necro / mancer

He couldn’t imagine the Dark Lord being happy that Amycus was still alive and god he wished he could deal with this problem right then and there but unfortunately, as clouded as his mind was with anger, he still realized how badly that could backfire on him with tensions already running so high. “I’m surprised you had it in you. Since you fucked up so spectacularly in the first place,” It didn’t escape his notice, the way that Amycus circled closer to the entrance of the alley where he might be more visibile and it did give him some sense of satisfaction. At least Amycus knew who he was fucking dealing with. He moved quickly, grabbing his shirt and slamming him in the wall behind him. “I did miss not being the one who killed you,” he said slowly, his eyes glinting dangerously, “I should fix that.” 

“Well, color me disappointed. I thought you’d be happy to see me,” he replied, ignoring the fuck up comment. Amycus knew he fucked up. Everyone already assumed he was the Fuck Up™ so really he was just living up to the expectations people had for him. The next thing he knew, Evan was grabbing him by the collar and pinning him against the wall and Amycus was having deja vu. Some kind of grunt that sounded a lot like a moan escaped his lips but he made no move to struggle against his hold. “This position’s familiar,” he mused, toeing a dangerous line by pushing all of Evan’s buttons at once. He knew Evan could kill him if he wanted to. Hell, he knew Evan wanted to. He also knew he would have done it already if he was going to do it today. His eyes darkened and he smirked like the asshole he was, tongue swiping over his lips. “Now, now Evy. Don’t make any promises you can’t keep.”

While she wanted to believe him, wanted to believe the obvious lie that everything was going to be alright and that she didn’t need to worry, Marlowe couldn’t stop the feeling of unease in her stomach. There was blood in a very inconvenient spot on his head, for one thing, but the most concerning was his eyes. Some people thought the Carrows held nothing in their souls, but Marlowe was one of the few who saw past the darkness. And she could see some pain, even if he wouldn’t admit it. She could see fear too. Who in the world was Amycus Carrow scared of?

Marlowe almost choked on tears again at his reassurance that he was alive. At the risk of sounding ridiculous, she wanted to repeat the words again. He’s alive. He’s alive. He’s alive. Blimey. She wanted to be happy. She should be happy. But what did that mean? Who had hurt him, and why wasn’t he telling her? The thoughts were swarming now, and she knew that he would be able to tell just how much her brain was overthinking the situation.

Then, though, he kissed the back of her hand and the tears slid out again. “Oh, bloody hell,” she said, shoulders crumbling at his touch. He was alive. “I’m okay… I mean, much better now.” Marlowe hiccuped and she hated the sound of it. How weak it felt leaving her lips. “I didn’t know what had happened so I… well I talked to Sebastian. And then they said… well I heard someone at the Coffin House say you were, y’know.” Marlowe swallowed the lump in her throat and shook her head once more.

“I’m just so glad you’re… here.” Okay didn’t seem like the right word. Amycus wasn’t okay, and neither was she. Marlowe’s usual brazenness around him had vanished in favor for whatever the hell was flowing from her lips right. “And I’ve had a lot of alcohol today. Had to drown my sorrows, y’know. Wallow in pity, and –Oh bloody hell, I think I told my sister that…” That she loved him? Well she very well couldn’t tell him that, now could she? Could she? This whole situation was so confusing, and Marlowe’s head was truly swimming at this point. “Um, that I didn’t get to say goodbye. I mean.”

“Dead, Marlowe.” His voice was quiet but firm. “Someone at the Coffin House said I was dead. Someone wanted me dead, someone thought they killed me, and I need them to continue to believe it,” he pleaded, holding her gaze in his. He hated having to ask her something like this. He liked that she stayed neutral, wanted her to stay out of the damn war, if only because he knew she would never join the Death Eaters. He wanted her to stay safe. He knew it was hard for her, to think or let alone to say it out loud but he wasn’t ready for the rest of the world to know the truth yet. Only his world. Only her. “Can you do that? For me?” She mentioned Sebastian, and he made a mental note to reach out to him. He was one of the few people Amycus actually, kind of, considered a friend and honestly, Amycus knew he wouldn’t risk exposing him. Then there was Rookwood, someone he was friendly enough with when it was convenient. He needed people on his side, people that didn’t want him dead.

Alive. Okay. Peachy fucking keen. There wasn’t a word to describe what Amycus was. He was nothing. He didn’t even feel like he was ‘here.’ He felt like he was a thousand miles away. The corners of his lips tugged down when she mentioned drinking all day. Bloody hell was right. She cared about him. She mourned him. He loved her in a way he didn’t think was capable of. He rose a curious brow but let her hesitation slide, not wanting to upset her anymore by questioning her. He leaned in closer, his free hand moving to rest on her cheek, fingers threading into her hairline. “No goodbyes, okay?” He paused, dropping his chin to his chest but lifted his eyes to meet hers again. “I- have another favor to ask,” he admitted, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth. “Can I stay with you? Just... just one night?”

The werewolf would’ve laughed if he wasn’t in the foul mood he usually found himself in after face time with the slithering bastard. “Considering what’s landed you in this position I don’t have much faith in that Carrow. And your friends the ones that are out for your blood. Really you don’t have much to offer other. In truth the question is what do I have to gain?”

“No. No,” he argued, lifting a finger as he tried to get his point across. “Wanted me dead. Past tense. To prove a fucking point to the vigilante assholes who fucking kidnapped me.” He was bullshitting, really. There were probably a few that really wanted him dead. The rest didn’t care... but if the Dark Lord wanted him dead, he knew he was on borrowed time... unless... He paused, lips curling into a small smirk. “You gain me. An ally. A friend. A fucking puppy, I don’t fucking know.”

As soon as Marlowe took in his face, really was able to see the dark circles under his eyes, she felt her stomach drop. He may not have died, but that didn’t mean he didn’t suffer a tragedy. Marlowe knew he would never admit what had happened to him; no, Amycus Carrow was not one to talk about his emotions whether they be good or bad. He hid behind sarcastic remarks and witty comments that had occasionally sent Marlowe into fits, stomach hurting for hours afterwards. She knew he was trying, now, but her heart broke for him.

Finally regaining control of her movement after the shock of what had happened, Marlowe sat down on the stool next to him, scooting closer. Her heart ached to just pull him to her chest, but she didn’t dare. Not here. Not yet. “Friends, huh?” she asked, laughing through a sob. “We need to talk about your definition of friend.” Her eyes scanned his face, noticing blood just in his hairline. Quickly, she called the bartender over, asking for a glass of water, and dipped her napkin in, gently wiping at the spot that he’d missed. “These so-called friends… anyone I should be concerned about?” 

Her eyes met his, fire burning in her own pupils. “You’re alive,” she repeated, trying to convince herself. She grabbed his hand wrapping her fingers through his, as if that would make the connection. A part of her wanted retribution; but the other part realized that these people who had hurt him very well might be her friends. It could have been anyone in the Order, since the Death Eaters so clearly thought he were dead. Even his own sister… Marlowe shuddered at that thought. Had Amycus told Alecto yet? She couldn’t be sure, and all of her questions felt insensitive. He’d clearly been through hell and back. “Who do I need to hex?” she asked, meeting his softness. Their conversation would barely be noticed, even by the people closest to them. At this point, Marlowe didn’t even think she needed to cast a silencing spell. 

Without thinking about it, Amycus hooked his foot around the leg of the stool she sat on and drew her even closer. Like he was trying to anchor her there. Like he didn’t want her to leave his side. “Friends,” he repeated, but lacked any hint of emotion in his voice. He didn’t have friends. Marlowe was his friends. Or- hell. He didn’t know what she was. She was everything. Alecto was his only friend, and that was only because he shared a womb with her. Friends were people you chose to hang out with, and Amycus didn’t like anyone. Anyone but her. He allowed her a moment to take in his appearance, watching her look at him. He chuckled under his breath as she called the bartender over, but didn’t put up a fight. She needed to take care of him, so he’d let her. “Nothing you should worry your pretty little head about,” he reassured her, voice low.

She grabbed his hand and he almost pulled it away. The way her fingers intertwined with his, forging a connection between the two of them, it was warm. It was nice. It was a foreign feeling. “I’m alive,” he repeated, knowing she could hear it a thousand more times and never fully believe it. He truly felt sorry that she went through the pain of thinking he was dead. She may have been the only person, except for Alecto that cared. Even his parents would see it as a minor inconvenience. It was almost sad, if you thought about it, but Amycus just couldn’t find it in himself to care. That apathy was reciprocated... for the rest of the world. Not for Marlowe. Never for Marlowe. He lifted their hands to his mouth and kissed the back of hers before dropping them back in his lap. “I mean it. Don’t worry about it. If anything happened to you...” he trailed off, not knowing how to end that sentiment. He dragged his bottom lip between his teeth before speaking again. “I’ll take care of it. I promise.”

Evan didn’t think Carrow could surprise him anymore. He had expected just about the worst from him, no low really low enough. Had been almost satisfied when he had seen him drop in the graveyard, the only fitting end for him, really. And yet, he had been on a round around Knockturn Alley today, the Aurors had increased surveillance around suspicious areas after everything that had happened. Evan was completely taken aback when he saw him, his eyes widening in shock for a moment. Evan was quick to neutralize his expression but fuck. Didn’t they already deal with this problem? So Carrow had managed to escape. Which meant the Order hadn’t even been able to manage to do that one thing right. He was inexplicably angry at their incompetence for a moment, turns out the Order was inconvenient in more ways than one. They had probably killed some nobody who had drunk Polyjuice Potion. Fucking perfect. He walked towards him thinking that he should end this right here and now and this time he would make sure Carrow stayed dead. He would have too if he was sure no one would see them. “Unpredictable as ever, Carrow,” he finally said, his jaw tense. “Can’t say I’m happy to see you alive.”

“I like to keep people on their toes,” he replied dryly. Rosier was just about the last fucking person Amycus wanted to know he was alive because he’d go running his mouth to someone and his cover would be blown. Then he really would be a dead man... if Evan didn’t kill him right here and now. He wouldn’t put it past the Death Eater to try it, but it was risky this close to the shops. He not so casually circled his... friend(?), putting him closer to the entrance of the alley. What was the worst thing that could happen? Someone else might see him? Not ideal but, his cover was good as blown anyway. Might as well try to save his own ass for another day. “Don’t lie, Ev. You would have been heartbroken if I had died by another’s hand.” He was really pushing his fucking luck, but knew it was better to butter Evan up than to piss him off... even if the latter was always tempting to do. “Come on, admit it. You missed me,” he pressed, lip jutting out in a small pout even though there was a hint of a smirk in his dead eyes.

The werewolf raised an eyebrow at the young wizard, though not a moment later an almost feral smile made it’s way across his face. Carrow was but a dead man, the death eaters believed him to be dead yet the order knew of the truth, in the time he had before that changed was precious he was here for salvation. “Then you better start by telling me what you plan on doing for this favor.”

Honestly, Amycus knew he had about a fifty-fifty chance of walking right into certain death. Okay, sixty-forty... or eighty-twenty. Whatever. Greyback certainly didn’t owe him any fucking favors, but Carrow was a businessman. He knew what he was asking for would come with a heavy price tag. “Dot dot dot, to be decided or whatever,” he replied with a halfhearted shrug, pushing a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m smarter than I look and I have a lot of friends in high places.” Friends was pushing it. Associates, maybe. Acquaintances, barely. “I can be a priceless asset to you. A lot of people think I’m already a dead man, so what do you have to lose?”