Chapter Text
He started screaming as soon as the little Seer cast her finite , dispelling the transfiguration-gone-wrong and the silencio I put on him. We were awash with his screams as he laid on the ground reverting back to the same ol shitfuck waste of space we all knew and hated. His bones made sickening crunches and popping sounds while his skin bubbled and rippled as it reformed over his bones. It was a delightful bit of agony that the Seer and I stared at blankly - her face was infinitely more pleasantly blank while mine was verging on grim enjoyment.
I nodded my head in the middle of the screaming, nudging her in a friendly way.
“Lovely day for it, yeah?”
The Seer turns and nods at me, her eyes squinting in smileyness like a cat does when it is content. I am not at all convinced that she isn’t some small demon herself really. The screaming continues to meld into the background as I look over at Thorfinn. He is scritching his beard with hard eyes on the little man who shouldn’t even be alive right now. When I turn my gaze back to our hapless subject, I hear his voice through the din.
“I’m glad you two are getting along.”
I lift my shoulders in a casual shrug just when Weasley’s screaming takes on a garbled choke - his esophagus beginning to realign itself from the sounds of it, his hands curled in like claws from the effort.
“I don’t think friendship bracelets are next, but..I could be persuaded.”
I turn to him, catching him looking at me with his twinkling blue eyes. The one strange thing that led to our liberation was Rabastan’s fucking arts and crafts class.
A small, pale hand lifts up next to us, her dazed voice cutting through the now sniffling sobs as the screaming finally comes to an end. Not the end I was hoping for, but I digress..
“I wouldn’t say no to making those with you. I always liked Rabbit’s creativity.”
I remember the gleam in the younger Lestrange’s eyes when he would come up from the dungeons. His painting improved greatly in that period of time. The memory makes me feel generous. I wonder how he is doing?
I gesture to her with a tilted head and clasped hands over my heart.
“ Malen'kiy Providets! You bring the threads, I am sure I have the technique in my head somewhere. We should send Rabastan a little care package.”
The creepy little girl beams at me and Thorfinn ruins the moment, pointing in the direction of the unwelcome guest who has somehow found his legs.
“Runner.”
I roll my eyes at the sight of our company trying to run towards the stairs.
“Really, Thorfinn? You’re not going to stop him yourself? Are you just here to watch us do the work?”
I wave my hand to jinx the Fuck’s legs out from under him, his head hits the fourth stair.
“Oops!”
I hear the tiniest sigh from the ghostling girl who is now my new best friend.
What a turn of events!
We walk over to the shitfuck, turning him over and I offer my assessment.
“It’s not a big gash, he will survive.”
She waves me away with her little hand.
I am in the way, I guess? I back up as she pulls vials and herbs from the treacherous depths of her purse and I wonder briefly if my umnitsa extended her strange little bag as well? Probably. I cannot help but be glad the girls have each other.
I settle into a flat-footed squat a few feet away to watch from a safe distance. The scuff of boots next to me as I watch her heal him and then begin the process of fucking with his memories.
“These little witches and their mind fucking, huh Dolly?”
I look at him knowing the cafe is a blurry thing in his mind that sometimes gives him headaches if he tries to remember it too hard. He knows what happened because I told him, but he does not have his own thoughts about it. I comb my mustache with my fingers while I think about him.
“ I pray for the day where all women move from terrified to terrifying. - I read that on a poster in London a few weeks ago. I sometimes imagine what would happen if the Order had put the women in charge?”
My fellow giant sits on the ground with a heavy sigh.
“Dumbledore was far too focused on having control of everyone and everything else that he forgot to discipline himself, from what I’ve heard. The women would’ve wrecked us, though.”
He counts off the names of the infamous women with his fingers.
“Princess and Luna - Those two alone would have ended most of the inner circle. Add fuckin’ McGonagall, Molly Weasley, the littlest one - his sister.”
Yes, she’s super great except for having zero fucks for Hermione.
Thorfinn snaps his fingers rapidly trying to remember her name when his little witch pipes up.
“Ginny.”
He points at her in his excited way as he continues.
“That’s the one!
Fuuuck!
A perfect team! All-fucking-star! We’d be dead because they’d have no problems throwing something harder than
expelliarmus
or stunning jinxes.”
I feel my left eye twitch a bit when his words bring back the overeager duel between Hermione and I. He claps me on the back.
“Did you tell her?”
I look down at my fingers, finding them a little more interesting with how much they’d been inside her.
“Yeah. We had ‘The Talk’..well..”
I tilt my head back and forth, looking at him now.
“One of many to be had. She is incredible, Thorfinn. You know this - being her friend all this time, knowing her pains and joys without telling me, you shit.”
He blinks at me as if I am not in understanding of something obvious when the little Seer speaks up from hovering over the almost-should-be-isn’t-but-will-be corpse of Ronald Weasley.
“You weren’t ready for it, Antonin.”
My nose twitches at her perfect inflection. She is not Hermione, it feels weird for me to hear it from her mouth, but that is my name. I have half a mind to ask everyone but her to not speak my given name. She is the one who makes it sound like a benediction, singing it on high from the tree tops of paradise like a bird of doom..or joy. I’ll circle back to this later, I need answers first from these two.
“What do you mean, not ready?”
She turns briefly, her eyes seem paler somehow. She looks entirely too much like some kind of wraith. I am less inclined towards bestie and more inclined towards never allowing these monsters into my home.
Nightmares for days. There’s a passing thought in my head that I might be interrupting her feasting.
“You needed to be brave enough to confront your idealization of her. You needed to break to grow.”
I suck my teeth when she returns to her focused work.
Thorfinn was so insistent about reading the paper to me. The Seer let me watch her. Absolutely blind-sided by the..double date…wait a minute.
I stand up abruptly, pointing at them, “You fuckers have been together awhile! This is not new at all! You all orchestrated this madness?”
Thorfinn shrugs and nods simultaneously then points at the little demon.
Said little demon slowly talks through the mind melting.
“If you’d known about him at his worst, you would have killed him mindlessly and ended up back in prison. That would be a waste, Antonin. Now at least, you have a chance to enact your plans with a more settled spirit. You can’t say it isn’t a bit quieter in your head now, can you?”
I blink at her.
This makes sense, sure. I do not enjoy the idea of being moved about by anyone - except for my own little witch. The menaces seem to care for me - us - what the fuck, man?
“Things will work out. You have friends now!”
She speaks cheerfully, her wand flourishing over the redhead.
In her next move, she lets his head fall back over her outstretched leg while she returns all her previous herbals and potion vials to her bag, returning from its depths with a tiny, glass vial half-filled with a yellowish substance.
“Bubble-head charms for you both. This Brugmansia pollen is straight out of my garden and is too potent for the likes of you two.”
I cast the charm without too much thought and helped Thorfinn do the same.
“Fuck it.”
I cast a protego as well to be sure.
She twists the cap off, dipping the thin rod attached to the cap into the pollen before bringing it up to the Fuck’s nostrils. She carefully taps the faint amount of dust to fall directly into his intake of unconscious breath.
I see with ultimate clarity that she has no need for the charm on herself and the realization is like figuring out some key to life and how it all works. I get it. I imagine her mother must’ve mixed the pollen in with breast milk and fed it to her weekly.
“You’re not far off, Antonin.”
I squint my eyes and point at her.
“Hey! What did I fucking say about reading my thoughts?!”
She twists the cap back on the vial of vile bloom dust and gives me a sass look. A SASS LOOK.
“Your head is loud. The only time it was quiet was when he was screaming.”
“Well! I don’t know! Ignore it! Little demon.. ”
I turn to Thorfinn who just wiggles one of his overly large fingers at us both and mouths the words, “ Besties.. ”, at me.
There are so many acts of violence I would like to commit but the demonette was right. I am too steady. Peace has wormed its way in.
She gets up, the little nightmare that looks like an angel, letting the Fuck’s head flop onto the floor carelessly. She is a wonder.
“Alright, I feel the anti-apparition wards here, Finn can you bring him up to the garden?”
I dispel my protego, keeping the bubble head charm, ensuring Thorfinn keeps his as well and the three of us jump into action.
On the way out into the garden, I took a quick look at the time.
I have plenty of time.
We find ourselves somewhere in the front yard of Ms. Brown’s house. Right after my brother sets the Fuck,
I rather like this new name for him
, on the ground, we disillusion ourselves to let the little mastermind work it all out.
She rings the doorbell, and turns to look at the simple flowers in the garden box hanging on the porch railing.
Ms. Brown takes a minute, because pregnant, obviously and opens the door with interest in finding Luna Lovegood there.
“Luna? What brings you here?”
The tiny demonette is the very picture of ‘Who-me? Couldn’t be!’ as she talks about the flowers first and foremost instead of the Fuck on the ground. Ms. Brown notices said Fuck eventually with a shriek and the girl who might be a redcap in disguise rushes to her side to help her sit on the stair.
“Oh, you mustn’t fret, Lavender, it isn’t good for your little girl. He apparated into my garden at some point last night by mistake - I do live rather close to the Burrow, it’s an easy mistake - anyway, he took a nap under my brugmansia...”
She shakes her head and tuts as if finding a little boy with a scraped knee and not an absolute shitfuck mutant in my basement with a melted brain and a nose full of what-the-fuck .
“He’s calmer now..”
We all collectively look at him laying face down in the grass.
He is calm alright. Concussed into quietude, more like.
“The nightmares might have another go. The pollen creates quite a disturbance. If you’d like, I can secure him in one of your guestrooms?”
Ms. Brown nods mutely as the little Seer levitates him calmly.
The two ladies chatter as they go inside, Thorfinn breaks our silence with admiration for his witch.
“Dolly, isn’t she amazing?”
I nod, he cannot see me, yet I still make the motion of agreement. I’m not about to break the silence.
The little witch comes out alone, closing the door behind her, then skipping down the stairs. Without a word she walks down the street for a time while we follow curiously and dutifully.
We reach a disused alleyway where a visible Thorfinn scoops her up in his arms and plants hundreds of kisses on her face and lips. She smiles as she squeezes his face with her hands.
I dispel my invisibility while clearing my throat simultaneously and looking anywhere but where they were.
“I must pick up some things for Hermione, is there anything I need to know before you two desecrate this place?”
I hear a thoughtful sound from both of them between kisses.
I just want to get ready for my Króshka…
“He won’t remember you two, but he’ll remember me in my garden. I suggest you place his wand and phone in the guest room downstairs either later tonight or some time tomorrow.”
I raise my brow.
Easy enough.
“Ok. Consider it done, little demon. Little Brother, have fun. Pretend I do not exist for the rest of the day.”
I twist myself back home to make certain all things are tidy. No signs of shenanigans other than a rather sad looking albatross who was hoping I was back with his new friend.
“Orlov, I bring only disappointments for you my friend. We can, of course, discuss this some other time.”
The bird follows me into the basement where we give it the all clear before closing it back up neatly after refreshing the air from the evils. He follows me around as I make an incredibly apologetic late order of vatrushkis for Hermione and then sits on my bed as I wash away the calamities of the day. I comb my hair back and brush my teeth in the little mirror above the sink. I give myself a gleaming smile afterwards, my golden tooth glinting in the bright sunlight coming through the window beside me.
I run my tongue over it, the act supplying my brain with the urge to walk a few feet towards the loose tile on the baseboard. I bend down to knock it from its place to pull out the green and red tea tin. Inside are a few important papers from days gone by, a photo of Mama in the garden, a photo of my Dedushka dancing in the muddy village with the women smiling and singing behind him. I can hear this one in my heart so clearly, the harmonics as varied as the designs on their aprons yet all matching perfectly together in their lows and highs. I place them back inside carefully, and pull out the simple black papered ring box. I haven’t looked at it in a long time, my heart too sore with loss and my mind resting on loose gravel.
I take a deep breath and open it.
The sparkle has not died down on the blue and white stones pressed into the starbursts, and the gold somehow looks warmer than it ever did, even when it was in my Dedushka’s mouth all those years brightening up his infectious smiles, making all the women swoon and my Babushka angry as a result.
I listen to the voices that sound like them, and envision my grandmother grabbing my face to kiss my cheeks and pat my hands when she isn’t dragging me by my lapels to shout at me for not visiting enough or for not being married. My grandfather watches on with a grin for a time before stepping silently out to splinter wood. I used to love being outside with him while he told me his version of all the news I’d just heard from her. It was quiet even when he would laugh in his mischievous way. We could hear the women talking, laughing, crying in cycles through the open windows and we would express our reactions silently to one another like school boys. He felt more like a brother to me most times - never a great disciplinarian.
I
feel
the need to
wait
more than I
hear
it. I kiss the ring lightly and close it all back up, hiding it away for another day.
Standing in the full length mirror to dress, I size myself up proudly. I look sharp and lean and relatively loose considering the acts of the day.
I am ready to be covered in the scent of her, with her hair, and her lips mapping the length and breadth of me. I am ready to show her further examples of why I should be chosen by her forever - however long that might be.