It was almost sad – the old man’s features creasing in pain, so evident now that Amos wondered how it was that he was moving at all. Sheer determination, he reckoned, knowing just how desperately he’d fight if it meant his own freedom – or the safety of those he held dear. “No, you don’t need someone to save you. You need me to show you pity.” If he’d been anyone else, Amos would have offered to heal him, and although every compassionate bone in his body was aching to do so, the part that recognized Orion for whom he was wouldn’t allow him to do so. Perhaps what Aversio was doing held no morality, but neither did the Death Eaters, and Amos knew they couldn’t afford to ignore that.
The small waver was one he knew he had to take advantage of, it wouldn’t come again, especially not when the desperation had gone and the wounds had healed. He wasn’t Alastor, or an Auror, and a part of him would always feel out of place when it came to interrogations and force. But he was the only hope that the Order had now. There was no backup for him either, and although the knife now glinted in his own hands along with his wand, he knew that it was an advantage that he’d lose if anyone siding with You-Know-Who stumbled upon them.
“A name – one that I don’t already know – and tell me why they let you go.” Perhaps it wasn’t important, but if they’d done so out of compassion or out of personal gain – he needed to be aware. Besides, he knew he had the opportunity to make demands now. It was evident how weak the other man was and how he could easily overpower him if the need was there, and Amos doubted he’d put much to chance.
“And you don’t come after me – you don’t look to find out who I am or hold a vendetta. Merlin knows you wouldn’t have let me go if the positions were reversed. If I let you go – I’m showing you mercy, something I doubt you deserve – I don’t want you to forget about that.” Perhaps it was an odd request, but it was one he needed to make. Not for his own safety, although it might’ve come across that way – but for Cedric. He was already putting himself in enough danger as it was, he didn’t need someone like Orion Black attempting to find him.
Orion was a man who took what he wanted when he wanted, who got what he wanted because of his name alone. Royalty, as his father would remind him any chance he got, just as he did with his own children. The name was powerful, but it was stronger behind a wand and now that Orion was vulnerable in more ways than one, he felt truly weak. Weaker than he’s ever been before. He could hear his jaw pop from the tension that ran trough his entire body. The kid was right. He did need something from him. Pity at worst. His life at best.
His smirk grew into something far more dangerous, a long lean of his body as he listed to Amos’ demands. Orion prided himself on being a man of honor, one who didn’t go back on deals he made, but this wasn’t like any kind of deal he’s made before. Orion had no choice. If he ever wanted to see his wife again, he’d had to agree. He pointed a shaky finger at Amos, “The same goes for me. You leave me alone, my family alone, and you won’t ever see my face again,” he said his chest rising with deep breaths.
Always one for a good dramatic pause, Orion waited to speak again, listening to the chaos around them. He wanted to remember Amos, every hair on his head and every inflection of his voice. Everything happened for a reason and Orion had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last time he saw Amos. “Katrina Parkinson,” he said rolling her name off his tongue like it was poison. “That blood traitor. Seems to me she isn’t loyal to anyone but herself,” his eyebrows flicked up mockingly as he looked over his shoulder. Any minute now and he’d be able to finally be free.
“Do you know her? I bet you do. I bet you’d also like a reason for her letting me go. Can you guess why? It’s not the reason you think...she felt sorry for me. Me. For the way you animals treated me. Can you believe that, kid?”
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