Alexander's lips were pursed in irritation. This was taking far too long. His hood was pulled up over his head, and though it obscured his vision somewhat to be so concealing, he needed the cover. His public standing was still incontrovertibly immaculate, yet his family and his views were well known. He would keep his cover in the ministry for as long as possible. Activity so close to Hogwarts was a risk, but he for what he searched was supposedly only at this location. Not that he found any evidence of such.
His fingers graced across the spines of some of the more archaic Transfiguration tomes, and yet he was still left wanting. Damn his father's library for being so unhelpful! This search was proving to be a failure yet again. He needed Studies in Darker Transfiguration, and soon. This was no longer schoolboy research and if he didn't prove himself soon... He shook his head impatiently. He'd Imperio an employee to find the book, and then wipe his memory. That's what magic was for, after all, right?
The fire was cackling heartily when a sudden smash caused it to explode. The bottle of bourbon had been half empty, but it was a large bottle. Glass went everything, shards flying across the room. Truthfully he'd been aiming above the fireplace, but six glasses caused his aim to be a little off. By about four feet. Curses flew from his mouth as he wiped speckles of blood off his face. He'd heal them tomorrow when his thoughts were more clear - tiny glass pieces would do little harm in the meantime.
He pursed his lips as he watched the residual alcohol burn away. This evening had not gone as planned. It had seemed simple - tell the girl she was not fit for the Dark Lord's army and then leave. Yet somehow she'd manged to crawl under his skin and burn away any semblance of composure. She was too fiesty, too angry, blatant and crude and she manipulated everything that came out of his mouth. She was far too young - he had misjudged her from the beginning. It was time she learned that the real world was far more dangerous than the protective walls of Hogwarts. For all that it was an unappealing place, it did make torture quite easy to get away with. That was not so on real raids. Adults fought back, with far more experience than the half developed scullions running away from the shadows in which they lurked. She learned, and so did he.
Her last words to him rang in his head. “Allez! Go!" As
if she commanded him, as if she had any say in his life.
She was infuriating. She was an overly confident,
irritating, accusatory, supercilious over-talker and he'd
had e n o u g h. She had showed a severe lack of
discipline he had previously only attributed to badgers
and muggles, not to mention subjected herself to
unnecessary peril. It was not only unbecoming, it was
disappointing. And he hated to be disappointed.
He was boiling all over, shaking with the ferocity of his wrath. The resounding failures of the summer threatened to overtake him entirely, to consume his soul in a way even a dementor could not reach. This was not supposed to be his future. This was not his life. He was perhaps not as controlled or regal as others, but he kept himself together dammit, and tonight had been a lose of restraint that was both unreasonable and incredibly dangerous. Not only did the situation get out of hand, but he jeopardized Chantelle's life in the process. This fragment of truth pierced him more than the shattered bottle from only moments earlier. She may have been unobservant and irresponsible, but he lead and he allowed things to get far too wild. The hair on the back of his neck was still on edge, pulsing at the heat of the flames and onslaught of curses. No.
Alexander breathed heavily as he stared into the flames, palms pressed against the mantle overhead. His face was alight with the flames that danced in his eyes. There was more to this night than just the resentment of failure or the bankruptcy of control. Every movement in the second house spurned more aggression and more bitterness, but not at the family, not even at Chantelle.
At himself.
His breath stole away at just the memory of his confusion. The cracking ceiling, the screams, the utter chaos that was his fear in losing her. He brought his hands in to cover his face. The world went black, but he could still see the smoke dance around her body like a noose tightening with every moment. He had come so close, she had come so close. One errant hex, a simple misstep, a lag in reaction, and disgrace would not be his only punishment. The thoughts would unhinge him if he did not reel himself back in. He choked back a gust of air unsuccessfully before he fell apart completely.
"At least I’m showing some damned emotion." Tears rolled down Alexander's face. He couldn't breath, he couldn't stand, he couldn't move. He crumpled to the ground. His forehead pressed against the warm stone and his whole body shook. He was inches away from the fire now, threatening to take over as his own personal pyre. His eyes bored into the ground as his vision became cloudy and gray. The pounding in his ears told him his heart was still beating, but even then he could not be sure. His foolishness almost cost Chantelle her life tonight. He deserved nothing but contempt from her.
"I used to think I admired you Alexander, but now I
know there is nothing to admire." So be it. She was
better off without him anyway.
It was too goddamn hot. This was supposed to be one of the perks of England, that it didn't get especially warm. Yet here it was, approaching nightfall, and he was still sweating through his robes. If he wanted to sweat like this all the time, he'd move to South America. As it was, he preferred to stay cool and yet black robes were required for tonight's activities. Cooling charms were only so effective and this area was far too muggle heavy - he was risking exposure with every spell he cast.
He leaned against a wall outside the Wembley Park tube station. A few individuals mulled about but mostly it was deserted. The B61 bus drove by but it appeared empty. Good. He wanted people home in their houses, unaware of the frivolity he sought for the evening. This area was a little run down but it would serve his purposes beautifully.
He glanced at his watch once again. She wasn't officially late, but he was anxious to get started. The clink of knives was audible from his robes as he moved. He was ready, and he was waiting. But he knew it would be worth it.
It had been almost a year since he had taken the Mark and between then and now he felt rather useless. In school, continuing his education, yes. But it was all drudgery and homework, and they weren't even learning anything useful. He knew his orders required him to graduate, but it was taking forever. He was bored and useless and he hated both of those things.
He had taken to walking abandoned and avoided corridors at night to keep his body busy while he thought. What could he do from Hogwarts? Raids were out of the question, and he doubted any connections to the Order who were still in school knew much to be of use if tortured for info. His mind made the same circles as his feet as they both attempted to work their way out of the puzzle he was in.
As a turn in the castle grew nearer, he began to hear voices. One female, confident, quiet, but excited. One male, younger, pleading. He took another step forward and leaned against the wall to listen. Lex knew the sound of a good torture, especially one kept quiet in the halls of this prison called a school. What he didn't know was the source. Granted, he didn't tend to socialize with new people very often as they tended to be imbeciles so it wasn't unusual he didn't recognize someone, but he did like to keep tabs on people who enjoyed a similar hobby both for personal and professional reasons. Yet this girl he did not think he knew.
He waited one more moment, cast an alarming charm and Cave Inimicum down the hallway he just came from, and walked around the corner. "Not that I don't appreciate your valiant efforts here, but a little discretion and a few privacy charms would do wonders for your ability to stay in school here." The girl was younger than he expected and not incredibly familiar - he vaguely recalled that she had transferred rather late into schooling. But it was clear she had learned some decent spells before entering a facility that refused to teach them anything of use. Her victim looked immediately hopeful at his arrival but then seemed to realize that Lex was anything but his savior. He threw the boy a derisive glance before ignoring him completely. "Unfortunately the staff does not approve of such activities."
