WALKING IN MY SHOES
Disclaimer:I don't own Harry Potter or Kuroshitsuji or its characters, can't help but play with them though...
Summary: He was tortured by the Dark side. The Light side betrayed him. Now he's back, but not alone. Watch out, Wizarding World, because two butlers from Hell are pissed.
Shout Out: /frazzled/ Have I told you that doing research work is a bitch lately? Sorry for not piping up sooner, and thank you for the patience. After all, going through 130 pages of scientific facts and editing the damned thing can cow in even the stronger plotdragons, but now I am back in the saddle - proverbially speaking. As it is, half of the new chapter for Crimson Sagittarius is already done, as for the other projects, they are clamoring for my attention when the heat gets down. Hopefully y'all have loads of ice cream wherever you are, or at least chilled watermelon, because really, this weather is honestly ridiculous /grumpy/. Some rain, pretty please... and the fingers and hope for the best. And mega big thanks for my beta MHB, who heroically used her super -duper-awesome ninja skillz to get the chapter back to me in a record time. Also, excuse my French, but I seriously need someone who would help me with it, because Fleur's double-speak is a hell to write through. /pitiful kitten eyes/ So... any occasional volunteers?
Warnings:Introduction of Twindledee and Twindledumb and Sebastian being rational. (Oh the horror.) /evil snigger/. Enjoy!
I'm not looking for a clearer conscience
Peace of mind after what I've been through
And before we talk of any repentance
Try walking in my shoes
("Walking In My Shoes", by Depeche Mode)
The three nosy bodies - ahem, teenagers, were not very happy with one Antares Carruthers right now. In their esteemed opinion, Antares was a brat and a rude one at that, who exaggerated his own woes in searching for sympathy from honest people like themselves. Similarly, the Order members were not exactly happy with the youth, but Dumbledore placated them enough to let sleeping dogs lie… for now.
Of course, Sirius was alternatively sulking and whining about, concerned about being a bad father, but the son in the question didn't give a damn, and his… butlers…. even less.
Ah, yes, his butlers.
Dumbledore wasn't a happy camper about allowing the duo to accompany their Master, despite the rather good arguments one Sebastian Michaelis had put forth in their cause. They were… strange. Fleur was rather enamored with their dedication to their Master - she had Bill, after all, but some eye-candy was always a welcome sight for any Veela, and it was even better that the duo wasn't affected by her aura… and even if that irked the blonde woman, she was also rather relieved and a little uneasy.
Simply said, the two butlers were… too perfect. Fleur Delacour had the privilege of being catered to in both the magical and mundane worlds, and in her relatively long life - for her, anyway - she had the chance to discern the good servants from the bad, and the stellar ones from the terrifically incompetent - the last class was very rare, as she was the daughter of the French Ambassador who was also from a well-bred old family which demanded nothing short of perfection, and thus the servants were some of the best that could be hired.
But Antares' butlers were on another level entirely. Discreet, attentive, able to protect their master from lethal threats - and what a protection that was - and easy on the eyes. Very easy on the eyes, and they still managed to vanish into the background like ghosts if need be. Fleur once asked Antares where he had hired the duo, but the youth claimed they were part of the Carruthers' staff and besides, it was his mother that hired them and with her dead, he sadly couldn't give her any further information on acquiring similar servants from the same source.
It made her both jealous and uncomfortable. Of course, being with Bill was a lot easier on her inner creature, but she still missed the comforts of her home, and that meant the service through the day and sometimes the night. While Gabby was happy as a clam because Michaelis - Sebastian, managed to entertain the young girl with some exceptionally done puppets, Fleur resented she had to help with the cooking and dishwashing and the likes. Molly was an old-fashioned woman in that regard, and much to Fleur's dismay, she was a disaster with household charms. It didn't help that Ginny and Hermione were smug about that fact, and it helped even less that Antares' butlers did their share of the job rather perfectly, even going so far as to cook for him separately, despite Antares' protests.
She had witnessed the young man in the kitchen one morning as he attempted to make breakfast, and when he was in the middle of the work, one of the butlers appeared - the glasses-less one - and whisked him away, tutting about shaming them as butlers, and then proceeded to commandeer the kitchen for himself, much to Molly's annoyance, as the scents and food were even more tempting than hers - it also didn't help the butler's cooking was leagues above her own and much more healthy than the red-haired woman's. The same scene had repeated at random times - sometimes, it was dinner, sometimes lunch, but it was always the same - Antares tried to cook something, one of the butlers swept in and took him back into his room, while the other got to cooking.
Of course, there were times when Antares won and did his own cooking, much to Faustus' disapproval and Michaelis' almost-there pouting. But they were rare as the two butlers seemed to take it as their mission to not let Antares into the kitchen when it involved cooking in any way, shape or form. Surprisingly, Kreacher let them do as they pleased, not even insulting the youth's parentage, while he still hindered the other housemates as much as he could.
Antares himself was an enigma. In his first meeting he came off as a cold, callous brat, but Fleur had to admit he was quite mature in his own right, if not a little too cynical for his own good. Even if Ron, Hermione and Ginny tried to include him in their own little world, the young Carruthers was surprisingly stubborn in his efforts to be left alone. He tolerated Gabby, but even the little part-Veela had to quit bothering him when he told her firmly - no ifs, ands or buts - that he was too tired to be attentive to her babbling.
And let's not even mentioned the twins' catastrophic prank….
Fleur sighed.
/Flashback/
It had been some three days into Antares' stay at Headquarters as they called the house they were in - Grimmauld Place was a mouthful and Sirius had bad memories attached to the name, and the Order also had meetings in this particular house…. so, Headquarters it was.
Antares was mainly keeping to himself in his room, with his butlers going out and about, except when it was time for meals or socializing, however torturous the thing was to the young Black heir.
And it was between one of those things that the twins struck.
Antares sighed. He was bored and up until now, the Order hadn't called a meeting yet, so he was left with the choice of being in his room, going into the library and being accosted by Granger, going to the kitchen and being mother-henned by the Weasley matron or being questioned by her husband about the function of the Muggle light bulb, or going to the living room to be pestered by either Weasley number six or Fleur's little sister. There wasn't even a shooting range, much to his horror, and he avoided the mutt that was his father. Of course, his butlers were also helpful in that regard, but he knew that sooner or later he would have to face the horn dog and clear out the confusion.
If he was honest with himself, he didn't want to even look at the man - not for a long time, but he knew he would have to suck it up and do it sometime…if he didn't it would have looked strange and besides, all his revenge plans would be for naught.
Because revenge - even if he had to fucking dig two graves to get it, proverbially speaking - was like an arrow with barbed tip - when it penetrates the flesh, it hurts, but when you pull it out, it's a fucking agony and it leaves a destroyed mass of muscles behind.
Only, the flesh heals, even if badly. Antares had another kind of revenge in mind - the kind that hurt everything. Their memories, their thoughts, their self-confidence… their souls, if he could be so… poetic as to use that kind of a phrase.
And for that, he had to suppress his own antagonism of the dog-natured man and… play the disinterested young heir.
He headed to the living room - he may as well as start the entire charade - the sooner he started, the sooner he would return back in his room. The sound of his cane hitting against the floor was muffled slightly by the carpeted floor as his uncovered eye disinterestedly took in the details. Faustus was following him behind a respectable step away from him, and if Antares hadn't known the butler was following him, he would have thought he was haunted by shadows.
Another peculiarity of the butler duo. They were loath to leave him alone, and he had one or another with him at all times. It was a little irritating at times, but he had to keep up the appearance of a well-bred noble, which was not as easy task as it seemed to be - between his healing wounds, the annoyances that masqueraded as his housemates and his own memories of said housemates' wrongdoings to his person, he was quite exhausted every evening.
And to think this was only the beginning of their hellish plan…
He sighed as he opened the door and –
SPLAT!
Something wet fell on his head - wet and green and slimy and then, the liquid began to itch and burn –
"And that, ladies and gentlemen, was an official christening of Sirius' little bundle of joy!" George's - or was if Fred's? - voice crowed among the roaring laughter of the onlookers, making Antares stiffen with fury.
He raised a hand to remove the goop from his face, hissing with pain as his other hand clenched the head of his cane.
"Faustus…" He gritted out. "Hurts."
"Welcome, little buddy!" One of the boisterous menaces skipped forward - Fred? "You were a lucky recipient of the newest product of our line of products – "
"Don't fucking care right now! What did you put in, acid?" Antares hissed out.
The twin frowned. "No - dittany and white root along with a bit of unicorn horn –" He faltered as Antares winced again.
"Argh! No matter, how do I get the goop off?" The eye patch wearing youth asked as he cringed, while he tried to wipe his face clear of the goop.
Then someone drenched him with water and sending him in a wave of agony onto the floor at the same time.
"AAGH!"
"You idiot! This isn't soluble in water - in fact, it only strengthens –" One of twins hollered out and then Antares blacked out.
Fleur watched, horrified as the innocent prank proved to have disastrous consequences on the already injured youth who fell under the veritable waterfall of water on the floor.
"Then how do you get it off?" The bespectacled butler barked out, those usually stony yellow eyes glinting with dangerous light, making the twins yelp with fright.
"O - Oil! Castor oil!" One of them stuttered out.
"Kreacher!" The man snapped out, and with a pop the disagreeable little menace appeared in the room. "Get the castor oil in a big pitcher - and quick!"
The elf's eyes widened and with a small pop he vanished.
A second later, he returned with a pitcher of a sickly yellow substance which was quickly snatched out of his hands by Faustus and then poured over the shivering and twitching youth on the floor.
Faustus' eyes looked over the slender teen worriedly as he gently felt for the pulse while he kneeled beside his fallen Master.
BANG!
The door opened with a loud sound, making the occupants almost jump out of their skins with fright.
"What happened?"
The usually smiling mocha-eyed butler was now anything but happy as he looked at his co-worker, and then, his eyes zeroed onto the castor oil-drenched form on the floor.
"The twin idiots wanted to welcome him with a prank, consisting of the hodgepodge of potions with some questionable potion ingredients." Faustus replied him, his voice clipped with worry and anger.
"I swear! We didn't know!"
One of the twins managed to squeak out, only to quail under the golden glare of the butler's furious orbs.
"You shouldn't have done it in the first place either. What the hell possessed you to prank a sick person, anyway?" He growled back, incensed.
"But –" The other one tried to defend his twin, however both butlers were already concentrated on surveying damage that was done to their master.
And by the unhealthy mixture of paleness and redness on Antares' skin, things were not looking good for the young Carruthers.
"Take him to his room and disrobe him." Faustus ordered to Michaelis, with the latter nodding curtly as he gently gathered the precious burden in his arms. "Kreacher, prepare the bath, only with castor oil - slightly warmed, if you please. Go!"
"But shouldn't we wait on –" The bushy-haired girl tried to interject –
"No. Young Master needs the help now, and kindly keep your asinine worship of authority figured to yourself." Faustus cut her off. "Now, for the culprits….. Tell me exactly how you did the potion and maybe I will be merciful."
The twins scrambled to fulfill the order desperately, their faces pale with dread at the imagined consequences that awaited them.
Both of the twins were severely reprimanded for their actions – first by their mother, and then by Dumbledore and surprisingly, by Snape. The dark-haired Potions Master was actually apoplectic the two idiotic morons even thought of pranking the youth - there was still no love lost between Carruthers heir and Snape, however Antares was at least moderately cordial to the dour man, a long shot away from his old man, which was appreciated by the Potions Master, if not for anything else, then because their cordial relationship drove Sirius absolutely up the wall.
Surprisingly, Faustus was the one to brew the antidote to the lethal mass of poisons the twins called a pranking potion. Snape was very intrigued by the man's methods, but Faustus remained tight-lipped on it, much to the Potions Master's frustration.
The twins, while questioned, swore upside down that the potion in question should have been harmless as a fly - only turning the pranked person's skin and hair colored and then cancelling itself after 24 hours.
When Snape verified the potion's remains, he grudgingly affirmed the theory, which beget the question, just why had the potion in question reacted so badly when it came to contact with Antares.
The only thing they managed to get out of the tight-lipped bespectacled butler was that the youth was taking some very specific medicines to help with his recovery from the torture he had gone through at the hands of the Death Eaters. Snape was doubtful, but Sebastian smoothly rebuffed him saying that Voldemort hadn't wanted anyone to know he held - and tortured - two Purebloods, and besides, wasn't the Dark Lord aware of Snape's little dalliances with the Order?
Fleur had to admit, albeit grudgingly, that the mocha-eyed butler managed to silence the unpleasant hook-nosed potioneer mightily fast. She wasn't a fan of the spy, because he didn't submit to her Allure, not that she wanted him to, but the fact he always looked at her like she was some kind of a worthless bug galled her. Sure, she was a Veela, so what? That still didn't give him the right to treat her as something sub-human!
"Will he be alright?"
She was jolted out of her fuming by Gabrielle's timid voice. It had been pure dumb luck that Gabrielle was away when the incident happened, not that it scared the young girl any less.
"I hope so, Gabby." She sighed wearily as she opened the arms for her sister to hug her, which Gabby happily took advantage of.
"I hope so."
/End Flashback/
Meanwhile, the butlers were not happy campers. Claude especially was moody, as he felt that he had failed in protecting Antares. Even if he did manage to somehow reverse the potion, there were still some changes that stubbornly persisted.
He looked at the sleeping face of his master as he stood beside his bed. Antares' face was relaxed, with only a small furrow between his eyebrows to note his discomfort. His face was pale - still a little too much for both butlers' tastes, but it was an improvement from the last night. At least his skin wasn't clammy anymore - there were times the two demons genuinely feared they would lose their Master, but as usual, Antares proved to be too stubborn to give up.
The youth's dark hair and eyebrows were now snow white with some ice-blue highlights when the light hit the strands correctly. It was, as if he were an ice fae, only he wasn't so pale and the only things that actually reminded of the ice fae folk were the color of his hair and eyebrows - the eyes they weren't sure about.
It had been four days since the disaster with the hair color potion cum poison, and both of the butlers decided to barricade themselves with the Young Master, leaving the Lady Room unoccupied. Of course, they still had to do the chores, but they rotated, so that wasn't the problem. If there was any problem, it was that redheaded girl and to a lesser degree, the bushy-haired one, along with Dumbledore and that faithful little lap-dog of his.
Sighing, Faustus pinched the bridge of his nose as to stave off his headache. How would he loved to kill them all… maybe then he would get some relief from the ever-persistent headache that had hounded him since the beginning of the debacle. Why those people thought he would be more approachable than Michaelis, he would never know.
"He's looking better." Michaelis' quiet voice remarked softly, making him grunt.
"Of course he does." Claude would never admit, but his voice held a trace of relief. Even if the kumoshitsuji was fairly certain of his potion making skills - it wasn't so different from poisons, really - it was still a nerve-wracking episode when he worked on and applied the counter-potion, especially because those wretched twins had done an experimental version and he had to, more often than not, wing it to get the mixture done right. It took three failed tries, and the fourth one was finally a success, and by then, Antares' body was dangerously close to shutting down.
By all that was unholy, he would torture Twindledee and Twindledumb exquisitely long when the time came, just because the idiots caused his service record to be blemished like this. That, Claude Faustus swore most vehemently.
No one messed with the chosen prey of Claude Faustus and lived to tell the tale - at least not for long.
"So, what now?" The kuroshitsuji asked, his eyes trained - Claude knew that without looking - on the frail form on the bed.
"As much as I would have liked to inject the two imbeciles with an organ-liquefying poison, Master Antares wouldn't have appreciated it." Claude stated sourly, making Michaelis chuckle with repressed malice. "I was thinking of plucking out their eyes and cutting out their tongues, but your idea has merit." The mocha-eyed butler admitted, his voice a little stilted with the accent of demonic language. "That too." Claude agreed unrepentantly.
"Dumbledore still insists on having his pet Potions master examine the Young Master." Michaelis murmured, his voice the mix between cold and curiously nonchalant.
"Nothing new here." Claude's golden eyes flickered to his demonic co-worker. "And his pet mutts?"
Claude wasn't overly fond of the 'pet mutts' as he termed Sirius and Remus. Sirius because the man was too damn perky for his tastes - really, he preferred his dishes tainted with darkness, but not with side of insanity, thank you very much - one Trancy brat was more than enough, and coupled with fact that the man behaved worse than a spoiled five year old kid when it concerned his 'son', was more than enough to deter the kumoshitsuji from claiming the last Black male.
Remus was meek, spineless and cowardly. He didn't want to confront his inner darkness, preferring to put a lid on it via potions that were making him more deranged than usual. The Wolfsbane may have quieted the wolf, but it also made the man taking it all the more insane for it - the insanity wasn't repressed, but more like transferred to the human counterpart. Of course, it was happening so slowly it wasn't very noticeable - some wolf eyes here and there, a little more snappy than usual and a little more unhinged instincts, and being prone to act on them. Not that typical werewolves were any better, but the way Lupin chose was a slow form of suicide.
"Black is still whining to be let in. The wolf is currently occupied with the pink-haired girl."
Ah. Claude nodded. He noticed the clumsy girl's infatuation with the werewolf, but he let it be, as it meant fewer eyes on their actions. But even he knew that their little diversion wouldn't last forever, and sooner than later, their master would have to show himself to the unworthy sheep that called themselves the Order of the Phoenix.
But right now…. They had more pressing problem to deal with.
Golden eyes behind the clear lenses looked into mocha-colored ones before lowered as he looked at their master again.
As one, the two butlers kneeled, each on the side of the bed, and reached for the frail hands. Eyes glowed slightly as the two dark heads bent over the pale skin, elegant noses inhaling the heady aroma of the life-giving liquid.
Lips mouthing the clammy skin opened as velvety slick tongues sampled the taste, teasing the little wound here and there and …. was there a low purr being heard?
And then, it happened.
POP.
The two heard an almost noiseless popping noise, but they were too distracted to pay it any heed.
"Dumb mudblood-lover –" The high pitched squeak made the two demons' heads snap up as the two pairs of bloodlust-filled, furious eyes tinged with hellish red pinned the startled elf under their ferocious glare.
"Eeek!"
Kreacher squeaked.
Honest to Merlin squeaked.
And much to his everlasting shame, soiled himself.
Antares blinked lazily. Since he had woken up, both of the butlers were curiously quiet, and dare he say… sulky? He tilted his head, his green eye narrowing as he pondered the strange occurrence.
"Any change?" He asked, his voice making him cringe with its whispery quality. He sounded like some besotted woman, damnit!
"Nothing, Master. Although the Order wanted to enter the rooms to check up on you." Faustus answered absentmindedly as he straightened some knick-knacks on the small table.
The now white-haired boy blinked. "Figures. You found what caused me to collapse yet?" The youth tilted his head curiously, making the butler's fingers tighten around the small crystal figurine momentarily.
Did Antares even know what was exposing of his throat doing to him? To them?
Even if the throat in question was scarred, that didn't deter the two butlers from occasionally eyeing it like some kind of tasty treat.
"Yes, Master."
Antares paused. For the kumoshitsuji to not answer him promptly, there had to be something seriously wrong.
"Faustus." His voice made the bespectacled butler involuntarily stiffen his spine. "What's wrong with you?"
Pale eyelids covered the unusually-colored eyes as the man lowered his head submissively. "I am well, Master. Please don't let yourself be bothered with me. "
"Bullshit." Antares' sharp voice cracked like whip through the room. Green eye sought the other occupant of the room. "Michaelis?"
"Really, Young Master, it's alright –" Michaelis' fake cheerful voice was interrupted by Antares cold hiss.
"Don't make me use an order."
The underlying 'tell me or else' was heard loudly and clearly.
Antares blinked as Michaelis' shoulders slumped.
"Kreacher discovered us."
Meanwhile, all was not well within the Order. The misfired prank of the twins held everyone in suspense, what with Antares still not coming out of his room and the two butlers not allowing anyone to tend to him.
They had sent – meaning Sirius - Kreacher, to have at least get some kind of news about the youth's state, but Kreacher was returned, shivering terribly, by the ever-smiling butler of Carruthers, Mike – Micha or something. And no matter how much Sirius demanded, the damned elf wouldn't say anything about what transpired in the room except to refuse to spy on the trio. Not even when Sirius threatened the foul little creature with burning the late Lady Black's portrait, and that was saying something, because if anything, this should have moved the elf to loosen his tongue.
Fleur sat in the chair patiently while the members of the Order were squabbling over Antares. Snape was still fuming over the audacity of the bespectacled butler - how dare he not share the knowledge! He was a Potions Master, and the snotty little servant just refused to tell him how to counteract the horrifying excuse of a potion the Weasley twins oh-so-generously dumped on Antares' head.
"But what if he's sick?" Molly fretted, making Fleur wrinkle her nose delicately over her overly fussy demeanor - all that wringing of hands and concern and almost-wailing didn't make the blonde in any better mood she was in right now - she had to comfort Gabrielle, before the little girl consented to go to sleep, and the racket those… people caused, especially Molly what with her loud, screeching reprimand of the twins made her mood plummet even better. And Dumbledore's obsession with the victim – ah, Monsieur Carruthers, was nothing short of disturbing.
She sighed. "'Eez butlers are tres compétent, Madame. 'Ee trusts them, and with a good reason, too." She finally snapped out, making the babble temporarily cease as the people eyed her strangely, making her glare at them half-heartedly.
Did they really take her for that much of an empty-headed floozy? Irritated, Fleur rubbed the left temple of her head, gently massaging the place, wishing for a strong headache relieving potion.
"But –" Hermione began, her hair a frizzy mess, and her eyes dark and somewhat lost.
"Non." Fleur interrupted her firmly as she flicked her hair back, absently noting she would have to wash it again. Honestly, why they were packed in this darkness infested hole was beyond her. "'Ee is entitled to some peace from you all. Personnellement, you all have bugged 'im more than enough already.
"You don't seem to understand, Ms. Delacour," Dumbledore began, the grandfatherly twinkle In his blue eyes a little more subdued. "Antares could –"
"Could what?" The whispery voice made them turn their heads to the kitchen door so fast there were some audible cricks in their necks.
And lo and behold, there he was.
Antares Carruthers, the person of the hour.
Antares couldn't care less about their shocked gasps and wide eyes and guilty expressions. They were all fake anyway, and he didn't want to be in their presence more than absolutely needed.
And this was one of those times. He had to convince the butlers-cum-bodyguards, but finally, they relented, but not after they wrangled some concessions out of him, souring his already irritated mood.
"… Antares! You're alright!" The mutt number one yelped as he dashed to him, only to be intercepted by Michaelis, who smiled at the man's deflated face a little too cheerfully to be normal. "Do remember that my Master is still not at his best, Black." He muttered to the man, his voice loud enough for all the participants to hear, and still making the man flush with mortification.
"I - uh, just wanted to check up on him!" Sirius defended himself, yanking out of the butler's grip. Or tried to, as Michaelis' hands on his shoulders tightened a little bit, making him wince. "Via doggy-humping him? I think not, Black." The smooth baritone of the kumoshitsuji thrummed through Antares' back as the butler supported him as if he were a ragdoll cat, just shy of carrying him. Antares would have protested, but as it was, he was too tired to argue properly - even that little appearance right now was sipping his meager amounts of energy at alarming rate.
Antares looked over the assembled people coldly. "As you can see I am alright. Kindly cease badgering me, because it's disturbing my rest." He snapped out as he was led to the empty chair.
"I am glad to hear so, my boy." Dumbledore beamed at him, his eyes twinkling full power. Antares would have cringed at the sight - the wizards' robes today were truly atrocious kaleidoscopes of colors - bright yellow, neon green and pink with black dots that were being enlarged and capsized at irregular intervals, making the old man seem to be a somewhat demented chameleon who couldn't hide anywhere even if his life depended on it. Privately, Antares wondered whether most of the wins Dumbledore seemed to get in dueling arenas were the result of wearing the clothing so atrocious his opponents had surrendered just so they were spared looking at the horror that was the man's fashion sense.
"I am not your anything, Dumbledore. That is two strikes." Antares replied coldly, making the witnesses bristle. Dumbledore's smile faded. "I apologize… Mr. Carruthers."
Antares nodded curtly, even if it did came out as a jerky movement. Unfortunately, that little movement only emphasized the byproduct of him having survived the unintentionally malicious prank.
All of the eyes, except for his and the two butlers were on his snowy white locks. The black tresses were now white - so white there was a faint blue sheen when the light hit them at the odd angle or two. And with the youth's emotionless, black eye patch-wearing face, the effect was fairly intimidating.
"Whoa, your hair is white!" Ron blurted out incredulously, making Antares look at him dully. "Obviously." He deadpanned, making the redhead glare at him as the others snorted and very few of them snickered at the redhead's idiocy. Fleur giggled at the mortified boy, pleased at his humiliation. His panting after her was terrible, especially as she already had her beloved Bill.
"So what did cause your hair to change the colors?" The bushy-haired bookworm piped up curiously, leaning forward as if she wanted to examine, and possibly dissect him.
"Side effect from the cure." Faustus answered crisply as he nudged his glasses up, the small movement both elegant and dismissive of the crowd. Hermione glared at the butler. "I didn't ask you." She growled at the butler petulantly. Honestly, the nerve of him!
"And you still didn't answer my question." She continued, looking back at Antares inquiringly, as if her sheer will would bend the stoic noble to sate her curiosity.
"It's none of your concern. Kindly cease badgering me and mind your own business. Granger." Antares' voice was polite, but cold enough to freeze tundra if he so wished. The bushy – haired girl blushed with sheer mortification. "But – !"She squeaked out, as her fingers wrangled together in a nervous gesture.
"While Carruthers is right, I too would like to know what caused the sudden change." Dumbledore interjected, his blue eyes twinkling compellingly. The Order leaned forward eagerly.
"And I reiterate, mind your own business. This is no fashion show -" Antares leaned back, his chin lifting stubbornly as his lone eye glared at the occupants. "-and I am not here to provide you with amusement at my own expense. I came to assuage your fears, but I found out that you are more concerned with minor cosmetic changes than discussing what could be done to stop Voldemort and his minions. At the rate you are going it's no wonder he managed to get such a strong foothold over Britain." He scoffed, disregarding the shame and anger on their faces. "Faustus, Michaelis, let's go." He commanded, and Faustus gently helped him to stand up, the gloved hands a stark contrast against the midnight blue fabric of Antares' pullover.
"Bet you would get along with the ferret smashingly well." Ron spat out, his freckled face coloring with flush alarmingly quickly. "How can we be sure that you won't just turn on us and betray us to your Master?"
That prompted shocked inhalations and splutters through the room. "Ronald Billius Weasley! How dare you!" Molly screeched as she rounded on her youngest son, causing him to cringe.
"Zat was uncalled for!" Fleur also called out, angry on Antares' behalf. Honestly, the poor boy had more than enough trouble, and then that poor excuse for a male dares to question him, just because Antares refused to answer why his hair was now white - ! Of all the absurd things –
"Bet you would get along with Bellatrix smashingly well, too." Antares' voice was calm. "Both of you prejudiced, blind fools, hell-bent on getting your way via undermining your fellow humans and when you don't, you throw temper tantrums. Of course, that is if she didn't kill you the first second for your atrocious table manners." A lone green eye pinned the rapidly purpling boy to his chair as sure as if his gaze were an iron nail.
"I will allow you to judge me when you have gone through the same things I did. Until then, I don't owe you any sort of apology or attention, seeing as you are too immature and dim-witted to understand the situation." That said, Antares slowly strode out of the room, with a seething Ron glaring at him, and the silent Order.
"I wonder…" Michaelis' soft voice jolted them to look at the butler. Usually smiling man was now serious, and his mocha colored eyed stared at Ron thoughtfully. "Just how much effort did it take to you to become such an imbecile?"
Ron opened his mouth, only to yelp as Hermione kicked him into the shin."Mister Michaelis –" Dumbledore began, but the butler raised his hand, immediately silencing him. "My Master was right. You don't take this seriously. This little uprising - " Michaelis negligently waved his hand – "-would have been quelled in the mundane world in only two weeks- a month tops. And here you are, battling it out for what, twenty years or so? Pitiful. And then, you have the gall to ask my Master to come in that excuse for a house, even when he is still recuperating from torture - yes, Ronald, torture – " he addressed the flinching redhead darkly – "allow him to be pranked by the two imbeciles that call themselves the pranking geniuses –" the twins flinched guiltily – "and last, but not least, ask him asinine questions about the color of his hair." Michaelis' head tilted aside, as if he were a crow, eyeing a particular fat worm. "And then, the cherry on the top, you allow a boy to insult his better and higher."
"Better and higher?" Ginny questioned, her voice quavering. Mocha colored eyes looked at her, making her shrink back. "Do you know the repercussions for insulting the Lord of an Ancient House, Miss Weasley?" At Ginny's clueless blink, his pale lips tilted in a small smile. "Oh, my my. How far have you fallen. Mademioselle Delacour, if you would?"
Fleur flushed as she found herself the center of attention. "Monsieur Carrutherz could have demanded reparation for the slight to his honor, be that in monetary or debt sense, and if the worse came to 'ee worst, 'ee could have demanded an honor duel." She replied, her voice trembling slightly. "And because of special circumstances, he could have named a proxy in his name to fight against that imbecile you call brother, thus guaranteeing his loss. And he could 'ave demanded him to be stripped of 'iz name, named him Disgraced or outright demanded that the family pays ze debt."
"She is right." For once, Sirius was serious, no pun intended. "Antares here is the Heir, and soon to be Lord Carruthers. And did you forgot that I named him the Black Heir? So, boya, in insulting him, you've also insulted me."
"You?" Ron stupidly asked, making Sirius nod. "Me. As in, Lord Black me."
"Oh –" The first twin said, his freckled face pale with fear as he looked at his twin.
"– shit." His twin concluded as they shuddered in unison.
Ron's eyed bugged out as he finally understood the depth of the hole he had dug himself in.
'Oh shit', indeed.
She nibbled her lips in worry as she contemplated what to write. The time was dire, and with them being pressed to enter in the Dark Lord's service, they needed help…. now more than ever. She didn't want to call on him – the possibilities of failure, even if her plan was successful, were just too high – but she didn't have a choice.
And she hadn't even seen the boy in person , when she could have gauged him correctly. Without some kind of a measure for his habits, likes and dislikes, she felt lost, as if she was trying to find a needle in a haystack without using magic. What if she was wrong?
What if she unknowingly angered him with her demand? Because what she demanded was brazen, heavily bordering on the rude side…and he didn't have any obligation to hear her out much less to help her.
But it was either this or being branded like a cattle.
Gathering her determination, she clutched the quill made from a blue-colored phoenix feather and began writing.
Lord Carruthers,
Excuse my rude manners for daring to send you this letter. We've never met before, as I know of you only from my father's talks about the Gray Alliance and tales of the Diagon Massacre. But you are my only hope now, what with the Dark Lord intending to mark me as one of his own. I don't want that, but I can't go against him. I am offering myself as your betrothed, with no obligations expected from your side. Please, grant me this boon, and I swear I won't ask for anything more.
Your sincerely –
She hesitated to write out her name. Would she really go with this? To offer herself to a stranger like some kind of a trophy? Looking through the window, she was the pale moon hovering in the dark blue sky, crescent hovering threateningly over the land like a sickle waiting to fall.
Sighing heavily, she turned back to the letter and sealed her fate.
/To Be Continued/