My Past Will Always Catch Up
Allanasha Ke Kiri
Chapter 5
Between Voldemort and Theodore Nott, Raven preferred Nott. At least this ex-slytherin didn't give him a headache with his mere presence. Between Theodore Nott, and Lucius Malfoy, he still preferred Nott. He wasn't as disconcerting as Malfoy had been. He didn't have years of exploiting ministry officials. He would have more trouble lying. Believably, at least.
He pushed thoughts of the elder Malfoy away as he unlocked his door. No doubt they'd expect him to have questions next time. No doubt he would, but now wasn't the time to think them over. It had already been a long day, and tomorrow proved to be another in the making.
He left the door open behind him in a silent - if impolite - invitation. Raven't hadn't invited him, so he didn't feel the need to play host. He hung his bag up as Nott closed the door behind them. He heard the lock click into place, and a degree of tension returned to him. His old nightmares started like this. Him locked in a room with a death eater.
This one didn't want to kill him.
Isn't allowed to kill me.
Raven dug his phone out of his bag and ventured deeper into the apartment. It wasn't much, but it was his, and he didn't have to share it with anyone. Usually.
"This is the living room," he said to the man following him. "Kitchen's through there," he waved to the side. "Bathroom's down the hall, first door on the right. Guest room's right across from it."
"And you?"
Raven paused. "Will be in my room, just beyond that," he said.
He turned to Nott, taking in the familiar gleam. He knew that look. He hated that look, and damn Voldemort for sending it into his home. If Nott tried to convince him they were lovers, he'd do more than scratch him with his knife.
Raven shifted to the balls of his feet, though Nott appeared oblivious to the change in his stance. He closed the distance between them, towering over Raven, as if to impress him with his height. Or intimidate him.
He smirked down at Raven, flexing his shoulders in an age old posturing display. Raven didn't sigh, though he wanted to. Nott wasn't drunk, which led to different seduction techniques. All of which impressed him as much as the drunken ones did.
"I can think of something I'd rather do with our evening."
"You'll have to do it by yourself," Raven told him. "You're welcome to do whatever you want, by yourself, just keep it quiet. I have to be up early, and my neighbors are already asleep."
Raven turned away from him. If he got to his room, Nott couldn't follow. Maybe. The man grabbed his arm, pulling Raven back to face him.
"I've been watching you," he said.
That's not creepy. Not at all.
"I've been coming to your shows for a year now. Merlin, I knew a filthy muggle couldn't turn me on like this."
Without giving Raven time to respond, Nott clashed his lips down. It wasn't a kiss so much as a bruising attempt to dominate. Raven tensed in his hold, anger flaring - filling him for a time with something other than dead air.
Nobody touches me. Raven shifted in Nott's hold, not fighting it, yet. The man allowed it, pressing closer with a groan as though he intended to climb inside Raven and take up residence there.
Raven brought his knee up, catching his assailant between the legs. Nott collapsed before him, ardor instantly cooling as he held the injured flesh between his hands. Raven stepped back, putting space between them. The man would be pissed when he recovered. Raven had better be nowhere nearby.
"No one is welcome in my bed," Raven said. "Ever. Guest room is the first door on your left. Sleep well."
The warmth in his voice would have frozen a wildfire in its tracks. He turned on his heel, leaving Nott writhing on the ground as he retreated to his room. The door was, thankfully, locked behind him, not that it would stop a wizard, but without his wand, his options were limited.
Should have grabbed my knife. It wasn't as good as a wand, but it was all he had. That, and his continued ability to defend himself.
Raven didn't pace. That required a level of restlessness he didn't feel anymore. He sat on his bed, listening as Nott's pain decreased. Listening as he raged. Faint cursing reached his ears, though he couldn't make out the words sounding beyond his walls.
The rant was silenced by a slamming door, too close to be taking him outside. Some of the tension left him. Not wasn't going to charge into this room while angry.
Tonight isn't good," he realized. It would take time for Nott to calm, longer for him to sleep.
And he did have a commitment tomorrow.
One more day won't hurt, he reasoned as he undressed for bed. Not would be calmer tomorrow, and he could slip away then.
One more day.
He'd changed his mind. Lucius Malfoy was much preferred over Theodore Nott. At least Malfoy knew how to keep his hands to himself.
Raven was out of the house by 10 the next morning, Nott still sulking beside him. Time hadn't seemed to cool his temper any. He hadn't said anything to Raven all morning. Had just stared at him in silent rage. It wouldn't have bothered him, but for the glimmer of desire still present.
"Raven!"
He turned from his thoughts in time to watch a small, blond, whirlwind throw herself at him. His lips twitched up as he lifted her into his arms, letting her latch onto his neck.
This was one of his little roots.
"I missed you," she said.
Children didn't trigger his aversion to touch. These ones, in particular, seemed to crave it. They got so little of it regularly, that it reminded him of his own childhood, although they had someone who actually cared.
"I told you I'd be back today."
"I know." She buried her head in his shoulder, clinging to him as though he'd vanish before her eyes.
Echoes of his name reached him. He barely had time to glance up before eight other children surrounded him, calling him, pulling at his clothes. He knew each of them.
Eliza was in his arms, a blond head of curls partially obstructing his vision, and a smile to melt any heart of ice. She'd spent most of her six years with Kesa. Raven had only been here for two of them, having found the place by accident one day. Eliza, then four, had demanded he play with her because 'Nobody else will.'
Another tug at his shirt brought his attention to Jacob, with his black hair, hazel eyes, and serious nature. He was looking behind Raven.
"Who's that?" he asked.
"Theodore Nott," Raven said. "He says he's from my past."
The children abandoned him, circling Not like sharks. Even Eliza wiggled from Raven's hold to get a better look at the stranger.
Nott glared down at them, his disgust at muggle children clear. Raven tensed, ready to step in if he did anything more than that. Most of the children cringed away, but Eliza stood her ground, staring up at the man.
"Are you his daddy?" she asked.
"No," Nott said, voice tense. "His parents are dead."
"He's really an orphan?" Chris asked, turning wide blue eyes to Raven.
"So it would seem."
Chris hugged him, wrapping his arms tightly around Raven's waist. Raven rubbed his back. At 10 (and ½), Chris had arrived shortly after Raven. It was just passed his seventh birthday when his parents died in a car accident. They never did catch the other driver.
Chris wasn't big on physical affection either, though as the oldest of the nine children, he gave it when the others wanted it. When he did need something, he usually sought Raven out.
Due to a number of reasons, Raven had been the one to take him to the funeral. Kesa had eight other children to watch over, and once he'd been dropped off, the government stopped caring about him.
Raven had seen him cry. Had later heard him scream at the unfairness of life. For a month, Raven had come every day, because grief needed time and attention. It shouldn't be ignored, or buried away.
Kesa was an amazing woman, but she was the only adult seeing to the care of nine children, one of them grieving. So, he'd helped. Never had any of the children been afraid of him, despite his lack of emotional responses.
It would hurt to leave them.
"Up?"
Eliza's voice was clear as she held her arms in the air, a clear invitation to the angry Slytherin. The man almost sneered.
I'll kill him.
"Your legs work fine," Nott said.
Eliza's arms slowly lowered, her entire body slumping with disappointment. Raven didn't need to see her face to know what was happening. The girl's eyes had widened; her bottom lip was trembling. She'd be looking at Nott as though he'd killed her puppy (not that she'd ever had one). Tears would seem to be in her eyes. Raven had been desensitized to the look over the years, but only someone truly heartless would stand unaffected.
Which means Nott-
"Alright, fine. You little menace."
Won't be able to resist? Raven blinked. Apparently, there was still some sort of heart in there.
Not was openly scowling, but Eliza grinned as she rested her head on his shoulder. Eliza would have made an excellent Slytherin.
"Where's Kesa?" Raven asked, still wrapped in Chris' arms.
"Inside," he answered. "Back's hurting her."
"I need to talk to her." Raven ran his fingers through the boy's hair. "Nott, watch the kids. I'll be right back."
Chris released him with a sigh so Raven could jog inside. The kids could look after themselves, for the most part. The older ones looked after the younger ones as needed, and Kesa made sure they all had everything they needed. But, he didn't want Nott following him inside. Distracting the children would give him the time he needed.
Besides, Raven though. If I'm Voldemort's 'most loyal', that means my rank is higher.
The building was silent when he entered. It always was with all the children outside. There was a comfort to the building he didn't feel elsewhere. Kesa was the only mother many of them ever knew - maybe ever would know. There hadn't been a single adoption in the two years he'd known of it.
Raven was the only other constant in their lives, and he wasn't a suitable role model. He leaned against the wall as he realized leaving wouldn't just hurt them. It would devastate them.
"Fuck." How could he forget that.
"Language, Raven."
She always did have the ears of a cat.
Kesa sat in the living room, in her chair. Her eyes were closed as Raven entered, taking in how tired she looked. How old.
"Hello, Raven," she said, eyes not opening as he approached.
"Kesa." He sat nearby, taking in her appearance. Thin. Fragile. "Chris said your back was hurting you today."
She nodded, finally opening kind brown eyes. "Everything hurts more and more lately."
Raven leaned forward. "How much longer?"
"Less than a year, most likely."
Cancer was an ugly muggle disease. Last spring, Kesa admitted she had it. Attempting to beat it into remission would leave her, and everyone around her in debt. If it didn't work, she'd be dead anyway, and still have accumulated debt for no reason.
She was wasting away before his eyes, and there was nothing he could do about it.
I wonder if magic could help.
The thought came suddenly, and refused to leave. Tempting him with possibilities. Solutions.
"Have you told the kids yet?" He asked every week.
Like every week before, Kesa shook her head. "I don't want to worry them. They're all so young. Eliza wouldn't understand. Chris has just begun working past his own grief. The twins …"
"They deserve to know," Raven said. "It's better than you just disappearing one day."
Hypocrite. He pushed the thought away. Now was not the time.
"I know." Her reply was soft. She sighed. "I don't want to cause them more pain."
"Not telling them will hurt them more."
How can I say goodbye without warning my guard, or sending Voldemort and his Death Eaters here?
"I was hoping you'd take over."
"What?" The word was curt from shock as his brain shorted. Him? Take care of children? Delicate innocent creatures left to his dubious care? He'd ruin them.
"They need someone they can trust," Kesa said as his brain whirled into action once more. "They trust you. You're one of their only constants. One of the only things they can depend on. I'd feel better if I knew you were taking care of them."
"Kesa, I-"
"You wouldn't judge them," she continued, eyes on the window where the children played.
"They're children."
"You wouldn't hate them."
"Of course not."
"You'd be good for them."
He wouldn't. He really wouldn't. "Kesa, I-"
"Oh, you're a troubled young man," Kessa said, without him ever needing to say it. He made a small noise, not of disagreement, and she looked at him, shaking her head.
"When I look at you," she continued, "I see what could happen to my kids. I see someone who's stopped caring because the world's hurt him too often. I see someone who doesn't want to admit he's in pain. I see someone who doesn't think they deserve happiness."
Raven's mouth went dry. "And you want this person looking after your kids?" He wouldn't want them anywhere near them.
"Because I also see a young man who can't help but care despite how many protections he's put around himself. I see someone who will teach them to be better. To love and be loved. I see someone who will protect them to his dying breath. I see a positive role model who will do his best for these children. I see someone who will never let them down."
Raven blinked. What could he say to that? What could anyone?
"I don't think I'll be around for much longer," Raven told her softly, regret coloring his words. It wasn't something new. Regret was a constant companion.
"Why?" No judgement in her voice, just a request for more information.
Raven sighed. There was only so much he could tell her. Muggles couldn't know about magic. And, Kesa believed his memories lost, just like everyone else did.
"I met someone," he said, cringing as he realized what that sounded like. "From my past. So they say."
"That's good." Kesa smiled, but it slowly faded as she looked at him. "Isn't it? It's about time something back into that head of yours."
Raven shook his head. "They don't seem like the nicest people, and I don't think they'll take no for an answer."
Kesa stared at him for several long minutes, giving him the same, sharp disappointed stare she gave her kids when they were bad. He didn't squirm. He didn't. Not even if she reminded him of Mrs. Weasley then, or Professor McGonagle. He didn't. But only because he froze.
"You're going to run."
It wasn't a question, but it put all her disappointment into words. Raven resisted the urge to cringe away, and nodded once. He sounded like a coward.
Maybe I am.
Running was the cowards way out, but he couldn't fight. He didn't have it in him anymore. Every reason he had to fight was dead. The war had taken everything from him. He wouldn't let it take everything else.
"As soon as I can," he said. "I'll write to the kids, each of them, and let them know."
"Raven-"
"It's probably best if no one knew how often I came, or what I did here. Safer for everyone involved."
"Do you think they'd hurt the kids?" Kesa's fingers gripped the chair. Even in her weakened state, she would protect them. They were her children.
"Maybe. I don't know. It's better for everyone if I don't come back."
She nodded slowly, still eyeing him. Those eyes saw more than he wanted. They always had.
"You're afraid."
"No."
"Don't lie," she sighed, leaning forward, her eyes taking hold of Raven's and keeping them. "It's alright to be afraid," she said. "Sometimes, the fear is legitimate. Sometimes, it isn't. Sometimes, you have to face your fears to realize they're not so bad."
The urge to laugh bubbled up, but never passed his lips. If she only knew how accurate fear was.
"Perhaps they can help you."
"Help with what?"
Kesa sighed, just looking at him. He avoided her gaze, the same one she got when the kids were being deliberately obtuse.
"They don't seem the type to help anyone, Kesa," he said. "And I can't be sure they aren't lying to me."
"There are levels of lying," she replied. "Perhaps it's not as bad as you think."
It was. He couldn't say that, but it was. The man had killed his entire family, and was trying to pretend it never happened. Or that something could be fixed.
Instead of answering, Raven withdrew an envelope from his pocket, handing it over to her.
"Raven, no."
"We have this conversation every week," he said, hand not wavering. "It's for the kids. It's a donation. Tax deductible."
It would be the last one he could give them. Sighing, Kesa took it, feeling the heft.
"There's more here than normal."
"Last night was lucrative."
"The children are going to be devastated."
"I know."
He stood, leaving the room without another word. Outside her gaze, Raven leaned against the wall, hand to his chest. It already hurt, and he hadn't said goodbye. Those letters were going to tear him apart.
Pulling himself together, Raven left. Outside, the children had conned Nott into playing a game of Red Rover. His scowl was ridiculous, surrounded as he was by small children.
I would have enjoyed that conversation.
Eliza was the first to notice him. She always was. In the midst of chanting voices and swinging arms, she broke free of the others and raced for knelt, catching her in his arms as she collided into his chest.
The others abandoned their game, leaving Nott free once more.
Their clothes are worn. Raven noticed. Not quite threadbare, Kesa wouldn't allow that, and none of them had holes. Kesa was quick to repair anything that needed it. But, nothing fit quite right, all of it a little too big. There just wasn't enough money to go around, not even with Raven's contributions.
I could fix that.
The thought was one he'd had before. An untouched vault sat in Gringotts, waiting for someone to use it. If he could get to it, he could exchange something into pounds. He could get them new clothes. Brand new. And toys, anything they wanted. But, he'd never been able to follow through with the desire. Diagon Alley was too dangerous for the hidden.
But I've been found, the little voice whispered at the back of his mind. I could help them now.
Too dangerous. He'd have to play along until he was reintroduced to the alley. The longer he remained, the harder it would be to slip away. The more eyes would be on him, waiting for any slip.
He couldn't do it. He couldn't risk it. It would get him all tied up in that world again. He couldn't risk it.
That night, Raven went out with his coworkers, as promised. They bought him drinks to loosen him up, then pulled him out onto the dance floor. They rarely touched him except when necessary. Surrounded by his coworkers, he was mainly safe from unwanted touch, and the few he garnered were easy to slither away from. People were here for fun, not a fight. If he wasn't interested, there were easier targets available.
Club dancing was nothing like what they did for work. The drinks loosened him up enough that he let his body move to the beat, mainly bouncing in place with the others, watching them grind together, or with other dancers. Man and woman alike.
It wasn't as horrible as he'd thought it would be, but he was tired before his companions. Tired of the music. Tired of the press of people. Tired of Nott standing at the side glaring doom at the room. Tired of guilt and regret eating at him.
They saw him off with grins and another drink, wishing him well and safe journeys. Nott, they ignored, but seeing as he'd insulted them all within 10 minutes of meeting them, Raven didn't blame them in the slightest.
As soon as the apartment door closed, Not attempted to seduce him again. He sidled up, murmuring compliments like they made a difference. Like Raven's inebriated state made any difference in his willingness to sleep with the man.
He pushed away Nott's attempt to take hold of his hips.
"Don't touch me."
"Come on, Raven," he said. "You know you want me. All your little whore muggles did too."
Before Raven could answer, Nott had wrapped his arms around him, trapping him against the taller man's chest.
"Release me. Now."
"Stop fighting me." Then, he shoved his hand down Raven's pants, despite the tight fit. Not bent forward, mouthing at Raven's neck.
Raven didn't freeze. His hand went for the knife in his pocket. Nott was too busy reaching for Raven's dick to notice him flipping it open. He wasn't careful as he slashed at Notts arm. Unfortunately, not the one groping him.
Raven stumbled as Nott jerked away.
"Fucking bitch," Nott spat.
Raven turned on him, brandishing the blade. Nott held his arm, already bleeding.
Deep cut, he noted absently. Normally, he was careful to control that. Muggles rarely got that far, and a little pain was all he needed to discourage them. Nott needed more than a little incentive to leave him alone.
"If you touch me again," Raven said, his pleasant buzz dying a silent death, "I will castrate you."
The anger sizzled beneath the surface. Raven channeled it as he stood, threatening the Death Eater with a muggle weapon.
"Do you understand?"
"I'll kill you, Potter."
Raven smirked, his anger warming in him a way alcohol hadn't.
"You'll need to discuss that with your lord," he sneered. "Can't magic heal? You're getting blood on my carpet."
Nott snarled at him. Raven just walked away, once again locking his door. His knife never left his hand. If the man attempted something, he'd be ready.
He slept fitfully that night. Between waking, he dreamt of nine happy children in bright, crisp, clear, new clothes, playing with brand new toys.
He woke the next day with a plan. It was a bad plan, but no one ever said he was good at them. Nor had anyone said his self-preservation was stronger than his instinct for self-sacrifice.
On the bright side, Nott didn't talk to him at all that day. It wasn't the punishment he seemed to think it was.
Severus
The potion was a perfect cerulean simmering before him on low heat. Ingredients neatly lined his table, each something he'd need today, already carefully prepared except for those which lost strength the longer they remained dice, ground, or powdered.
He carefully sprinkled in the powdered root, the second application of it as he stirred clockwise, twice counter once. Clockwise twice more. He'd need to do that twice more, once for every person the dark lord had chosen as one of Potter's confidants.
It was a delicate process. The potion was sensitive before he'd altered it. Now, one wrong move could blow it up as easily as ever Longbottom, or Finnigan managed with far simpler concoctions, but there was no hesitation, or unease, in his movements.
Hesitation did not belong in potion making. Hesitation led to mistakes. Mistakes led to death.
After five years, Severus had thought the boy gone - either dead, or vanished into some muggle city miles away never to be seen again. He'd watched the boy fall apart. It was a wonder it hadn't happened sooner, but Severus had known it would happen eventually, even if no one else had. It was all too much to put on a child. Any child. Even a Potter.
One way or another, he hadn't expected to see Potter again. Not after he'd left everything behind. Not after he'd abandoned everyone to their fate. Not after he'd shattered the way he had.
What he hadn't expected, was for Potter to still be in London. He hadn't expected Potter to have forgotten everything. He hadn't expected any of this.
This potion was the least invasive option. The least dangerous to Potter in the long run, even if the dark lord had chosen three of the worst people to be the boy's confidants.
Lucius wasn't terrible. His sanity was at least present at all times, even if he sometimes ignored it for more expedient options.
Evan and Bellatrix, however, would twist the boy up, and he would never be the same. Even on good days, neither could be called sane. If they didn't kill him, the confusion they caused would be far worse.
And yet, neither of them were as bad as the dark lord himself. Severus could see plans filling the man's head. Dark desires which would leave the boy a crumpled mess once more.
And his memories would return. Severus would see to that. It would be delicate work, but unless a spell had caused their absence, there were a variety of potions that could encourage memory retrieval. Several of which Potter was allergic to.
No matter, He decided as he sprinkled in the last round of Bulgarian Strangler Root. I'll figure something out. I always do.
Someone tapped on the door. Severus blinked, but stepped away from the cauldron. It would need to sit for 34 minutes before anything else happened. Either it was an impressive coincidence, or someone had planned their arrival this way.
The door opened before he got there, because Evan Rosier barely extended niceties to the dark lord, and never anyone else. Severus glared.
"What are you doing here, Rosier?" he demanded. "You're not needed until tomorrow."
"I'm aware," Rosier said, his eyes on the ingredients laid out, and the potion gently simmering.
"Then why are you here?"
"You're not the only one with an interest in potions."
Severus grit his teeth. "This is a delicate potion," he said. "I will not have an amateur wandering about my lab until it has stabilized."
Severus stepped into his path, pulling himself to his full height, preventing the man from entering further. Evan smiled, a close lipped thing that made him seem more dangerous than any of his full teeth-baring ones.
Severus held his ground, staring down at the man. Spell work would cause the potion to explode, which would delay giving it to Potter. However, Rosier was one of the dark lord's most formidable wizards. Anything he cast would hurt, and not just from the explosion.
"Did you know," Rosier said," that adding ground pixie wings thirty minutes after the strangler root can intensify the visions?"
Severus paused. "34 minutes," Severus answered. "It increases the clarity and vividness of the visions, and allows a greater depth of detail."
He stepped aside, showing Rosier the small bowl of ground pixie wings already sitting beside the cauldron. He crossed his arms.
"If that's all, Rosier."
That smile grew, Rosier's eyes too amused for Severus' liking.
"Did you also know that sprinkling a pinch of Shaved unicorn horn between stages can allow the drinker to feel the visions?"
Severus paused, staring at Rosier. That wasn't common knowledge. It had been tested a few times, but the side-effects were often disheartening.
"The side effects of adding the horn are often more detrimental than the minor additions."
The smile grew. "The dark lord wishes you to add Unicorn horn. He says it will add believability to Potter's experience."
"Does the dark lord also know it can make him sick?" Severus demanded. "Or can harm his mental facilities - what little there is. Or can disrupt Potter's magical control?"
"It will also neutralize most attempts to regain Potter's memories," Rosier said, "which the dark lord is more concerned with just now."
Severus' frown deepened. "Potter is allergic to most memory reclamation Potions, which the order is aware of."
"Most, but not all.," Rosier shrugged. "It is his will, Severus. Unless you want to defy him."
Severus scoffed. "For Potter? Hardly. If he wants to deal with Potter's inability to control himself, he is welcome to."
Rosier always made him uncomfortable. Dark eyes saw too much. Knew too much, but rarely said anything. He gave Severus that look now.
"I'll inform him," Rosier said.
"And I must return to work," Severus agreed, staring down the Death Eater.
Rosier continued to grin at him, and when he left, Severus knew it was because he decided it was time, and not anything Severus had done. He didn't lock the door behind Rosier, if only because doing so would be admitting defeat.
Once certain the man had gone, Severus returned to his table. The potion was the right color. Still stable. Still on schedule. He retrieved a jar from one of the many shelves lining the room. Inside was a single long horn of spiraling silver. He moved that to the table.
Of 33 possible memory retrieval potions, Potter was allergic to the Ginkgo Biloba in 12 of them, and the Vacha used in another 9.
And hadn't those been interesting classes? Severus thought. Watching the boy seize on the ground had terrified most of the glass. Granger had been inconsolable. Longbottom had blown something up - again. And Weasley had accused Severs of poisoning the brat. Even Draco had looked pale, for all that he claimed to loathe Potter.
Of the 12 remaining, nine would be countered by the unicorn horn in Potter's system because of the - potentially - dangerous ingredients. That left three possibilities, all of which were difficult and complicated to brew. Only a master could manage it. If Potter began remembering too early, the dark lord's attention would immediately turn to Severus.
Unless the Order could get hold of him, they were going to have to wait.
Even so, he sent a silent apology to Lily.