Summary: When the road you're on is already in the verge of crumbling, you could either choose to foolishly continue onward, or turn back and change paths. Harry decided on the latter. MoD!Harry
Pairings: Older Harry/Voldemort, other side pairings
Warning: AU, Time-Travel, Universe Hopping, New Identity, Slash (this means Boy/Boy), MasterOfDeath!Harry, Killings/Torture
Disclaimer: If I were the author of Harry Potter, Dumbies would have chocked on a Lemon Drop and drop dead, not AK-ed. So no, I do not own Harry Potter.
"Speaking"
"Parseltongue"
'Mental telepathy'
Chapter 8: Dinner, and Dates
January 1967
Location: Hogwarts
In the dimly lit dungeon, Marcaunon squinted as he stirred the concoction absentmindedly, lost in his thoughts.
Before he had started mixing weird ingredients for this particular brew, he found an old blue notebook he had once used when he was physically around six years old, by accident. He remembered how he had stared at those grey walls in the orphanage so much that he wanted something to do –apart from his failure of good deeds.
Whilst he may be old in mind, he was young in body and it affected his mental state, actions and emotions. As much as it frustrates him so, he was childish and impulsive (he went hunting almost constantly to satisfy his impulses). When he could take no more wall watching, he started doodling on one of the deathfiles (Death had given him a five hour lecture when It found out), just for something to do. He drew dementors, unicorns, phoenixes, and lastly, a bottle of Liquid luck –or Felix Felicis.
The golden bottle made him think – if wizards could bottle luck, why could they not bottle other similar things? He wrote down all the ingredients and their properties, try to mix them up and see if he could create new potions.
Back to the present, he stopped his stirring and wiped his sweaty forehead –the fumes could melt skin. His concoction was silvery white in color, with droplets leaping out at random intervals, similar to that of a fish jumping out of its bowl. It seemed to be the correct color, if what he had written in theory was true.
Similar to Felix Felicis, this potion is highly toxic when consumed in large quantities. If everything is perfect, he would recommend this potion to only be used when in the face of dementors –a back up plan if they could not make a proper Patronus charm due to their incompetence.
Marcaunon placed his wand above the concoction, drawing a symbol of eight slowly.
"Laetifixempra [1]." He whispered the spell he had invented just for this particular potion.
The cauldron shook for a few seconds, before it abruptly halted to a stop. Silvery wisp of smoke rose from the concoction and he pocketed his wand. The cauldron contained a mixture of teal, almost seemed like silky electricity.
He accio-ed a large empty jar, as big as his head, and bottled the concoction. Marcaunon blinked when he felt his sleeve being tugged, and looked at the disturbance. He would test it afterwards.
"Chaos. Weren't you with Mana and Suki?" He looked at Marchosias in confusion as he brushed his knuckles gently over his son's cheek.
"Both are sleeping at the moment. There's a… guest waiting for you in the office." Marchosias had a blank expression on his face, but Marcaunon had a feeling that he was thinking murderous thoughts.
"Who?" He casted an unbreakable charm on the glass jar before shoving it carelessly inside his expandable bag strapped on his right thigh.
"Malfoy. He's been coming here a lot lately." Marchosias stated coldly as they walked to his office. The unasked question and the way he said it made alarm bells ring inside Marcaunon's head.
"Yess… Potions is not one of his best subjects and he requested that I tutor him."
"Is that so…" There was a glint in those ruby eyes and Marcaunon choose to ignore it in favor of opening the door.
Bleach-brat was sitting in front of his desk, patiently waiting for his arrival. The brat smiled but it turned into a scowl when he saw Marchosias walking in behind him.
"Professor Gaunt."
"Mr. Malfoy." He rounded his desk and sat on his cushioned armchair. "We just had our session the previous day."
"Yes, I apologize for intruding."
"No harm done."
"My mother…" Bleach-brat began, "has extended a dinner invitation to you and your family, Professor."
"Your mother? Hmm… Ah yes, Madam Vevila Malfoy. I've heard she is a renowned Potions' Mistress." He recalled meeting her when he was Ignatius –it was not easy to forget a woman who wore layers upon layers of make-up caked onto her face, as well as heavy perfumes on her robes (did she have to cover her body odour or something).
"Quite. Mother has heard much about you from father and would like to get to know a fellow Master in the arts of Potion Making. She was deeply impressed by your ingenious in creating the Poison-blood antidote within only a few hours back in August last year."
"And when would this… dinner invitation be?" He drawled with a tilt of his head.
"Next weekend."
"Hmm… Chaos?" He turned to his son, who was sitting on his lap with an unreadable expression. It was Marchosias's decision since it would be on a Sunday after all.
"We should accept –it would be impolite to refuse after all, father." His child replied slowly.
"Very well." He gazed at Bleach-brat with a smile, "Please inform Madam Malfoy our acceptance to her invitation."
"Mother would most definitely be pleased." The brat placed a small silver statue of a peacock on his desk. "The portkey will active at exactly half past six."
"Is there anything else you wish to say, Lucius?" Marchosias questioned tonelessly when Bleach-brat made no move to leave.
Bleach-brat's left brow twitched at how casually Marchosias spoke his name but shook his head after a moment of hesitation.
"No. Please excuse me, Professor." He excused himself and left.
The both of them were silent as Marcaunon played with his son's hair –it was a wonder how Marchosias could tame the mess when Marcaunon himself could not.
"Chaos?"
His boy stayed silent and Marcaunon grew worried. The last time he was this silent, his butterflies were all tied up on a stick and being roasted inside the fireplace. Not wanting a repeat of that incident, he turned his six, going seven year old child to face him.
"What's wrong, little one? Is your stomach hurting?" He whispered gently.
"… Just tired, mother."
"Alright…" He sighed. "But you know you could always tell me anything right?"
"I know."
He kissed his son's cheek and hummed to himself. He would have to be prepared just in case. Marchosias was unpredictable at times –and that made him dangerous.
January 1967
Location: Hogwarts
Marcaunon frowned at his reflection as he tried to tame his wild hair. As usual, he was wearing black, and the only part of his skin that was seen was only his face (his fringe had grown longer and usually curtained his eyes). He made a sound of frustration and ignored the silent shuffling of someone entering his bedchamber.
"Mother?" He turned to look at his son. Unlike Marcaunon, his hair was combed to the side neatly. His boy was wearing the exact same clothing as him, apart from the color –which was dark blue, almost black. "Are you done yet?"
"My hair refuses to stay flat!" He huffed and crossed his arms petulantly. "How do you manage yours?"
His boy deadpanned and brought out a small silver peacock statue.
"Flat hair does not suit you."
"But it suits you… and you take after me in appearance."
"Mother, stop being delusional." Marchosias rolled his eyes. "People do not confuse my gender at first glance."
He scowled at his boy. He hated it when people mistake his gender –mainly due to his androgynous appearance.
"That's because you're still covered in extra adipose tissues."
"… Are you calling me fat?"
"Yess."
He disregarded the glare that was sent his way and turned towards the two whining serpents –as much as a snake can whine.
"Hush." He hissed exasperatedly, "And for the last time, we will not bring you both along!"
"But who will protect you, Master?" Suki questioned worriedly.
"Do you doubt my strength?" He narrowed his eyes.
Before another hissing match could start, Marchosias intervened.
"Madam Malfoy may recognize those."
"… I suppose you're right." He reluctantly removed his rose tinted glasses and squinted when the world became full of colors again.
"Let me accompany you, Chaos." Manasa hissed as she slithered towards Marchosias.
His boy only stared at him with those wide ruby eyes. Marcaunon faltered –it was Marchosias's own version of the wretched puppy dog eyes. It was adorable, yet equally disturbing (we're talking about junior Voldemort here).
"Fine!" He conceded, "But don't expect a reply from us. The Malfoys can never know of our abilities." He warned the two snakes.
The two cheered and Marcaunon resized them to fit perfectly around his and his son's shoulders –they actually made good accessories, looking very much like a scaly infinity scarves. He scooped Marchosias onto his hip and held out the portkey. They waited for a minute, and disappeared after feeling a tug inside their navel.
They appeared without flaw in his landing. The room they were in was familiar to the both of them –the floo room in Malfoy Manor. There were vases and paintings of sceneries around, a few tables, armchairs and a divan near the fireplace.
"Professor." They turned to Bleach-brat who had just entered. "Welcome to Malfoy Manor… You too, little menace." The last part was said in a whisper and Marcaunon pretended to be oblivious, whilst Marchosias gave Bleach-brat a deadly glare (and probably thinking about ways to eviscerate Lucius, preferably with his bare hands).
"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy."
"Please, call me Lucius. Let me escort you to our dining area."
With Marchosias still on his hip, he followed behind Bleach-brat. The two of them were silent, only listening to the brat as he blabbered about the other Malfoy Portraits when they walked past. He remembered how this very Manor had been raided and destroyed by the Ministry.
Draco had all but crawled to him with holes in his torso, dropping to his knees just to beg Harry to protect his son from those Light Wizards –Malfoy may be prideful, but his schoolboy rival would toss it away for his family. He of course had agreed, but Scorpius followed his family to their graves only a month afterwards. The teenager could not get over his grief and AK-ed himself after taking revenge on those who killed his parents. A waste since the blonde had potential.
He was brought out from his musings when they entered the dining area, Lord and Madam Malfoy stood waiting for them.
"Welcome to Malfoy Manor, Professor Gaunt." Lord Malfoy greeted with a polite smile on his face as they shook hands. "This is my wife, Vevila."
He took Madam Malfoy's offered hand and kissed the air above her knuckles.
"A pleasure, Madam Malfoy."
"Likewise, Professor Gaunt." Those cupid bow red lips curved into a weird smile.
They were led to their seats and all sat, with Lord Malfoy at the head, Marcaunon to his right and Marchosias just beside. Lady Malfoy sat at the opposite of Marcaunon whilst Bleach-brat was beside her.
"Thank you for the invitation, Madam Malfoy."
"Please, call me Vevila." Her lashes fluttered uncontrollably as she spoke –was something wrong with her eyes? "I've been hearing only good things about you from Abraxas and Lucius. Is he your son, Professor Gaunt?"
"Yess… Introduce yourself, little one." He didn't want to give the woman permission to call him by his first name. What if Lord Malfoy thought he was flirting with his wife?
Marchosias tucked a wayward strand behind his ear and smiled at the two adult Malfoys cutely.
"Marchosias Gaunt, delighted to make your acquaintances, Lord Malfoy, Madam Malfoy." It seemed to him that they will be seeing more Malfoys in the near future. He wondered about Chaos's sudden interest in them –he always antagonized Bleach-brat just so they could be left alone.
"My, what a polite and adorable young man you have, Professor Gaunt."
OOOO
"Thank you –"
Marchosias tuned them out as he narrowed his eyes at the bint (he couldn't really recall her usefulness when he was Voldemort). She was clearly flirting with his (rather oblivious) mother, occasionally leaning forward so those useless fats on her chest would be more notable. Oh how he was tempted to cut them off and force those down her throat.
The food was already on the table and his mother was absentmindedly piling them on a plate for him. Marchosias turned towards Abraxas, one of the most ruthless in his inner circle, and resisted the urge to slap the man –he was sipping his wine elegantly, not minding the behavior his slut of a wife was exhibiting.
In fact, the man was staring at Marcaunon's face with an almost eager look in those grey eyes. Marchosias frowned in confusion, before realization hit –he could have slapped himself as he remembered the fact that Abraxas was indeed infatuated with Tom Riddle. Marcaunon was a softer and shorter version of Tom Riddle –and that was enough reason for Abraxas to desire his mother.
He was not sharing his mother with anybody, especially Malfoys.
His hands twitched on his lap as he tried to reign in his anger –twirling his yew wand was a habit of his when agitated (normally came with a crucio being thrown around without restrain). With murderous thoughts circling inside his mind, he almost missed the presence of a house elf.
"Snake Lordy waiting at Master Lord Malfoy sir study." The house elf squeaked as it (he did not care of the gender) twirled its ears in its hands nervously.
"Abraxas? Did you invite him here?" The bint asked with a slight narrowing of her eyes. Marchosias wanted nothing then to carve them out of their socket.
"I have not. Please excuse me, Professor Gaunt." Abraxas gracefully stood and walked out.
"Forgive my husband, Professor… He usually only excuses himself if that person comes."
"The person must be important."
"Indeed… He used to be the King of Slytherin back when we were both in Hogwarts."
Marchosias idly wondered who had taken his place as King back in the 40s –since he was born late and as another person.
"Oh?" His mother raised a curious brow. "I've always thought that Lord Malfoy was the King in his schooldays."
The bint giggled whilst she batted her lashes.
"I'm sure Abraxas would be pleased that you thought so highly of him… But no, he wasn't. That person became King when he was in his Fourth Year."
"My… What an amazing feat."
Marchosias was confused. He only knew one person in the entire history of Slytherin who became King in Fourth Year –him.
"Indeed. He was charming and powerful, though not a pureblood." There was barely concealed disgust in her tone.
A theory was formed, and it chilled him to the bone. It never crossed his mind that there would be a Tom Riddle already existing and he was the extra –the spare. He was in a parallel universe, and alternate dimension. Marchosias would need to do some research once they're back in Hogwarts.
"Really?" Marcaunon questioned curiously.
"Startling is it not? We used to think him a Mudblood, but he turned out to be a Half-blood instead!"
"A Half-blood?" Mini-Lucius exclaimed in shock. "Why would the House make someone with such lowly blood a King?"
His hands tightened around the goblet of pumpkin juice. The boy had no self-preservation skills and he wondered how mini-Lucius became his future right hand man.
"Lucius! Eat your food." The bint scolded.
"… Yes mother."
"He must be powerful to be chosen." His mother idly said with a polite smile. "Though I can't say much about the current Queen of Slytherin."
"Queen?" Her grey eyes showed interest as she leaned further forward, and Marchosias would've hexed her if not for the table (she was already too close to Marcaunon for his liking). "I've never heard of there being a Queen before, only Kings."
"Catrina Burke. She seduced her way to the top, unlike the other Kings –the ones that had power and were not afraid to broadcast it."
Catrina… Ah yes, he remembered that slut (there's one in this very room as well). The only reason why she became Queen was because of teenage hormones. If Magic did not flush out Muggle diseases, the sixteen year old teen would probably be carrying STD.
"Being controlled by their lower region?" He swirled his cup of pumpkin juice, watching the thick liquid slosh around in boredom. His mother didn't notice how Marchosias had peered at the bint whilst he spoke. "Tsk, how the mighty have fallen."
"Indeed… I've been trying to get others to overthrow her, but alas, her skills in bed made them all hesitate." Marcaunon grimaced in disgust and he agreed. This generation of Slytherins was… a disgrace, and that's putting it mildly.
"Was that the reason why you've been slacking around in the common room these past few days?"
"I was not, as you so eloquent put it, slacking around." His mother made a noise from the back of his throat as he tasted the wine. "I was finding evidence if they were all affected by a lust potion or something similar."
"They're teenagers, guys at that, father. They only think with their di–"
"An inappropriate topic to be discussing with two underage Wizards, don't you think so, Professor?" The bint interrupted. "But… we could discuss it afterwards…" Her voice lowered as she smiled seductively with those pouty lips of her.
Marchosias twitched in his seat and made a quiet sound of disgust, whilst his mother nodded obliviously. Sometimes he wanted to hit Marcaunon for being so dense –but he was thankful as well. At least he won't be getting a stepfather/mother (he still doesn't know Marcaunon's sexuality… since he's asexual) anytime in the future, and he would prevent it at all cost.
"My apologies. Did I make you uncomfortable, Lucius?" Marcaunon asked with an apologetic smile.
"N-not at all, Professor." The brat was blushing as he ducked his head. Ah how innocent.
"Lucius would be uncomfortable with anything, father... Especially politics." How such an imposing and brilliant politician be such a brat was beyond him.
"Excuse me?" Mini-Lucius sounded offended.
"You often have a hard time comprehending hidden meanings behind words with that puerile mind of yours." A reason why he couldn't take the title of Prince of Slytherin in his first year –unlike Abraxas.
The brat's face became red in anger and embarrassment, and Marchosias snorted into his pumpkin juice. How someone his age doesn't know the word puerile is beyond him (he had brushed his future minion's outer thoughts in curiosity).
"Why you bloody little bastar–"
"Lucius!" The bint looked scandalized as she shook her head in disapproval at her son. "I apologize for my son's outburst… Really… Such language."
"Oh you need not apologize, Vevila. Boys will be boys." His mother chuckled and Marchosias marveled at the fact that it could sound so real even when those scarlet eyes darkened in anger. Marchosias himself knew that he was a bastard, but they both didn't like it being broadcasted.
"Yess… He is but a boy." He smiled sweetly at the still red faced mini-Lucius.
The dinner continued in that manner, and it was enjoyable… to a certain extent of being able to insult Lucius without anyone apart from his mother knowing. Abraxas had all but disappeared –such a bad host, but he was placated (he had one less Malfoy at the table to deal with). When they arrived back at Hogwarts, Marchosias was surprised (and worried) when his mother had all but fallen to the ground, shaking like a leaf.
He didn't know what to do but Mort appeared just as suddenly and ushered him out of the door with both Vasuki and Manasa in tow.
OOOO
"Master, calm down. Master!" He could hear Death's soothing voice but he was too freaked out to notice that he had dropped to the ground.
Voldemort was in that Manor. It was by pure luck (a fucking close call!) that Abraxas didn't mention that he and his family was having dinner with guests –obviously since Voldemort had not demanded who and had stormed inside the dining area. He didn't know why he was not reported to Abraxas's Master, but he would not look a gift thestral in the mouth. His nerves were on edge and he couldn't concentrate much on what Madam Malfoy had talked about –he was glad that his acting skills were on par with a professional actor.
"D-d-death. He…" He chocked.
He felt arms around him and he shamelessly buried himself into Death's embrace. It was nerve wrecking and he didn't want a repeat, not so soon at least. Meeting Voldemort was inevitable, but he would prolong it as much as possible.
"Shh… It's alright. Everything's alright, Master." He was rocked slowly by Death and could only nod weakly in respond.
February 1967
Location: Hogwarts
"Professor!" He stopped in his track and waited for the person to catch up. A Ravenclaw teen bent down to catch her breath before straightening up and smiling shyly at him. "Sorry for bothering you Professor, but I made too much chocolate and wondered if you would like to try some."
He looked at the heart shaped chocolates within the (heart shape) red box that the teen was holding and swallowed to keep himself from drooling –Marchosias would have his head. How the school found out his weakness for being a sweet tooth was beyond him, but he would not question it. He had received a lot of chocolates this day and he felt like he was in chocolate heaven.
"Is it really alright for me to try some?" He missed how the girl had flushed as he continued to stare at the treat presented to him.
"O-o-of course!" The Eagle passed him the box and excused herself (ran away) hurriedly.
Marcaunon paid no mind to the group of males that were chattering near him and plopped one into his mouth. His eyelids fluttered close and he moaned at the taste of chocolie goodness on his tongue. Perhaps he should try to get Albus (he was trying to stop his butchering at Dumbledick's name in his mind, lest he say it out loud) to open a home economics class in the future.
He licked the excess chocolate on his lips and continued his way to the Great Hall, oblivious to the blushes and hard-ons he had caused the group by how inappropriate he had sounded (and looked).
OOOO
The food in front of him was ignored by him in favor of chucking chocolates into his mouth (gracefully). His colleagues all looked at him in exasperated fondness as he childishly opened yet another box of chocolate –all had hearts decorating them or Love in cream writing meant nothing to him.
"My… someone has a lot of admirers." Sprout giggled into her hand as she nudged his side.
He threw her an annoyed glare and batted the offending elbow away.
"The students just made extras and wanted me to have some." He explained as he licked the chocolate off his fingers. "Though I have to wonder if the majority of them prefer baking over potions."
Sprout chocked on her pumpkin juice whilst other Professors suddenly froze in their place. They turned to him with a deadpanned look –even Albus!
"M-marc!" She squeaked as she wiped her mouth with a napkin. "You mean to say that you don't have any idea what today represents?"
"Well… Hogsmeade are on weekends are they not?" The head table was silent as they continued to stare at him like he was a mysterious new species of flobberworm. He frowned at them in return –he did not appreciate the looks sent his way by his fellow colleagues. "Wasn't that the reason why the students all seemed to be in a good mood?"
Before any of them could answer him, Marchosias interrupted with solemnity, not even bothering to look up from his cup of pudding –coffee flavored of course.
"Father has always been dense."
"Dense? That's an understatement…" McGonagall stated, her eyes alight with mirth.
"I'm not dense!" He scowled at his son but the boy only snorted as he continued to eat his dessert.
"Wait a minute." Sprout cut in as she tapped his shoulder. "Does that mean you don't know the reason as to why you received chocolate when we're in school?"
"But Pomona, we're still in school."
"When we're students, Marc! Honestly…"
"They figured out that I like chocolate, thus the gifts." He stated seriously, not knowing why she looked annoyed, or the reason why the other Professors were laughing at him.
"… Forget it!" She crossed her arms. "Now I know why little Marchosias is so mature."
"Are you implying that I'm immature?"
"I'm not implying." She took a goblet of pumpkin juice to her lips. "I'm stating a fact."
He scowled at her, clearly offended. He was not immature, and the reason why Marchosias was wise beyond his physical age is all due to the memories of being Tom Riddle and Voldemort. With a huff, he grabbed another piece of chocolate and sulkily took a bite.
"P-professor?" All the Professors at the head table looked up when a girl, probably a seventh year, called out. "Professor Gaunt, I mean." She smiled sheepishly and the others turned back to their meal.
"Yess?"
"Well.. Uhm… I h-heard from one of my friends that you were going to Hogsmeade today to buy some ingredients…"
"I am." He raised a questioning brow.
"I was wondering if–" she cleared her throat awkwardly and began fumbling with her purple sweater. "If I could tag along…"
His brow rose higher. Why would she want to follow an old man to shop for his ingredients?
"I mean! Because my supplies… they're uhh… I mean… friends… busy and th-the…"
Pomona interrupted, taking pity on the Gryffindor –House of bravery? Really?
"I think what she's trying to say is, Marc, that she needs to restock her potions' supply." He only looked confused at Sprout. So what if this girl needed to restock? Sprout only shook her head with a sigh. "She would like to, as she put it, tag along, since her friends are probably busy… Isn't that right sweetie?"
"Y-yes! That's exactly right, Professor Sprout!"
"Well…" Sprout was giving him a look and he sighed inwards. "Of course you may."
"Thank you, Professor Gaunt! When will you be leaving?" She smiled broadly, still red faced.
"An hour's time. I'll be waiting at the entrance doors."
She nodded with a grin and skipped towards her table –a group of giggling girls patted her back as if to congratulate her, on what he didn't know.
"Father…" Marchosias's cold voice made many of the Professors turn to him, never hearing that tone before. "Did you know exactly what… you agreed on?"
"Shopping together?"
His boy only stared blankly at him, and then at Sprout, before he stood up to leave.
"I've finished." Marchosias left the Great Hall without even a wink of emotion on his face –which freaked a lot of people out since his boy was always smiling politely.
"Marc…?" Sprout whispered beside him.
"Hm?" He absentmindedly replied as he picked another chocolate to eat.
"Is your offer on brewing for me a batch of poison detecting potion still standing?"
"It is. May I ask why?" He asked curiously with a tilt of his head.
"Just taking precaution." She whispered, her eyes not leaving the double doors of the Great Hall.
OOOO
"Professor! Sorry, did I make you wait long?"
He turned towards the direction of the voice and spotted the Gryffindor running to him –she was holding her leather purse with one of her glove clad hands whilst the other waved at him. She wore a scarlet mink coat (it matched his eyes actually) that reached just past her knees, with a black belt around her waist, and leggings underneath. Her choice of shoes made Marcaunon raise a sceptic brow but he kept quiet –the heels on her calf-length boots were high, causing her height to match his.
He was confused as to why she decided to dress up when she could just go to Hogsmeade in her uniform, but he didn't bother to question the enigmatic creatures named women. They would always remain a mystery to him.
He found out that she was called Emma Marrone from Sprout after they had finished their meal. The Gryffindor had short chin length blonde hair, straight and positioned to fall gracefully to her right side. It was not a hairstyle he had expected to see during the 60s, but how would he know if Parasites had taken a liking to that particular style of hair after a few decades and decided to make it a trend.
Her chocolate eyes were aligned with black liner (luckily it wasn't too thick or he would have to avoid eye contact) that was framed by thick fake curly lashes. Her round face, button nose, and cupid lips made her appearance considered cute in overall –if he was other guys that is.
"Not at all, Ms. Marrone, I just arrived myself." He smiled and offered his arm to her –Sprout had told him that it was easier to keep an eye on her when they were shopping this way.
Emma turned red but linked her arms with his offered one in a hurry –almost like a starved dog to steak actually. The comparison made him chuckle inwards as they began to walk. The distance from Hogwarts to Hogsmeade was not that far and he rather enjoyed taking his time.
The small talk they (she) made whilst on the way to the village was annoying, but he enjoyed the cool air on his cheeks –they were definitely red from the cold, perhaps he should've worn a mask or something.
He didn't notice how the other students had stopped to stare at Emma in envy or wonder, thinking about all the chocolate he could be eating whilst he did his paperwork afterwards. Death wasn't one to give him holidays (people die every day), and he planned to get an assistant ASAP.
He had already gotten the permission to pick his very own assistant from Albus a day ago. The days where he had passed out due to fatigue would be over soon, and this would make his son happier then him. Marchosias would always nag (not that that boy would admit it) at him to sleep, or eat more –and as much as it brings warmth to his every darkening heart, it was getting annoying as well.
His colleagues would look at him as if he was the child, not Marchosias. His pride would take no more!
"Professor?" The Lioness's voice snapped him out from his musings and he turned to her.
"Yess, Ms. Marrone?"
She ducked her head and pointed out that they were already at the apothecary in a small voice. He politely shrugged her arms off (not noticing her disappointed expression) and told her to get the items, but she should call him if there was a problem or when she was finished –bargaining for lower prices is one of his forte.
They both entered before separating. He took out his list and skimmed it a few times before collecting the needed ingredients. His scarlet eyes scanned the shelves masterfully, only wanting high quality items, not near expired shite.
He reached for the last jar of Acromantula eyes, not noticing another man beside him, and brushed against another customer's hand that had reached for the jar as well. His hand retreated as quickly as possible, as if burnt, and turned to apologize, but froze for a split second before giving a polite smile.
The man had messy brown hair and hazel eyes. The face was a familiar one, except a few more laugh lines added in place. If Marcaunon was a lesser man, he would've thrown The Killing Curse at this person within a second of seeing him –screw the authorities. But luckily for this Obliviator, his control is to die for.
"My apologies, I didn't see you there."
Charlie, for he could not be mistaken as anybody else, was staring at him with wide eyes. The hazel eyed man gave a strained smile and chuckled rather forcefully.
"No worries. You can have it, I could always go to another shop."
"Nonsense…" He shook his head, his raven hair floating before falling to frame his features. "You were here first."
"W-well then, thank you." Charlie took the jar and excused himself, walking, almost running away.
He only stared at the departing man as his face blanked. The feelings from that night returned and he clenched his fist tightly. He gave the man privilege to touch his body, and yet the only thing that bastard tried to do afterwards was to Obliviate him?
Never let anyone else say that Marcaunon could not hold a long-term grudge because he was sorted into Hufflepuff. He held grudges worse than Voldemort –and that's saying something since his soul-brother had hunted him down for seventeen years, just to force him into making a Horcrux so that he could have a taste at being a bodiless floating thing until he was revived to be permanently killed. Yes, Voldemort was that spiteful (petty)… but so was he.
He turned away slightly, but kept Charlie in his sight. A woman with Black features tapped Charlie on his shoulder before she leaned into him. Marcaunon could see that they were obviously a couple. He idly wondered if he should torture that woman in front of his one night bed partner before killing him off.
"Professor I'm done." His student announced and he smiled at her. "Are you?"
"Just a few more I'm afraid. Why don't you queue up first? I'll be there soon."
After another ten minutes, they left the store and Emma pulled him into Three Broomstick. He had given his consent when she told him that her feet needed rest –it was her own fault for wearing such shoes, but he, being the polite Hufflepuff, didn't say that of course.
He was content to continue keeping his mouth shut and drink his butterbeer, but Emma had other plans.
"Hey Professor?" She tilted her head and leaned forward. "Why did you choose to be a Professor?"
"I wasn't planning on being one until perhaps I reached mid-twenties actually." He confessed as he took a sip. "But Albus coincidently found me, and asked if I wanted to be a Professor since he was short of one."
"How old are you, Professor?"
"Twenty-two." He hummed. "Why the sudden curiosity, Ms. Marrone?"
"N-nothing! I just thought you were younger."
"Oh?"
"Well… I thought you were… Well you look seventeen, perhaps eighteen, but you've been teaching since I was in my third year…" She looked down shyly. "I've always thought you were in your teenage years, and keep forgetting that you're actually older."
"Ah, a lot of people do, Ms. Marrone." He chuckled.
"Uhm.. Professor… I.. I want to tell you that I –" She froze and suddenly stood up, attracting the attention of many, and startling those that were blatantly eavesdropping. "Excuse me for a moment!"
She all but ran to the ladies' room, her heels clicking on the wooden floor noisily. He raised a brow but went back to drinking his butterbeer –at least he could get some peace for even a tiny moment.
He was impatient as he checked his pocket watch. Marchosias was probably waiting for him back at Hogwarts, but he was stuck with a Gryffindor that is still missing. It has already been thirty minutes since she fled to the lavatory, and he wondered if he should ask Madam Rosamert check on his student. As much as he hated being with her, she was still his student and it was his responsibility to keep her alive.
He called for the pub owner and Rosamert swaggered towards him, her hips moving side to side weirdly. Were all women like this?
"You called, gorgeous?" She winked.
"Do you mind helping me check on my student, Madam?" He asked, masking his face into one of worry. "She's been in the ladies' for at least half an hour."
"Oh dear. Let me go take a look." She walked off and he hid a grimace behind his butterbeer.
Rosamert came back a few minutes afterwards and explained to him that Emma was having stomach problems, much to Marcaunon's hidden amusement. Did she eat some laxatives or something? He took out a potion bottle and told Rosamert to pass it onto his student, which she accepted –her hand strayed too long on his fingers and he had the urge to sanitize his skin.
"I'm sorry Professor… I think it was something I ate." Emma said miserably, her face pale and sweaty. "Could you apparate us back to Hogwarts please?"
"Of course…" He grabbed her around the waist and apparated them in front of Hogwarts' gates.
He walked her to the infirmary and informed Madam Pomfrey of her problem. Being the worried teacher he is, he sat by the bedside and waited for Pomfrey to finish her diagnosis. The results made him and the Mediwitch confused. The results came out healthy, but the girl was obviously in pain.
Pomfrey shooed him away so that she could do more tests. He shrugged (inwards) and headed to the dungeons. On his way there he was stopped constantly by students giving him chocolate, and he almost squealed at the amount he has when he reached his chambers.
The Portrait of Salazar raised an amused brow and opened to give him entrance after they conversed for a little while.
"Chaos." He greeted as he neared the fireplace.
"Mother. How was the trip?" His son smiled at him, looking far more sinister with the flames reflecting on his pale skin, shadowing much of his features. He paid it no mind and sat down beside his boy.
"Hmm…" Marcaunon pulled his boy onto his lap and buried his nose into those soft raven locks as he closed his eyes. "Tiring."
"Tiring? I thought you were only buying ingredients?"
He tightened his grip on Marchosias as he recalled that bastard of a man. He would have his bloody revenge soon –a drooling mass of human lump coming right up.
"The girl dragged me into the Three Broomstick for a few mugs of butterbeer." He sighed and snuggled into his son's shoulder. "She made me wait half an hour for her… Stomach problems or something."
"I see. You should rest for a bit before you start grading those essays." Marcaunon groaned and continued to bury his head into his son's shoulder, missing the smug and manic grin on his boy's face.
A/N:
[1] Laetificans – Joyous/gladful
Once again, I thank everyone for your great reviews. They are most definitely lovely to read and I must say… The Malfoy family is quite hated by you readers *snickers*. Everyone wanted to have at least one blondie be crucio-ed. I'm glad the anagram was to most of your liking. I just stared at my laptop's screen for who knows how long when I tried to think of one (one of my weak points is naming)… But it came to me when I was browsing through some characters on harrypidia.
Perhaps I'll make another 'clash with the Malfoys' in one of the future chapters *winks*.
The reason why it took so long for me to complete this chapter was because of Voldemort! I placed him into this chapter twice, but I took him out soon after… before putting him in again.. and then removing him once more! But hey, at least I saved the future confrontation in my other word doc! Charlie appeared again~ We'll be seeing again soon, but he'll still live sadly… Marchosias is too young to do anything yet.
Story recommendation for today: In Lukewarm Water by RenderedReversed. It's about post-Hogwarts where Harry and Tom were reincarnation. Both were labelled as Magical Prodigies (obviously) but still Half-blood. A lot of playful banter and Tom/Harry fluffiness. TMR/HP Pairing. Take note that this fic could only be found in archieveofourown (AO3). I figured I would recommend this since some people don't go to other websites to read fanfic, so yeah~ One must always broaden their horizon.
Rainbows and Laxatives,
GenderlessPerson