Worms with Delusions of Grandeur
"And you're sure you didn't see any other people in the building?"
I scowled down at my intertwined hands, resisting the urge to whip out OBTS and whack the MLE officer in the stomach. After Al had taken out Aleksandra, he had called for backup – "Normally I would have called in for reinforcements before, but I wasn't in my…right mind," he'd said sheepishly when he'd noticed me looking questioningly at him – and an Auror and three MLE officers had rushed into the building. After whisking me to the mini-infirmary in the depths of the Ministry and giving me an absolutely vile nutrition potion (it was goopy and tasted of old socks – luckily Al snuck me a brownie when the healer wasn't looking), they'd sat me in this small, dark room that reminded me far too much of my cell and proceeded to interrogate me about the events of the past few days.
Which left me sitting in this cold, hard metal chair facing the most annoying MLE officer I'd ever met. He was around forty or so with prematurely graying hair and a tendency to speak slowly and condescendingly towards me as if he expected me to burst into tears at any second. Which I wasn't. I was feeling strangely…empty. Sure, I'd cried when I saw Al. But now? I was feeling numb, almost like I wasn't really here, like I was still in that cell picking at the broken springs of the dirtied mattress –
"Ms. Lancaster. This would go much faster if you would just cooperate," Mr. Patronizing said exasperatedly. I met his watery blue eyes levelly.
"As I've said three times before, no. As far as I could tell, Andrei and Aleksandra were the only ones in the building."
He leaned forward, resting his arms on the metal table between us (2 meters x .8 meters).
"As far as you could tell – so you're basing it on speculation," he said eagerly.
I stiffened. Numberita was suffering enough abuse as it was without some bloke insulting our intelligence.
"They were the only ones there. They were being threatened – they were frightened kids. That doesn't mean I forgive them or think they should go unpunished, but they were alone and obviously desperate to return to Bulgaria," I said. I'd only recently found out the details of my imprisonment; apparently the building had been on the outskirts of London in a derelict Muggle neighborhood. Al had only found me after following up on several leads and interrogating the neighbors.
"Look, she said there was no one else there. I scanned the area, and there were no signs of other occupants," Al said from behind me. He was standing rigidly by the door, watching the exchange with a slight scowl on his lips.
Mr. Patronizing slowly looked over him, his lip curling up in distaste.
"And you are?" he said snidely. Jerk. He knew who Al was; Al looked almost exactly like his father, just a bit leaner and with sharper cheekbones. He just wanted Al to have to say his last name so he could insinuate that he'd only gotten to be an Auror – a rare honor for someone so young – because of his father. Al knew it, too, for he looked slightly pained as he opened his mouth to reply. Unfortunately, Al was on probation at the moment due to the whole my being kidnapped while on his watch thing. Which was unfair – I ran away from him, but the Ministry hadn't seen it that way, and Harry Potter had had no choice but to put him on probation. At this moment, Al was lower in rank than Mr. Patronizing, and Mr. Patronizing knew it.
"You bitterweed. You know who he is, you know no one else was out there, you know this is a bloody waste of time! You just have some big chip on your shoulder," I burst out before Al could say anything.
Mr. Patronizing's eyes snapped back on me, and his eyes grew very cold. I heard Al take a step forward from behind me, but I refused to break eye contact or flinch.
"I see," he said coolly. Then he stood, collecting his papers with a rough movement of his hands. "You seem to be psychologically traumatized by your ordeal. I will recommend careful watch and containment effective immediately," he added.
My mouth dropped open.
"You – you-" I spluttered.
He slid what was supposed to be a sympathetic smile onto his face. I scowled.
"Besides, it's for the best. Especially with all the…uproar over your latest case. You're the house elf girl, after all," he added.
Huh? I glanced back at Al, but by now he was peering out of the small frosted glass window in the door intently, so I slid my gaze back to Mr. Patronizing.
"What do you mean?" I asked. His snide smile grew to a broad, delighted grin as he looked down on me, clearly relishing the (rare) feeling of knowing something I didn't.
"You mean you don't know? You've certainly angered many…powerful families," he said. He reached into his jacket and withdrew a folded paper, throwing it onto the table before me.
"See for yourself."
Eying him warily but unable to resist my curiousity, I reached forward and pulled the paper – the Daily Prophet – closer.
"Purebloods in Uproar over House Elf Case – Delusional Outcast Seeks Revenge," I read aloud, turning the words over in my mouth as I struggled to keep my emotions in check. No use giving Mr. Patronizing the satisfaction of seeing me expl –
Oh, come on. Delusional outcast? Revenge? That would imply that I actually cared about being thrust out of stuffy pureblood society – and I didn't. I might have minded my parents disowning me, but not because of any attachment to the frilly gowns and snobbish sentiments.
My fingers slowly curled inward, crumpling the delicate paper as I scanned the article, my eyesight blearing with anger until the black ink began to blur together.
Certain words stood out – "She always was upset, always jealous of the other girls – she was never as pretty or graceful as them – bit plain looking actually" – that was a quote from Vince's sister. "Always off in her own world – muttering about some Bumbertina. That was her imaginary friend; she didn't have any others-" That gem was from Gretchen Yaxley, a particularly nasty Slytherin who had been in my year. I hissed; she'd gotten Numberita's name wrong – and she wasn't an imaginary friend. She was my brain. "-so is this girl delusional or does she have more sinister motives? Does she want to uproot our great Wizarding society, so recently recovered from the evils of He Who Must Not Be Named?"
And, finally, I spotted the byline of the vicious article (1,251 words of pure, vindictive rubbish) – Rita Skeeter.
The paper was thoroughly crumpled by now, the front picture – a particularly unflattering one of me taken just as I was waking up and looking quite dazed – swallowed by the folds of paper.
"How can the Daily Prophet publish this rubbish?" I hissed through gritted teeth, slamming the paper down onto the table.
Mr. Patronizing was saying something in the distance, but at this point I'd tuned him out. I whirled around, pinning Al down with my eyes.
"You! You git. You must have known this was happening – why didn't you tell me?" I yelled. He swallowed, tugging at the collar of his sweater nervously.
"Um."
"Well?" I shrieked, stepping forward a meter until I was right in front of his face. He straightened, all signs of his discomfort vanishing.
"I was a bit preoccupied with searching for you. Sorry if I was too relieved that you were alive to mention some stupid article," he said flatly.
I narrowed my eyes, opening my mouth to deliver a retort –
"WHERE THE BLOODY HELL IS MY SISTER?"
I blinked, my confusion mirrored in Al's green eyes. I looked over his shoulder, squinting my eyes to try and make out what was happening through the frosted glass –
"NO, I WILL NOT SHUT UP – THIS IS MY SISTER. AN ANNOYING PRAT, SURE, BUT MY SISTER. NO ONE KEEPS ME FROM SEEING HER!" Seth. Seth! A small smile began tugging at the corners of my lips as a surge of affection blossomed in my chest. It sounded like the idiot was fending off several MLE officers. I silently rooted for him as the sounds grew louder.
"What in Merlin's beard? This area is supposed to be secu-" Mr. Patronizing began, pushing Al and me out of the way to open the door-
The door slammed outward, slapping Mr. Patronizing in the face and propelling his body back into the wall behind the metal door.
A disheveled blonde boy with worried blue eyes scanned the room frantically, his mouth widening into a broad grin when he saw me. And suddenly I was running, my feet crushing the fallen paper as I threw myself at my twin brother.
Hugging him tightly, I furiously blinked back the few stubborn tears that had managed to escape from my eyes.
After three seconds I pulled back, smiling a slightly (okay, very) watery smile.
"You idiot – did you take out half the MLE to get in here?" I asked. I was being held in a tightly controlled area of the Ministry building hidden away from public access. Seth must have had to knock out at least seven MLE officers to get in; how my bumbling dolt of a brother had managed that was beyond even Numberita.
"Well, it was more like three-quarters of the-" Seth began, puffing out his chest a bit.
"I called in a favor," interjected a cool voice from just outside the room. I looked up sharply, my eyes widening when I noticed familiar grey eyes and white-blond hair. Merlin, how many people had come to see me? Scorpius gave me a quick smile before reassuming his stoic expression, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the way he occasionally would cross his eyes and stick out his tongue when he noticed me looking (as an Associate at the Zabini & Prince firm, we were supposed to be sworn rivals. I'd half-heartedly disguised a few dung bombs as love notes from Rose, but he'd seen through them immediately and thrown them at me while I was asleep – what he was doing in our flat that late at night I really didn't want to know).
Rose soon followed him, and she rushed forward and flung her arms around me, enveloping me in a warm hug.
"You idiot! I-I was so worried!" she said through gasping breaths, pressing her tearful face against my shoulder (which must have been uncomfortable for her; I was 11 cm shorter than her).
To my horror, I soon found my eyes welling up again as I joined Rose in her tears. Merlin, I'd missed them all so much. After I had cried until hoarse hiccups began bursting from my mouth, I pulled away and surveyed the four (well, five if you counted the now-unconscious Mr. Patronizing in the corner) people standing in the room.
It was like a bloody Hogwarts reunion. I smiled shakily.
Seth was shooting glares at Scorpius for ruining his bragging opportunity, and Scorpius was surreptitiously giving him the finger from where Rose couldn't see. Rose was beaming from her place next to Scorpius, occasionally turning around quickly to wipe at her face. Al was looking very uncomfortable as he steadfastly looked away from his companions.
I frowned; what was the source of this discomfort? Sure, Al had been away for a very long time, but from what I could tell, the Slytherin trio (trio of slimy snakes. The sinister overgrown worms. Worms with Delusions of Grandeur. Hm. I'd have to work on their group name) still had managed to stay close.
Seth followed my gaze to Al, and his eyes narrowed slightly.
"Ahem," he said pointedly. Catching on, Scorpius folded his arms over his neatly tailored black suit (what was it with Malfoys and black?) and directed his Malfoy oh so haughty stare at Al.
Al groaned.
"Not now," he hissed, glancing at Rose. I exchanged a confused look with Rose; what were they talking about?
By now Seth was cracking his knuckles and Scorpius was casually tapping his palm with his pale wand, the wood emitting threatening red sparks on every third tap.
Al rolled his eyes. "Fine," he muttered. Then he turned to me, and I was caught off guard for the twenty-third time this week (note to self: find some pictures of his eyes so I can desensitize myself to their effects) by the vividness of his eyes.
He took a deep breath. Then-
"I'm sorry," he said sincerely, though the tips of his ears were a bit red – he wasn't used to apologizing...especially not with an audience.
His words from St. Mungo's came back to Numberita. He'd called me an immature baby prone to tantrums. I'd faced much worse these past four days from Andrei and Aleksandra, but those pains had been physical. I'd thought of Al as a friend, which had made his biting words all the worse. He had hurt me, and I couldn't forgive him yet. I couldn't do that to myself.
He winced, seeing the determined resolve in my eyes.
"Lanca- Adela, I was an utter prat. An idiot," he said, taking a step forward. I eyed him wordlessly, and Seth stepped forward as well, watching Al carefully.
"Maybe you should give it a rest," Seth said, shooting me a concerned look.
"No, Adela – you're amazing and incredibly intelligent – sometimes you're so smart it scares me because I know that you'll see everything and know the truth. And I'm a selfish coward who can't stand the thought of someone knowing my weaknesses and-" –Seth was pushing Al back towards the door as I stood silently, my pulse pounding in my ears and I wasn't in that room anymore – I was a ghost again, hovering above as the boy with green eyes shouted frantically as he got pushed out of the room.
"Are you okay?"
I looked over at Rose, who was eying me worriedly.
"I'm fine," I said.
She didn't look convinced, so I forced a smile onto my face and bent, picking up the crumpled Prophet and attempting to smooth the creases.
I set it carefully on the table.
"Rose, I'm fine. Besides, I have a case to win," I added, attempting to inject some of my prior confidence into my voice. She still didn't look satisfied, but I lacked the energy to start talking about numbers, so I turned and walked quickly out of the room.
On the table, the picture was split in half by a long, jagged crease that twisted my half-open mouth into a smeared caricature of itself.
Author Note: As always, thanks for reading/reviewing! :D Remember - all reviews get returned with a teaser of the next chapter! c; 300th reviewer gets a oneshot :D
Oh, and, the next chapter of Outtakes is up :)