No Maker Made Me

Amycus sighed, frowning; giving the girl an expression of slight confusion. “Do I look like a bloody tutor to you?” But the tone of Lucy’s voice left him pausing. An emergency, she said; a statement that left him curious. He rolled his eyes. “Alright, I’ll bite,” Amycus remarked. “What’s up?”

“Overestimate? Me?” Amycus offered a devious smirk. He arched a brow at her amused tone, reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket for two cigarettes. He held it out toward her; a business gesture.

“As for your price,” Amycus paused. “Make me an offer.” He had no need for money. Wealth was useless when he had enough money to drown himself in. He watched Emma closely.

Amycus laughed. “Depends on who you ask.” He felt Evan’s eyes watching him, but paid little mind to anything but his target. Something inside of him ached for knuckles against flesh; curses reflecting off of brick alleyways. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, his fists clenching as he turned his attention to Evan.

December 1981

@alvcto-cvrrow

“Alecto,” Amycus’ voice was quiet as he rushed through the bedroom door. The soles of his boots thudded urgently against the hardwood floor, making quick pace across the room toward the dark silhouette of his sister. Their home was silent, but the panicked rhythm of his heartbeat left Amycus deaf.

“Wake up.” He perched himself upon the edge of their bed, leaning across her chest as he nudged her nose with the tip of his. “Wake up,” he repeated; motions filled with haste, but his touch remained calm, gentle. His voice was backed with a degree of fear and Amycus was certain, even half-asleep, Alecto would catch it immediately. His fingertips moved to push a strand of red hair from her forehead. “We have to leave, Alecto. Tonight,” he paused; the news still heavy upon his tongue, but they had so little time before he was sure they would be hunted down for questioning. “Bellatrix went out on some suicide mission. She’s tortured Aurors, Alecto. They’ve got the lot of them. It’s not safe for us here.”

The Dark Lord, he scoffed. He was dead, just like any other man. Alecto was all that mattered now; and the life which flourished inside of her. The curtains still closed, Amycus raised the lights; just dim enough to see without drawing too much suspicion. There was no telling who was watching them all now. They would have to move with haste, under the guise of mastered stealth.

“And you assume that I would know all the dirt you need?” Amycus arched a brow upward, offering Emma an amused shrug – partially because she was right.

He leaned against the wall; leather-clad shoulder brushing stone. “If her last name doesn’t say it all, you can be sure her lips will. The girl could talk her way through a brick wall.” A small huff of laughter interrupted, though he continued with hushed tone. “But my information isn’t free, Vanity.”

Amycus snorted. “All the more reason to test it out on me,” he smirked. “You practically taught ol’ Sluggy his own class. You know, if you ever tried to sell your own supply, you’d make a killing.”

He paused mid stir to allow Severus to drop the ingredients into the mixture. The concoction bubbled, hissing as it changed color and grew closer to its finished product. Amycus continued to stir, eying the brew with some curiosity still.

Truth be told, Amycus almost preferred Severus’ company to many of their housemates. Halfblood or not, Amycus found him far less irksome than others. He had stuck up for him more than once. The way he saw it, they had more in common than otherwise. And that was rare. Besides, who else was willing to put up with Amycus’ arrogance?

He grinned. “A bit of this, bit o’ that.” Amycus shrugged; code for the usual bits of skirt and drink. There was always business in information, and business was always good; even outside the halls of Hogwarts. “Hitting targets with Dolohov, mostly, running around. Always something to get into these days.”

“I never yield.” Amycus’ words were firm, certain. Prior conditioning had taught him to fight until he could fight no more; a brutal trait which often pushed him much further than physical and mental limits should be tested. Still, that mentality left Amycus driven to prove his worth.

“Alright.” He stepped up to the plate, so to speak; positioning his stance in front of the target. The wand in his grip seemed to burn at his hand.

Wand at the ready, he closed his eyes tightly, concentrating on the mental image of the target before firing three shots. The magic scorching through air hissed in his ears, before the third spell finally erupted into an explosive shattering. He opened his eyes in time to see the left half of the target splinter against the wall behind it.

Not quite.

Amycus shook his head. “Nah, I wouldn’t slap you,” he remarked as he unlaced his hand from hers; probably a bit less quickly than he should have. He chuckled. “I’ll just have to infiltrate your tea parties. Spike the drink, drag you away ‘til you come to your senses and rejoin society as yourself again.”

Wandering a bit further, Amycus offered a nod. “Not too bad,” he shrugged. “Fresh air helps, for sure.” Amycus grinned, turning to look at Narcissa as he spoke. “Better than listening to my mother’s harping, or worse.”

Peace was a rare accommodation in the Carrow household; a trait he was certain Narcissa could imagine. Amycus was far less on edge outside of his family’s manor. “What about you? Still kicking?” He grinned again, weaving around a line of light poles down the paved sidewalk. “Or do I need to carry you?”