTIA: the scent of brewing potions, iron, clean linens, sea salt BOGGART: corpses PATRONUS: eagle
Rodolphus felt it the moment Nick breached the outer edge of his thoughts — clumsy still but persistent. Determined. Dangerous, in the way any weapon becomes when wielded without full control.
He didn’t react outwardly. Not right away. Years of practice had taught him to keep his face smooth, impassive. But inside, a thousand instincts stirred: to shield, to strike, to smother the novice’s mind before it could root too deep. And yet — he didn’t. Not fully.
Nick wasn’t entirely unwelcome.
The boy had promise. Foolish, brave promise. And it was brave, to willingly step into the hurricane of Rodolphus’ mind and not recoil from what he found. Most did. Even other Legilimens who should have known better. They flinched at the chaos, the violence, the centuries of memory stacked like bones in a crypt. But Nick had lingered. Not just lingered. Perhaps understood. Or tried to.
Rodolphus turned his head slightly, just enough to glance at him. There was blood under his fingernails still. It wasn’t his, but he couldn’t remember whose. He liked that he couldn’t remember.
“You shouldn’t go looking through doors you’re not ready to open,” Rodolphus said, voice low, unreadable. “Especially when they don’t belong to you.” He teased.
But Nick had already pushed through. Rodolphus felt it like the pressure drop before a storm, the sudden ache behind the eyes.
He was inside. Not deep, but deep enough.
Interesting.
Rodolphus didn’t stop him. Instead, he stepped forward too, silent as a shadow, and met Nick in that space between memory and thought. Where the blood still dripped, where the screaming hadn’t quite faded.
He didn’t speak, not in the physical world, but Nick would feel the weight of it all the same. A presence, vast and heavy, coiling around his mind like smoke and steel.
“If you’re going to dig,” the presence said, “then dig properly.”
The thing that both was and was not Nick inside Rodolphus's mind ran its fingers through the smoke. He knew rooms like these, had a few in his own mind. Places to hide the things civilized society deemed uncouth. Places built for filthy secrets and the macabre. If he could grow older to have a mind like this, well then Nick would die happy.
Nick tilted his head to the side as he did his best to assess Rodolphus. The man didn't seem overly upset about Nick being here, even if he'd warned him not to enter the door. That combined with the implicit permission to dig likely meant Nick wouldn't get in too much trouble. Better to beg forgiveness than asked permission, and all that.
"I can dig." He replied, turning to a corner and beginning to pick and peel at the layers. Nothing he was doing couldn't be undone by someone who had any skill, and he could see the room begin to take proper shape as he worked. The shadowy figure of Rabastan, two Muggles on the floor, the light playing off the bodies.
"This looks like fun." Nick commented as he eyed the Muggles gasping forms. Maybe the next time he did something like this he ought to invite Evan. They could do so much more with two people rather than one. "And recent. Nice."
"I did, yeah." Estelle had enjoyed her time in France, had enjoyed the ocean and the way summer seemed to flow differently down in the south in comparison to London and the area. "Don't have to tell you about the amount of redecorating I've done in my home afterwards, do I?" Each time the blonde had gone to France she'd come back with the need to change up her life at least a little bit.
The grin on her face spread even further as she handed him the box of macarons. "I'm calling you whatever you make of it. But you do worry a lot. A lot more than I'd have though you could." Forgotten was the mess he'd created in her life, at least to a degree. "How does it feel living like that?" - @nick-mulciber
"How the fuck are you not tripping over everything all the time in your house?" Nick asked. He only redecorated when forced, and even then he still tripped over shit on occasion. People who did it all the time must have some bruise-related death wish. Sure he'd played Quidditch back in school but that didn't mean his dexterity had stayed up to snuff.
"I only worry about the shit that actually matters." He said. It felt nice to have her even partially forgive him. While he certainly didn't regret driving Beck away, the fucker didn't deserve her in the slightest, she'd never been meant to be collateral. "It's... it's kind of nice, actually. I like it more than I thought I would."
The blonde's brows shot up, and for a moment she just laughed, short, disbelieving, almost delighted at his audacity. “You really are desperate for attention, huh? Threatening to chase after my friends just to see if I’ll bite.” She leaned in, her smile all sugar, her eyes anything but. “Careful, Nicky. You might find I bite harder than you bargain for.” She leaned back again, casual, lifting her drink with a shrug. “Besides, Mary’s way out of your league. Don’t embarrass yourself.”
"Maybe I just want to have some fun." He said with a shrug. This was quite the joy already. Riling up Mary's friends was always good for a laugh. What an excellent use of his free time. The look on Marlene's face was good enough to frame. "Are you sure about that, McKinnon? I'm fairly certain Mary has a bit of a crush on me, has for a while. Ask her and find out."
Evan smirked, letting out a low, mirthless chuckle. He tapped the rim of his glass, sending tiny rings of amber across the counter. “Complacent, you say? Oh, absolutely. One would almost forgive them for thinking the world still made sense.” He leaned back, eyes narrowing thoughtfully, though the grin never left his face. “But really, Nick… it’s almost too easy, isn’t it? They run about, screaming, thinking someone might save them. And we? We just… watch the theater unfold. Deliciously predictable.”
He drained the last of his drink and set the glass down with a soft clink. “I do wonder how far we could push it before the real fun begins. Care to brainstorm over another round, or are you content letting them scurry in terror a little longer?”
"You'd think He would want more chaos, to keep them all little trembling mice." Nick said wistfully, longingly. While he would certainly never question the Dark Lord's will, absolutely never, but he longed for more chaos in the streets. More bloodshed, more death, more terror. It called to him.
"Merlin, let's. It's so delicious when they're scared. What do you think they'd do if we killed the current Minister? He's under our control anyways isn't he? But surely his use will run out."
It felt like the world she built around Nick and herself was crashing down around her. Mary's mind ran with theories that punched through walls of what she thought of Nick before this. Nick had been trustworthy, helpful even. He had been someone Mary turned to in regards to her thoughts on the war and some of her friends. Mary lifted her wand to deflect whatever he would send back. When nothing came, she feared she was being tested. This time, it was not practice. Mary threw another spell, one that could slice through his skin like a papercut. "I trusted you," she said through a voice that shook harshly. "You were my friend. Why are you doing this?"
"Ah, there we go. Now we're really fighting." He said, his grin vicious and delighted all at once. How glorious this felt. This was almost as good as the first time he kissed Matt. The joy of it sang in his blood.
Nick let the spell hit him, just for fun. Oh sure he'd get an earful from Matt for it later but it was worth it. The blood rolled down his cheek and he didn't mind.
"I know you did, sweet little dove. That's what made it all such fun. Would it help your feelings to know that I care for you, in a way? I've never met a Mudblood half as fun as you." He sent a hex her way, meant to sting and burn. "WIthout a doubt you're my favorite."
Marlene gave an exaggerated little sigh, as though he’d just confessed the most tragic thing in the world. “Plenty of hobbies, and yet somehow you still manage to be so tragically boring? Tragic, Nicky, really.” She lifted her glass and tipped it toward him in mock toast, a sharp smile tugging at her mouth. “Maybe try gardening. I hear it does wonders for people with control issues.”
Her laugh was light, almost careless, but her eyes glinted when he leaned into that last jab. The smile stayed, but the air between them shifted, colder. “You’ll want to rethink that part,” she said evenly, voice still honey-sweet but edged like glass. “Don't you dare mess with my friend or you won't like how the story ends."
"Gardening?" He asked with great disdain. "No thank you. If I'm going to get my hands dirty, I'd rather it not involve plants." Of course he knew she'd meant it as an insult, control issues dig and all that. Nick was insulted. She really thought he'd get all his nice clothes dirty like that? That he had the patience for a greenhouse? Absolutely fucking not. If he went somewhere hot it would be a beach.
Nick's smile grew lazy and sharp. Now this was much more like it. "Hmm, I don't know. There's just not much I think you could possibly do to me. Perhaps I will give her a call. Kiss and make up, if you will."
"I don't understand," she said with apprehension, taking a step back. Nick had been her friend for many years and she couldn't think of a reason why he would be acting this strange. Mary felt a cold instinct crawl up her neck and like her heart was taking an icy run down to her stomach. She didn't even know where they were and she could feel the wind blow through an open window. There was some height to the building and Mary didn't feel safe. The two had been holding practice duels and she could easily excuse this as being an elaborate rouse for more action, but her gut told her this was something different, something more sinister. Nick was a skilled fighter, the one who had taught Mary most of the spells she could throw now. "Why are you doing this? I don't want to fight you," she managed to say as she pointed her wand at him. The first spell Mary sent was a disarming spell, taking a strong stance before she threw Stupefy.
"Sweet, gullible Mary." He said, genuine care in his voice. It was almost a shame to bring it all to an end. How on earth would he ever find another toy quite like her? She was a special breed of Mudblood, and he was fairly certain she'd developed a bit of a crush on him somewhere along the way. Adorable. She may have stood a chance if she wasn't born to the wrong stock.
"Unfortunately love, life is full of fights you might not want to have." Nick blocked her spell easily, touched she was trying to go easy on him. "I know you can do better than that, come on Mary. We're aiming for a fight, not a slap match."
where: evan's betting shop who: @nick-mulciber
Evan leaned back in the worn leather chair behind the counter of his betting shop, the golden glow of a single lamp casting long shadows across the room. The shutters were closed, the city outside silenced, leaving only the low hum of magic in the air. He swirled the dark amber liquid in his glass, letting it catch the light, then raised an eyebrow at Nick.
“Well, that was a delightful spectacle, wasn’t it?” he drawled, voice dripping with mock admiration. "“Fireworks, laughter… and oh, just a minor assassination. A former Minister of Magic, gone in the blink of an eye. Charming, really. Makes one almost feel sorry for the poor fool.”
Nick laughed, toasting his friend. It had been a sight to behold truly. All that beautiful panic and terrified screaming. It had made his blood sing. There was nothing else like it, nothing could compare. He felt giddy with it.
"You're telling me! I bit my cheek so hard it bled trying to keep myself from laughing." He said, still chuckling. "We ought to take out more of them, don't you think? They're getting complacent."
She snorted into her drink, nearly choking from laughing at his melodrama. “A hole to rot in? Please. You’d last five minutes before clawing your way back out just to whinge at me about how damp it was.” The blonde reached over and flicked his sleeve. “And for the record, if you ever actually asked me to hold your hand, I’d frame the moment. I’d make it art.”
Her grin widened, sharp and pleased, but then her head tilted, eyes narrowing in mock suspicion. “But you know… all this swooning and glowing and blushing—and I haven’t even met the mystery man? I’ve been cruelly excluded.” She gasped dramatically. “Best friends don’t keep secrets like this, Nicholas. It’s betrayal. Treason, even.”
Charity leaned in over the table, chin on her hand, voice dropping conspiratorially. “So. Who is he? What’s his deal? Is he hideously attractive or just… your type of attractive? I need details, darling. If I’m going to toast to your great tragic romance, I at least want a picture in my head.”
"I could dig a hole somewhere nice and dry." Nick argued back. "Like the desert, or in your sense of humor. Might make an improvement in your jokes. What do you think?"
He huffed, digging through his pockets. They'd taken a photo together a few weeks ago, because his parents had begged for one and Matthieu was far kinder than Nick would ever be. Nick refused to look into why he'd started carrying it around with him. He slid it over to Charity for viewing. They were both laughing in it, Matt trying to push Nick out of the frame and Nick was poking at his side. Matt's dark skin and curly hair were visible, but his eyes (blue, so blue) were focused on Nick and harder to see. Matt was taller than him, broader.
"His name's Matt." Nick said. "He's plenty handsome. He's fun, I like him. He's an Unspeakable. Few years older than us. Homeschooled, so we only met recently. What else do you want to know?"
"I hope it's something real. That's all I really want."
Love should be a place you can rest. Nick liked that. He'd share it with Severus if he thought he could get away with it, but that felt like pushing his luck. No need to get made fun of for the rest of time.
He could remember all too easily when talking like this would've made him feel bitter and on-edge, as if Agatha had something special that Nick would never get to experience. Having even a fraction of it now felt like flying. It was worth all the uncertainty and the tiptoeing around what he wanted versus what he thought Sev might allow.
"I never thought I would that's for sure. Every moment he gives me is like, like I've stolen something wonderful. Dunno if I'll ever really wrap my head around it."
Agatha’s smile widened, her eyes catching on the boyish sincerity in his words. “Stolen or not, Nicky, it still belongs to you,” she said gently. “That’s the trick of it —love doesn’t get handed out by accident. If he’s giving you those moments, it’s because he wants you to have them.”
She tipped her glass toward him with a quiet laugh. “And one day, when you’re ready, I’ll make sure you have a wedding so dazzling people will be talking about it for years. Flowers everywhere, champagne fountain...” Her grin softened, playful but full of care. “You’ll hate how much fuss I make, but you’ll let me. Because I’ll want everyone to see how lucky you are.” Her voice softened again, slipping back into sincerity. “You deserve that, Nick. All of it."
Nick could feel himself blushing. It was the sort of thing he'd been doing quite a bit more often these days, now he had Matthieu in his life. The man wasn't even here to embarrass him and he still managed to make him blush by proxy. It was for the best Matt hadn't met Agatha or Charity.
"Only if there's like, ten people there." He said. There wasn't any way he could talk Agatha out of it, and his parents would probably insist as well. Nick just didn't see the point of needing everyone there when only liked less than half of them. "I dunno if I'll get there with Matt, but if I do, you'll be the first person I ask."
Rodolphus didn’t so much as flinch when Nick pushed forward, though the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth could almost be mistaken for amusement. Almost. Behind the steel in his eyes and the lazy way he leaned against the table, there was unmistakable tension. Not fear — never fear — but a coiling, ready kind of curiosity.
In his mind, where thoughts twisted like smoke, the door cracked open under Nick’s push. It didn’t creak or groan — it simply yielded, as if it had been waiting.
And that got Rodolphus’ full attention.
“Ah…” he murmured aloud in the physical room, as though commenting on a well-played chess move. His dark eyes locked onto Nick, sharper now. “You found it.”
Inside, the mind recoiled. But not with pain. The door led somewhere …cleaner. Quieter. A long, dim corridor lined with empty picture frames, the walls marked with shallow scars, like something had once clawed at the stone and then forgotten why.
“You shouldn’t be in there,” Rodolphus said, his voice echoing now in both worlds — mind and body. Not angry. Not warning.
Intrigued.
“You see, most Legilimens lose themselves in the noise. Blood, fear, screaming it’s all very easy to get caught in. But you…” His head tilted. “You walked past the theatre, and you found the backstage.”
A low chuckle came out. “Now I’m curious. What is it you’re hoping to find, Nick?”
The corridor stretched further, and deep within something shifted.
Your move.
Nick hadn't meant to find anything he shouldn't, not really. All the noise and the blood and the terror in Rodolphus's mind had been overwhelming, yes. But he also knew blood, noise, and terror. He could find a home in them. They wouldn't destroy him unless he let them. Some day his mind could be full of this much of it too.
Nick narrowed his eyes, shifting his weight. The respect he had for his elders told him that he should pull back, make sure that he didn't overstep. The part of him that ached for Rodolphus's approval told him to push forward. That part spoke louder. He wasn't going to fail here, or embarrass himself by falling short. Neither was an option.
"Dunno, but it has to be something worth it all behind those doors right?" He asked no one in particular as he pushed the door open.
Mary didn't know what it meant as the letter had been something about the Prophet, but Nick was here? Why was Nick here? A voice hidden in the back of her mind had the answer and it felt like a twitch inside of her that was trying to be flipped on. "I'm confused," she said, taking a step back when he walked forward, unsure what to do with this eclipsed side of him. Mary knew about his reputation and had guarded the good parts to show her friends who doubted the trust in the friendship. "Why would you send me a letter? Why are we here?"
"The letter was mostly for fun, I'll admit. If I'd asked you outright I'm sure that you would've shown up." But where was the fun in that? He liked the reveal of it, the thought that she'd expected someone else and gotten him instead. The last time he'd done something like this with her, he'd asked her in person. Now he'd gotten a different side of the experience. "Let's have a fight shall we, little dove? You win, you get to go home now and find something new to write about for your paper. I win..." Nick shrugged. "Well, we'll cross that bridge when we get there."
Charity barked a laugh so loud a couple of heads turned their way. “Oh, my Godric. That is not the visual I needed tonight, thank you very much. I’ll be scrubbing that image out of my brain with firewhisky.” She fanned herself theatrically, then leaned across the table with a wicked grin. “But also? Good for you. Truly. I’m proud.”
Her expression softened a fraction, though the smirk lingered. “As for the big terrifying ‘what if’—come on, Nick. You’re already in his bed. You’re waking up next to him. He’s letting you stay. If he didn’t want you, you’d have been hexed out the door ages ago.”
She tipped her glass toward him pointedly. “So if you ask and he says no? Then he’s a fucking idiot. But I don’t think he will. You’ve got him, darling. More than you realise.” A beat, then she grinned again, sharp as ever. “And if he does say no, you can always come cry to your first best friend. I’ll even hold your hand. For a small fee.”
As much as he deeply hated to admit it, Charity had a point again. As usual. It was almost infuriating how much better she was at all of this. She wouldn't have these sorts of problems, Nick just knew it. At least he'd gotten her back a little bit, with that fucking comment. That did make him feel better.
He wasn't sure why everything mattered so much more when it was a guy. Things hadn't been this complicated with Estelle. He was nervous and that much alone made him want to curl up in a corner out of sheer embarrassment. Nerves happened to lesser people. "Right, yeah. Those are... those are all good points." Nick scrubbed a hand over his face.
"Merlin, crying I can handle but if I ask you to hold my hand about it please kindly just toss me in a hole to rot or something." Nick grumbled. Holding hands was for baiting her grandmother or freaking out relatives, not for anything serious.
Peter huffed a quiet laugh, more out of nerves than amusement, and busied himself straightening the gloves again, giving his hands something to do. “Multi-tasking. Impressive,” he muttered, not quite meeting Nick’s eyes this time. “Maybe write that down somewhere, so history remembers the day you mastered it.” He stepped back from the counter, gesturing loosely at the shelves lining the shop. “Everything’s on display. Curses, charms, trinkets that bite back if you’re not careful. Take your pick, or don’t. Up to you. But if you’re just here for the commentary…” Peter gave a thin smile, his tone still even but firm, “I’ve got work to do.”
"They really let you talk to customers like that?" He asked, doing his best to squash his sparking temper. Nick wasn't used to getting taunted by store employees. Most of them didn't have the nerve. How this little peon gathered enough of it was beyond him. "Fine then, your customer service is absolute shit. You mentioned biting things, which direction are those in?"
"It's actually genuinely concerning that you truly believe yourself to be funny," the witch remarked with a brow raised. She was definitely not in the mood to deal with the wizard's clear bad intentions, but she couldn't allow it to pass either. A light chuckle left her lips, shaking her head slightly. "Ah, dear, I suggest a new hobbie."
Marlene didn't like the way he talked about her friend, not one bit. She didn't understand why he or his incredibly annoying group of friends would take any interest in Mary. "I'll also suggest you stay clear from my friend, she might be a good enough person to have patience-- but I can forget about my manners and hex your ass if I have to."
"I have plenty of hobbies." He said, flicking a piece of paper napkin at her. She wasn't falling for his jibes and that was simply heartbreaking. Yet another reason he preferred Mary. Mary fell for almost anything. It made spending time with her more amusing. Marlene was just frustrating.
He snorted. "Sure you will McKinnon, I know you'd love to try." Nick tilted his head to the side and regarded her with haughty laziness. That could be a good distraction honestly. McKinnon knew how to put up a good fight. "Maybe I'll check in on her just to see if you'll actually try it."
"That's progress." Estelle let Nick take the bags from her but kept the one containing the snacks. Those had to be handled carefully. "I don't expect you guys to build Rome within a day. Even magic couldn't make that happen. So long as you're moving, hm?" The blonde moved toward the couch. "As for the weird part, knowing the two of you, it might just be new for one and the other - no names attached - might be worrying too much." A shrug. "I could be wrong. Not going to assume anything with you."
That was why their friendship had worked so well, why they had been able to go from thing to another so smoothly. "I brought you a gift from France." Estelle pulled a book from her pocket. "Don't worry, it's nothing too boring. Just some of the more creative magic. Do with that what you will." And a box of macarons. - @nick-mulciber
"Yeah yeah, suppose you're right." He said, shrugging one shoulder as he headed to the kitchen to put things away. Matt was here most nights and it was... odd. Not bad, but odd. A different version of having the dorm back. "Are you calling me a worrywort? Because, rude much." He flipped her off around the corner of the kitchen door, just so she could see it happen.
"Fuck yeah I love gifts." He said as he finally re-entered the living room to toss himself down on the couch near her. "Mmm, this'll be fun." Nick would definitely spend some time looking this over after she left. Maybe there was something Emmeline would appreciate too. "You have a good time over there?"
