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@scarecarrow-blog
“By your choice, not mine. I surround myself with people who wish to be in my life - you are no longer one of them.”
“Ouch, Andy. I might say the same for you. After all, I wasn’t the one who left a legion of friends and two grieving sisters behind - and all for the sake of a misguided folly.”
He laughed, the sound almost puerile, at the expression on her face. “Sorry, sorry. I couldn’t help myself. It’s always such fun to remind traitors of everything they left behind.”
Here’s to us, the rotten children: They made us into violence. Your bones, your skin, it’s all been turned into ash. Here’s to us, those born of violence, turned into a war-ground.
We are beauty and fire; ash we may be, but we are stronger than them. (CNS)
Alecto rolled her eyes at him. Sweet girl getup indeed. He acted as though her act were exhausting, but she did genuinely enjoy fooling people. It was a constant game that she almost always won, and what was life without a little competition? “I’ll sweet talk whoever it takes to get my way, pureblood or no. Fortunately the scum in that pool should shrink after graduation, you are correct. You’ll just have to make good use of your time.” They had yet to discuss their specific roles in the war after graduation, and for once Alecto was somewhat unsure of what Amycus would do. Taking orders was not particularly appealing, but the overall cause was. Time would tell.
“And what, pray tell, are we celebrating? Is more than good wine necessary?”
Amycus appreciated the art of deception just as much as the next bloke, but it had always astounded him - how was it that his sister, who despised the filth as much as he did, could stand bearing them? How, when the very sight of those disgusting creatures sent shivers of anticipation running up his spine? He had witnessed her in those moments of trickery - Merlin, the falseness of it was so evident. But then again, the scum were as good as swine when it came to thinking. “I prefer getting straight to the point. Don’t you find it tiresome?” His tone was neutral, bored even - he knew exactly how she felt about it, but had never ceased in asking. “At the very least, I won’t be met by stares of confusion when I corner them. They always expect me to be like you, sis. Lamblike and lovely. No teeth.” There was certainly a small dig in his statement, but it wasn’t if they hadn’t argued about this very topic before. Besides, he didn’t want to fight today, not particularly.
“The end of another year. Merits a bit of a huzzah, doesn’t it?” He arched an eyebrow and then laughed, shaking his head. “Oh no, no. Good wine is far too mundane.” At this, he leaned against the doorframe with a lazy smirk, ready to transcend to greater things. “What do you say to something better?”
She shook her head, taking a step back as he moved forward. She wasn’t liking where this was going and Marlene McKinnon wasn’t going to hide that. “Not interested.” Her tone was cold and shut off. Her arms crossed over her chest as she moved, preparing to leave, no longer what to be in his presence.
He was feeling antsy. The mix of freedom and tethered values never sat well with him - summer was upon them, but he was forbidden to use his wand away from the manor. Now, the Gryffindor before him might have her privilege for magic intact with her seniority...but if she so happened to make a move against him - who could be blamed for self defense? Amycus was growing peeved now by her dismissal - not entirely unexpected, but still, angering. “Really, Marlene.” His voice was sharp now, crueler. “So you’re content to exist on the losing side of a war? To follow a lost cause that’ll sooner have you dead than prove its worth?”
“And those people who are included in the category ‘some’ are definitely deranged,” he commented in a flat tone, his expression fixed in a way that suggested he was looking at something, someone, who was acting like a child. And for James Potter to give someone that expression, considering how childish he still was at this point, was actually surprising. “That place you’re talking about is something neither me nor anyone from my family wants to be a part of. You know why? Because that place is only reserved for narrow-minded bigots. Being nothing is better than being a part of your little clique.”
He chuckled darkly, leaning against a marble bust with champagne in hand, surveying the foyer and its arched ceilings. “And?” It didn’t bother him, what blood traitors thought about his affairs. Blood traitors. Really, Potter might have been the biggest one of them all, after Sirius Black and that entire messy ordeal. Such a waste of a good family name - if Amycus had his way, the Potters would be eradicated from the Sacred-Twenty-Eight for their disillusionment, their name wiped from the registries. History need not seek to honor such dishonorable fiends. “Why are you here then?” Amycus laughed coldly, lifting his arms to gesture at their surroundings. “Drinking our champagne, eating our food, walking our halls? You spite our ideals, and then claim the benefits of your blood as if nothing’s amiss.”
"You know what you are, Potter?” His voice had some type of mirth to it, although the eyes that flicked towards the dark-haired boy were utterly unamused. “A fucking hypocrite. The lot of you, all pretenders supporting a lie that you don’t really want to believe.”
Mmhmm, I’ll believe it when I see it. So what are you doing in here? I believe the point of having separate rooms is space.
“Mhm.” He batted at one of the tapestries on the wall, a dusty thing that their father insisted upon hanging up in their chambers, as if it were anything more than a cracked likeness of ancestors past. “You shouldn’t be one to talk, really. One more year of that sweet girl getup, and then you’re free to be whoever you want. And I’ll still be at that blasted school, picking my teeth with blood traitors and mudbloods.”
“Well — I thought we should have a celebration.”
“Just as I happen to like knowing who is approaching me.”
“Well then, disappointed that it was me and not one of your newfound ‘friends’? Though you and I were friends once, admittedly.”
Ah, I see. So you pretend at love but quickly admit to responsibility. How heartfelt you are, Amycus.
“Pretend? Don’t be ridiculous, sis — I’m nothing if not genuine in my affairs.”
Lily watched as the slytherin sauntered over towards her, her eyes glued to the figure. She didn’t trust the figure before her, especially with her being by herself. Her eyebrows quirked upwards at his remark and she found herself rolling her eyes at the man. “Contrary to popular belief I do go out occasionally.” The ginger replied with a hint of attitude creeping into her words.
“I just don’t see why,” a pause as his hand slyly found his wand in his pocket, a motion of habit at this point, “You would still be on our side of the world, when you have a lovely family of muggles to return to.” He cast her a smile of anything but innocence.
It was only after Amycus lowered his hand that James fixed his posture. Joke or not, whether or not Carrow was planning to touch him, it didn’t matter. Just the fact that their skins almost touched was enough to cause James’ upper lip to curl unpleasantly. “Not my fault your touch provokes an automatic reaction of dismay.”
Realizing instantly what Carrow was on about, the Gryffindor scoffed. “Trust me, He-Carrow, if I’d known you’d be here, I wouldn’t have come tonight.” That wasn’t completely true, but, oh well.
“You’d be surprised, Potter, at the things some would do to have me touch them. If I were you, I would be flattered.” His eyebrows furrowed at the other boy’s next statement, somewhat bewildered by the nickname. “I’m sure that there was a mistake,” he said with a sneer. “The Vassilievs don’t usually entertain such puerile guests. You and your family of blood traitors were fools to come. You lost your place among us a long time ago.”
There was a knot in her stoamch as the words came out of his mouth, suddenly the anger was there. She shook her head, resisting the urge to scream. “I believe the term I’ve heard more is blood traitor.” It came out before she could stop it not that she would have if she could. There was nothing that mattered more to her then her friends and the simple fact he was basing liking her off of her blood told her that he wasn’t going to be a friend.
“Oh?” It was a rhetorical sound. She was clearly a nonideal candidate, but he wasn’t one to abandon his pursuits so easily. “Well, we can change that. If you’d like.” He took a step closer, lowering his voice until it was velvety, perhaps even gentle. “It’s never too late, you know.”
“There’s nothing worse than a man who doesn’t take pride in his appearance, especially his hair. It takes precision to get it to look this good.”
“It must be intimidating, to face an army of such impeccable taste. No wonder the blood traitors abandon battles with their tail between their legs. I almost feel badly for those poor bastards.”
As Carrow’s hand slowly neared his face, James’ neck arched backwards to get his head away from his touch. A horrified expression took over his features as he extended his hand, palm up, to stop the Slytherin. “Whoa, Carrow. Keep your hands to yourself, and your weirdness to your sister, okay?”
“Hmph.” With a smirk, Amycus lowered his hand - as if he had ever actually planned on touching the blood traitor. As it was, the movement alone was enough to provoke a reaction. “Easily riled up as always, Potter. Enjoying the champagne? I didn’t expect you to be on the guestlist tonight.”
“What did I tell you about touching my hair, Amycus?”
“I’ve heard a lot about those coiffured locks. Must be the shine.”
Lily was merely strolling through Diagon Alley when she heard a familiar voice behind her. At first she decided to ignore it and venture onward, but her mind got the best of her and she turned around– face to face with the Carrow boy. “Amycus.”
Amycus turned at the sound of his name, old friend forgotten as his eyes set upon the red hair, the familiar face despite the lack of school robes— a lioness out for a stroll, it seemed. Absent-mindedly giving his companion a pat on the back to signify that he’d continue the conversation later, Amycus broke away from the wall and ambled towards the Gryffindor with a lazy grace. “Lily Evans.” He cocked his head, stopping a few feet from her, gaze traveling from her head to toe. “Surprised to see you here.”
Hesitation was all she felt because even in his attempts to be kind he wasn’t. It was his tone, his words, his demenor. It was everything about him that made her uncomfortable even when he wasn’t trying to. “The same?” Marlene’s look was full of doubt as he spoke. They were nothing alike. The only similarity was the fact that they could both do magic.
Merlin, she was simple. He didn’t know whether it was worth the effort, when such blatant truths passed her by, or if he would be content with letting a lost cause go. He kept his voice light, impersonal, those lilting tones which he adopted unwillingly, when he would much rather be resorting to more effective methods. Even so - Amycus had never been a particularly patient orator. “Yes, the same. Pureblood, aren’t you?” It was a loaded question. He didn’t care to be wrong about his assumptions.
“Greasy hair, greasy fingers. You should try dry shampoo, absorb some of that grease before it soaks into your scalp and scotch that unerring mind.” He returned the dry humour, the attempt at it, with relative ease. As though he had been waiting for something like that. “It’s decent. I suppose you could say. There were opportunities inside those walls, although i despised being there.” His eyes flickered over the lines of his face. “You look somewhat more relaxed than when i usually see you.”
“Now, now, Lucius. Let’s not talk about Severus when he’s not present to defend himself.” Amycus leaned back against hte wall, gaze flicking to and fro as he judged the passerbys with his characteristic indifference. “You know, Alecto and I have been thinking of gifting him a set of essentials for years. Too bad we value our reputation more than we value his hygiene.” A short chuckle at this sentiment - which one of them would ever endanger their family names for such a petty kindness? Severus was doomed to wallow in uncleanliness until the day he recognized it himself. “Decent? You sound like you’re describing married life. Really. What’s it like to be part of the greatest cause since Grindelwald after years of anticipation?” He cocked an eyebrow, gaze flicking towards the older man. “Well, now that you’ve said it - I have a sudden urge to fight.”
