Black Bomb of Neatitude
How hard was it to find two Aurors? I scowled to myself, pushing past (slightly horrified) shoppers as I searched for Al and Vane.
I huffed in annoyance, stopping in front of the bookstore (and keeping well away from the Leaky Cauldron and the scary monster that dwelled within). Tapping my foot impatiently, I scanned the throngs of cheerfully talking students, searching for that iconic head of unruly black hair...
Nothing. Well, I supposed if it really were top-secret Auror business, they probably wouldn't be parading about on Main Street. I looked upwards, my eyes narrowing as I tried to peer in through the windows of the various buildings.
Still nothing. Pushing down another scowl, I decided to try some side streets. Picking the first one I saw, I ran forward, almost careening into the ice cream vendor stationed at the corner.
"Oi!" he shouted.
"Sorry!" I called over my shoulder.
There! A flash of a blonde ponytail followed quickly by a glimpse of Vane's sharp face leaning forward before dark curtains snapped together to block my view.
My eyes slid over the modest red exterior of the building, noting the eight small windows lined up in rows of two and the crumbling brick that surrounded the hand painted sign that read "Burke's Companions." There was one large, dust-clouded window at the bottommost level, and when I narrowed my eyes I could just make out a flash of brilliant orange fur as some animal paced the interior of the building. A pet shop, then. What were Aurors doing in such a store? You rarely saw Aurors in Wizarding London – they were mainly for the major cases. The Magical Law Enforcement took care of most of the cases.
What had warranted the Aurors? A mad cat invasion? I shoved down a rather amusing mental image of Al struggling to escape a torrent of cats.
Shopkeepers often rented out the area above their shops to residents. Maybe they were there not for the pet shop but for whoever lived above it.
I ran forward, my feet slipping a bit on the cobbled street. I skidded to a stop in front of the painted red door, slammed my palm onto the wooden surface, and, after waiting a full twenty-two seconds for a response, brought my leg up and kicked it in at its weakest point.
Slam!
The door swung open easily, and I stumbled forward a bit at the sudden motion. Blinking slightly in surprise - hey, maybe I had grown stronger! - I looked up at the startled face of one Cain Black. Oh. He was the one who had opened the door. Well, I'm sure my kick did most of the work. He just helped. Barely.
He was nursing his forehead, which sported a nasty looking red mark that was around six centimeters wide and was sure to develop into an impressive bruise, and scowled down at me.
"I should have known," he muttered, screwing his eyes shut as he gingerly poked at his forehead.
"Black? What are you doing here?" I asked incredulously, ignoring his wounded expression.
Black was hardly one to be roaming a run down pet shop - especially not during the workday. He was a major workaholic and was far too fond of his pressed suits to risk getting - gasp! - cat "contaminants" on the precious cloth (speaking of which, there seemed to be a discolouration around three centimeters wide at the bottom left of his suit jacket). You should have seen him when I decided it was about time that bring your pet to work day became instituted at the GW firm and plopped Sir Archibald on his desk. I thought he was going to go into hysterics and that I'd finally have the chance to try out the new healer moves I'd learned from Healer Park a few years ago (alas, he banished me from the office before I got the chance to try them out).
"Getting a bloody owl, what else would I be doing?" he muttered snidely, still shooting me accusatory looks. He mumbled some other words under his breath – none of them good, I was sure – and rubbed at his forehead some more. Noticing a small slip of tattered parchment clutched in his right hand, I leaned forward slightly, struggling to make out the tiny script written on the paper. Black scowled and stuffed the parchment into his pocket.
Oh well. Making a mental note to Numberita to bother him some more later, I focused on his reply. An owl? Here? I raised an eyebrow, glancing around the musty shop. A few sad looking owls with dust-caked feathers hooted feebly at the corner, and a small woman with dark hair at deep purple sleep marks tattooed under her eyes was the only other occupant of the otherwise deserted pet shop. Black was more the type of person to purchase owls from the high-end owl emporium a few blocks to the north.
"Why from here? Isn't it a bit too...cheap for your tastes?"
His scowl deepened.
"How's the Daisy case going? Any leads?" he shot back.
I flinched.
Right, time to change the subject.
"Erm..well, I have business to do - bye and have fun getting that cat urine off of your jacket!" I said hurriedly, beginning to edge three centimeters to the right. His eyebrows shot up.
"Cat ur-" he began, looking down.
I fled before the Black bomb of obsessive neatitude could explode.
After taking a quick glance at the shopkeeper to make sure she wasn't looking – nope, the girl was still absent mindedly tapping at the scuffed wooden counter – I crept over to the door at the very back of the shop, the one surrounded by abandoned wire cages encrusted in some mysterious substance that Numberita didn't want to think about.
Withdrawing my wand from its holster, I tapped the dull doorknob and whispered, "Alohomora." The door swung open with a soft click and, with a last furtive glance towards the still-jumping form of Cain Black, I slid smoothly through the crack and into the darkness waiting behind.
Closing the door softly behind me, I allowed myself a quick grin – okay, so maybe I'd just broken into someone's private residence and that was technically illegal, but hey – that was a pretty perfect execution of an alohomara if I'd ever seen one. Alohomora was actually deceptively complex – you had to study the way locks worked in order to direct the spell precisely enough to disable the locking mechanisms of the bolt. Luckily, this lock had been a standard issue one – nothing too complex.
I turned so that my back faced the door, eying the darkened staircase warily. Right, time to go punch one Al Potter. My jaw set decisively, I prepared to stomp my way up. My leg rose, my foot about to crash down on the first wooden step and announce my presence with gusto when-
"I don't know a bloody thing about the phoenix!"
A phoenix? My interested piqued, I decided that maybe loudly announcing my presence might not be the best idea. At least not in this instance.
Readjusting my foot's speed so that it only made a soft creak when it landed, I slowly made my way up the flight of stairs, my heart catching in my throat at every small sound the aging wood made.
Shut up, wood. I'm not that heavy – you don't have to keep groaning on like you're being tortured by a hundred garden gnomes! I scowled down at the offending stairs before creeping upwards to the closed door at the top.
I glanced down at the doorknob, noting that this lock certainly was not standard issue. Not wanting to risk a failed spell – and the resulting noise – I merely leaned forward, pressing my ear to the door.
"Really? Then you won't mind if we search your flat." Vane. Just a few words exchanged with her and I already could recognize her cold voice anywhere. Great.
They couldn't technically search his property without a warrant from the Ministry. I wondered if they had one, and if they didn't – did this man know he could just kick them out? I briefly considered barging in to inform him (hey, I had to represent the people's rights. If I didn't who would? Besides, "Adela, the Great Protector of the People" had a nice ring to it) but decided against it – I trusted Al, git or not. He must have some good reason to suspect this bloke…besides, I was too curious to leave my spot and risk shutting up the conversation.
"What! Look, I'm the one who called you. Do you think I would have called in to MLE if I had something to hide?"
MLE? My brows furrowed. Did he not realize that they were Aurors? Why were Al and Vane pretending to be Magical Law Enforcement?
I pressed my head closer to the door, straining to catch the muffled conversation. All thoughts of punching Al disappeared, replaced by the all-consuming curiousity that Seth always said would get me killed some day (I always replied that I wasn't a Ravenclaw for nothing and that I'd keep asking my questions, thank you very much).
No answer from the Auror side. The man continued, his voice rising a bit in a mixture of anger and fear. So he was hiding something.
"If you want to find some illegal activity, look downstairs. Burke is mighty suspicious – that's the whole reason I called. He's the one with the bloody pet shop, for Merlin's sake! If you're picking up any feathers here, it's only because he can't seem to control his own damn animals!"
More silence. Then-
"Al – the door."
The…
Shoot.
The door swung open and, not prepared for the sudden motion, I found myself collapsed on the grimy carpet looking up at narrowed green eyes.
Double shoot.
"Erm…I'm going to kill you?" I mustered.
He scowled.
"I should be saying that to you," he said angrily, glancing over his shoulder at the dimly lit room behind him. I craned my neck, struggling to see past his dark trousers, but he shifted when he saw my efforts. Al bent down swiftly and hoisted me to my feet – "Oi! Personal bubble!" – before shutting the door firmly behind him, leaving us in the darkened space at the top of the stairs. The small darkened space at the top of the stairs; Numberita estimated that it was only around a meter and a quarter wide and a meter and a half long.
"You've made me leave my partner alone with a dangerous suspect. What in Merlin's name were you thinking, spying on us like that?" he hissed.
I swallowed. Suddenly the whole "punch Al because he had the nerve to actually contact me" seemed very foolish.
I shifted my weight, looking away from his accusatory glare.
After sixteen seconds he let out a short, disbelieving sound.
"This isn't about the coin, is it?"
I bristled, taken aback by his harsh tone.
"You have no right to contact me whenever you feel like it," I tried, but the words came out sounding quite pathetic. I winced. This wasn't going to be pretty.
"No – no right? Adela, as much as I hate it, I am your bloody bodyguard, guardian, whatever the hell you want to call it, but I am stuck with you. It was just a reminder not to tell anyone about the situation, which, seeing how you came here, was a damned good decision on my part. You were probably about to tell someone about it, seeing how you don't even think before you act-"
I'd had enough. I met his eyes defiantly, curling my lip as I stepped forward.
"You bloody git. So maybe it wasn't the smartest decision I've ever made. But saying that I never think before I act? I am a Ravenclaw. We always think. Numberi – my brain is always moving, always calculating – it never stops. I see Greyback in my sleep. I can count the number of breaths he took to single me out, the force with which he almost killed my brother, the exact number of days it took for you to reco-"
I stopped, suddenly realizing how close we'd gotten. The air was heavy, pressing down on my throat with clouded fingers. Our noses were only two centimeters apart. Instead of attraction or even affection, though, all I saw from Al's eyes was a blank accusation.
I released the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. I hadn't meant to tell him all that. I took a step back, my heels bumping into the hideously wallpapered wall behind me.
A crash sounded from inside. Al's head whipped around, his hand swiftly drawing his wand out. Then, without sparing a glance back, he rushed into the room, sending a rapid stream of icy blue spells out.
I quickly followed, my wand already held at the ready position.
My eyes darted around the room, taking in the situation. Vane was unconscious on the carpet, a dark liquid beginning to seep from her torso. Al was shooting spells at the suspect, who was successfully deflecting each one. The deflected spells slammed into the various objects scatted around the room, sending glass shards spinning through the fire-singed air.
The man was dressed in a dark green cloak that was burnt black at the edges and rapidly making his way to the open window at the opposite end of the room.
"No!" Al shouted, whipping his arm forward. Sickeningly green spikes shot from his wand, biting into the wall just a few centimeters from the man's olive face. He jumped nimbly up to the windowsill.
The man – surprisingly young, Numberita noted, maybe even a year younger than I – met my eyes for a second before he shifted his weight, disappearing into the smooth sky behind the window. I shivered. His eyes had been as dark as the night that had marked Greyback's arrival.
Al rushed forward, his body slamming against the windowsill as he peered down.
A loud crack sounded; the man must have Apparated on his way down. Al let out a stream of curses that would have made Ginny Potter throw him into Azkaban herself before whirling around.
"You! This is your fault!" he shouted.
My eyes widened; my fault?
"It's not my fault the bloke turned out to be psycho!" I said.
"If it hadn't been for you, I would have been able to help E-"
He stopped suddenly. An ashamed look came across his face as he remembered his fallen partner. He ran forward, kneeling by Vane's body.
Guilt washed over me as well. Here we'd been arguing while Vane had been bleeding out between us. I didn't like the Auror, but that didn't mean I wanted her dead.
Rushing forward, I pushed Al's hands away from her torso.
"No. You're doing it wrong," I said.
He was about to protest – I could feel it from his shifted stance, the way his fingers tightened on his wand.
"Shut up, Al. This isn't about you," I said curtly, vanishing Eve's torn shirt from her body. Well, I thought to myself grimly, now I was finally getting the chance to try out the new healer moves I'd learned from Healer Park. Somehow it wasn't at all as glamorous as Numberita had imagined it. There were no adoring crowds, no easy cut to stitch up with a simple spell – I swallowed, Numberita flashing back to Seth as he'd been left after Xavier's attack. After Greyback and Ragnuk I'd sworn I would never let myself be so defenseless in the face of injury. So I'd pestered Healer Park for months, shadowing her at St. Mungo's until she'd finally relented and taught me the basics of first aid. I was no professional, but Al's hands were shaking with anger and he was in no shape to be doing delicate healing.
"Go get Draco Malfoy," I ordered, narrowing my eyes at Vane's body. She'd been hit with a particularly nasty cutting curse. I adjusted my grip on my wand before pointing it at the first of the many angry gashes lining her chest and stomach.
"Vulnera Sanentur. Vulnera Sanentur. Vulnera Sanentur," I repeated clearly, struggling to keep my voice steady.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Al hesitate. Go, Al, I silently willed, not stopping my mantra. I imagined the skin closing, knitting together as new cells formed to replace those that had been destroyed. He stood and moved to the window, facing it as he talked softly into some kind of mouthpiece that I hadn't noticed before.
Each cut took a full five minutes and twenty-six seconds to heal, and there were sixteen in total. Each minute that passed was another minute's worth of blood lost, and I knew that I wasn't going to be fast enough. By now my face was bright red and glistening with perspiration as I struggled to keep my wand steady. A single centimeter's deviation and a new gash would appear in Vane's pale skin.
I wasn't going to last much longer. Already I felt my eyes tearing from the strain of keeping them open – every time I blinked I risked deviating from the delicate path my wand needed to follow – and my hands cramping from their tense grip on my wand.
To my surprise, a warm hand enveloped mine, steadying my wand before it could shudder.
"Vulnera Sanentur," Al's voice joined mine. I looked up at him, startled by his actions. His eyes were still fixated on Vane in concentration, only flicking up once to meet mine.
"I have this. Rest," he said gently. There was an unspoken apology in his eyes, and after six seconds I nodded, too weary for Numberita to dwell on his actions or to protest.
Leaving my wand in his hand – it would risk too much for us to suddenly switch mid-spell – I stood, my knees protesting from the movement. Wincing as my bones cracked, I hesitated before bending down again to extract Al's wand from its place in his pocket. The man from before could have reinforcements waiting downstairs. I didn't want to risk being caught defenseless. My cheeks reddened as my fingers brushed his leg – concentrate, Adela – and I thought I heard a small snort from his direction, but when I quickly turned to glare at his head, he was still murmuring the spell smoothly. I slid the wand from his pocket and, with one last glance at Al's bent head, moved to go down the stairs.
At the foot of the stairs the door banged open, revealing a tall man with white-blond hair and the aristocratic nose that Scorpius always bragged about. Behind him thundered several Aurors all dressed in matching black robes that certainly weren't very subtle (this was obviously too urgent to worry about undercover secrecy and all that). The man was dressed in elegant white robes, and when his grey eyes met mine he strode forward.
Draco Malfoy.
"Where is she?" he asked shortly.
"Upstairs." The word had hardly left my mouth when Healer Malfoy nodded curtly and rushed past me. The crowd of Aurors soon followed, pushing me to the side of the stairs. Well. Rude.
When the last Auror had finally pushed past me to rush up the stairs, I leaned against the faded wallpaper and, letting out another long, shaking breath, slid to the ground. My head bent back so my tangled hair lay flush against the wall.
My fingers were shaking. The events were finally catching up to me – Merlin, I had frozen up there. I hadn't conjured a single spell to help during the skirmish. I had just stood there like some idiot while the man had escaped. I looked down to the slender dark wand I held delicately between my callused fingers.
Al. I knew I shouldn't even be thinking about stuff like this while Vane was bleeding upstairs, but – I couldn't help but feel saddened by the animosity that existed between us. It was like some great black void had sprouted between us. Had it always been there? Had I just not noticed it until now?
After another minute and twenty-seven seconds of wallowing in self-pity, I shook my head briskly and stood. Get a hold of yourself, Adela, I told myself firmly. I glanced up at the darkened ceiling, wondering briefly I should go up to switch wands with Al. When I heard hurried footsteps from above and muffled orders, I decided they were busy enough without some meddling civilian venturing up there. Besides, I'd done enough damage for today.
So, with one last lingering look up the stairs, I carefully stuck Al's wand into my holster and left the stairwell.
I'd get my wand back later.
Author Note: Um…hi, long time no see? Sorry! A thousand apologies for the (massive) delay between chapters, but school got the best of me. I'm on break now and finally have time to write, so hopefully I'll be able to get back into this story! Thank you so much for your patience you wonderful/amazing/stupendous people.