A/N: Round about now is the beginning of my summer holidays, so hopefully I'll be able to get a good few chapters up over this period of time. We'll see what happens. My standard disclaimer (if you recognise it, it isn't mine) applies, and please review to tell me what you think of everything so far, and how it's all progressing. I like the feedback, it helps to influence certain things.
"So, despite all advice to the contrary, we are going to the twins' new shop?" Chris checked with Molly, who clucked her tongue in a rather annoyed manner against her teeth. "Hey, cool with me. I'm all for running the risk of destruction. SÌ€what makes my life so much fun." This gained a rather odd stare from Harry, but Chris brushed it off. "And who will be joining us on this most wonderful of dancing with death days?" Molly just looked at him, and didn't respond.
It was an overcast and murky Saturday, and awaiting the Weasleys', Harry, Hermione, and Chris in the front yard of the Burrow was - in Chris' opinion - a rather sleek looking car. It was one of the special Ministry of Magic cars, in which the rest seemed to have travelled in before. "It's good Dad can get us these again," Ron said, stretching in his seat as the car moved away from the Burrow. Chris shifted uncomfortably; it had been a long time since he had been anywhere in a car, and it felt foreign to him, like something he shouldn't be doing. He allowed the conversation to wash over him, spending the trip looking out of the window at the English countryside. He vaguely recognised the small village as the one down from Luna's house, and briefly wondered how she was enjoying Sweden, and if he should take her father up on his offer to join them for a day or two and just orb over.
A surprisingly short time later, the car slowed down, stopping in Charing Cross just across from the Leaky Cauldron. "Here you are then," the driver said. "I'm to wait for you, any idea how long you'll be?"
"A couple of hours I expect," said Mr. Weasley. "Ah good, here he is." The teenagers in the back of the car turned as one to look out of the windows. There was no Aurors waiting outside, something which Chris had expected and dreaded - he was sure he'd be recognised, especially after that last attack the other week there on a Ministry safe house, and the rumours flying round that an Auror had caught sight of people coming out of Madam Bones' home right before she was found dead... Outside, waiting on the group, stood the gigantic, black-beared form of the Hogwarts gamekeeper, Rebeus Hagrid. He wore a long beaverskin coat, and beamed at the sight of Harry, completely oblivious to the startled stares of passing Muggles.
Chris rather felt like escaping Below and seeing if the Floating Market was taking place; it would be more fun than having to hang around with a group of boring do-gooders accompanied by a half-giant. Perhaps he'd go after seeing Fred and George. The pub was completely empty, something for which Chris felt a tiny pang of pain. It was odd, seeing both sides of the war. He would admit to having fun while committing some of the most vile acts of magic imaginable, and there was something freeing about it all. But to have to see the after effects of his acts, it wasn't something he enjoyed. They passed through quickly, which Chris was silently grateful for.
Eventually, they came to a point when the group needed to split in two. "Molly, it doesn't make sense for all of us to go to Madam Malkin's," said Mr. Weasley. "Why don't those three, sorry, four," he amended, deciding to include Chris with them, "go with Hagrid, and we can go to Flourish and Blotts and get everyone's school books?" Mrs. Weasley, bless her, looked torn.
"I don't know," she said, her desire to finish the shopping as quickly as possible fighting with her wish of keeping everyone together so as to keep them safe. "Hagrid, do you think -?"
"Don' fret, they'll be fine with me, Molly," Hagrid soothed, waving on of his hands in an airy manner. Chris wasn't surprised that Mrs. Weasley didn't look at all convinced, he didn't trust Hagrid to 'protect' them as much as he trusted Wyatt's cooking. It was to be expected that he was less than pleased when Mrs. Weasley decided to allow the separation. The way to Madam Malkin's was filled with scurrying groups. All tightly knitted together, not one stopping to have a friendly chat. No one wanted to be alone, no one felt safe.
Is this the utopia Wyatt was always talking about? Chris couldn't help but think it seemed worse than the supposed dystopia that the world was meant to be. "Migh' be a bit of a squeeze in there with all o' us," Hagrid observed when they reached the store, peering through the window. "I'll stand guard outside, all right'?" Chris remained outside when the other three entered the shop. "No goin' in then?" Hagrid questioned.
"I don't exactly do the uniform thing," Chris shrugged. "Too old hat for my dangerously modern approach to magic," he allowed a small smirk, leaning against the cool stone of the shop and looking around. "Is it like this everywhere?"
"Far as we c'n tell," Hagrid responded earnestly. "Terrible thin', no one's safe anymore, no' even in their own homes," he shook his head at this thought. "Course, yeh'll know all about tha', being who yeh are an' all," he added thoughtfully, giving Chris a very respectful nod. Chris nodded back, biting without thinking on his bottom lip, considering the situation carefully. "All down to tha' git tha' the other git's teamed up wi'." Hagrid said sagely, as though his opinion were the most important word on the matter. Chris felt a flash of anger at what he said, no one got to call his brother a git, before remembering that no one knew that the other git was his brother.
Oh the problems a double, triple, or was it quadruple, life could posses. Maybe he should give it all up, he considered, and just stick to the one side. He dismissed the thought as soon as it occurred to him. There was not really a great deal of fun involved in sticking with the one side, and he'd manipulated this war far too much already to stop now. If he left it the way it was just now, without any further 'assistance' from him, it would all erupt in one huge explosion, and then where would anyone be? It was too dangerous for him to quit what he was doing, no matter how tempting it may have been.
"... we'll do better at Twilfitt and Tatting's," a loud voice came booming out of the shop, causing Chris to freeze in his place. He knew that voice all too well, the person it was connected to had often attempted to 'mother' him in the manner suitable for pureblood families. This, he realised, was going to be very awkward. "My Lord?" Narcissa Malfoy stopped in her tracks, Draco standing beside her, both wearing expressions of shock. They didn't seem to notice Hagrid, and he stared at what Mrs. Malfoy was saying with an open jaw. "My Lord, I heard rumours of your disappearance, but to be in the company of these people..." her hand touched the bottom of her throat in what Chris was sure was meant to be seen as a concerned gesture. "Draco, don't just stand there, take any parcels His Lordship might have." Draco jumped at what his mother said as though an electric shock had been sent through him, and he stepped forward. It was then that Hagrid seemed to find his voice.
"Now just see here," he began, "Ah don' know wha' yeh're talkin' about, bu' this boy here isn't you 'Lord'. He doesn't follow the stuff yeh and yeh're son do, so why don'"
"Oh be silent you stupid oaf," Narcissa snapped, waving her wand quickly to cast a Silencing Charm. "When we are gone from your sight you will not remember this discussion, and will think that His Lordship was approached by a relative of his," she kept a clear eye level with Hagrid, her tone musical in its spell casting, "and that he is currently in their company, completely out of harm's way." There was a flash from her wand, signifying that her spell was cast. "Now, please, my Lord, do allow my son and I to accompany you on your shopping trip." She pinched Draco's shoulder lightly, in effort to get him to say something.
"Erm, yes, do ... allow us," he forced out, not looking pleased at having to grovel to the person who had taken delight in humiliating throughout the last school year. "It would be such an honour," he added, knowing that it would keep his mother happy. Chris shrugged.
"Whatever," he responded. "Twilfitt and Tatting's, right?" he asked, remembering the name of the shop they had said they were going to. Twilfitt and Tatting also both happened to be followers of dearest Tommy, though they were more what Chris would call 'Sunday Followers,' rather like those who had been brought up in a particular religion. They may not have been particularly religious all of the time, but they attended the masses at the right time, and then lived their usual lives.
"Oh, My Lord is too kind to change his schedule to fit with our needs," Narcissa simpered. Chris felt sick with the constant sucking up to him, and judging by his expression, Draco also felt a bit sick at his mother's actions. She leaned forward, brushing invisible dust from Chris' shoulders, an action which he couldn't help but stare at. "Oh, do forgive me," she said, blinking, not quite knowing why she had done it. "The shop is this way," she gestured, "just follow my Draco."
Draco shot Chris a semi-glare, letting him know that he wasn't anymore pleased with this than Chris was, but he wasn't about to disappoint his mother. Chris nodded, respecting his decision. Despite the fact that he couldn't help but find the woman to be one of the most pretentious he had ever had the misfortune to come across, Chris understood the idea of wanting to do a parent proud. He was rather glad he wasn't stuck with that delusion anymore; like Leo could give a damn about him.
Twilfitt and Tatting's turned out to be far more 'posh' than Madam Malkin's could ever hope to be. As Narcissa explained, this was the shop in which the elite of the magical community got their clothes; mentioning that his Lordship Wyatt even had receded a few one of a kind suits from the store as gifs, and that she believed one of Chris' nicer suits was from this store.
Chris made a silent note to burn all of his suits.
Inside the store, the staff ran around, catering to every whim the customer might have, Within a few seconds of entering Chris found himself being placed in the comfiest chair they could offer, a mug of the finest coffee in his hands. This, they assured him, was the very least that they could do for him, and even it was not worthy considering it was His Lordship in the shop. Chris couldn't help but smirk slightly, enjoying the royal treatment while it lasted. It did help to dull the pangs of guilt he had been feeling while walking through Diagon Alley.
"So, they don't know, do they?" Draco asked quietly, coming over and sitting beside him while his mother was in a separate room being measured for a new set of grand dress robes. "The side of light, or whatever term it is we call them?"
"You know," Chris said, pulling himself up from the relaxed position he had been slouched in, "I don't take kindly to that tone, Draco Diddums," he said. "Please remember to whom you are referring," he added, a contemptuous sniff punctuating the end of the sentence. "What's the deal anyway? Thought you and mommy over there were doing the whole laying low thing?"
"I need school supplies for the upcoming year," Draco answered. "Supplies which included new robes, but that dammed dressmaker kept sticking the pins into..." he trailed off, remembering that he wasn't meant to be talking about the events of a few weeks ago. Chris rolled his eyes slightly.
"I do know you're all marked up," he told Draco. "I mean, I am the second in command, not much happens that I don't get knowing about," he shook his head, hiding the smirk that threatened to come, wanting to show annoyance at Draco's actions, rather than amusement at the expression on the Slytherin's face. "Honestly, minions these days. I'll need to have words with Lord Wyatt about you," he threatened. Draco paled. "And what's the deal here? Do purebloods not feel the need to contact grieving family members?"
"She was never included on the family tree," Draco shot back, expecting this to explain everything. On Chris' look, his face fell. He hated explaining things, especially to people who should really already know these things. "Since her father was disowned by Great Aunt Walburga, she was never included on any official recordings of the family tree. By the strict, traditional standards that we as purebloods are expected to keep, it is not done to grieve for a disowned member of the family," he nodded when he was done, a self-satisfied smirk appearing on his face. Chris slapped him.
"There's a huge difference between following standards, and being an ass," he spat. "And you, Diddums, are stuck in the latter category." Narcissa rejoined them as this point, smiling beautifully, though Chris realised it did nothing to hide the poisonous nature of her personality. "Sorry, Narcissa," he said quickly, standing from his seat and placing the coffee mug on the provided table, "but I have a prior arrangement that I just can't ignore, so I'll have to be leaving your company here." For her credit, Narcissa looked genuinely disappointed.
"Oh, but my Lord, for you to rejoin those people," her hand moved as though she were going to reach out to him, but thought better of it. "I cannot being to imagine how horrible it must be for you. To go through such an ordeal."
"It's pretty damn pleasant actually," Chris shrugged. "I get good meals," he added, to which Narcissa nodded, though truthfully she couldn't understand why he would attempt to stick up for such blood traitors. Perhaps the prolonged exposure to those types of people had begun to affect him. She would need to inform Lord Wyatt as soon as was possible, just to be on the safe side. There was a pause, and Chris reached forward to pull Narcissa to the side, out of Draco's earshot - though he was being distracted by one of the tailor's constant questioning. "And I've considered the request you made of me before I left."
"My Lord?" Narcissa said, barely even daring to hope. She knew that dear Severus would do all he could to help, but there was only so much that he, even as Head of House, could manage. That was the only reason she had even dared to approach Chris with such an outlandish request, though she knew that had Lord Voldemort overheard, she would be severely punished. To blatantly disregard his rules ... it just wasn't done.
"I'll offer what help I can," Chris said slowly, "but you are aware that me and Draco, we really don't get on, Narcissa. I really doubt he'll tell me anything, even if I order him to," he warned her. "And if Tommy ever finds out..." he left the sentence hanging, both of them well aware of the consequence.
"He is my son," she said. "There is nothing that I wouldn't do to keep him safe." Chris nodded, wishing that he didn't recognise the statement as one that had once been spoken by many members of his family; including his mother and Wyatt - though Wyatt had made it sound more like a threat.
"Then all I can do is promise to try," he said softly, "and believe me; trying is something I'm a great believer in."
xXx
The walk toward Fred and George's shop was deadly silent, something for which Chris was glad of. It allowed him time to think. He may not like the Malfoy family, but he was well aware that Narcissa and Lucius were devoted to each other and both care deeply for their son, who cared just as deeply for them in return. He had to give Voldemort this much; he was good at working out punishments that would really punish the person they were intended for. There was no way Draco would succeed in his mission, not on his own, and his death would destroy both Lucius and Narcissa. He turned the corner on the street the shop was meant to be on, and couldn't help but smile.
Fred and George's shop hit the eye like one of their fireworks. The window on the left hand side was full of an assortment of goods that revolved, popped, flashed, bounced and shrieked. The window on the right hand side was covered in a gigantic purple poster, very much like the ones that the Ministry had been pasting up everywhere. In flashing yellow letters, was written:
Why Are You Worrying About You-Know-Who?
You SHOULD Be Worrying About
U-NO-POO -
the Constipation Sensation That's Gripping the Nation!
Chris laughed lightly, making a mental note to purchase whatever it was that U-NO-POO was, and send it to Wyatt and Voldemort. And then he would make sure he would be nowhere near them when they received it; perhaps he would charm the packages to make them think they were from a loyal follower. He stepped into the shop; finding it somewhat difficult to get past the gaggle of giggling shoppers who were crowded around every display in the store.
"Mon captain!" Two loud voices called over to him. Chris relaxed, settling his expression into one of an amused smirk, watching as Fred and George pushed their ways towards him.
"Good to see you two," he said sincerely. He like the pair, they always entertained him. "Quick question, how would one go about placing a large order?" he asked, before they could open his mouth. "I've got a feeling this upcoming year is going to be ... slow," he said, eyes sparkling with mischief.
Fred grinned over. "You say the word, and you get what you need." George nodded his agreement.
"It'll be free publicity," he pointed out, with both his and his twin's grins increasing at the thought. Chris couldn't help but give his own grin in return, the giddy feeling in the shop was overwhelming. "So, what do you think mon captain?" George questioned.
"I'm impressed boys, deeply impressed," Chris admitted, looking around the store. "You've got the perfect business here. You were right; school really wasn't for you." He gave a sigh. "Almost a pity we won't be putting up with Umbitch this year, I'd love the chance to try out some of this stuff on here," he said, picking up a box and studying the back of it.
"We were expecting you earlier," Fred said, taking the box from him and placing it in a newly conjured floating basket. "But Hagrid said a cousin of yours showed up and you went off with them for a bit. Just dump whatever you want in there," he added, gesturing to the basket.
"Yeah, gotta keep the family happy, you understand," Chris said, inspecting a few more boxes, and placing the ones he deemed worthy into the basket. "They do have a tendency to show up when I least expect them to, and attempt to annoy the hell outta me."
"You've got a good discount in here, by the way," George added, throwing in a few products he thought Chris would find useful, as well as deeply entertaining. "So, how does that work? I thought your family were all dead," he said, displaying the same grasp of tact that Ron possessed.
"Doesn't stop them showing up," Chris muttered, side stepping to avoid being ran over by a small group of about three pre-teen girls, who were apparently trying to convince an elder girl to buy a few Daydream Charms for them. "You cater to people's lust. Gotta love capitalism," he said to the twins. They grinned.
"It might not work they way they'd hope," said Fred, grinning slyly.
"Do you honestly think we wouldn't have worked out a fail-safe, just in case?" George added casually, looking up at the shelves, seemingly counting the number of empty ones. They eventually reached the counter, and gave Chris the final total for his purchases, something which Chris was fine with paying, pulling out a bag of coins and handing it to them.
"I'm not so good with the money system you got going on here," he explained. Within a few minutes it was sorted, and Chris orbed his goods back to the Burrow. "Gentlemen," he grinned up at Fred and George, "this year is going to be ... legendary."