evan rosier. soldier. murderer."speak of the devil look who just walked into the room. the guilted and faded notion of someone I once knew."etymologyEVAN: GREEK: "of noble birth" WELSH: "young warrior"ROSIER: FOLKLORE lesser demon
Though she would never dare to indulge Evan and his show theater style of engaging her, to say the way he waltzed about the stage, working the room as if it was filled to capacity, gave her anything but a sly sense of amusement would leave her hard pressed to prove. The jumps and twirls and rolls of his eyes, all perfectly in sync with his deeply spoken words, were all so wholly delivered that she partly wondered if he rehearsed for their little meet. Of course, she knew a man like him wouldn’t, not with the way confidence oozed from each of his actions. Marlene had been acquainted with him long enough to know that seamless demeanor of his was present no matter what their circumstances be.
And of course, the mind games. If it were up to him, she sweating out his obscure little questions, wondering if he was, truly and soundly, correct. The only thing he knew for sure of her, and on this she was absolutely certain, was her unwavering mindset of who was going to win this little war they had waging. So she merely allowed the corner of her mouth to pull back, her wand still trained on his sauntering form as it advanced along the front of the stage. His slow steps, deliberately trying to draw the anxiety during her wait, kept beat with his continued pricks and barbs, until with a flick of his wrist, the first move was made.
To her surprise, it was more intimidation. Was he looking for a start? Marlene’s stomach turned slightly at the sound of the glass shattering, but before the shards could reach the wooden floor, her arm was out to her side, halting the mess from making it to the ground. Through narrowed eyes she let out a wry snort, her wand suddenly slinging forward, and with it went the remains of the bulb, hurtling themselves towards Evan’s skull.
"I’ll drop my charades if you drop yours, love," she mused, allowing her arm to fall slowly back to her side, her head tilting back as she watched the glass sail. "But I do think that would take half the fun from it all."
His giggle surfaced once more, similar to that of a small child excited by something far more mundane than the idea of a fight. It was rare that Evan would allow himself to get excited toward the thought of violence by his own hand, though now and again he became increasingly bored of watching others do the things he told them. While the Imperius curse was quite clearly one he utilised often, there was something far more amusing when people had the chance to fight back. After all, Marlene was one of the few people he allowed to fully challenge him, the unpredictability allowing him to work on his combat magic rather than relying on the three.
After making the first move, Evan trained his eyes on Marlene's and kept himself almost completely still, waiting for a retaliation. It didn't take him long to notice just what she was doing however, stepping to the side in one fluid, over-confident motion. A single shard of glass managed to graze his chin, serving him his rightful portion of payback for his foolish actions. "Not bad, McKinnon," he called, running his finger over the small beads of blood that now lined his jaw. "But rather amateur, don't you think?"
Evan allowed himself to chuckle at her comment, wholeheartedly agreeing with her words. That was what he came here for after all - not only did he find the training useful, but it was so fun to be in Marlene's presence every now and then. The blonde kept him on his toes, and that was more than enough to keep him coming back for more.
Glancing over his shoulder towards the wings, he slowly began to near them in search of something else to send hurtling towards her. In the meantime, Evan found himself sending various spells in the young woman's direction - novice ones, though especially trained at that: flipendo, a stinging jinx and a couple of biting jinxes on the chairs around her, just for good measure. Too focussed on the items residing in the wings to care too much for his aim, the man disappeared behind a curtain before waiting for the pained sounds that would hopefully be sounding it any of his spells actually found their target.
Rabastan reached out for the coffee nearby, taking a sip as he put the still smoldering cigarette in a nearby ashtray. Looking up at Evan, he blew a long stream of smoke out of the corner of his lip away from the other man, a mischievous gleam in his eye as he surveyed the damage done around his neck and shoulders. Looking back down at the paper, a smirk lit up his features as he remembered what had happened last night.
What could he say? Rabastan liked it a little rough.
He shrugged one shoulder, picking up his cigarette again and placing it between his lips, taking a slow drag and enjoying it. He never was a fast smoker—he could make a single cigarette last as long as he wanted. He wasn’t smoking to die, smoking to turn his lungs into tar and his body into ash, no. He was smoking because he loved the feeling of darkness filling his body as the thick gray smoke entered, and he loved the burning in the back of his throat as he expelled it back again. It was rare to see Rabastan without a cigarette in his mouth and a hint of a smirk on his face when he wasn’t fulfilling a mission for the Dark Lord. He was practically oozing with an aura of “cool” of “couldn’t care less” without even meaning to (though, it sure as hell was nice when he needed to be calm).
"Usual bollocks," he replied with the cigarette between his lips. He looked Rosier over again, admiring the red lines of fingernail scratches on the other’s body. "Rough night?" he asked, raising an eyebrow ever-so-slightly before looking back at the Prophet. There was the obligatory vapid gossip-reporting, the useless entertainment news, the Muggle news he really couldn’t care less for, and then, he was back at the beginning, at the stories he had been skimming earlier. Rabastan neatly folded the newspaper back up, putting it down on the table next to his feet before reaching up at taking the cigarette out of his mouth with two fingers. He let the smoke slowly escape his mouth as he spoke.
"Heard anything from our mutual friend?" he asked quietly, not even looking at Evan as he spoke. They both must have been thinking it, Rabastan was just asking it—what did the Dark Lord have in store for them this time? He couldn’t be the only one who was curious. Besides, Rabastan’s bloodlust had been growing over the past few weeks, a lot of violent energy getting pent-up inside him. However, Rabastan knew that he had to be clever. He had to be willing to wait his turn and wait for a long time if he was going to get the types of assignments that he desired.
Looking up, Rabastan met Evan’s eyes with his piercing gaze. It wouldn’t take much to let Rabastan know that yes, an owl would be coming soon.
It was no surprise to Evan that nothing interesting had come to find itself slipping past the Ministry's censorship rules despite the clarity of everything that was happening before them. Often he wondered if they were simply saving everyone from what was already so plainly obvious before them: the damned muggles didn't have a chance. Just the thought was enough to bring about a glint in Evan's eye - he wouldn't be fully satisfied until they were all brought to their knees, enslaved or dead before his very feet. As much as he wanted to see them suffer, nothing would bring him quite so much joy as the overwhelming sense of accomplishment that came with watching the light leave another's eyes.
At the other man's question, Evan simply raised his eyebrows knowingly, offering him nothing more than a quick wink. While it was surprising that he remembered the events of the night before, he tried his best to suppress them in order to save from allowing the grin to take over the rest of his features. Even if it had now been proven just how submissive he was elsewhere, Rosier was more than determined not to let it slip into other parts of his life. Settling himself in a more comfortable position once it was realised that he was welcome to stay, the Death Eater perched the side of his head against his hand, allowing him to more comfortably glance at Rabastan.
"Guess ye could call it a rough night - slept with some tosspot who thought it'd be a good idea to mark his territory. Between you an' I, I'd say he was pretty mediocre if you ask me."
Turning towards the barkeep briefly, Evan gave the man a quick nod that spoke far more than any words could at the time - Tom knew his usual was on the house, something that could easily be paid for through other methods. His tongue flickered out briefly, running across his chapped lower lip before disappearing once more.
At the mention of their 'mutual friend', Evan sat a little straighter in his chair, somewhat proud of himself already. "'eard from him last week actually - got some... business... to do down in Diagon, nothin' special, but I ain't complainin'. I'd rather raid the shops than wait around any longer to 'ave some fun." It was almost surprising that he'd been chosen for something so close to home, though at the same time it seemed logical - the new recruits were far more disposable, though Evan saw it as a challenge in which to prove himself rather than a death sentence. "Wha' 'bout yourself?"
At Evan’s comments, Rodolphus unconsciously narrowed his eyes. “Careful,” Rodolphus warned. His voice was stone.
Pushing himself away from the wall, Rodolphus turned his back on the larger part of the street and focused his attention on Rosier. An unmistakable challenge was plain in the other man’s eyes, though Rod had long since picked it up from his voice. It was every part of him; from the drawn wand to the wry smile and it made Rod’s jaw twitch with frustration. The man was all but asking for a punch, yet he hung just out of reach. Rod wondered if he would be so confrontational if he did not have so many people to hide behind.
"I’m sure. Your smile is evidence," he pointed out, gesturing with one hand to Evan’s grin before moving his arms to fold securely over his chest. While the other man was all nonchalance, Rod squared himself up - reacting to the challenge as much as he was capable.
"Supposedly you’re quite the triumph. It would be a shame if your impeccable wit got you into genuine trouble. Though from the look of you, it wouldn’t be your first tight scrape." It was all sarcasm to mask genuine contempt; all an attempt to rid his system of anger in any way he could, though words were no substitute to a good hex.
Had Evan been any less ignorant, he would've probably backed down upon hearing Rodolphus' tone. It was one of authority, of someone who'd been there, done that and had plenty of ways to prove it. Despite his youth, Evan knew that experience was one thing he lacked - perhaps adding more confrontations with the more well-regarded Death Eaters would make him think twice about answering the other man back. "Is that a threat, Lestrange? Because by all means, go ahead. You wouldn't dare do anything out here and risk exposing us both, would you?"
All that Evan was relying on now was his environment, and somehow the safety in numbers only pushed him further into dangerous territory. He steeled himself, standing a little taller and tensing his shoulders a little - if Rodolphus did swing for him, at least he'd be prepared.
At the motion towards his smile, Evan only made a point of allowing it to grow wider, uncomfortably so in fact. A genuine smile was something he'd long forgotten how to wear, instead replacing it with the picture of sarcasm that he had simply become. "Cheer up, Rodolphus. Your grouchiness hardly suits you. Reminds me far too much of that dreadful wife of yours."
"Genuine trouble?" he repeated through a choked laugh, raising both of his eyebrows. "Do indulge me as to what this 'genuine trouble' might entail, Lestrange. Sounds terribly interesting if you ask me." Clutching his wand still, Evan crossed his arms loosely over his chest, body still turned completely towards Rodolphus. "S'pose you're right about tha' though, 'pparently my impeccable wit ain't to everyones tastes."
Mornings After | December 1st, 1978 | Leaky Cauldron | Rabastan & Evan
Rabastan frequented the Leaky Cauldron.
For reasons that he could never explain to anyone, lest he end up in the hands of the law, or worse, some imbeciles, the Leaky Cauldron perfectly filled out his purposes when it came to getting what he wanted. The bartender was discreet, the innkeeper blissfully ignorant, the maid a bit gossipy but vapid with lower-than-average intelligence all the same. That was why he felt perfectly comfortable here, with his feet up on the table and a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He didn’t care who saw him here—none of them would suspect a thing, and he figured that was a good thing in this situation.
He spun his wand between his fingers as he read the Prophet, wondering who had been killed the night before with mild interest. He figured that he should check if Rodolphus’ body had been found—Rabastan didn’t care much for his brother alive, but if Rodolphus was dead, he figured that it was his duty to relay the information to his parents. Neither of them read the Prophet anyway.
As he flipped through the pages, the soft crinkling sounds drowned out by the low roar of chatter surrounding him, he looked up. There he was, descending the stairs—the man he had slept with the night before. While Rabastan looked just fine, prim and proper and perfectly manicured, the other seemed a bit worse for wear. Rabastan had been rough the night before—as the other’s robes pulled back ever so slightly, the scratch marks were still visible on his muscular forearms. Rabastan’s lips curved up into the slightest hint of a smirk.
This was always his favourite part—watching the walk of shame he could so easily avoid. Rabastan looked just fine, his long coat hanging, neatly folded, on the chair he was sitting on, his clothes without even a speck of dust sullying the black. He looked up at his…friend from the night before and winked without smiling any more than he already was—even this was a bit excessive for Rabastan. He blinked once as he watched the man before looking back down at the newspaper in his hands. He lifted his cigarette to his lips and took another drag.
Figuring that Rod’s name wasn’t in there, he let his mind un-focus slightly, now only skimming the print on the page while simultaneously listening to the chatter around him. He put the cigarette between his lips as he turned the page towards the obituaries, wondering who he was going to add to the list that night.
If he'd have been any less sober, Evan mightn't have believed just what he'd been through the previous night. Just the memories were enough to bring a smile to his ever-smirking lips, though the slight discomfort he felt whenever the fabric of his robes chafed against the scratch marks was enough to bring him close to hysterical.
It had been a good night.
The only downside had been waking up in a dingy bed in the Leaky Cauldron rather than his own warm four-poster back at the Manor, though he couldn't say that he'd have preferred another night alone. Evan had come dangerously close to bringing muggle girls back home before, only to discard later on of course, though he'd always figure that abstinence would do him some good. Focussing on missions wasn't exactly easy when there were still certain distractions hanging around in his bed the morning of, and being dragged back for round two had never been something he'd been able to avoid.
It hadn't taken him long to dress and make himself look somewhat presentable, though he kept the red lines that crossed both his chest and shoulders completely visible to those who might have laid eyes on him. Shame was a foreign word to Rosier, something he'd managed to suppress years ago thanks to those awful muggle relatives. Though he would never admit it, they had done him some good: steeled him for the outside world and toughened him up enough to face the demands that came with being part of the Dark Lord's following. It was a strange start to life that he'd had, though he feared growing up any other way would have made him soft... and he couldn't have that.
Running a calloused hand back through his hair, Evan realised just how horrific he looked in comparison to his usual self. Of course, with an unshaven jaw and long, unkempt hair he was not exactly the picture of sophistication, but some effort was usually made on his appearance before he left the house. Running a hand gently over the scratches on his neck, he glanced absently towards the bar in search of Tom, the young bartender that had seemingly taken a shine to Evan, though nobody could exactly be sure why. The sentiment was only a convenience to him of course - while there was no suspicion of who (or rather what) he was just yet, Evan found it particularly refreshing that there would never be an accusation while he was in Tom's pub, and for that he was thankful.
Upon scanning the faces at the bar, he recognised one almost instantly, to which his smirk only widened. His feet started forward before he even realised that was where he wanted to go, and Evan wasn't exactly one to deny the sense of amusement that he felt within him.
"Bit early for tha', isn't it?" he chuckled, taking up the seat next to Rabastan. "Anythin' interesting to report, or is it all bullshit as usual?"
"Carrow would suffice, or Alecto of it’s own. No need to trail my full name off unless of course you are in need of making a mental note of whom you are speaking with; which obviously isn’t the case considering…" Her eyes lit up in a taunting manner, gesturing to herself with an air of arrogance that was always terribly hard to distinguish as an over dramatization. "I am in fact, Alecto Carrow." A sneer graced her features in such a fluid motion that it became slightly less possible to confuse her expressions as anything but her self-conjured exaggerations, "Pleasure? Madame? Do save the mock efforts of civility for another— I have no time for it. As for what brings me to your side this evening, apparently I have merely been drawn in as if I was a helpless moth to a flame." There was a bell like ring to her tone as she spoke, though no laugh came to part her lips in order to rest as assurance that she was merely being sardonic in her manner of speech.
Her eyes darted to the side, watching the exchange between Evan and the bartender with so little consideration that she lacked any inclination to take offense. Finances had never meant anything to her, but the realization that it meant a considerable deal to others was something she was more then aware of— an important factor for a soul as manipulative as her own to keep in mind. The bartender was fortunately obliging, fortunately for him that is, as admittedly Alecto would have had zero qualms with making a scene of herself in order to prove a point to the man. When her Firewhiskey appeared before her, she allowed her a nod of her head “Good on you, handsome.” She winked after the words befell her lips, a peculiar mixture of grace and mockery balanced within the gesture.
"You have me mistaken for another, as I am not one to fret over grime. If anything I find it quite enchanting in it’s own right. Besides, more then one of these charming men are bound to make a complete fool of themselves this evening— I plan on playing witness to said events."
With a raise of his eyebrows, Evan realised that he had completely misjudged the woman for who she was. It had been so long since he had spent time with a woman that was nothing more than a pureblood housewife that women such as Alecto and Bellatrix had been dismissed as nothing more than those. How wrong he had been. Allowing a gentle smile to ease onto his lips as she spoke, he nodded towards her in order to acknowledge his mistake. Manners were everything, after all, and rubbing a Carrow off the wrong way didn't seem like the type of mistake he wanted to make so early on in his career.
"Mock efforts?" he retorted, bringing the pint glass to his lips as soon as it was slid in front of him. "It seems you are the one mistaking me for someone else. Despite my appearances and foul language, Miss Carrow, I truly am the picture of civilisation." A hearty laugh surfaced from the bottom of his chest, shaking his head as he eyed the counter in front of him. Names were scratched into it - some in hearts, some with crosses through them... all of it completely unnecessary. To deface someone else's furniture like that without destroying it seemed like a wasted opportunity, in all honesty, and he looked away with a dissatisfied grunt.
Turning his attention back to Alecto, the man allowed his mouth to form a steady line, raising his eyebrows at her reason for being there. "I hope you're willing to stay awhile, because unless you're expecting myself and our dear bartender here to get into a fight, it doesn't look as though the dozy bastards back there-" he gestured to a sleeping pair in a booth behind them "- are going to be doing much fighting."
Appetite For Destruction | December 5, 1978 | James & Evan
There was a certain thrill to being dispatched on a mission by himself rather than having the supervision of a more experienced Death Eater glaring down on him at almost every given second. It gave him a chance to breathe. Despite the smog that hung over London on that early morning, Evan knew there was room for him to inhale every last inch of the air that surrounded him in his small apartment, the lack of sunlight glaring through his window doing wonders for his mood. He was being dispatched to Diagon today and although it was only a local mission, it finally gave the man a chance to prove himself. Of course it had not taken much to do so for him initially, though now it was finally a circumstance that would only solidify his greatness in the Dark Lord's eyes and those of everyone that had doubted him. He would succeed.
Pulling on his dark cloak, Evan found himself pulling out a small box from underneath his bed. It was a rather oddly shaped, hand carved redwood box with hinges that didn't quite work properly - a gift from his grandfather before he'd died, one of the few memories of his childhood that he hadn't tried to forcibly omit. That was perhaps the one time Evan had felt remorse for a death hat he'd caused, even if he hadn't quite been sure of that fact at the time. From it he removed his mask - the patterned disguise was the first thing he'd been awarded with before being branded with the Dark Mark upon his acceptance into the Dark Lord's inner circle and he could not have been more grateful. Lifting it to his features, he found himself sighing as the magic woven through it allowed it to mould to his features perfectly, hiding any last hair that may have fallen over it without the use of a strap or anything of the like.
Upon leaving the house he checked himself in the mirror, looking for any sign that he might have been recognisable upon leaving. It was early enough in the morning for only drunks and prostitutes to be hanging around the alley outside his back door, something that Evan figured a benefit every now and then. A shiver ran through his body as he slipped through the darkness unnoticed, his presence in the Leaky Cauldron ignored thanks to the shouting that had come from the direction of the bar. "Thank Merlin for wizard scum," he muttered to himself with a breathy laugh, making a beeline for the wall that would lead him towards the alleyway.
Thanks solely to the fact that the shops had been placed so close together that they blocked out any sunlight that might have dared to peek through at such a godly hour in the morning, Evan was able to walk freely in the darkness that engulfed him. In his mind was a list of the shops owned by blood traitors and even those muggle-infected families that had been allowed to keep their businesses for the sake of... well, business. All of this was about to change, however, as he made his way towards the first of many: Obscurus Books.
With one rather ominous laugh, Evan stood staring at the bookshop from across the street, simply glaring at it for a while. The darkened windows did nothing for the shop's outward appearance and part of him figured that it was simply the look of the place that had it begging to be burned to a crisp. After all, not much of it would survive - books, after all, seemed like the right starting point to fuel a street-wide fire. Pointing his wand at the building, the spell came silently from the tip of his wand - a single jet of red light that hurtled towards the shop, exploding on impact. While he much preferred wandless methods to wreak havoc upon the world, there was something satisfy about explosions that caused the smile on Evan's face to peak at both corners. Standing back to look at his creation for a moment or so, he crossed the name off his list and began to head to his next location, wand still tightly gripped in his hand with excitement brewing within him.
Fingers stopped tapping at the sound of his surname being spoken by a familiar voice behind him. Lucius closed his eyes before he turned around, wanting to know who, on that bloody planet he lived on, would want to speak with him that early in the day. Not to mention they had noted him to be dressed subpar, that comment along was deserving of a curse at the very least. But he was in a place where there was to be a feigned peace, he could not strike out in the open even if he wished it.
Malfoy turned around once he let his body relax, his cape seemed to whip about him as he did so. ”Then does that make yourself rather… casual, Rosier?” Brow raised as if waiting for a challenge, Lucius studied his junior for a few more seconds with a hard look before a strained smile finally broke his cold features. ”There is no wrong side to a bed, you know. You have what is cushioned, and then you have the floor. And no, it was not the latter. This day just has not been boding well. There are assets to be tended to and this line is ridiculous.” He had hissed the last word, just as they were able to move forward.
Evan very much enjoyed getting under people's skin - it was something he got a kick out of every time, no matter who it might have been. There was only one person that scared him to the point where he wouldn't dare insult any part of her existence, though her name was not one that he wished to think about at that moment. Instead he focussed on Lucius, the white coloration of his knuckles striking the younger man as possibly the most entertaining part of the blonde's appearance. "Doesn't take much to get to you, does it Lucius?" he murmured before flashing his friend a rather warm smile.
"Casual, my friend? I thought you knew this... I have no room for finery in my wardrobe, dear Malfoy. I think this ill-fitting piece of shit that I wear to work every day should prove that to you well enough." As though to enhance his argument, Rosier looked down over himself and took a quick note of his attire. Rugged was his natural look, something he'd worked very hard on before realising that in order to find work with decent pay, he'd have to force himself into the formal attire that made him look so boring. "What's the rush, my dear friend? You have the entire day to waste in this line, your work will not be impacted whatsoever by your absence." Evan's tone was mocking, though as he nudged the other man gently with his elbow, he could hardly help himself as his smile twisted into something of a grin. Despite their friendship growing up, Lucius was still his competition - only a fool would have been blind to that.
Striding forward as the queue shifted slowly, he forced his fist into the nearby wall as himself and Malfoy were left behind by the next lot of passengers. It would be another five minutes or so before the next empty one came past for sure. Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair and turned to lean against the wall that had previously served as his punchbag. Crossing his arms over his chest, Evan let out a dismayed huff. "Fuckin' place, you'd think they'd at least try a little harder to focus on us magical folk than those bloody muggles that seem to be the topic of every other conversation that spews from the Minister's mouth."
What could she say? Old habits die hard. The sight of Evan ushering himself from the wing as if he expected her to whip out a horn and a drumroll for his mere presence was almost enough to draw a smile from the corners of her red lips. Almost. Time and experience left her with the ability to swat his oh-so-subtle attempts to get to her away with a mere roll of her eyes and distracted shrug of her so shoulders. And so she did, dramatically so, her eyes flickering to the now perfectly focused spotlights hung high above their heads.
"Enjoyed them? You do know who you’re talking to, don’t you, Mr. Originality?" She allowed her eyes to fall down to his, the only sign of her banter being a tease lying in the soft twitch of her lips. Even if Marlene was more than capable of holding the emotions off her face if she wanted, the urge didn’t quite take. Some part of her wanted him to know how much she actually was enjoying herself, even if she would have rather died than admit it. If only she could put her finger on the ‘why’ portion of his allure that kept her coming back to duel him behind the backs of those closest to her.
Drawing her wand from her back pocket, she twirled the smooth wood between her fingers and raised her chin ever so slightly in synchrony with her arm. “But what I don’t get is why you would want to illuminate the sight of you being beaten so soundly. Insult and injury? Talk about a sad sight of a show.”
Despite the spotlights blaring in his face, the auditorium was still dimly lit - candles floated across the room in order to provide some illumination of the empty seats, though Evan barely thought it necessary. The darkness that had enveloped him loved company, and with a slash across his body, the light was blocked from shining down upon him once more. His footsteps echoed as he stepped across the creaking floorboards of the stage, allowing no room for the dismissal of his presence in the room. Before hopping down, he gave the young woman a quick smirk before bowing his head towards her. "Or perhaps I just know you better than you think you know yourself, Miss McKinnon."
His feet hit the floor with a loud thump - a satisfying thump - and Evan tossed his head to the side in order to remove the hair from his face. It was rare for him to keep a secret from anyone and though nobody knew just how much he adored the challenge of Marlene's presence, it was purely down to the fact that nobody had asked him. He was aware of how dangerous it could be for anyone to find out about their little meetings, though he doubted that target practice would be condemned by his fellows. If anything, perhaps they would even congratulate himself for his self control.
"Who's to say I'm the one being injured, blondie?" he called up to her, twirling as he walked below the front of the stage. With a quick flick of his wrist, he found himself blowing up one of the light bulbs that hung so conveniently above his partner. "I think you're going to have to stop pretending to fight fair if you want to get anywhere, aren't you?" He smirked as he watched the shattered glass fall - it was nowhere near enough to be dangerous to her, though he quite enjoyed the thought of the show that he was putting on for himself.
Green flames dissipated at his feet, allowing him to walk out of a chimney located in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. Immediately after stepping out of the enclosed space, he dusted himself off, finding it untidy to have soot of any sort on his person. Had he been in a better state of mind, he would have bypassed the network and just apparated into the very room he was in. Yet his experience with Muggles while dealing with his family business has led him to believe that Mondays truly do leave an ill feeling if not mentally ready. And being a Monday, he was beginning to dread it.
Lucius swung his cane about, moving his cloak so he could properly walk towards the lift. The silver-haired wizard rolled his grey eyes as he noted the line ahead of him, as he started to mumble under his breath how he could have waited a few more minutes at home rather than hurry in to check on his assets. As he waited in line, time seemed to slow, and he scanned the area around him, catching sight of several people that he would rather not collide with that morning. To the point where he lazily looked the other direction, as if dismissing them from his presence, not that it would stop many people from still approaching him anyways. All he could do was wait while impatiently tapping his cane’s silver snake’s head with his forefinger.
Working in the Ministry certainly had its perks - not often did one suspect that Evan was up to something out of the ordinary and when they did it could be solved by the investigation to reveal unfinished reports and the like. Not only was he a lazy worker - which often angered his department head to no end - but he was a good one, too... something that irritated his co-workers increasingly. While the accidental magic reversal department wasn't the most anti-muggle department to be working in, it was the one with the most hands-on experience with them, something that Evan valued greatly. If he had not taken up the position of obliviator, then the chance would have been lost to practise fiddling with people's minds and essentially destroying them from the inside out with nothing to show for it. Cruel yet necessary, the young man was more than grateful that they had accepted him for the position straight out of Hogwarts.
Upon entering the Ministry however, Evan found himself joining the back of the queue for the lifts. It seemed pointless to him how wizards even needed lifts, yet had never thought it effortless enough to bring it up with anyone else. Finding himself stood behind the one and only Lucius Malfoy, a grin formed across his features, causing Evan to chuckle lightly. "Well, look who it is. My, Malfoy, you certainly look as though you awoke on the wrong side of bed this morning. It's almost refreshing to see you looking subpar for once."
Puppet On A String; September, 1978 [ Evan&Marlene ]
It was always easier to move about the city on the nights when the moon was hidden under a blanket of clouds. Instead of the shadows being restricted to the corners of alleys and sidewalks, Marlene was free to walk briskly up the narrow way without fear of being spotted in a place she knew she shouldn’t be. Call it tangling with the devil, but the little voice in her head stood little chance against the itching in her fingertips. The prospect of what was to come left her adrenaline coursing through her veins, feeding her footsteps until she was climbing the steps to the old, abandoned auditorium at the top.
As usual, she made it inside by 7:15. Punctuality wasn’t usually her thing, in any given aspect of her life, but this particular bit of her otherwise radical schedule was an appointment that was met each Tuesday, barred only by absolute emergency. Marlene dropped her cloak over the back of the first row of seats, not pausing as she climbed the stairs to lit stage. Due to the regularity of these little meet ups, she knew her company would be waiting in the wing of the stage, hidden by the shadows of curtains as he always was when she arrived. With a redundant clear of her throat, she rolled her head on her shoulders before exhaling a sigh rivaled by only the most uninterested child you could find.
"Don’t make me blast you out of your hidey-hole, Rosier. Some of us have things to do after this. I don’t want to spend all night wiping the floor with your arse."
The only nightlife that Evan had ever taken interest was that which involved blood sports. While he despised having animals used for entertainment, watching people fight it out with not only their wands but other weapons was what excited him. It gave him something to focus on, something to strive for. Watching the fights had always been something that Evan based his own training off; having paid for usage of the hall already tonight, he'd made sure to get there at least a quarter of an hour before McKinnon did.
Theatricality was never something he'd found interest in until he'd found this little practise space. He knew how much it pissed Marlene off but continued anyway, his little stunts never ceasing to end his amusement with himself. She had been early this evening by all but three-quarters of a minute, giving him just thirty seconds to prepare himself for his latest 'show.' Focussing on the spotlights that hung above the stage, Evan pointed his wand towards them and twisted each of them to point at the centre. Striding gleefully from the wings, the man splayed his arms and turned to his audience of one. "I thought you enjoyed my little spectacles, McKinnon," he called to her, refusing to use her forename under any circumstances. It was no surprise that she was sat where she usually was - far enough away from him for safety, but close enough that she could still be close to him.
His smirk appeared at that thought - the mere fact that Marlene was still drawn to him after all these years of duelling practises both in and out of Hogwarts spoke volumes to him. "But enough about the show... you're right. Let's not waste time, shall we?"
What had always put Remus on the other foot about Evan Rosier was that, despite his friendships during Hogwarts (which were decidedly poor), he was a Ravenclaw. Remus knew better than to judge someone by their house, but he had always generally associated Slytherin with the soul-sucking purists who lived to make life hell for everyone else, and the other three houses to be - as a general rule of thumb - good. Of course, Remus didn’t have solid evidence that Evan was bad, per se, but his friendship with Snape didn’t lend him any favours. When his money was declined by the bartender, Remus felt just a little bit humiliated, but it was Evan’s words that got to him the most. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he snapped piling the sickles back up and shaking them into his pocket.
"If you’re trying to imply that I would be so careless as to get a woman pregnant, especially since we’re at war, then you must have a very low opinion of my intelligence," Remus continued, brow arching primly as he looked across at Evan, and wanting to tack on that he wasn’t interested in women, full stop. But then a beer was slid toward him by the bartender, and he was distracted. At least he knew that Evan hadn’t had a chance to poison it with anything — unless he had the bartender under the Imperius Curse, then Remus was in all sorts of trouble. Still, he took a sip, deciding to live a little. "Or have you forgotten that Voldemort’s rising to power while drinking yourself under the table at the Hog’s Head?"
The other man's annoyance allowed a smirk to slip across Evan's features, his fingers lacing together in front of him as he placed them comfortably down on the counter in front of him. The Hog's Head wasn't a place that he tended to frequent, though whenever he did come here it always had a knack for growing on him quickly. Like a home away from home, though the smell was considerably worse than the Rosier mansion. Not by a lot, but considerably enough for him to have to adjust every time he stepped through the front door.
"Oh no, I doubt you could even get near a woman in order to impregnate her, Remus," he nodded, his face returning to its former nonchalance. "I was referring to those friends of yours, the ones that I recall needed to be babied by you in order to get them out of trouble, yes?" Civil conversation was an art that Evan had not yet mastered and yet every time he tried, he came marginally closer to succeeding. If it had not been for his anger held towards the 'Marauders' as they'd called themselves, he was almost sure that Remus Lupin would have been a fairly welcome acquaintance in a time like this. As it was, however, the two had never destined to be friends and nor did it seem as though that was going to change any time soon.
"The Dark Lord's rise to power? Oh, I'm sure that's all the more reason to breed, is it not? Gives a bit of excitement to the whole don't die part of the deal, does it not?" Evan shrugged as he noticed his drink being placed before him, the large glass making a rather satisfying sound as it knocked lightly against the wood. Despite how much he went out of his way to drink, Rosier didn't tend to think of himself of an alcoholic. Too much of a good thing was never something to be ashamed of; to him, putting a label on his vices was purely bad taste. "You might as well leave your mark on the world now, Remus, before it's too late and you're nothing but a footnote on James Potter's final speech."
Andromeda’s eyebrows seemed to raise an inch of her forehead, “Yeah?” Her voice sounded like an echo of a sixteen year old version of her, hand on hip when she was telling her mom she was in fact trying to be as rude as possible so she would be kicked out of dinner. She straightened herself up, still trying to let her bedside manners stay on point (though they never really were there). “‘Mean, they can’t hurt.” She shrugged her shoulders. Resisting the urge to keep her eyebrows in place, she kicked her robes to the wall and pulled them closer to it. “Turning down potions? Well that would be a first that I can recall.” She tucked him into the corner, just out of way of the storm of people going back and forth through the halls. “They put it in the food here though, so you’ll get kicked up either way.”
“Finally, you agree with me on somethin’. Won’t take my potions but let me take your clothes off…” She mumbled to herself in sing-song, but at least he was being more compliant than he was two minutes ago. Her eyes stared down the specks of blood that landed on his chest and dripped lightly from his chin, where the hell did that come from? Her hands went to feel his back as he breathed. “Do you feel any pain when you breathe?” She felt only a tinge of nerves now as she felt his body move smoothly against her palm, still, blood shouldn’t have been coming from within him. Again she couldn’t help but want to ask what happened- a number one no-no when it come to dealing with patients with even the least bit of hostility. They always ended up lying about something or another.
She rolled her eyes, not being able to help it. Most women under thirty didn’t advertise that they had a baby, much less to total stranger in a time like these- but his interest in the girl was such a cliche somehow. She was the little girl who acted all sweet like strangers but wouldn’t hesitate to bite Andromeda’s calf if she didn’t get what she wanted. “Her name’s Nymphadora. It’s crazy, I know, but it’s a family tradition to have spastic names.” She said, not really wanting to think about the fact that she felt like she had to choose a traditional name because of her old family when Ted had been originally going along the lines of something like ‘Sarah’. “She’s a metamorphmagus, actually- with a special talent for never looking like me.” Andromeda said grinning slightly, “For about a week she looked like me, then she took her dads hair and then a nurse eyes. Never me.” She rolled her eyes as she said; a fondness for her daughter but the slight disdain that came with actually having to deal with her- wedding vows were more true with children then they were with spouses.
Andromeda said more about Dora then than she ever usually did to a stranger. Most of the time she would give a name if someone asked and move on. She was always so cautious when it came to her family, but seeing a man barely even able to hold up her head gave her an unguarded mouth. What trouble could come from a man who would pass out from exhaustion at any moment and forget she was ever there? She patted the pillow and stretched out her arms, “But thank you.” She added, giving only sufficient enough attention to the laced compliment.
“Both would be wonderful.” She said, they’d want her to tell them what she knew happened to him, and she’d want him to be as comfortable as possible anyways. “There isn’t any rooms available right now, so this corner is as good as an accommodation as possible for now.”
The sound of potions being laced into his food was one that triggered a rather disappointed look from the dying man. He wondered just how much they'd forced down his throat already, given that he could barely move his body more than an inch without a kind of numbness rushing into his mind. At this point it was hard to tell if it was the pain or the potions that were keeping him dumbed down, though he wouldn't be surprised if it was a mixture of both that had him stuck there on the bed without binds to keep him there. "Great, remind me to actually die next time so you don't get to make my choices for me," he murmured, rolling his eyes before allowing them to close briefly. His eyelids felt tired somehow and exerting them against the bright lights that hung above him weren't going to be doing any favours."
No matter how much it hurt what remained of his pride to do so, a small, weak noise escaped Evan's lips as the woman began to peel the shirt from his back. It sounded reminiscent of a wounded animal, though with a slightly darker undertone that completely abolished any idea of innocence from the whimper. "Can't blame me though, can ye?" he managed, though his chuckle was interrupted by a searing pain in his chest. "Feels like I'm bein' fuckin' stabbed or somethin'." He sealed his mouth shut in order to focus on the pain, trying to shut it out of his mind before it could overcome him - he would be useless passed out, at least awake and in pain he still had the chance to prove that he was okay. After all, he was going to get himself discharged later that day whether the healers liked it or not.
Talk of children was something that always bothered Evan, though he was often keen to listen to it when the need arose. Stories of a child growing up in a loving home was something that settled his restless mind, reminding him that no matter who this woman supported, she was nothing like a muggle. Form his narrow experience from his muggle mother as well as the relatives that surrounded her, it was them that had fuelled his hatred for them so early on. No ideals or prejudices had been formed by his true mother, his pureblood one, simply the experience of his childhood had been enough to leave a mark on him. "Nymphadora, sounds like a bit of a handful if you ask me," he managed finally, his smile still there although it withered significantly as he glanced up at the woman once more. Whether he was talking about the name itself or just the girl, he couldn't be quite sure - with his head throbbing, it was a mystery as to how he was even able to catch a word she was saying through the ringing in his ears.
"Both, you really wanna 'ear about both?" he asked her, though he could see by her features that she had been serious. "Fine. Ye wanna know what happened? I was attacked by fuckin' Death Eaters, that's what 'appened." Had there been a lie in the sentence, Evan wouldn't have even been able to make it known - it was the painful truth that came from his lips, though he realised in the presence of those that weren't part of his brethren that a sob story would probably earn him favour. "Out of nowhere they stormed me mam's manor, killed everyone on sight - even made me watch for Merlin's sake. I honestly wish they 'ad killed me... those memories are never gonna leave me now."
Scream: My character has caused yours to scream out for some reason.
Headache: How my character will take care of yours when they have a headache.
Expecting: Our characters find out they are expecting a child together.
Milkshake: Our characters will have to split a milkshake.
Coffee: My character will be hyped up on coffee and pester yours.
Mistletoe: Our characters will share a kiss under the mistletoe.
Graveyard: My character will visit your characters grave.
Spectre: My character will be visited by your character’s ghost or vice versa.
Bleed: My character will injure your character.
Dream: My character will have a dream about your character.
Letters: Our characters will write letters to one another.
Nightmare: One of our characters will have a nightmare.
Holiday: Our characters will spend a holiday together.
Apologize: My character will apologize to yours.
Busted: Your character will catch mine doing something they shouldn’t.
O Romeo: I will write my character missing/looking for yours.
O Juliet: I will write about my character’s feelings for yours.
O Macbeth: I will write about how my character kills yours.
O Hero: I will write about my character mourning yours.
O Puck: I will write about my character pranking yours.
O Titiana: I will write about our characters sharing a night in bed or sharing a kiss. Specify.
O Oberon: I’ll write about my character getting angry at yours over something they did.
Regrets: I’ll write a drabble about my character having regrets about yours.
Heaven: I’ll write a drabble about our characters going to heaven.
Hell: I’ll write a drabble about our characters going to hell.
Purgatory: I’ll write a drabble about our characters going to purgatory.
Time: I’ll write a drabble about our characters doing to a different time/dimension. Specify.
Amuse Me: I will write a funny drabble about my character trying to cheer yours up.
Accept me: I will write a drabble about my character accepting yours or vice versa. /Or both to accept one another.
Break Me: I will write an angsty drabble about our characters.
Befriend Me: I will write a drabble about our characters meeting for the first time in an AU.
Call Me: I will write a drabble about my character asking for yours [be it at the brink of death/in a battlefield/knocking on the front door wounded, feel free to specify.
Comfort Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character comforting yours- vise versa.
Drink Me: I will write a drabble about my character taking shots with yours.
Dominate Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character dominating yours. Or vise versa.
Enamor Me: I will write a fluffy drabble about my character trying to woo yours [be it out of the blue/Valentine’s Day, feel free to specify.]
Embarrass Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character saying or doing something embarrassing to himself or to your character.
Fight Me: I will write a drabble out my character fighting with/or against yours.
Forgive me: I will write a drabble about my character forgiving yours or vise versa.
Get Me: I will write a drabble about my character saving yours.
Humor Me: I’ll write a funny drabble about our characters.
Hustle Me: I’ll write a drabble about our characters hustling.
Humiliate Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character doing something humiliating to yours.
Haunt Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character watching over yours [as a ghost, watching from a distance, or otherwise; feel free to specify.
Hunt with me: I’ll write a drabble about your character and mine on a hunt together.
Invite Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character asking your character to come over.
Join Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character giving your character an offer [be it a proposal for an alliance, asking them to join them in an activity (you can get dirty if you want), feel free to specify.
Kill Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character killing yours.
Love Me: I’ll write a fluffy drabble about our characters.
Mourn Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character mourning your character’s death.
Nurse Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character healing yours.
Offer Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character giving yours a gift.
Paint Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character drawing a picture of yours [like one of your French girls~ be it painting them or drawing them, maybe offering a picture of them as a gift, feel free to specify.]
Quiet Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character trying to calm yours down [be it from crying, from lashing out, feel free to specify.]
Remember Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character trying to get yours to remember them [be it from an accident, meeting them after years apart, feel free to specify.]
Raise Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character resurrecting yours. Vise versa.
Reunite Me: I’ll write a drabble of our characters reuniting together.
Shag Me: I’ll write a dirty drabble about our characters. Specify.
Surprise Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character surprising yours. Vise versa.
Save Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character saving yours or vise versa.
Shoot Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character shooting yours or vise versa.
Tell Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character confessing something to yours [be it a love confession, a secret, feel free to specify.]
Text me: I’ll write a drabble about my character texting yours or your character texting mine.
Trick Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character tricking your character.
Unbind Me: I’ll write a drabble about your character freeing mine, or the other way around, or something among the lines [be it freeing them from jail, from handcuffs, from a trap, from a curse, feel free to specify.]
Value Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character telling yours how they feel about them.
Wed Me: I’ll write a drabble about our character under the subject of wedlock [be it my character proposing to yours, or marrying yours, feel free to specify.]
X Me: I will write whatever it is that you wish, [specify.]
Yahoo Me: I’ll write a drabble about our characters celebrating something [feel free to specify.]
Zip Me: I’ll write a drabble about your character dressing mine, or the other way around [this can also be used for shutting them up as well, but feel free to specify.]
Torture Me: I’ll write a drabble about your character torturing mine or vise versa.
Take Me: My character will kidnap yours.
Leave Me: my character will leave your character behind.
Deny Me: my character will either deny your character’s advances or deny them a ‘happy ending’.
Grope Me: my character will grope yours.
Lick Me: my character will lick yours in any specified place or manner.
Suck Me: my character will suck on any body part of your character.
Tease Me: my character will tease yours, whether in a friendly or a sexual manner.
Please Me: my character will do anything to please yours.
Bite Me: my character will bite yours on any part of their body.
Blindfold Me: my character will blindfold yours in order to have their fun.
Meet Me: My character is meeting yours either for the first time or just causally.
Greet Me: My character will greet yours, either at the door, at work, or somewhere else.
Own me: My character owns your character.
Slap me: my character will slap yours, in the sexual manner or of anger. specify.
Call Me: My character will call your character for whatever reason.
Hug Me: My character will hug yours. Either by surprise or for a specific reason.
Give Me: my character will give yours a gift.
Tickle Me: my character will tickle yours ruthlessly.
Sleep: My character needs to stay at your character’s house for the night, or vise versa. Specify. (you can add any other special things that could happen!)
Drink: My character will call, text, or show up at your character’s house drunk. Specify which of the three.
Heal: My character will tend to your character’s wounds, or be at their side when they’re sick.
Confess: My character will speak their true feelings about your character. (or about a topic. you may choose.)
Death: My character’s reaction to your character dying.
Time: My character is running late! They are supposed to meet your character at ___________ (fill in the blank) or vise versa. Specify.
Protect: My character keeps yours safe from harm.
Kiss: My character kisses yours, or vise versa. Specify.
Dream: My character wakes up in the middle of the night because of a dream with your character in it.
Run!: My character is chasing your character (or vise versa) OR both characters are being chased by ___________ (fill in the blank).
Rivalry: I’ll write a drabble of our characters having a rivalry between each other.
Revenge: My character will get revenge on yours.
Jealousy: My character gets jealous over yours.
Hallucinations: My character will have hallucinations about your character.
Candle: Our characters spending time together by candle light.
Obsession: I’ll write a drabble about my character having an obsession with yours. Vise versa.
Thief: My/your character has stolen something from yours/mine and plans to escape with said item. (Be specific on who gets which role)
Healer: My/your character helping your/my character when they are hurt/sick. (Be specific on who gets which role, and whether the pain is physical, emotional, or just having to catch a fever)
Sky: Our characters are stargazing.
Seer: An event with our characters in the past or future.
Help: My character requests help from your character (be something silly or serious, you may decide.)
Gift: My character gives your character something special. Or vise versa. Specify.
I Do: I will write our characters as a married couple
Broken: I’ll write our characters breaking up or in an angsty scene.
Spell: I’ll write my character putting a spell on yours. Or being under a spell/curse.
«: memory from the past with your character.
»: a future event my character would like to happen with them + yours [a daydream]
¿ : something my character would like to forget [specify in general or about yours]
☼ : A memory my character has with yours that they’ll never forget.
Joke: My character pulling a prank on yours.
School: How out characters live through a school day. Specify class if needed.
Song: My character singing a song to yours, or vice versa.
Gloves: How my character deals with news from yours, Specify.
Snow flake: Our characters in the cold together.
Rain — I’ll write a fluffy drabble of our characters kissing in the rain.
Kill — I’ll write a angst drabble of my character violently killing yours.
Love — I’ll write a drabble of my character admitting they love yours.
Lust — I’ll write a drabble of our characters making love together.
Date — I’ll write a drabble of my character taking yours out on a date.
Defend — I’ll write a drabble of my character protecting yours.
Fight — I’ll write a drabble of my character fighting with/against yours.
Death — I’ll write a drabble of my character with yours on their deathbed.
Mourn — I’ll write a drabble of my character mourning yours.
Pet — I’ll write a drabble of my character buying yours a pet. (specify what kind.)
Wash — I’ll write a drabble of our characters showering/bathing together.
Pool — I’ll write a drabble of our characters swimming together.
Beach — I’ll write a drabble of out characters at the beach together.
Sing — I’ll write a drabble of my character singing to yours.
Snow — I’ll write a drabble of our characters building a snowman together.
Game — I’ll write a drabble of my character playing videogames with yours.
Movie — I’ll write a drabble of our characters watching a movie together.
Shop — I’ll write a drabble of my character taking yours shopping.
Cook — I’ll write a drabble of our characters cooking together.
Sleep — I’ll write a drabble of my character snuggling in bed with yours.
Nightmare: I’ll write my character having a nightmare about yours, or vice versa.
Kiss: I’ll write our characters sharing a kiss, it can be innocent or passionate.
Traumatic: I’ll write my or your characters going through a traumatic experience.
Murder: I’ll write my character killing yours or vice versa.
Home: I’ll write our characters living together.
Holiday: I’ll write our characters celebrating a holiday together.
Prank: I’ll write our characters pulling pranks on each other.
Scars: I’ll write your character touching my character’s scars or vice versa.
Sketching: I’ll write your character drawing mine or vice versa.
Warmth: I’ll write our characters getting warm.
Solace: I’ll write my character comforting yours or vice versa.
"Well, that’s because I haven’t been doing shit.” No point in hiding the truth when it was painfully clear that he really hadn’t done much of anything. Fresh out of Hogwarts he had moved into a flat and spent his time avoiding everyone he knew. It was only every once in a while that he forced himself out for fear of going mad. Besides, he often found himself envious of the people he had gone to school with. They were out bettering their lives, making a difference or making strides towards careers they could be proud of whereas Severus was becoming more of a hermit than he would have liked. “Really, just absolute shit.” He raised his glass in mock cheers before taking a sip.
"Please tell me you’ve been up to something that’s impressive enough for the both of us." Evan was brilliant and he had always had high hopes for him. No, not hope, he knew the man would amount to something amazing. There were just those sort of people in the world, the one’s where failure wasn’t an option and Severus was positive that Evan was one of them. “If you say you’ve done nothing then I’m taking the cigarette back.” With that he slid his pack over the bar top and leaned back slightly on his stool.
It was almost true that Evan had missed Severus over their time spent apart - he had come to rely on the Slytherin boy in his later years, something that he hadn't graced anyone with the privilege of holding over him. Sev was different though, of course, he didn't take things for granted like Avery or Wilkes... Evan had always received thanks for his actions and had nothing asked of him in return. A smile absently painted itself onto his lips as he recalled their past, happy to reassure the bartender that they were still drinking with a gentle nod.
"Nothin's changed on your end then, you borin' little turd," Evan teased, taking the cigarette firmly between his fingers before allowing it to be taken from him. As he lifted his wand from his pocket to light it, he raised his eyebrows with a rather dramatic flair before leaning forward in his seat. Taking a quick drag before taking the cigarette between two fingers, he blew smoke rings in Severus' direction before speaking. "Well I joined 'em shortly after we left 'ogwarts, as I always said I would. Ended up in with the fuckin' snatchers though, didn' I? Took me a while but I finally managed to prove myself, turns out all ye've gotta do is go through shit and they think you're ready to take up the Mark." Shrugging his shoulders, he sat back and popped the little stick back into his mouth, challenging his old friend with a slow nod.
With the other man standing so close, it was naturally notdifficult to spot him, though precisely what emotional response Rosier’spresence was supposed to generate remained uncertain. There was barely more than recognition in Rodolphus’ expression as he eyed the other man; recognition and a twinge of embarrassment. On the other hand, Rosier’s eyes were a mess of emotions, none of which Rod was pleased to see in someone apparently beneath him on the food chain. It was humiliating to consider how long he had been the subject of Rosier’s humoured leer. After so long, being laughed at was not something Rod took well to. Had they been anywhere else, he might have challenged the man more and asserted his position. Yet, bold as Rod was, he was not so stupid as to tempt a scene in the middle of such a busy street.
In response to Rosier’s question, Rod lifted his hands to eye level for the other man’s inspection and gave him a droll look. “Not anymore,” he assured him. A smirk would have framed his words nicely, though none followed.
"We don’t belong here," Rodolphus pointed out and turned his back on the fountain to look out at the street again. While many passersby were well dressed and, indeed, some of them showed clear signs of the good breeding and impeccable stature of purebloods, others all but boasted of their low birth. Rod took no joy in lingering here.
Rodolphus cast his eyes over the other man again and lingered on his drawn wand. An eyebrow quirked at the curious gesture. While it may be innocuous for most, for gentlemen such as themselves a drawn wand hinted at an intention to cause trouble.
Watching the other man was certainly a curious waste of time; what Rodolphus had come to Diagon Alley for was beyond him... though why he had chosen such an obvious spot to wash his hands was what struck him as odd. Surely the other man was noticeable by now - both Lestranges had made quite the name for themselves, each in their own right. Whether it was solely talked about within the ranks of the Death Eaters or not, Evan wondered why the elder man risked exposing himself for the sake of personal hygiene.
"I should've brought soap," he responded in jest to the other man's irritated tone, a smile flickering across his mouth. "Shame it couldn't get rid of the smell." Playing with fire was something that Evan was dangerously acquainted with, something that had gotten him into trouble far too many times to count... though he enjoyed it too much to give up. After all, taking risks was what had caused the Dark Lord to look upon him favourably - to show a certain stupidity that others would naively call courage. Had it not been for the injuries he'd suffered the previous day (though the woman volunteer had been quite helpful in getting him discharged earlier that morning) Evan would've perhaps gone for another snide comment, though instead he kept his mouth shut, eyes trained on Rodolphus' features like a hawk.
Tilting his head to the side he glanced towards the people that walked the alley around them, completely oblivious to their presence. "Speak fer yourself, Lestrange. I'm quite enjoyin' the miserable atmosphere that's hanging over 'ere. I thought that would be your style."
With his eyes focussed on the man before him, Evan's hands could do as they pleased - absently they tapped against his leg, the wand occasionally digging into his thigh here and there. He always had his wand out; whether necessary or not, it was just the sheer essence of uncertainty that he loved to tease out of people. Was he going to do something or not?
All her features seemed to relax at the irritated response, it was something she would’ve said herself if she’d woken up in the third floor of a hospital after swinging on Death’s porch. Even though she wanted to roll her eyes at him, she kept her bed manors in check, “It’s mandatory, to see if I can get you some potions.” She lied, she didn’t want to admit that she was nervous that she had messed up somewhere and was going to kill him, and he seemed a bit better now. “I’m thinking you could use a Calming Draught either way, but if you want something with more in it…” She said, zoning out as she walked around to the other side of him.
Whatever had cut him wasn’t muggle and the curse was still working, tearing at the cut from inside and pushing against the scar from the inside. Her hands brushed against it, pushing into it for a moment before tsking to herself, putting the wand back into her boot. If he wasn’t going to announce any problems now then she wasn’t going to worry about it. Up and breathing sounded like he would make it for a few more hours.
Andromeda didn’t bother trying to push his head back down, instead, she moved so she transfigured his pillow to be larger incase he fell back and started pulling at the scraps of his clothes back. “I’m not going to take off you’re trousers or anything, but this shirt is disgusting and you’ll freeze tonight if you’re in this thing.” If he put up any resistance, she didn’t notice, or care at least, scraping off the dirtied garment and throwing it onto the floor next to her ruined robes. For a moment she considered ignoring him and his questions, any complaints he made. He wasn’t really her patient; but five minutes ago he was bruised and battered, he may be acting like he was well enough to sit up and move on but so did Dora when she busted her knee on the staircase when she was a toddler. And the next thing she knew, the little girls leg was twice the size and she was on bed rest for a week.
“Not like this.” She’d felt plenty of pain in her life, though she knew none were comparable to what he had to be feeling now and certainly not to what he’d had before if he was so calm about this. She shrugged her shoulders, “I think the worst was having a bub, she was quite a little wanker, I’ll tell ya’.” She said, trying to give a smile despite the fact she wanted to smack him upside the head for being so rude. Usually, they would wake up, throw up, and fall back asleep. This one seemed irritated though, clearly he didn’t walk through these doors on his own, but he certainly wanted to leave through them the first moment he could, she could tell. He was too ready to get up, biting at her so she would walk off, trying to brush off his pain.
“But I’m not the one on the stretch right now: so it doesn’t matter,” she said. She was a Slytherin, even if she wasn’t in Hogwarts anymore, and she wouldn’t let subjects change without her approval first. Not when she had priorities first, “And I have nothing but time to hear your complaints. If you aren’t going to chit-chat with me for a minute, though, I can go into the boring paperwork questions. I just figured you may want to rant before I bore you.”
While Evan often pretended to know people through and through upon his first inspection of them, he found it quite difficult to do so with a pain that felt as though it was going to devour him from the inside out. This woman had caught him in a moment of weakness, something that he'd never forgive himself for - if he couldn't kill her, then he might as well get her to leave him alone long enough to stop feeling sorry for himself. Sympathy was not something that Evan Rosier welcomed, but if he kept pushing at her, forcing her to bite back... maybe then he'd be able to recollect himself once she took the bait.
"Oh yeah, 'cause potions make it all better dun' they?" he murmured, rolling his eyes as he kept his eyes fixated on her. There was no way in Hell that Evan trusted healers, let alone those that weren't even qualified to be near him, but in a time like this he knew that he couldn't be fussy. "I don't need shit to fix me up if that's what you're tryn'a offer me. Couldn't care less about what it is you wanna force down my neck to keep me calm." Rude was something that had been ingrained into Evan's whole being by now, though he saw this moment as good as any to utilise it; he was allowed to be angry after nearly dying, wasn't he?
Despite the woman doing everything she could to help him, Evan could only feel the throbbing pain that came from the gash that felt as though it was trying to turn itself inside out. "Y'wanna strip search me?" He attempted a chuckle though only managed to spew more of the bloody spit down onto the bed, choking it out in spurts like a broken fountain in midwinter. "Go ahead. You know what's best for me after all dun' you?" Attempting to sit up as much as he could so that she could get the shirt off his chest, he smiled weakly at the woman before raising his eyebrows.
"A baby, hm?"
The thought raised an alarm at the back of his mind, visions of memories from the long-buried past from the back of his mind surfacing before he could find the strength to block them away. Crying and screaming was all that filled his head, the noise almost making him wish she had knocked him out with her force. "What's 'er name?" he asked, trying not to sound too interested but eager to learn about the woman's weaknesses in a somewhat subtle manner. "If she looks anythin' like her mam I bet she's a pretty little one, is she?" Flattery. Not something he could pull off often - flirtation was a foreign concept to the man who was so accustomed to getting everything that he wanted.
"A rant?" he questioned, making himself comfortable on the newly adjusted cushion. "What kinda rant? About the people that did this ta me, or the shitty conditions I'm having to put up with right now, 'ey?"
