Batty Borgin

Unceremoniously, a bark of a laugh escaped from the blonde’s lips. Though the moronic reporter had attempted to stir up more trouble than he was worth, Lu couldn’t help but rejoice in the almost cruel and unusual way the man’s sordid career had ended. Having no spine was one thing, but no soul? Merlin, what Malfoy wouldn’t give for public executions to be brought back to Azkaban. “I nearly forgot about that little cretin. What do they say…fifteen minutes of fame?” He grinned, his teeth sharp and almost canine. “I’m surprised to hear he’s still on your mind, Borgin. Thought you’d have more interesting plights to keep you occupied.” For anyone with a keen enough eye, one might remember that the reporter’s name had come up on nearly every absurd headline in the last decade–it just so happened that Purebloods were often given more real estate than any actual news. As lovely as their wedding ceremony had been, certainly covering the recent attacks would’ve been ink better spent. 

His chest puffed out slightly as he inhaled. Speaking of Narcissa, the siren had somehow managed to cut his habit down to half–if only on his preference for the comfort that she, rather than the rush of nicotine, could offer. “She’s undeniable.” He murmured, clicking the cigarette case closed and pushing it back into his coat pocket. “Even sent a gift basket to that shite journalist.” He stood up slightly, drawing a glass ashtray from the other side of the bar.  Lucius glanced sideways at the witch, unsurprised to see her visage wiped of any emotional candor. “Do you enjoy it?” He asked, his eyes flitting to her left forearm. “The work?” 

The shrug rose apathetically on her shoulders. She knew what the saying was, but she didn’t like to think much about what anyone said, the masses or not. “Such extreme changes of character always pique my interest.” The reporter had been a nuisance, certainly, but violent? It didn’t take a genius to see that something was wrong there, but, then again, the aurors were the ones on the case, and geniuses they were obviously not. The article the man had written about the potential of her involvement in her father’s accident had been pointing in the right direction, though, the actual ideas shared didn’t resemble much of what had actually transpired. It was funny how stupid the world around her was, unable to pick up on clues and cues. Reality. That’s why newspapers had always been more akin to fairytales than facts. “I’m not sure what plights you might be referring to. I tend not to bother with that of others if it can be helped.” Just as no one had been concerned with hers.

Batty’s eyes noticed the reaction to his wife’s name. The secrecy of their marriage and inability to wait hinted that there were feelings between them, assuming that Narcissa hadn’t fallen pregnant. From her last few encounters with the blonde, she was fairly certain the other hadn’t. Drinking would have been frowned upon if that were the case. “I would think so if she’s found my favor.” The dark haired witch lifted her drink, slightly shifting the ring on her pointer finger with her thumb to the side to chill the glass, before shifting it back into place. She was growing fond of the ring and wondered if she could mimic it’s abilities in other pieces. Modify it to produce a more deadly reaction with no evidence. “Did it have any flowers in it?” She’d noted Narcissa’s interest in the meaning of the blooms at the Ministry Gala. There was no indication that she saw where his eyes had drifted, other than her mirroring of the action. “I do. I’m quite suited for it, or it for me.”

Lucius arched a brow but stifled a laugh with a long draw from his glass. “I’m not sure what you mean,” He echoed coyly, dabbing at his lips with a linen. The near cavernous hallway of the pub couldn’t seem to keep warmth inside, a shiver running over the heir each time the door opened. Merlin, they couldn’t have exerted the effort for a heating charm? “I don’t believe I’ve any enemies. Not formally,” The flash of his teeth was more akin to a wolf’s snarl than a grin. “Who could you be thinking of?” 

His light eyes scanned over the vacant stool between them, knowing well that neither would bridge the gap though certainly any conversation they could spare one another would be better said in a hushed tone. “My poker face isn’t decent enough for retail.” He suggested, tapping his nails along the dingy countertop. “I commend you; serving strangers wouldn’t suit most.” A lighter clicked open in one hand, the other extending a silver cigarette case toward the witch. “Narcissa seems to think you’ve quite the talent for it.”

Batty rolled her eyes at him, they fluttered slightly at the end in a frustration she had to feign. Lucius didn’t quite matter enough to frustrate her in any true sense. He didn’t really bother her, nor please her, if it weren’t for her newfound affection towards Narcissa, the young witch would consider herself fully indifferent to him. Social niceties and business were one thing, but she did both of those without bothering herself about others. “I was thinking of that reporter. Though, I heard he was in Auror custody after New Years, so it seems his work will be much less credible in the future.” She explained, partly because she wanted to see his reaction to the mention of the man that’d outed his marriage. He’d written about her father’s ‘accident’, which none seemed the wiser to expect her of having a hand in. If anything, she had been the young girl that had to take over his responsibilities while trying to finish her final year at Hogwarts. Then, Merlin forbid, the pureblood had to work instead of securing her place in society. She’d played the part well and maintained the shop that had been more of a home than the small estate where she’d resided.

A shrug found her shoulders, but little more than a twitch of her lips hinted at a reaction. “You don’t need one if your products are worthwhile.” She countered, though, the ability to access who could be swindled into the unworthwhile items was just as valuable. Was that really a poker face though? Batty was unsure if she’d ever lived without a mask of deceit on her features. “I did what I had to do. Isn’t that what we were raised for?” She asked, but waved off the cigarette. They, like alcohol, were only useful to her when it suited her socially, or for business, but she didn’t have a need to impress the blond in such a manner. “I enjoy Narcissa.” She stated, “If it weren’t the case, I wouldn’t have bothered to craft her gift, but rather, found something less personal to give her.” Like she had with his part of the wedding gift. If it weren’t for her ability to catalog things neatly in her mind, she likely wouldn’t have remembered what it was she’d given to him in the shadow of the custom accessory she’d bestowed on his wife. “However, she isn’t wrong. I grew up spending much time the shop, it’s only natural that I would be so well suited for the trade.” It wasn’t like she’d had a surviving mother to really see to her being so properly raised as the likes of the Sacred 28 families. Not that she belonged fully to them. If it hadn’t been for nannies, elves, and her own desire to be adaptable, she’d likely have the class of a common halfblood.

“Are we friends?” Lucius murmured, the ice clinking against his glass as he drew it to his smirking mouth. Batty Borgin had been a deeply unstable little whelp as long as he’d known her. Though the witch’s unhindered impulses had always been…interesting to say the least. It was a rarity to be surprised at all by routine small talk, though one could never quite predict was covert barb would slip from Borgin’s silver tongue. “News to me.” 

He turned slightly toward the sea witch, half-expecting her pale hands to be curled around some new toy. After all, such a gorgon was unlikely to be found slumming it with the common rabble without a more sinister agenda. Well, at the very least, his nightcap was bound to come with a show.  “Care to sit? I’m sure it’s exhausting to stand on your cloven hooves all day.” 

“I’m not sure.” She shrugged nonchalantly, Narcissa, Batty thought, was what she’d define as a friend. Lucius was more of a tolerable acquaintance. Someone she didn’t mind doing business with and could handle a conversation with if the occasion arose. But, wasn’t it polite to pretend they were friends? If only for his wife’s sake? “An ancient proverb says that the enemy of my enemy is my friend, though, I’m not naive enough to believe such simplicity in the world.” As the bartender brought her drink, she took a sip. The familiar burn of the alcohol didn’t much please her.

A small smirk formed on her lips as she saw his eyes look for her newest accessory. Something she could play with in the midst of the sticky tables and loud patrons. “I’m already sitting.” She answered off-handedly, as if his presence was of little more importance to her than that of the stool she was perched on. And it was. “I like the work.” She opened her purse and pulled out a necklace, twisting the chain around her fingers, but not touching the pendant. “Always something new to play with.”

Barty’s gaze lingered on the quills for a moment, he was actually quite gifted with charms if he did say so himself.  It was hardly an accident that he was placed in Ravenclaw, it was probably one of the only things he shared with the Crouch patriarch.  And he would never be careless enough not to double check them before handing the quills over to his mother, who was also quite the expert in enchantments and charms.  

Barty wasn’t entirely convinced that Batty had just happened to stumble onto the locket, but wasn’t concerned enough to ask.  “Let me assure you, it would take more than an enchanted quill to reckon with me.”  He said lowly.  Flickering his gaze between the locket and Batty’s face, he tilted his head to the side for a moment. “Seems as though your quite familiar with it.” 

Batty smiled at him, “No, I am certain you’d need something of much more power to cause you any trouble. Not quite the opal necklace, but certainly stronger than a cursed token.” But, the former was in the safe, along with some other heavily dangerous objects. Ones that could be deadly. That had body counts to them. Batty didn’t even take them out to play, it seemed unfair to let a little object do so much damage without giving someone a fighting chance. And the latter, well, those were in a glass display and she did enjoy slipping them in to people’s pockets when she was in school. But, not everyone could handle darkness and pain as well as others.

She continued her work on the pendant, the nose of the woman looking less damaged by each motion of her hand. “Her grandfather brought it in before he gave it to her.” Batty could recall every object that she’d come in contact with and every person she sold one to, or the person that had parted with it. It was all packed away in her mind. “It had needed a polish and a chain, but he also shared with me details of it. Most people will talk to fill the silence.” She glanced up at him, the shadow of a smirk on her lips. Batty was a good listener and knew more than any 18 year old girl really had the right to.

Narcissa couldn’t help but smile. She admired Batty. The woman taking over her father’s shop caused a bit of a ripple through pureblood circles. Personally, she had been thrilled. She knew the shop would only continue to grow with her skills. It was clear she was more talented than her father. Others may not think so but Narcissa prided herself on knowing more than others. “There is nothing wrong with improving sales. I myself am happy to support the business of my friends.” It helped that the vaults for her new family were bigger than some would ever see. Not to mention her own family’s vaults. 

“I’m flattered that you are sharing this with me,” she said with a touch to the necklace. Having something others didn’t was always enjoyable. “Do not be surprised to see me wearing this at every event.” She took another sip of her drink before speaking again. “I can imagine you have seen many items of value. Including things I would be nervous to even look at.” She settled more into the side of the sofa, turning her body towards Batty. “What is one of the most interesting things you’ve seen? Or something that people would be surprised to see?” 

Taking over the business hadn’t been a motivator for Batty when she planned her father’s accident. Especially for the half of the year that she still remained at Hogwarts while he was in the hospital, where he still resided. It was no easy feat, but Batty did love the shop. The history. Even many of the objects held a fondness from her. Others held bad memories and she was more than happy to find them new homes, or destroy them. Some had even become part of her own collection, sick as it was. “I appreciate it, though, the foundation that the shop has built is fairly successful. There’s a reason it’s been running for over a century now.” Purebloods and others alike would pay many a galleon to have secrets kept. And take hits on valuable objects that they wanted out of their homes.

Batty didn’t quite know how to respond to the other’s sincere words. It was odd for her to actually falter for a response. They were always calculated and easily prepared for. “I’ll keep you in mind for any other pieces I might try my hand at.” A smile passed over her lips and she took another bite of the pastry. “I look forward to seeing it on display.” As the topic of the objects came up, her mind seemed to quiet. There was an ongoing inventory in her mind of the objects at the shop, those that had been sold, and those that had only been stored there. “I get to interact with many artifacts. I’d say that the most surprising one I’ve come by was a music box that contained two songs. One would lull the listener into a haze of peace and security. The other did just the opposite, producing vivid waking nightmares.” It’d been one that her father had used in her childhood. “Though, it certainly wasn’t the most interesting. I’ve come across so many throughout the years, it’s hard to pick just one.”

“Thought you were meant to perceptive, don’t you know where I’ve been”  He half smirked for a moment, before giving her a look that said he wasn’t going to get into it.  Not just now anyway.

“Oh Batty, why aren’t you any fun?” In reality, Marcus wasn’t sure he wanted to know what she may or may not get up to.  He would never say this aloud, but over the years he had started to view the younger witch as something similar to a sister, one that he didn’t ask for, but one nonetheless.  “Do you have anything interesting to say?  Other than spilling out judgement”

“Perceptive? Yes. Your personal fan girl, stalker? Not so much.” She took a sip of her drink before offering him a sarcastic smirk. Batty could be somewhat humorous when she wanted to be. It just wasn’t often that she did. At his look, she gave a slight nod of understanding. If he didn’t want to share, there was likely a reason. One of which might have been the amount of people around them.

The dark hair girl shrugged of his words, “Fun is overrated. Calculated chaos, on the other hand...” She trailed off, moving one hand to twist a delicately carved gold ring on the other. The lines of it glowed a soft blue, almost unnoticeable unless one was looking for it and she touched it to her glass, which frosted over, chilling the remains of her drink inside. “Plenty. But it’s more fun to judge you.” Lifting the glass, she took another sip, her lips tinged blue, as were her finger tips when she returned it to the table. Batty always had a few tricks with her and knew how to show them off to others. “Haven’t you anything more interesting to do than sit around and drink? I never have found the appeal of alcohol, it always seemed like a very easy way to lose control.” She did not like losing control. Not when she’d fought so hard for every ounce of it that she had. 

Narcissa would be the first to admit she enjoyed the finer things in life. Along with that came the love of having something someone else didn’t have. This necklace is something nobody else had. Even the one Batty had was unique to her. Somehow both fit the two women perfectly. “I love it,” she said with a smile. “Truly. This is wonderful.” She moved her hand to her neck, letting the snake move around her neck. This quickly shot up to her favorite piece of jewelry. Second to her wedding ring, of course. “I am now even more firm on my stance on separate gifts for couples.” A small chuckle escaped her at her own words. She didn’t even care. After the past few days, she needed something to make her smile like this. 

“I don’t know how you did it but this could be quite the business.” If there was one thing Narcissa excelled at, it was encouraging those with actual talent. The spellwork Batty showed rivaled the best of them. If not surpassed many she knew. “Our house has a great deal of pride even after school. You could charge an exorbitant amount and people would pay it. Maybe even other animals as well if you would want to do it.” She took another sip of her coffee, watching Batty over the cup. “You could even make some things a little more….scandalous if you would prefer.” 

The dark haired witch offered the other a smile. There had been some benefit to growing up in the shop, at the very least. Batty had learned the ins and outs of enchantments and manipulating objects before she’d ever experienced her first bout of magic. She’d felt their effects before she could first remember. Suffered at the malice of dark trinkets and marveled in wonder at the harmless ones. “I think everyone should be. And not just because it’d be better for business.” She joked, but her eyes followed the snake. It truly was the most innovative piece she’d made yet. Certainly the first with that magnitude of abilities. But, most of her friends growing up were objects of similar purpose and when she got to school, books. Her wand was rarely left to rest as she practiced every kind of magic that she could get her hands on. It’d been a necessity to survive and now that she was allowed to flourish, she would.

“I’ll likely incorporate it into the shop.” She nodded in agreement. It was undeniable that she had a way with jewelry. They were normally her favorite pieces to come into the shop. The dark pieces were easily concealed when they were part of an outfit. “I think the rarity of these snakes makes them special. With you as an exception, I’m not sure I’d willingly share the beauty of them so easily. Though, I might consider making a few in other types of metal. Just one of each.” She mused, a black zirconium one would be quite breathtaking, though, she was hardly a metal smith. “More scandalous items?” A smirk played on her lips as she finally picked up one of the baked goods that Narcissa had been delighted by earlier. “I forget what scandalous is sometimes, simply because I feel that I’ve seen it all over the years. The shop hardly discriminates where objects of value are concerned.”

it wasn’t that amycus didn’t notice the hushed panic that seems to cling in the air these days. it’s just that the source of fear doesn’t concern him. both alecto, and batty are most than capable witches, so his concern for them had been minimal as well.  “formal as always, i see.” the sight of his cousin brings on an unfeigned smile, something that is becoming rarer these days. “has anything interesting come in?” much to the ire of the woman he shares his home with it is practically a love letter to dark magic.

Here expression stayed passive as her cousin spoke, offering him little more than a shrug in response. She’d grown up in the shop, her greeting when the door opened was hardly anything but automatic after 18 years. “Sorry to disappoint you, cousin. Would prefer I greeted you with a hug like like some tart?” Batty quipped, arching an eyebrow in his direction, hands still working on the piece of jewelry like it was second nature. “There’s always something interesting that’s come in. The oddest waxing stamp came in a few days ago. It seems to make the letter unable to be opened by anyone but the intended recipient. Along with a dagger that seems to cauterize flesh while slicing it. A coin that can paralyze the carrier at the givers will. The list goes on.”

That girl is long dead. Not long ago, Remus had described himself as such. A child that had never even made it to puberty before his infection; his infant death. It was difficult not to wonder whether or not his father considered the moral depravity of children outside of his own kin. Could Lyall have slaughtered a different toddler with the bite or was it more than familial obligation that stayed his hand? Glancing back at Borgin, her expression unreadable–almost weary–and he faltered, lips parted as the treat hung in the air nearby. “’S a shame for me, yeah?” A lock of sandy hair fell into his line of sight, though the wizard stilled as though afraid to make any sudden movements. “Think I would’ve gotten along well with her, given the chance.” 

Batty’s sudden descent into paltry acting was, however, the biggest disappointment. It had been risky, at best, to venture so cavalierly toward his attacker–a proven Death Eater–but he’d been daft enough to be optimistic. “I spoke too soon, I think.” He murmured, taking a sip from his mug. Remus’ light eyes danced glumly over the tea. There was a vast spiderweb running through the long lineage of Purebloods with rules he might never come to know. Though, with Paddy’s influence, Remus always tried his best to lean in the vein of sympathy. After all, he understood better than anyone how it felt to have just the dream of happiness stripped away at an early age. “Seems to me you’re still quite cunning.” You don’t fool me, Batty Borgin. Not for a second.  With a graceless shuffle, the boy tugged his worn coat back over his shoulders and slid a few coins over the table. Every exchange in Remus’ mind was calculated to the last knut–this cup of tea is half an hour’s pay at the shop, those robes are a full week’s, and so on. Unfortunately, as James and Mary had painfully predicted, this afternoon cost a day’s wage and another night of unrest. “Thank you again for humoring me on this outing. I hope you don’t think me rude, but I am going to call it a night now. M’meds make me a bit knackered.” 

“I think it’s best that she’s gone.” There was little sympathy for the child that Batty once was, least inside of her. That girl was scared and weak. Who she was now...well, she was a force to be reckoned with. Cold and calculated. Scared of no one. Haunter of many. It was much better that way. “You did have the chance.” She said cooly, shrugging a bit. It, like the chances that others had received to show some semblance of care for the hurting child, had been missed. At least Remus had only been a child, himself at the time. There was no real blame to be given for his passing on the offer. “But, we all have to grow up sometime.” Really, though, had either of them had the choice but to grow up too soon?

As he began to excuse himself, she took a sip of her coffee again, simply observing him with curious eyes. He was easier to get rid of than she’d imagined. Which, to her, was just the same. Hopefully, this would be enough to suffice his appetite for whatever his real goal had been. To suss her out? Convince her that what she was doing was wrong? Something along those lines, she was certain. “Of course,” Despite the sympathetic expression that crossed over her features, her tone turned saccharine. A glimpse back to the night of the attack. “Do get some rest, dear. You look quite unwell and I’d hate to see something happen to you.” She made no movement to indicate that she would be leaving as well, taking her sweet time sipping at her drink. “Thank you for the tea. Next time, it’ll be my treat.”

Marcus was almost offended by the question, he was always careful, well careful enough. He’d never been caught at the very least, it wasn’t his fault if sometimes things got messy.  Although a simple following mission didn’t exactly leave alot of room for fun.  “Course.”  He said simply. 

“Oh I duno, I don’t know what you get up to.  Fun is subjective.”  A barely there smirk graced his lips for but a moment.  “Have I missed anything? Found anyone to have fun with yet?”

The one word response didn’t instill much confidence in her, but she let it go. If he hadn’t been caught thus far, maybe he hadn’t needed to leave a mess behind. She wasn’t really sure. “I’m still waiting for you to tell me all about it, now that I bought your drink.”

“I work.” And she played her games, but that wasn’t a topic to bring up in such a public setting. “Other than me? Not much, really. Diagon Alley looks like hell swept through it.” Batty raised her brows at him, a look of distaste washing over her features. “Anyone to have fun with? I don’t like people, Marcus.” And she wasn’t sure that bringing up her newfound interest in Barty would be a good idea. “I’d ask you the same, but I really want to know.”

Barty tilted his head slightly as his gaze flickered from the black quill to Batty’s face. He wasn’t sure if it would be wise to tell her that he was well versed enough in charming black quills to work how he wanted them to or not.  Instead, the smirk on his lips only deepened, he was however more than aware of the darkness that swept into his hues, something which he could hide if he wanted to.  Barty had spent a great deal of time watching over people, learning things like social cues, body language and the like, and there was very familiar about Batty, which he couldn’t quite put his finger on.  It was so incredibly rare for him to meet someone who actually managed to hold his attention.  “I dare say, she only wants them for decoration.” He said somewhat dryly.   Following the movement of her hand, “And where, might I ask, did you acquire that?”  He knew of course who it belonged to, nothing much slipped Barty by, and he was more than certain that his eyes had been caught by it before, the owner however, was regrettably not as interesting as the woman currently holding it.  

Baty was hardly convinced, nor concerned, about his mother’s intentions for the black quills. Though, she did find it curious that he ran errands for her. Plus, she hadn’t actually taken the enchantment off of them, but her jokes rarely landed well, as her expressions were often flat. Leaning in conspiratorially, a smirk pulled at her lips. “Just don’t go using one to write a letter, alright, Darling? It’d be a real shame if I missed the enchantment on one of them.” It was illegal for her to sell them without taking off the enchantment, but she’d been raised in the shop and knew that no one actually bought black quills without at least expecting that their use would slice into someone’s flesh. Looking back to the locket, she took a fine white powder and dusted over the crack in the nose, murmuring an incantation again. It was a bit tedious to do it this way, but it yielded a flawless result. “Someone brought it in. I recognized it and thought you’d be interested.” She’d worked on it before Cantankerus had gifted it to Winter a few years prior, though, it’d only needed a polishing and chain then. “Once I’m finished restoring it, it’s yours.”

It was the bashful sort of grin that caught his interest. Not the tight-lipped smirk from behind the counter, not the dulcet simper of feigning sympathy, but something else entirely. Remus would’ve sported his own delighted expression if it would sit well with the witch. Lily had doubted that Death Eaters had any room in their dark hearts for care at all–but fiendish things could read each other well. And Batty Borgin, it seemed, spent about as much of her time quelling emotion and the werewolf did forcing it out. “It’s a piss poor system,” He murmured, blowing on his mug. In Wales, before his attack, Remus got about two months of primary education before Hope and Lyall resorted to homeschool. His teachers had been baffled; the boy they knew positively thrived in class. Now, were his five-year-old self to reconcile with the current curmudgeon he’d become, they’d hardly recognize one another. He’d been louder than James and Sirius combined and about as popular as one could be in first year. The cup clinked against his saucer, his mouth stinging from the heat. “I mean, I ‘spose I lucked out. Still mates with the lads from my dorm, but I never really knew anyone else. Besides, ‘m hardly the person I was at eleven. Are you? Merlin, I can’t even guess what courage or cunning looks like at that age.” Sorted now, and he’d likely be in Ravenclaw for his bookish introversion or Hufflepuff for his staunch loyalty. Borgin, though, who could say?

“Mm,” The werewolf raised and lowered his decent shoulder. “I know I look about as hefty as a corpse but I eat like a hippogriff. really.” A Hobbit-like diet had always been the easiest route for explanation, though Remus didn’t fancy  the thought of another moment lost in translation. He nodded apologetically around his fork, having already finished his half of cake. “‘S true, you caught me. Would it make you feel more comfortable if I said what we both know?” His hand, reaching for the offered biscuit, hung momentarily for the air as he caught Batty’s eye in question. “You sure I can have this?” Though he’d spent several hours agonizing the many ways this encounter could go–best case in being turned down and worst case back in St. Mungos–an articulate speech was never formed. After all, the Death Eater’s company had been so unlikely he hadn’t properly prepared. “I would’ve said it outright at the shop but I didn’t think you would come. Plus, I really was looking for a set of two-ways. Cheers, yeah?” He smiled a little bashfully at the deception. They may have been on opposing sides, but picturing each other as two dimensional knights in the war of good versus evil would hardly do any good. Homer wrote of both armies, Shelley had blurred the lines of monster and man, and Remus Lupin had simply been shown mercy time and time again. Fate may have been cruel, but he didn’t have to be. “I just…wanted to know what kind of person you were. Sorry for not being more forthright about it. Also…,” Remus glanced sideways to make sure their server still kept her position near the vestibule. “Apologies again, but I can’t, in good conscience, give your knife back. S’not a family relic or anything, is it?” 

Batty reached for her cookie, breaking it in half and dipping it into her coffee before taking a bite. The bitterness in the cup helped quell the sweetness in the treat. It melted in her mouth that way, but she didn’t let herself relish even in that feeling. She’d grown up knowing that things she enjoyed were able to be taken away from her at any moment. Or twisted into a hellish nightmare. It was best not to enjoy anything. Easier, really. “I never understood it.” She offered. It seemed quite asinine to divide students, pit them against each other with quidditch and house points, separate common rooms and dorms, and heads of house, only to expect them to all get on swimmingly after that. To think they were equal. Sure, Slytherin hadn’t believed them all to be, but the others? Hadn’t they wanted peace among the lot? “But, humans love to put labels on things. Divide them.” Wasn’t that human nature, after all? Stigmatize anyone with a shred of difference? All monsters were born of humanoids, that much she was sure. “No. That girl is long dead.” And with that statement, cold and unfeeling as if she were commenting on the weather, she took another bite of her cookie. Batty had made sure to kill her younger self as soon as she’d learned how to be strong.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but not in anger; in curiosity. Would he really say it? The organ in her chest pumped blood just a bit faster. This was a fun game. Not one she’d planned on, but intriguing just the same. Still, only confusion showed on her features after he spoke, tilting her head slightly, as if to question what he was on about. She let the silence surround them just a bit. The exact amount of time that felt natural to question things. Her inhale, the opening of her mouth, the frozen movement of her hands were all so perfect that it really did seem like she had no idea what the other was talking about. “Knife?” Her eyes slowly feel to his sling, before blinking back up at him. As if she’d truly convinced herself that she had no inkling of what he was speaking about. “Remus, I-” She paused, as if trying to find the right words. Oh, what a gloriously fun game this was. “Did you...did find a knife from the shop? Or...I’m not really sure what you’re on about. I’m sorry if something I sold was...was used to harm you, but I’m certain I haven’t the slightest about what you’re talking about.” Batty seemed to mull over this idea, her hand lifting the cup of coffee so she could nurse it. Almost like a security blanket. Her eyes looked around the shop nervously. Scared. Confused. She’d perfected those looks in the worst manner possible. “Do you think that I- that I hurt you?” Her voice wavered slightly, the tone quiet. A look that crossed between disbelief and shock.

Narcissa was not known for her patience and that included with presents. Let alone ones hand delivered for her by the owner of a shop known for it’s more interesting items. She managed to carefully unwrap the package and her eyes went wide. It was a gorgeous snake necklace. Truly it was something she would pick out for herself. She picked it up to get a closer look and it felt warmer than it should. Like there was some sort of magic in it. As soon as she held it up, it started to move around her wrist, fastening as a bracelet would. She couldn’t keep the excitement off her face as she looked at Batty. Her necklace at the ball had been of great interest to Narcissa. Could this actually be a similar piece? She carefully peeled the necklace off her wrist and moved it towards her neck, actually giggling as it moved around it. 

“This is absolutely incredible. I’m not sure if that’s even the proper word for how perfect this is.” Her excitement was obvious from her voice if not by the smile on her face. “How ever did you find another one?” She had thought it would be a one of a kind if not custom made object. The fact that one similar was around her neck was something she never thought possible. “Thank you. This is the best wedding present I’ve gotten and most likely will get.” She reached out, squeezing her arm lightly. If she knew how she would feel about it, Narcissa would be hugging her right now. 

Verdant eyes watched with great curiosity as the other opened the gift. Was that excitement raising inside of her? Batty wasn’t one to give many gifts, except usually out of obligation. It was rare to put so much effort into them. But, something about the blonde drew her in. Likely the intelligence the other held, or the way she carried herself. Certainly, the article had been a major factor, but only because she’d never taken much notice of Narcissa before that. She’d had little reason to. The joy that the other displayed made Batty swell slightly with pride, though, she gave off nothing more than a smile. A genuine one that felt foreign on her lips. Her eyes followed the snake, making sure that her wand work had worked the same as it had when she’d tested it before. It truly was her best work yet.

“I’m glad you like it.” It was harder than she thought to be so authentic after such a long time suppressing herself. When was the last time she’d openly cared about what another thought of her? Of something she’d done? For more reason than a personal or business gain? “The necklace was something we acquired at the shop some time ago. The intricate detail begged to be brought to life. Enchantments of the sort have been an interest of mine and I used my own as a model, of sorts.” Batty gave a small shrug, as if the hours of work had been nothing. And they really hadn’t, she’d enjoyed it like one might a puzzle. The squeeze of her arm drew her attention. She’d experienced little physical affection in her life, so it often surprised her. “I’m happy to hold such an honor.”

Remus nodded solemnly, fiddling with the top of the small teapot their server had placed in front of him. A waft of bergamot billowed over the creaky wood, bringing the wolf some small sense of solace. Sharing a meal, even tersely, with a known Death Eater felt a little like a strange fever dream; the product of his sleeplessness in the hospital or the many potions he’d downed moments before gathering the courage to ring the bell of Borgin and Bourke’s. His first year, landing eyes on the scar-covered witch was a scenario neither his parents or the Headmaster had readied him for–surely Dumbledore would have mentioned if two wolves were to attend Hogwarts together…wouldn’t he? The practiced words tumbled mechanically out his mouth before he’d given them any thought. No one can know, Remus. We may not be able to protect you if other students find out. “I’ve always sort of regretted that encounter.” He splashed the tea into the mug supplied, the color a touch too light for his liking. Eager, as always, when it came to anything sweet. “Not saying you and I would’ve been the best of mates had I been more candid. But I’m not particularly fond of lying, unless it gets me out of a detention.”

He unwrapped a small set of silverware, cutting a piece of apple cake cleanly down the center and setting one half on Borgin’s saucer. “M’favorite. Tuck in, if you like. ‘m on my second supper.” His fork clinked lightly over his own plate as he scraped up a bite. Remus watched the Death Eater speak with all the interest of one watching a footie match; already guessing each strike and surprised still when it came. “I didn’t tell you for pity.” Really it had felt more like the secret and shame of his lycanthropy had been welling up for years–since his last confession–each recounting slowly chipping away at his own walls. It was almost pleasant to push the weight off his sagging shoulders, even if his audience was wildly unorthodox. “I can tell that you don’t trust me. S’aright, why should you? You’re probably quite used to people trying to swindle you at the shop.” A sticky spoonful of honey dipped into his cup, swirling in the tea, followed by a thin stream of milk. “But I’m beginning to think that if I tell everyone my deepest secrets…I’ll be bulletproof.” His light eyes caught hers, though they seemed to look beyond her gaze. “Excuse the expression. Curse-proof? I’m not sure what the magical equivalent is.” Remus chuckled lightly. “Point being…I don’t want to die anymore. But I can’t exactly say I’ve been living well the last fifteen years.” 

The bitter smell of black coffee rose from her mug, beside two cookies. They’d brought one for him, it seemed. The witch’s gaze left Remus, to look over at the owner, standing near the front post, and she offered her a grateful smile. Something rare and saved for the people in her life, what few of them there were, that had shown her some semblance of kindness in her life. They’d never known that Batty’s father hurt her, had no reason to think that, but had still showed a great kindness to her. She’d fantasized as a young child what it would be like if they were her parents. How safe a home like theirs would be. But they didn’t notice the scars hidden beneath the glamour her father had used. No one ever did, except when she needed a healer and later years in school. Even now, the charm was like a haze over the old scars that hadn’t been fixed with potions, salves, and spells. Though, there were few left. Lifting the mug to her lips, she took a sip, but showed little reaction to the warmth or taste. But there was a tug in her chest at his words. He’d regretted the encounter? The thought made her squirm in her skin and even a bit in chair, readjusting herself. “No, I don’t think the lions and snakes would have made it easy to be much of any sort of friends.” She nodded, not offering any of her own regret over the experience. Not a hint at how hard it’d been for her to approach him and open her mouth. To attempt a connection when she was so terrified of being hurt, or worse, being seen and ignored. Forgotten.

“Second supper?” She asked, the idea piquing her interest. “I’m alright. Though, they brought an extra cookie for you.” Her gaze indicated the plate. Batty Borgin was not the type that shared food off of someone else’s plate. Meals weren’t a social event for her, even at Hogwarts she’d eaten quietly, for the most part. Just a means of survival. She rarely even allowed herself to find pleasure in food, as it’d been tarnished in her history. “I don’t pity you. You survived.” Her words were sincere. She didn’t pity him. Pain was as much a part of life as breathing. He wasn’t unique because he’d suffered and it certainly wouldn’t do either of them any good if she felt sorry for him.  But she could understand his pain, better than others that hadn’t experienced so much of it. Empathize. She wished to wash that word from her mind and her veins as the alien feeling coursed through her. “I don’t think you’re trying to swindle me. I just don’t think you’re being truthful about your intentions of this encounter.” Her words were frank and she gave a small shrug. His reasoning for this tea time was unclear to her and she didn’t like that. The inability to read his objectives didn’t sit well with her, especially as she knew he recognized her as the Death Eater that had attacked him. “I know what bullets are. I’ve had a gun or two come across the counter in my lifetime. Had to turn them into the ministry for misuse of muggle artifacts, of course, but I have seen them. And there’s a jinx that makes small objects act as such as well.” Her hand was not on her wand, but she murmured the incantation, “Waddiwasi, I believe.” The witch didn’t relish the idea of being less knowledgeable in anything, including muggle artifacts, than others. Even Remus, who she thought to be incredibly intelligent. “I’m still not sure what your will to live, or live better has to do with me. I don’t know my life to have much impact on yours. Is there an object, or antique you’re looking for to enhance this? Or protect you?”