Ironic
Well life has a funny way of sneaking up on you
When you think everything's okay and everything's going right
And life has a funny way of helping you out when
You think everything's gone wrong and everything blows up
In your face
A mahogany wand with a Norwegian Ridgeback core was swung in Vala's direction, and Romulus smiled.
"I haven't got all night, lover."
Vala glimpsed over her shoulder, and missed Sirius. "Why not? Got appointments set up?" she asked in mild curiosity, scrambling to draw herself up. "You must be a very busy man…" she trailed as a low growl rolled over her. A creature slunk forward, vibrating and baring teeth. His eyes glowed a vicious tawny as he stepped over the figure of Vala.
Romulus narrowed his eyes, his lips thinning. Tilting his head to better peer at the beast, he redirected his aim.
Vala's gaze shifted from Romulus to Padfoot. It was possible that there was a back entrance to the cave, but whatever the case, the beast was neither friend nor foe—but a guardian. Suddenly understanding what Fae meant; she lunged forward, grabbing the dog's hindquarters and dragging him to the ground.
"No," she shrieked, "Stay back!"
The dog whined, and Vala dragged herself to her feet. "Get back," she commanded, pointing behind her. The dog, crouching low, crawled back to a corner. She didn't need a guardian anymore. She could, and she would, take care of herself.
Romulus wiped his brow; he was mere acquaintance with the Killing Curse. He had no intention of using it any time soon, but another near attack like that, and he might just snap.
"Let's cut the dramatics," she said mildly, stepping forward, "We both know why you're here." She held her hands out for him.
Romulus hesitated.
"Your employer is waiting," she said smoothly, slipping a smile.
He squared his shoulders and pointed his wand at her wrists. Ropes shot from its point and wrapped themselves in a tight knot, which he tugged on for leverage. He arched an eyebrow. "Right then, let's go."
If Vala had thought to check, she would have seen that the card in her pocket was drastically jumping backwards. -3… -6… -9… -12…
~+~+~+~
Romulus marched Vala through Hogsmeade.
"I dread Saxon would be sound asleep at this hour," Vala inserted slyly.
"That may be so, but he does not pay the piper," Romulus replied casually, looping the rope around his belt.
He isn't? A brief moment of uncertainty crossed her features, but she soon wiped her face of expression and squared her shoulders back. "Of course. And who pays this musician for his sorrowful melody?"
Romulus half-turned to stare at his captive. "Don't be stupid," he said, "This melody has well turned into an opera." He shook his head and continued on his way.
"Ah," she replied with a wisp of sarcasm. "How moronic of I… me… I," she furrowed her brow and cursed, "Damn."
"Me."
"Ah yes," she answered with raised eyebrows. "The Lupin Brothers always have been on a high grammatical pedestal for all to praise."
-15… -18…
"Don't call me that—I don't have a brother."
"Really? A thousand apologies… I had always suspected that perhaps you learned your way of speech from the mistresses of grade school."
-21… -24… -27…
Romulus' step hitched. He swung around. "Come again?"
"The mistresses of grade school," she repeated with a tone that suggested it was a well-known phrase.
"I heard you well enough," he snapped, "What did you mean by it?"
"Nothing," she answered with bright eyes sparkling with false innocence.
Narrowing his eyes, he summed her up. He quickly realized he was wasting his time and retreated with a scowl. It hadn't bothered him that she accused him of attending grade school; it was that he had.
His mother had thought it important that he get a proper education before Wizarding School. Though later he suspected she might have encouraged it because of Remus. 'No good in wasting five years playing and goofing off when they could be learning good, useful things like Mathematics and Logic,' she used to say, and then she would add, 'Not enough wizards have good, quality logic anymore. All wrapped up in magic--couldn't see an ounce of logic if it danced naked in front of them with 'Logic' tattooed all over its body in techno-bright colors… and a poodle skirt.'
His mother had always loathed poodle skirts; Romulus could never quite understand why. Sure, they were ridiculous--and ugly on top of that--but that was no reason to hate them. Of course, his father would always suggest, 'Perhaps if the little white poodle barked 'Logic!' they'd notice it? You know… magically?'
His father had been a bit of a smart-ass, in his own. Well, not so much a smart-ass as slightly silly. He had his moments anyway… Generally he was seen as the strict one of the family. Well, not strict, just slightly reserved… actually, a total social-reject. He had his family, and that's all he needed. Remus was like that in certain respects… He had a general care for everyone, but he never held quite the same kind of love and respect for anyone like he did for his family.
Another pang of guilt struck Romulus and silence blanketed them both—even their steps were muffled and distant.
Vala followed in biting debate. A line was strung between her and Malfoy Mansion. Now she had two choices. She could carefully tiptoe this line and meet her death at its end, or she could daringly somersault her way across it. Both ended in her death, one more literal than the other. Malfoy Mansion brought binds and laws; Romulus held strength and a limited supply of patience.
She took a metaphorical step back and prepared herself to metaphorically flip.
"Did you know the founder of Rome was named Romulus?" she asked conversationally, stepping lightly behind him, her feet ringing with the care of a rapt listener.
-30… -33… -36…
"No." He replied, rubbing his hands slightly. Romulus Lupin was a smart man, a very smart one indeed, but he hadn't wasted his time with history. What happened was dead, and he was set on the future; it's only a pity that he made many of the same mistakes over and over again—possibly his greatest flaw in character.
"He was a brilliant man," she added, "It was named after him… Curious that you should share his name."
"Curious indeed," he replied, humoring her. Normally he wouldn't, but he was in a mood. He'd felt guilt before, and he was good at ignoring it. He was good at ignoring a lot of things. One might say he was passive aggressive--he wasn't--he just wasn't one to toss out an entire ice cream sundae because one fly was stuck in it. He had to look on the bright side of things--the night was clear, the stars were shining, he'd just caught his most troublesome creature of interest, and now he was headed to collect his pay. Not that the first two interested him much, but the latter were definitely aligned with his taste of things. And to top things off, he didn't even have to assassinate anyone. Now that was something he really cared about. All the work and none of the sweat. What a sweet world we live in.
He was feeling good, and subconsciously, he added a bounce to his step. He could hum. If he liked humming and Beethoven's Fifth Symphony didn't sound totally butchered and barely recognizable in a whistle, or at worst, he knew some industrial pop tunes.
"He had a brother," she added carefully. "He was a good man too."
"Oh? What's his story?"
"As legends are handed down, variations exist. Some say he was injured and cured by a She-Wolf, others say he was raised by wolves, but some say… and this is a select few indeed, say he was a wolf."
The bounce ceased. "A wolf?"
"It's only a legend," she responded nonchalantly. "I believe the correct term would be He-Wolf or perhaps even Werewolf."
-39… -42… -45…
The atmosphere thickened. He paused, his eyes set ahead but unfocused. "Werewolves are real," he said, breaking the spell.
"I'm well aware, but the suggestion that the founder of Rome was a werewolf seems quite ludicrous to me."
He stopped again and took the time to peer back at her. "The founder? You said Romulus was the founder of Rome."
"Well, he was."
"Then why did you say his brother, the werewolf, was the founder?"
"Because he was." Vala gave this a moment to digest, and when Romulus looked no further along to understanding, she added, "They both found Rome."
"Ah." He continued his march towards glory. "Why's it named Rome? After Romulus, you said, but why only Romulus? His brother founded it as well."
"Because Romulus killed his brother."
"Ah, and that's why it would be ludicrous that he—what's his name?—would be a werewolf?"
"Precisely. I don't know if you've ever met a werewolf, but I have, and they are tricky bastards. Always well accustomed to their surroundings, those unfortunates. Besides," she smiled slickly, "Visiting Rome sounds much more romantic than visiting—oh, I don't know— Remé."
"Remé? What was his name?"
"Remus."
All moisture in Romulus' throat evaporated in an instant. The need to hum, the bounce in his step--all gone. He stood stock-still, his eyes glazing and his mind screaming.
Vala drew herself nearer. "Yes," she breathed into his ear. "Once Romulus wiped the blood from his hands, he denied having a brother as well."
-48… -51… -54… -57
~+~+~+~
"To the Queen!"
"To the Queen!"
"To the Queen!"
"To the Minister!"
Seth, Napoleon and Bill slowly turned their heads to stare at Ben, subconsciously lowering their bottles of beer. They had drank a lot, and had well lost count, but they weren't that drunk.
"The Minister?" Bill asked.
"Man's got good taste in clothes," Ben claimed, "Gotta respect a man like that."
"He wears a lime green bowler hat…" Napoleon trailed, all grasp of respect for Ben slipping away.
"And not only a bowler hat, but a lime green one…" Seth followed.
"The Italian Mafia wear bowler hats," Bill added, throwing in a well-known fact or two for taste.
"And everyone respects their style!" Ben cheered, holding up his beer again.
The other three did not follow.
"The Italian Mafia kill people," Seth said hollowly.
"They're into bribery as well," Napoleon added.
"They wear bowler hats," Bill finished, shuttering for some more spice in their big social chili bowl.
"Seems old Fudge has more in common with them than we thought!" Ben cheered again, raising his drink for another toast.
Seth shrugged. "I'll drink to that."
"True dat," Napoleon followed.
"Kill the Brits!" Bill yelled, attempting to add some color to their chili--possibly even a few more beans. He wasn't drunk enough to toast the Minister, but he sure was drunk enough to forget he was British. Ah hell, it's all forgotten in the end.
"Cheers!" They all screamed in unison, smacking bottles and drinking the fizz and overflowing beer.
~+~+~+~
"I've had quite enough of your lip, little girl," Romulus snapped, clasping her hand on his shoulder and swinging to face her. "How Remus ever put you up is beyond me."
"So you admit it!"
-57… -60…
"I admit nothing," he sneered, squeezing her fingers. She felt slightly weak in the knees at the sound of her own knuckles crunching.
"Do you enjoy pain?" she squeaked.
-60… -57…
He released her hand and blinked. "What?" It wasn't a commonly asked question, and he was truly shocked.
"You shunned your brother all your life…" she stated quietly, bowing her head and gently rubbing the feeling back into her hand. "You consciously pushed him out of your life--your own flesh and blood--your brother. Knowing he's had the same treatment his entire life, from strangers and peers alike… Looking back, doesn't that bother you? Don't you ever wonder what might have been…? He found friends who accepted him for what he was--did you?" she asked, her eyes shifting to peer into his.
-57…
A flash of doubt crossed him. "No," he said, darkness biting at the edges of his voice. He turned away and tugged on the string. "Let's go."
"What's the hurry?" she asked irritably, shrugging her shoulders. "We've got all night." How dare he just shrug him off, her mind screamed. But she knew it wasn't true. She knew somewhere, somewhere deep and dark, she'd touched Romulus. Despite his best efforts, he'd never been able to fully forget his shunned brother. It's most probable, though also doubted by most, that he felt a small spark of pity for Remus. And next to that spark, maybe he felt insecurity… and next to that, possibly even a small portion of sorrow existed for his lost relation.
Romulus took a distinct turn away from the road leading to Malfoy Mansion.
Vala wrinkled her brow. "Where are we going?" she asked, all irritation ebbing away.
"I told you, Saxon is not employing me."
"Oh," she'd forgotten. Her eyes still locked on the long road leading to her previous house, she acknowledged a subconscious thought. "Yes, but surely anyone rich enough to employ you would be linked with the Malfoys."
"I may be the best, Vala Amoureux, but no one ever said my rates were high."
-54… -51… -48…