u k i y o .

despite the fact this is where most of the dead bodies he has to dispose of ends up, amycus enjoys being at the docks. this is the closest he’s ever been to living near water all his life, and he tries to make the most of it. he still remembers the stories his mother used to tell him, the photographs she would show -- she’d grown up in a little japanese fishing town, and she’d told him that when people died, they all went back to the waters. 

well, he doesn’t know if his mother is waiting for him in the murky waters near new york city, but something about being here calms him down. 

there’s no one else around, or at least he thinks, and he has managed to sneak onto one of the tiny fishing boats by the docks, if only to be able to dip his feet in the water underneath. eyes closed, he barely notices someone approaching him until he’s tapped on the shoulder, and he nearly falls forward. 

“sorry,” he says, almost instinctively, eyes going a little wide. “i’m -- sorry. is this -- is this your boat?” 

the unsaid hung in the balance, and maybe it was because his mind was already running on overdrive from panic and adrenaline, but in his head, peter started listing the myriad of things amycus’ statement could have ended with: thought i’d get a hit in first, thought i’d say goodbye and good riddance before they killed you, thought i’d let you know everything that ever happened was an illusion and you are nothing but a sad, sad fool. against the fear of what could be about to happen to them, it was easier, kinder to his fraying peace of mind to focus for now on this than at the fear that this could be the end of him and remus.

“what about how i look right now made you think that i or we,” he looked briefly at remus, concern furrowing his eyebrow at his friend’s unconscious state, before turning back to amycus. “were going after the death eaters? they attacked us, they took us. yeah, i’m dumb about a lot of things, amycus, but i don’t joke about my survival.” or at least he didn’t before, back when it was just him and his wits on the streets, back before all this bootlegging bullshit and marauders mess.

the only sound that came out of peter as amycus spoke was the echoing resonance of a hard swallow. what a difficult confrontation and revelation to finally have, and in such a different scenario to do it in, but somehow, he believed. peter had used they in reference to the death eaters subconsciously, because in the back of his mind, he knew that amycus didn’t know, wasn’t a part of this: why hadn’t he taken peter then when they were in his apartment and he was sound asleep next to amycus? or at the gala, in the empty room, just the two of them? his guard was let down always around this man, even with the knowledge that he was a death eater, and yet he had never been anything but gentle and kind.

before he knew it, tears were stinging the back of his eyes, hot and wet and simply there, him unable to wipe them away since his hands were bound, tears brought about by this mixture of embarrassment at having been caught in his lies, and of being so weak and still trying to act so tough, but clearly the facade was failing now. since he didn’t know how much longer he had with life, peter wanted to cling to the one person who could be his sole witness, a lone source of comfort for his last night on earth. “i didn’t tell them anything,” was his reply, desperate sounding in its attempt to convince amycus in its simple truth, and because he wanted it to be known before he was gone. “all the things you told me, everything about you, they don’t know. it was just me, just peter, nobody else. should know before i…” somehow it was harder to form full and coherent sentences when faced with impending death, who knew? maybe amycus wasn’t important to the death eaters, but he sure as hell was important enough to peter for him to have lied to his friends about the man and, in turn, to have given amycus nothing but his truth, even as it all was clouded by the falsehood of his initial intentions.

“w-what… what are they gonna do to us? please, if you believe me, even just a little…” if you like me, even just a little, he almost said, but he didn’t want to think about such a loss when there was no future to discuss it. “you can have everything i’ll leave behind, i’ll do anything, please, i’m begging you, get my brother out. ”

“because you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t trying to do something to the death eaters! they may be a violent, ruthless, monstrous bunch but they’re not stupid. and you said it yourself - that you came to me because you knew who i was.” he hissed, definitely sounding angrier than he’d intended. of course it wasn’t actually their fault that they’d ended up here - no, the blame entirely lay with regulus and whoever else was involved with the kidnapping. still, he couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t furiously bitter with the entire situation at hand. 

the anger only resonated with him more as the realization hit that there were only two possible outcomes here - one of which would end up with peter and remus’ blood, though indirectly, on his hands, and the other -- well, he might as well just go up to the death eaters and ask them to kill him. he already had gideon’s blood on his hands, what was a few more? he’d already committed the worst sin possible, so what was helping the marauders going to give him? it certainly wasn’t going to redeem him.

but how could he look at peter, tears threatening to fall from those big brown eyes, and let him get hurt? his own shoulders dropped as he registered that he really was willing to risk it all - for what, he didn’t know - even if it meant putting his own neck on the guillotine. he wanted to believe peter, too - and it almost made him want to ask if they could just forget about all of this if they were able to get out of here, but he couldn’t. what difference would it make, anyway? 

so instead, he let out a shaky breath, heart stuck in his throat as he tried to find his footing again. “what are you asking me that for? you know what they’re going to do to you.” amycus managed, feeling his own eyes water at how desperate peter was beginning to sound. he understood it, almost - he’d do the very same for alecto. 

(and he told himself not to think about that night, when peter had looked so vulnerable that he was almost scared to touch him, when he’d woken up in the morning to the sun hitting his face just right that he thought his heart might stop, when he’d foolishly let himself imagine a future with peter - back then, he’d been so sure he could stop looking now, that he’d found someone other than alecto he’d want to live for. but of course, how could he not.) 

“...i know you didn’t ask for my advice but you should tell them what they want to know. it’s - they’ll do anything to get it out of you and you don’t - you don’t want to find out what they’re capable of.” he began, carefully, now making sure to keep his voice down. call it foolishness, but he couldn’t walk away from this. at least not like this, not on their terms. 

“and - and i know this is a lot to ask but you have to trust me. if you can hold on just a little longer, peter, please - trust me. i’ll --” 

As she slowly woke, Celestina wasn’t entirely sure of what she was hearing. No one would be at her door this late at night, right? Though, the knocking continued, and she searched her room for a few moments for her robe. If they were here this late at night, they couldn’t complain that she was indecent. Right? 

When she neared the front of her apartment, she realized she recognized the voice. “Amycus, what happened?” she asked as she opened the door, immediately seeing the worry in his eyes. She ushered him in, eyes looking him up and down for any visible injuries. “Are you okay, dear?” she asked again as the door shut behind them both.

amycus was shaking - fully, violently shaking as he waited for celestina to answer (she had to be home, didn’t she? then again, who was to say that she’d even help him if he asked --) and he let out a small yelp when the door did finally open, happy that she was there but unsure of where he was to start. 

“no, we have to - we have to be quiet,” he insisted as he made his way inside, turning again to look at the door even though he clearly knew that celestina had shut it only moments ago. “something happened, celestina,” amycus finally managed, after taking a deep breath in, “something really, really bad. the people i work with, they - they’re going to kill someone - or two - and i need - i need to stop it and i need your help. please.” 

for a second, peter did genuinely believe that amycus was the one who had done it, that perhaps the other had known all along about his true occupation, and was lulling him into a false sense of security, only to have someone later snatch him away so he could be confronted with the cold, hard truth…  but then there was worry there, laced within the urgency of his admonishments, that had him reconsidering his stance. besides, he couldn’t have been that great an actor to have faked what had transpired between them at the gala, right? that electric feel…

“so it’s just a coincidence that i get dragged to hell and the first person i see is you?” peter wanted the question to come off as accusatory, yet it seemed that more than anything, he was asking for reassurance, a confirmation that it was, in fact, nothing more than a horrible trick that fate had laid out for the two of them, a moment of revelation amidst all the chaos that already surrounded him. one less thing to worry about now, at least, that was a comfort… now if only he knew for sure that he would survive this for that to even matter at all.

“i know you’re a death eater,” in that regard, the disdain didn’t have to be coaxed, it came out willingly, especially now in the face of what they had done, of what more they were willing to do now that he and remus were trapped in a practical no man’s land. “i know you do things for them. maybe you’re not assigned to the fucking kidnapping department, but you’re here, with us… so you do something i don’t even wanna think about.”

it seemed inconsequential, when he should be focused on getting up and getting out, but since the only way that was going to happen was if by some divine intervention, he figured out where they were, how to get out, and managed to avoid every single person out there, it wasn’t happening anytime soon, peter mulled the question before he finally looked up at amycus. “don’t you know by now? i’m calvin fucking coolidge, amycus!” he laughed, cold and bitter and resigned, then sighed and turned serious. “i’m a marauder… and that’s my brother. there. now you know.”

amycus wasn’t sure why he felt the need to defend himself against these frankly hurtful accusations, but he looked at peter with a small sigh and a shake of his head. “it wasn’t a coincidence. i heard them talking about you and i thought -” thought what, exactly? that he’d save them? that he’d come down here if only to make sure it wasn’t the peter he knew? well, that plan had spectacularly blown up in his face. 

 and the next words out of peter’s mouth made it abundantly clear that all of this had been a show, a mere pretense to try to what - get information out of him? he supposed it should’ve made him angry, but in a way, he was relieved. at least he knew, then, what kind of person he was. at least he wouldn’t have to end up confessing to his many, many crimes and undoings. well, good. now at least they knew everything about each other. 

but he still couldn’t shake off the feeling of betrayal and bitterness that crawled into his throat, especially as peter laughed, as though there was anything remotely funny about this predicament they were in. 

“a marauder. i heard - i heard them talking about you. never thought anyone would be stupid enough to actually come after the death eaters. you don’t understand, they’re - we’re not good people.” he frowned, looking back again even if he knew the door was shut. 

those who knew him knew he usually wasn’t the type to do anything like this - this was rebellion at its finest, betraying those who’d given him a chance and an opportunity to make something of himself.  even more than that, he would be betraying his sister’s trust - it was something unthinkable but he couldn’t let peter and remus die like that. for once in his life, he’d do something good, even if it meant running from everything he knew.  

so amycus found himself running to celestina’s apartment building, heart in his throat and sweat running down his back, and he didn’t let himself stop until he’d reached her door, and began to knock. 

inappropriate, of course, especially at this time of night - but time was of the essence now. 

“celestina? celestina, please - it’s amycus.” 

why are you here, peter?

amycus threw the question so close to him, and with such an urgent tone, there should really be no other recourse for him than to hear it in its entirety, but he might as well have been stuffed in an airtight box, promptly sealed and thrown into the deepest depths of the ocean, for the way that the inquiry seemed almost leagues away, processed by his brain as nothing more than this muffled, hollow sound not even the smartest of minds could have made sense of… and peter was clearly no genius, judging by the way that he had managed to land himself in this situation.

apparently this was what one got when they agreed to go for a drink with someone they thought was genuinely trying to strike a friendship: accosted at a dark alleyway, threatened with a knife, half suffocated with a hood, and transported to what peter could only suppose was the lobby to the actual gates of hell, through which he was likely on the verge of crossing, because he certainly could not imagine a way that he was going to get out of this mess. there was something all too sinister about the dark and damp, and the ringing that now surrounded him… or maybe it was just the aftermath of having been hit around the head a few times (intentionally or not, he couldn’t tell since he couldn’t see a damn thing) and then finally having the hood ripped off of him when he was seated on and tied up to a chair, leaving him in this disoriented state that was further deepened by the fear that now triumphed over any other emotion.

“w-what?” came the reply finally, struggling to make sense of his surroundings and find the face that came with the voice, but his head only had to make a slight twist before his eyes caught sight of the figure next to him; even with the drooped head and the unconsciousness, in an instant he could tell it was remus, and despite his sense of self preservation telling him to worry about his own well-being, in an instant rage surged through him. what the fuck had they done to him?!

“remus? remus? remus!” it was no use, his friend was out cold for now, which meant… there was someone else. like a lion trying to spot its prey, peter’s head shot around, noticing for the first time that amycus was there and… fuck, amycus was there… and amycus was the only one there, which meant… more problems, but not the most pressing one by far.

“what did i… what did you do to my friend?! if something happens to him, i swear to god…” as if he needed any more reasons not to believe in god anymore. his eyes narrowed, rationality and whatever else he had formed with amycus thrown out the window in favor of anger and spite, the form that his fear seemed to have taken at the moment. “what the fuck do you mean why am i here, do i look like i want to be here? is this a party, am i the first fucking person to arrive? what’s it look like?”

amycus physically cringed when peter began to yell what he could only assume was his friend’s name, and he froze in place for half a moment before the whiplash of peter accusing him of having done something to “remus”, as though he hadn’t just gotten there himself. 

“stop yelling!” he hissed, looking back quickly once to make sure nobody else would be coming and locking the door behind him. “i didn’t do anything to anyone, but if you don’t keep quiet, they’re going to come back down and do god-knows-what to you, okay?” 

breathe. breathe. 

he closed his eyes for a second, trying to organize every bit of information he had in his head into one coherent thought. of course the death eaters weren’t above murder, and there were many who’d gone missing under their hands, but this was still a risk, wasn’t it? there was always the possibility that the police would become involved or worse yet, someone would come looking for them - so bringing them here had to be worth all that risk, somehow. 

which could only mean that peter wasn’t quite who he thought he was. 

they’d told him that he should get ready for another job, soon. he knew what that meant - get your tools. generally, he preferred not to linger on the details like who it would be he’d be getting rid of, what they’d done. and this time was no different, except he’d overheard someone mention short curly hair and the whispered name that sounded vaguely like peter and it instantly told him that something was very, very wrong. 

now, he wasn’t usually the kind of person to rely solely on his gut feelings, but he found himself heading downstairs anyway under the guise of grabbing the necessary equipment, 

but nothing could have truly prepared him to actually run into one peter pettigrew at the basement of the estate, because well - didn’t this change everything? 

anger would (should) have been his first response, but it wasn’t exactly what came to him when he saw the state peter - and his friend, that he surprisingly recognized from the gala - was in. 

“oh, you don’t have to tell me,” peter replied with a soft and playful laugh, cutting his sentence just as the bartender made his way back to their end of the bar, prompting him to place in his order for ‘scotch, my good man’ quickly so he could turn back to the person  next to him. usually he would’ve just gone for whatever was the cheapest, which tended  to be gin of dubious origins and quality these days, but he was aiming to impress and besides, james had actually given him money for this as it was, technically, part of their operation. otherwise, a personal loan he would’ve turned it down in a heartbeat.

most of the jobs that he had undertaken for the marauders carried with it a sense of distance, a detachment from the act itself and the person that he was targeting, but tonight it was… odd, it was light, it was like he was truly trying to make an acquaintance, a friend, rather than aiming to get some information from this man in the long run. maybe it was just the knowledge that peter really did have to foster some type of trust between them that had him feeling this way, that this was a case out of the ordinary because for others, it was a one time hit, and off he went, or maybe it was something else, who knows? “look, i like my drinks as much as the next person,” again, another lie: peter was a purveyor of alcohol more than he was a partaker of it. “but i’d much rather have one or two, then that’s it. i’d rather be spending on food cause , i mean… food’s great, isn’t it?”

food’s great, isn’t it? wow, what a weak statement. by this time, amycus was turned in his seat and looking at him fully, and boy, did that light just… do wonders, because the man was looking a shade angelic that did not align well with what peter knew about him, which was that he was a death eater. what role he played among their ranks, how dirty his hands were in their entire operation, he didn’t know, but surely having someone who looked so innocent had its uses. at least amycus didn’t miss a beat and continued on with the conversation, because peter was sure that he was left staring for a moment there, deeply caught unaware by how… typical amycus looked, as though peter had been expecting him to have actual horns on his head?

“this? you like this?” peter looked down at his own shirt, intending to pretend that he didn’t know why amycus found the clothing interesting… and then realizing that he didn’t really know either, he was too unfamiliar with it since it was new and not his typical style of dressing. black suspenders, gray shirt with the sleeves, big as they were on him, folded high up on his arm, dark plaid pants, and a black hat to boot. it certainly did what he was aiming for when he chose it: it caught amycus’ attention. “wait, wait, let me take a good look at you,” he pulled back a little and did just that, slowly panning from where amycus’ feet rested, up his torso, and came to rest on his face, biting down a little at the corner of his lip after he did. “uh… i know we just met and you have no reason to trust me, but i definitely think you could pull it off. you are pale, but that’s not a bad thing, you look good either way.  i’d let you try it on so you can see for yourself, but… i am wearing it right now. maybe later…”

then just he let those words hang in the space between them, as they were and carrying whatever possibility they held, taking a brief pause in the conversation to down half his drink. liquid confidence should be helpful. “not too bad, at least it makes you unique, and  not just like any ol’ peter out there…” against his better judgement, suddenly worried for some unknown reason about the idea of the two of them touching like it was going to give him away, peter offered his hand for amycus to shake. “cause that’s what it is for me. i’m peter.”

there was something easy about peter’s laugh, and amycus was almost tempted to laugh along, though he tried his best to hold himself back so he wouldn’t seem, well, rude. he’d seen and met enough men in his lifetime to know better than to judge them by their first impressions - which, he had to say, peter was doing a great job of, but sometimes, it was the most charming ones who seemed to turn into something completely different behind closed doors. 

still, he didn’t want to assume the worse. not when he was supposed to be out here clearing his mind. he played with the edge of the glass as he listened, making sure to nod politely, until peter’s words caught him off guard. food’s great, isn’t it? not exactly what he was used to hearing from someone who was trying (he assumed, anyway) to pick him up at a bar, and it made him look up a little, surveying peter’s face for a moment. 

“food’s great,” he agreed eventually, not bothering to hide his smile anymore, “it’s not something i take for granted, you know. having food around, so. it’s a pretty good day if we have enough to eat. me and my sister, i mean.” and he was sure peter didn’t want his life story. he wasn’t willing to give it all away, anyway, but something about his face made him want to talk, for once. probably his curls, he decided. 

and just as he was beginning to think that he was finding his footing in this conversation, it seemed as though his company wasn’t about to let him off so easily - his face was hot as he felt peter’s eyes on him, and he was unsure what he was looking at exactly, until he spoke up again. and then, he felt his throat go dry, eyes shifting like they didn’t know where to rest. “...sure, maybe later,” he repeated, pressing his fingers against the glass. later. 

he copied peter as he drank, finishing the rest of his drink quickly and feeling his head spin a little. it was a good feeling, he thought - at least it was easier to process everything this way. “peter, like the saint. i like it. really.” he reassured the other, “i learned about him. at church.” 

ah, it would have been too much to hope for that her misstep had gone unnoticed. of course there would be a witness to her foolishness, and the flame of embarrassment crawled up her neck and pooled in her cheeks.

and even worse, it was a voice she recognized as part of the mob she was sworn to eradicate.

but that would come later. right then, despite the redness coloring her face and her mood, she wouldn’t dismiss the procured hand. quickly, she grasped amycus’ hand and pulled upright, keeping her gaze down to ensure nothing had spilled from her purse. and when she was sure nothing had escaped her notice, she looked to amycus.

“i don’t think anything’s broken,” she said, lips pursing before managing a small smile. “i would appreciate you not telling mr. black that this occurred at all, though. not until i mention it as something to laugh about.”

he had to admit - sometimes, he wondered how someone like amelia hart had ended up in the same place he had. the surprise was a pleasant one, mostly because she seemed to be more or less willing to engage with him when so many others in the mob weren’t. he almost wanted to ask what she was doing here, but he understood that sometimes, things were better left unsaid. 

if someone asked him the same question, he would hardly know what to say. 

“i wouldn’t. i’m sure he has better things to worry about, anyway. plus, i don’t see him very often.” he paused, “do you?” 

it continued to baffle amycus, even as he sat right in front of her, that celestina warbeck was in his apartment, and for no other reason than to hang around with him. of all people! still, he knew it was rude to gawk so he busied himself with the can of peanuts on the floor near him. 

“ - and then she goes ‘i don’t come here often. this seems like more your crowd.’ like i’m some sort of - i don’t know. circus trash.” he finished, recalling his run-in with emma vanity at the bar the other night. with a sigh, he learned back, looking up at one of the spots on his ceiling. 

“new york isn’t as glamorous as people think it is, is it? i mean, you must’ve been everywhere - is europe really as nice as they make it seem? or asia - someone told me they have tigers there. real tigers.” 

It was no secret that there weren’t many Death Eaters that liked her. However, the biting words from someone who should have been a companion still stung. She was an actress, the criticism often spat behind her back. She was better and better at taking it every day, but she wondered if this was how most of the group felt. “I wasn’t planning on making a habit of it. This isn’t exactly my scene, you know? Seems more like your crowd.” 

Her eyes fell to the ring, just another example of how good she was at her job. “Oh, we haven’t exactly decided yet. Trying to find the right venue, and planning around filming can be quite difficult, you know. You’ll receive an invitation as soon as we send them out, I’m sure,” she said, her normal spiel when someone in their circle asked. 

what would alecto do? he let himself wonder for a moment. she’d probably threaten to take the glass and hit it over emma’s head. but alas, he was not alecto, and he knew better than to make a scene in a public setting, let alone with someone like emma vanity. instead, he kept his eyes on the ring (bad idea) and let out a small sigh at her words. 

“well, don’t bother sending me one. save a penny.” he muttered, looking into his glass for a moment. it would be extravagant, he was sure - like the weddings they held in movies and pictures, with beautiful flowing dresses and sharp suits, hallways covered with flowers. he used to dream about it, too - long before he realized dreams weren’t for people like him. 

but for someone like her - it wasn’t an unrealistic thing. so he sat here, wondering - 

“...why do you do it? why do you stay with them?” he asked, before he could really stop himself. “i mean, you have it all, why do you still...stay with de?” 

“that it is. clever boy.” he says easily, hints of a smile wrapping itself around the corner of his lips, perhaps a touch inappropriate for the moment but since when has he cared about such things? “you know favours have always been my favourite form of currency. and you know best that you always have an unlimited number from me. what a rich man you are, amycus carrow.”

his name rests on the tip of his tongue for too long, leaves behind what should be a venomous thing, if it was anyone else’s name falling out of his lips - but for his, for him, it has only ever been just that: falling.

“you’re afraid of leaving something behind, not dying.” a statement. he could hardly relate; could bleed out on his living room floor right now and think it fair. “dying is the easy part. people buy it from me all the time.”

and at the tremble of amycus’ voice, at the watering of eyes - he stops, sighs. knows this look well. he puts down his cup and leans forwards, black eyes meeting browns too steady, too unflinching.

“if you really came to me because you thought i was the best pancake benefactor for your dear sister, then i would wager someone’s slipped something into your drink. alecto is not of my concern.” only you, for a time, if only momentary. “if something was to happen, then she and i will discuss proceedings. you know that i will see to that.”

and still a malfoy, he is. makes things transactional where there should be emotion.

“i will promise you what you wish when you tell me what mistake you’re running from. it is costly, but you know my word has always been an investment that returns much.”

after all this time, perhaps the other should know this best. of all the promises he’s made to him, lucius has never failed one. only ever the amendments, only ever the meanings of it.

it should seem like lucius is mocking him - after all, there is nothing comforting about his words. still, amycus curls his fists in a little tighter at his name being called, feels like it doesn’t quite belong there. 

he knows he’s right. death will be quick for him, he thinks - if it wasn’t for alecto, he’s sure he would have crossed the river styx too long ago. what about you? he wants to ask, are you scared of leaving things behind, too? but he doesn’t, of course - he doesn’t have the right to, anymore. 

there’s a small laugh that leaves him when lucius leans in. he’s always known the best ways to make him feel foolish. he knows lucius has no obligation to alecto (or him, for that matter). perhaps he’d been counting on sentiment this whole time; mistakenly had believed that some part of lucius still cared for him, somehow. foolish.

but he seems to remember how to surprise him still and amycus looks back up, jaws tightening. if there was ever anything between them, it’d been trust - and he chooses to play the fool just one last time. he looks back down.

“...he was going to kill me first. you could see it in his eyes, like - like he could break me just like that. i reacted.” amycus breathes, wiping harshly away at his eyes with the sleeves of his jacket. he’s not sure if it’s relief in finally being able to tell the truth or fear that lucius will end up using this against him (though he supposes if that happens, he’ll deserve it all the same). “it happened so quickly, luce. i didn’t know what i was doing and i - the next thing i knew, i was running. he bled out.” 

he closes his eyes then, fists curled so tight and fingernails digging into his skin. “i left the switchblade there. the one you gave me.” 

date: february 1925 location: um. some small speakeasy? closed to @amcarrows​

this job was, by far, the easiest that he had been given since the marauders had started their little affair, which meant that his nerves were positively shot, just like his anxiety levels were through the roof, casually strolling now through the doors of the bar with a curt nod of feigned familiarity to the man stood beside it. introduce himself to amycus, make friends, get him talking about his line of work… easy, but easy often meant complacency, and complacency increased the odds of something going horribly wrong and him being the unfortunate victim: the streets had thought him that, alleys and dark corners beating the lesson so deep in him, his very core seemed to shake at any instance of straightforwardness. a struggle as it was to maintain an image of calm collectedness, peter held on to the hope that wearing the best clothes he owned – though they were far, far from being the best in the establishment – would cover it all up, tuck in the imperfect parts of his mask behind it in order to convince his target, add another layer on top of this carefully curated image of innocence, of being nothing more than just a friendly face hoping to make conversation.

speaking of friendly faces… peter was so taken aback at the sight of amycus’ own, glimpsed by him through the mirror at the back of the bar where the man was seated, seemingly deeply lost in thought, that he had to stop and think if he wanted to or even could go through with it, another sign that this was.. far from what he had expected. it was one that he had only ever seen under the harsh glow of street lamps, always at a calculated distance, but now, up close, it seemed so… tranquil, even melancholic almost, and that nugget of curiosity over such emotions pulled him out of his plan enough to carelessly sit himself down next to amycus, making it absollutely certain that the other would have noticed his arrival. not quite the smooth entrance he had imagined himself doing, too late to take it back now.

“oh, sorry, this is an empty seat, right?” he threw the question out into the open, but since it was just him and amycus at that side of the nearly empty bar, it was clear who he was talking to and pointing the barstool with his eyebrows to. placing his sweating, clammy hands on the bar and making to pull himself back up from his seat, peter looked at amycus through the mirror, using it as a buffer out of fear that direct eye contact so quickly would give him away… among other things. “it’s just that… i’ve been here a few times before,” a lie, he was mostly at the boulevardier and he wasn’t the most staunch of drinkers. “and i’ve never seen you here, and all of a sudden getting to sit on this spot felt like the most urgent and important thing.”

sometimes, he liked to think it was a gift of sorts - his ability (if one could even call it that) to be a part of an environment and not be noticed by anyone at the same time. in all fairness, tonight, he wasn’t trying to be seen - if he were, he would know to sit at the tables at the front, would know to act a little coy, would know to make eye contact. tonight, he was here to drown out the noise in his life with anything else, which happened to be alcohol, at this point. 

plans rarely worked in his favor in his life, though. and apparently tonight was no exception, he noted, as he watched the stranger walk towards him and deliberately take the seat next to his. he was pleasantly surprised, though, to see that the stranger was...attractive, for a lack of better words, and against his better judgement, he nodded, mumbling a small “sure,” under his breath. 

and he was rather thankful that the bar was relatively dark, because he hadn’t quite expected the stranger to be so forward. chances were, the stranger would realize this was a mistake and leave soon, or - speaking from his experience - the stranger wanted something from him. either way, amycus chose to entertain. after all, wasn’t that what he was to do? forget about his troubles? 

“oh. well, i don’t drink outside too often, really. always a bit overpriced, if you ask me.” can’t exactly afford to be buying myself drinks left and right, he wanted to add, though he was sober enough to bite his tongue before it slipped out. entertain, he reminded himself, physically shifting in his seat to face his company better. 

an expected answer - from him, from anyone. a curious thing, how amycus is both someone he can read too easily and still is surprised with, slowly padding into his home. keeps things interesting, he supposes. he’ll find a better word for what he thinks of the other later. 

(avoid the idea of what he feels for him; why he turns away from him but still lets him in. avoid the idea that he ever did, believe more of amycus’ last words to him than this gunmetal heart of his)

(believe in him, and it has always been too easy, like this - ) 

“powerful enough kill someone more powerful than you?” sharp eyes cut over to the man on his couch, and doesn’t that question sound like a blade to the throat, slowly digging? he sets down the cup of tea in front of him, stands back with arms crossed and leaning against shelves opposite to tables, too carefully watching. 

“if you want protection, take my professional advice - buy a deadbolt. people don’t buy an unregistered gun unless they know who they’re going to point it at - and who’ll be looking afterwards.” 

he takes a sip of his tea and watches as coins and bills scatter across the table, clinking against the glass. quick counts knows it’s not enough for even his cheapest stock, and god knows he wouldn’t sell that to anyone he wouldn’t want it backfiring on. 

“keep your money. buy alecto something nice if it’ll keep her from scowling all the time.” lucius leans closer, and how eyes catch onto moonlight and still shine onyx, tar-black and empty. 

“who are you afraid of, amycus?” 

amycus doesn’t say much to that - he knows he doesn’t have to confirm it. when the truth gets out, there’s no telling who’ll come for him first - molly, fabian, or the death eaters themselves. in any case, they’re powerful - far too powerful for him to hold off with a single gun but if he goes out trying, at least that’ll mean something, wouldn’t it? 

even so, he takes the tea gratefully, cold hands cupping it gently. it reminds him of other nights, ones much nicer than this. he’d been smiling, then. lucius, too, probably. 

but tonight, he shoots lucius a glare - as if he doesn’t already have a deadbolt at his place. he may not know much but he’s not stupid, and he resents the way his face heats up when lucius tells him to keep his money. “this feels like a favor.” amycus grits his teeth, gripping his cup a little too tight. he wonders if lucius pities him. at least back then, he didn’t have to hold onto his pride like this.

it had been a selfish decision, really. lucius could have given alecto comfort but he’d decided he needed more. stupid. 

“i’m afraid of dying, like everybody else.” he half-laughs, finally lifting the cup to take a small sip, even managing to meet lucius’ eyes. 

“...i made a mistake. i don’t want to make another one.” he sighs, fighting back tears now because this feels too close to a confession, but this is far from who he should be confessing to. “so if anything happens to me, can you promise me - could you take care of alecto?” 

and it’s hardly fair to ask him of that, not when he has a new life void of the carrows. a better one, he’s sure, but he still needs to hear it, because he’s still selfish. “she’s - she needs someone, you know? i don’t even know if she knows how to make pancakes by herself, i just -” 

date: may 1st, 1925 location: random street status: open

If she had a choice, she would punch X.L. if she was to ever meet him. While this information was useful to pass along if the station wasn’t already aware, it completely fucked her over for the next few months. With the mobs having to scramble to find other supplies, any slip of information passed and then acted upon would become that much more noticeable. She had been careful for so long, and now she had to be that much more cautious.

She was going to fucking die before this job finished at this rate.

And here she was, a storm as she strode down the sidewalk, carrying the last few supplies for the week, attempting to mask her frustration. She could scream, she could sneer, she could —

              T R I P 

Skidding along the sidewalk, her palms and knees burned, and she muffled a groan. “Fuck, she muttered under her breath. She was entirely done for the day.

if it were up to him, he would probably avoid walking down nearly-empty streets altogether. of course, with his job being what it was, that was an impossible wish to fulfill - still, the darkness never failed to frighten him, no matter how many times he’d walked up and down this street. 

it certainly didn’t help that he kept hearing something like feet shuffling, and when he finally held his breath and turned around, he thought he could see a lone figure coming from afar. then, much to his surprise, the figure tripped, falling onto the ground. 

“oh, no,” he muttered under his breath, and after a moment of internal struggle, decide it was best to at least check on the other person before moving on. as he got closer, however, it didn’t take him long to realize that it was a more familiar face. the newcomer. 

“i hope nothing’s broken,” amycus offered, leaning over and offering a hand, “if it did, though, i promise i won’t tell mr. black it was you.” 

She didn’t want to say her experience at the Boulevardier was already a poor one, but it was certainly not what she had been expecting. Any semblance of her enjoying the night off alone seemed to have gone out the window, and she gave the man beside her a passing glance.

Amycus was, technically, part of the same crowd she was a part of, wasn’t he? She surrounded herself with the others, and found herself quite fond of Narcissa and her sisters despite herself. This wasn’t exactly her ideal situation, how she saw her life going years ago, but she didn’t see a way out. 

And, she couldn’t see a way out of talking to the small, sad man. “I’m sure you’re right,” she said with a bit of a huff. “Do you find yourself here often, hm?” Emma was good at small talk, that much was certain. 

amycus fought an urge to roll his eyes at her attempt to strike a conversation, and instead finally turned towards her and sipped at his drink again. “i come here to think, sometimes. it helps that i don’t know most people here.” 

and he was usually so good at holding his tongue as speaking his mind rarely got him what he wanted, but he was bitter - almost as bitter as the alcohol in his throat. “though i won’t be coming here much anymore, i suppose, now that i know you like to stop by.” 

with that, he downed the rest of his drink and scowled, something rather shiny sitting on her finger catching his eyes. 

“ - when is it going to be?” amycus asked, voice quiet. “the wedding.” 

he considers himself a creature unfazed - malfoys learn first, learn best of how betraying anything beyond careful porcelain on faces makes you a weak thing. pathetic. undeserving. 

take this as you will - lucius is surprised when he opens the door and finds amycus, eyebrows raised in surprise before reconstructing features again. is even more so after the other speaks, words fought out of lips. unwilling, lucius knows, to be uttered in front of him. 

anyone else, and perhaps he would have felt glee. 

“i don’t want to hold you to any favours, and i’m sure you don’t want to owe me anything.” he says after too long of pause, words carefully chosen and too deep in the silence between them. “though you know me, amycus - i’ve always given you anything you’ve asked for. where i can, anyways.” 

he opens the door a little more, inviting him in, already turning to the kitchen, pulling out cups and kettles with soft clinks breaking the stillness. 

“though, do entertain me - why exactly do you need something from me, hm?”

he almost wishes lucius would have just turned him away, but he is not to blame. not this time. perhaps not then, either - after all, he’s right. he’s always given him everything except for the only thing he wanted. his fault, not lucius’. 

still, he hates it here, only because it reminds him that he’s still the only one that seems to be affected. lucius - from what he can see - has stayed the same; knows what to say, knows that he could use something warm just by looking at him. 

and he’s smart - knows to ask why instead of what, and amycus almost resents him for it. 

“for protection,” he says simply, as he steps into the apartment and takes a seat on the couch, refusing to lean back into the cushions. “it needs to be something small. powerful enough to...” 

he wonders momentarily if lucius might like him better now, a cold-blooded murderer. then again, he never quite figured out what was missing between them, even after it ended. “...and it can’t be registered under anyone’s name. it can’t come back to me or alecto.” 

shaky hands reach into his pocket and he takes out a handful of cash, laying it out on the table in front of him. “this is - this is all i have right now. i can get more, i just - i need a little more time.”