Disclaimer: Not mine

Rebirth

Chapter 8

Vincent walked down to the kitchen with his hands shoved in his pockets and his head lowered, looking at the floor. He heard the sounds of witch's laughter coming from behind the closed door. Stopping just before pushing the door open he stood up straight, rotated his head as he loosened his shoulders and bravely pushed open the door.

"I'm in hell," rushed out of his mouth before he could stop the words from gathering enough sped to fling themselves on the floor.

"Mr Crabbe," Minerva said looking at him oddly. "I did not quite catch that."

"I said, Bloody Hell, how nice." He plastered on a smile and walked over to the only chair left at the small kitchen table. "Company for breakfast."

"Dinner Mr Crabbe," Minerva sniffed. "It would seem your sleeping habits have ruined your sense of time."

"There is still plenty left." Helen slid a plate in front of him. "I have had a talk with Elsie, but she still prepared enough food for twenty."

"Must have worked then," Vincent looked down at his plate, then pushed it back, looking up at the whore he had spent the previous night talking with. "I, umm, I really didn't get your name."

He closed his eyes for just the smallest moment when he heard Minerva's sniff of disapproval and Helen's snort of laughter.

"Violet," she smiled at him and worried her lip. "Well, not really. That's only what I use when I…"

"Nice name," Vincent reddened and tried to cut her off.

"Thanks, only as I was saying I only use that at work. I guess here you can call me Lucy, just remember Violet when I am working." She smiled at him unashamed and seemingly happy to be here.

"Umm, yeah, sure."

"Mr Crabbe, it appears that you have managed once again to involve people in your affairs…"

"Watch it Professor," Vincent said looking at the table. "I'm not your student now."

"Vincent!" Helen interjected. "Minerva has been kind enough to bring Violet… or Lucy, whatever, she has been kind enough to bring her some clean clothes and things she may need."

"I am sorry Professor," he said, looking around the table. "It's just that I, well, I am not used to so much company first thing in the morning."

"No, you prefer your company in the evenings." Minerva snapped at him as she stood up. "I really must be going. I will see myself to the floo."

"Professor?" Vincent could not help seeing the lumps in her pockets. "Has Elsie been bothering you?"

"No bother at all, none at all." She reached over and patted his arm before walking to the floo.

"Here Minerva, let me see you out." Helen shot Vincent a glare as she followed her out.

"What did I do?" Vincent questioned the closed door.

"You didn't see your company to the floo," Lucy said grinning at him. "And for whatever reason Elsie has taken to hiding when ever I am around."

"It's because of my Mum," he said without thinking.

"Your Mum?"

"Yeah, she said if Dad ever brought home one of his whores she wou… Umm, well any way," he said trying not to dig the hole deeper.

"I get it," she said and tried to smile only to lower her head.

"Lucy, I am really sorry to drag you into this."

"No, its fine. Trust me the digs are better here, and the food much better."

"Umm, about the Professor, she can be a little judgemental at times. I hope she didn't offend you."

"No, not much anyway. Listen Vincent, I didn't let on like all we did was talk," She bit her lip and looked away. "Sometimes blokes, well you know."

"No, I really don't." Vincent put his elbows on the table and his head in his hands. He didn't think it could get much worse.

"Well, they come to me when they can't … can't do what they should do at home, get it up I mean."

Vincent lowered his hands and gaped at her. It just got worse.

"You didn't… I mean you three didn't…"

"Oh heavens Vincent, I could never let on in front of that stuffy Professor." She sipped her tea and looked back at him, sure he appreciated her discretion. "I only mentioned it to your girlfriend. Nice that one, you two must have a real open relationship if she lets you bring me home."

"Whoa, she's…"

"Vincent, a word please?" Helen stood in the doorway, holding the door open and nodding to the hallway.

"Sure," he said. "Lucy, wait here. We need to talk. I mean we really need to talk."

He stepped into the hallway and waited Helen shut the door behind her. He then folded his arms and scowled down at her. Witch or not he planned to control this conversation, or at least try.

"Tom thought it may be best to play along with the rumour going around the Alley," Helen said with a smirk.

"If the three of us are to be locked up here together it is best that we do not play that game."

"Oh, I see," Helen grinned. "Afraid your little piece may charge more if…"

"Stop it Helen." He scowled and walked back toward the kitchen, opening the door and then looking back at her. "That was most unlike you. I may not be the brightest but at least I don't treat people the way you do."

"Vincent," she rushed to him, grabbing his arm. "My gods man, I didn't mean it like that. I was joking."

"Not about this Helen." He looked at her sternly. "Now, the three of us need to talk."

He walked back to the table and sat heavily in his chair. Then he looked up at Helen and pointed to hers.

"Now we talk."

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The week passed quickly as a routine fell into place. It seemed the three had formed a home from the cold house that Vincent had always known. The upper floors now belonged to the witches. Helen had taken over the third floor, leaving the second to Lucy who revelled in the tub and shower room at the end of the hall. The sound of water rattling the old pipes could be heard at all hours of the day and night. Vincent twice had to magic enough hot water for himself when she had run the tank dry.

Arthur had the pensives removed. No longer requiring Vincent to record or review what was in them. The charm on the bowls would tack them back to the Crabbe family, and as the only heir, the ownership was clearly his.

Tom would floo, and talk to Helen in a hushed voice. He had decided it safer to stay away then risk alerting anyone as to her involvement with him. Only once, did she step through the floo and go to him, making sure to return before morning came.

Even Elsie was calmer. She no longer piled food on the table until it threatened to fall under the weight. Occasionally she and Helen would still have a standoff, but overall she was behaving, as a house elf should. Vincent still saw her slam her head against the wall, but it was happening less and less.

Lucy had proven an apt tutor. Seeing Vincent reading his history book and making copious notes she had shown him a simpler way. Using a Muggle index card system, he soon had piles of paper reorganized in one small box.

Lucy had laughed and told him the box had been sitting in his kitchen of years to hold receipts and instructions for the elf when he thought it was a new invention.

"Lucy," Vincent asked. "Why do you … why do you become Violet?"

"I want to eat." She laughed and then became serious. "I told you I was Muggle born, but I didn't tell you my parents were killed by Death Eaters."

"Yet you came here. You know about the Crabbe name."

"Oh Vincent, I am so far beyond all that." She looked down at her lap and considered how to put her thoughts out in the open. "Look at me Vincent. What do you see? A whore? A Muggle born? What do you see?"

"I guess I don't really think about all that." He frowned, not sure where she was going. "I see a blond witch, a pretty blond witch."

She looked at him a little sadly and picked up her wand, hesitated and then lifted the glamour spell she wore.

"This is who I am Vincent."

"You are prettier with out the glamour," he said looking at the dark brown hair in riots of uncontrolled curls that cascaded down to her shoulders, and her liquid chocolate eyes. "Why do you wear it?"

"Because Violet is a whore." She picked the wand back up and replaced her glamour. "I was living in the Alley when it was destroyed. I lost everything and needed a place to live and food to eat."

"But, why this?"

"Most of the shops were closed, no work to be had. The apartments left undamaged were for families with children. It was bad times Vincent." She stood and began to pace.

"You wouldn't know what it was like. In this world, you do not just go to a friend's house and ask for help. Bloody Hell, with so many unplottable houses and secret houses what was I to do? You need money to send an owl, and if I had enough for that, I could have eaten. The first few nights a bunch of us slept on the ground, near the burning rubble. At least it was warm." She stood by the fireplace and wrapped her arms around herself.

"You said you were an apprentice."

"Yeah, in the apothecary shop. The one that used to be at the end of the Alley, just before Knockturn."

"It's gone now." He sighed, knowing that her chances of getting another apprenticeship were slim.

"Right." She turned back to look at him. "I have a place in Knockturn. At least I did. It is week to week rent and when I didn't pay last Tuesday they no doubt put my self on the curb."

"You should have said something." Vincent scowled knowing that this was his fault.

"You paid me for your time." She shrugged her shoulders and turned back to the fire. "I can get another place. They are easy to come by in Knockturn. Anyway, you asked how I could come here knowing that you were a Death Eater."

Vincent looked up at her and nodded. "I guess the same way you wanted a Muggle born whore. I don't think either of us gives a damn for the titles. I am a whore, you are a Death Eater."

"I didn't have a choice." He locked his eyes on hers. "I guess you didn't have much of one either."

"No, you do have a choice on those exams, so finish your next chapter and I will quiz you on it."

Vincent only nodded and turned back to his books, occasionally glancing at her by the fireplace where she sat on the floor, hugging her knees and staring into the fire. He put his hand to his scar and felt the thickening web as it ran down his throat and looked at her, somehow knowing her scars were worse.

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"The letters should go out today," Helen said as she passed the plate full of toast to Vincent one morning.

"They haven't made a move yet," Vincent said.

"Maybe we have this wrong," Lucy added. "I mean after all, we are holed up here on a suspicion. What is it is wrong?"

"What if it is right?" Vincent stood and started to clear the table as Elsie hopped up trying to take the plate from him.

"It doesn't matter. I have to open tomorrow. The First Years will be picking up their supplies and Seventh Years will want new wands for their tests."

"New wands for a test?" Vincent asked hopefully.

"It rubbish, but the well to do's use any excuse to waste money if you ask me." Helen quipped.

"I could go with you," Lucy offered. "I could wear a glamour so no one would recognize me and help out at the shop. If anything happens I will be right there to help."

"That may work," Helen said. "How are you at duelling?"

"I survived the war in the Alley," Lucy said stonily.

"Fine, but one thing," Helen said firmly. "If it gets bad you apparate out. You can leave from my shop. I can lift the Alley restriction on residential apparation."

"Promise." Lucy grinned at her. "No offence Vincent, if I don't get out of here I am going to the starkers. I need to get out."

"None taken. Be careful. Can either one of you send a Patronus?"

"Sure," Lucy beamed. "It's easy"

"Then send me one if there is trouble. The first thing a Death Eater does is bring down the floo and set anti-apparation spells. Set your wards to detect breeches to the wards and move fast. Once they have the anti-apparation up it's too late. You leave as soon as you feel the ward breeched." He ran his hand through his hair and looked between the two witches.

If he knew anything it was how Death Eaters attacked. He also knew that Death Eaters could not send a Patronus. At least they would have an edge in communications.