futue te ipse

Gilderoy generally did all of his beauty supply shopping in Muggle suburbs where he thought no one would notice him. His beauty secrets were secrets, after all. But he’d run out of mascara and that was basically a national emergency. Like, DEFCON 1 levels of emergency. He could definitely not go out in public without mascara it was not happening. So he’d stopped at the local drug store closest to Diagon.

Since he was already there, it only seemed logical to stop up on some other supplies. He’d run out of eyeliner and the only blush he had left was possibly Pandora’s. Only there was someone in his way, standing right there in the middle of the snack aisle on the way down to make up.

“Excuse me,” he said, tapping the person on the shoulder. “Sorry, I have to get past you.”

“Do you?” Bas turned around slowly, his best danger grin already on his face. He hadn’t been intending to run into Gilderoy Lockheart, only to grab some acceptable food to keep at the stadium for times when practice ran long enough that he had to eat there, but he absolutely was not going to deny himself a chance to mess with his favorite target. Gilderoy reminded him of one of Squash’s brightly-coloured mouse toys-- practically designed to be torn apart.

It was practically asked for at this point-- sure, Bas’s oversized hoodies likely made him hard to recognize from behind, but Gilderoy had touched him without permission. A lot worse than some minor torment had happened to people over that. “You know, I’m not so sure you do. I think you might want to take a walk with me-- there’s a rather lovely view of the river just a few streets over, and it happens to be right on my way to practice. You’re not worth being late over, even if you are fun.” 

“Oh, so if you drink it in a potion it’s okay but if I put it on my salad it’s suddenly gross?” Mirek moved his fork in a circular motion as he spoke. Eel eyes were a delicacy, and he didn’t come here to debate the fact. In all honesty, he started eating them when he’d first started as a Brewer, and he had no time to go out to get “real” food. But they were fairly delicious, really. Like pickles.

“Don’t look at me like that! I’m a healer, I know what I’m doing.”

“I wouldn’t drink any potion with those in it.” Bas glared at the plate suspiciously, almost entirely sure the world was playing an elaborate joke on him by pretending things like that were intended to be eaten by people. “You should get your license taken away just for suggesting that, honestly.”

Andromeda stumbled back tripping over her heel landing flat on her bottom staring back up at Rabastan in shock. Her body shook slightly in fear. How could she be so stupid to let her guard down. She was a silly girl still wishing her friends and family cared about her as they once did. “I’m - sorry.” Andromeda whispered her eyes still wide fear sticking her to the ground. “what - what happened Baz?” Clearly he wasn’t okay. It had been foolish of her to hug him, to think he was the same as he once was, not even she was the same person. 

“I’m sorry - foolish of me, I won’t make that mistake again.” Andromeda said getting her voice under control careful to keep the uneasiness out of it. Andromeda stood up brushing herself off and taking several steps back from him. Baz looked like a wild animal that had been caged. It was frightening. 

Bas stared at Andromeda, doing his best to put his thoughts back in order. She wasn’t coming any closer, backing away really, which put her as unlikely to try again-- Andromeda wouldn’t hurt him, there was no way she could before he could stop her. 

Strangely enough it was the Pandora Negotiations he’d had with Alaric that came to his mind, where he could pull a knife on Pandora if she touched him but had to put it away when she wasn’t a threat anymore. Andromeda wasn’t a threat, and so the knife went back into his sleeve.

“I don’t, I don’t touch people,” Bas explained, voice nearly devoid of emotion as he tried to figure out how he should react. Alaric was his usual baseline as to how normal people did things, but he’d never seen Alaric pull a knife on someone. Without the panic though, there was just nothing. “Not just you. Barely ever Evan, never Rodolphus. I don’t touch people.”

The nickname, calling her family, Andromeda’s lower lip quivered her eyes glossed over suddenly with unshed tears. It was all she wanted, was still to be loved by her family, by the people she once called friends. Andromeda leaned forward her arms wrapping around Bas in a hug. 

Foolish maybe - if his words were untrue he would have been able to kill her in an instant but she couldn’t seem to think about that right now, his words and willingness to help her had put a crack in the walls she tried to hard to maintain, as if none of what was happening to her and around her seemed to affect her. “Thank you Bas.” she whispered. “You don’t know what this means to me.” 

Bas froze when Andromeda hugged him, every muscle in his body going tense. He felt the air leave his lungs, like the world was closing in on him and he wasn’t able to draw breath back in. He didn’t touch people, he’d drawn knives over much less, he didn’t touch people. 

“No,” he finally managed, shoving Andromeda away as he stumbled backwards. People never listened though, not until-- the knife was suddenly in his right hand, he didn’t care if it ruined the moment or whatever the fuck, bad things were going to happen if Andromeda touched him again and she deserved to at least have the warning. “I don’t-- Don’t touch me. Please.”

“Funny, our coach says the exact opposite,” she laughed.  She wasn’t sure how many ways there were to interpret get the most points by the time the snitch is caught, but she supposed to each their own.

“It’ll be fantastic when anyone but the Magpies win the first season back,” she countered.  Obviously it would be preferable that her own team manage to snag the win, but the Magpies were the team that they loved to see lose.  Their loss was everyone’s victory – at least that was how it went for her teammates.

“Maybe that’s why we win.” Bas raised an eyebrow, though he knew full well that Coach’s difference in style was entirely to do with the sort of gremlins that got shuffled onto the team. It was a testament to Coach’s abilities that he could get them to work together at all. 

He rolled his eyes at that, being more than aware that was how the rest of the league felt. He’d only been with the Magpies for two seasons after all, he’d seen it from the outside. “Who’s really going to win? Appleby? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Alecto sat up straighter at his words, a flash of anger in her eyes.

“And the dead was my betrothed, and no matter what you accuse me of, I was fond of him.”

Until he tried to lay his filthy hands on me, push me into the box of being his little, childbearing wife. His trophy, his accessory, for his pleasure alone…

She paused, closed her eyes. Angering Bas wouldn’t do. Despite her displeasure at their arranged marriage, it could be worse. They had always been friends, and she was sure that he wouldn’t treat her the way Augustus had. She had to calm down and make amends.

She opened her eyes and looked at him, perhaps more honestly than she ever had. They were to be a united front, after all. She needed him on her side.

“Apologies,” she said quietly. Then, even though the word burned her throat and she twisted her fingers with discomfort, to show she meant it as more than a courtesy, as Bas knew her well enough to know her apologises were empty- “No, Bas, sorry. You’re right. Augustus was your best friend. Of course, speak of him.”

She looked away, hating the weakness he was making her show. It wasn’t that he’d won, she was choosing this course of action herself, but it still made her feel naked.

“Perhaps… As he would have at the least been an usher, perhaps we should include a subtle nod to him, to his memory, at the wedding.”

“If you were fond of him, you wouldn’t have killed him.” Bas didn’t raise his voice, but it was clear there was danger in his words. He didn’t like to be lied to or toyed with, and he didn’t like to be treated as if he were blind to the things that went on around him. “I’d give you the benefit of the doubt and say you just stood by while Amycus did it, but I’d rather not think of you as a coward.”

He crumpled the paper in his hands at the word apologies-- he knew what Alecto meant when she said that, he’d known her too long to fall for that, and the revision to sorry didn’t mean all that much. If she was sorry, she wouldn’t have done it. 

But they were going to have to get along, weren’t they? He didn’t want to be checking his morning tea for poison as apparently Bellatrix should be. “A subtle nod won’t bring him back.” So much for that. He smoothed the crumpled paper in his hands, trying to keep his more barbed thoughts in check. “But it’d keep the papers from talking, maybe. Though Rodolphus could probably just silence them entirely.”

Alecto caught the screwed up paper easily in one hand and dropped it onto the table in front of her.

“Bas, I think you are the only one who suspects me of such an act.”

She swiftly moved along the subject. She didn’t want to dwell on her exfiance longer than necessary.

“I’m sure it must be unlucky to speak of the dead when planning a wedding, even a sham wedding, as ours is bound to be.”

She picked up the next invitation. Black and silver - far more promising. She held it out to Bas to look at.

Bas had to admit that the black and silver wedding invitation Alecto held up was nowhere near as atrocious as the others had been, so rather than making a face he remained neutral at the sight of it. 

“The dead was my best friend, and I’ll speak of him whenever I want.” Despite the underlying threat in Bas’s words, he couldn’t shake the cold feeling in his chest at the thought of Augustus. It seemed to only get worse over time, like ice layers building up in the dark winters of the highlands. 

“Say his name when you speak of him, or the wedding’s off.”

“It should go to you Bas.” Andromeda said nodding her head and holding her hand out for him to take the ring. “I know it’s not difficult for you, but I appreciate it all the same, especially since you’re doing this for me of all people. You shouldn’t want to do anything for me, honestly I’m just surprised you’re speaking to me.” she shrugged. 

She was a blood traitor, the people she grew up with now looked down on her in disgust, her life was even at stake because of it. “I don’t want to be in debt to you.” she said pushing her hand forward so he would take Evan’s ring. 

Bas took the ring from Andromeda’s hand, staring at it for a moment in disbelief. It was real and it was here, even as Evan wasn’t. A physical thing he could hold. The sort of memento he’d never been able to have while Evan was alive, even as such things had been so casually given to Andromeda and Laura.

He unfastened the thin silver chain that held the St. Christopher’s medal he always wore around his neck, putting the ring onto the chain were it would be safe. The fiddling required was a good cover for his silence, allowing him to find his words. 

“Thank you, Andie.” Insufficient, but what else was there? “Debt doesn’t exist to family, though. Burning names off family trees doesn’t affect blood-- and as long as you were Evan’s family, you’re mine.”

“Beep beep,” Alaric repeated in an amused tone, his smile growing wider when Bas declared Squash precious in the same breath he declared her a daemon. Of course that was what it took to make Bas decide something was precious.

Soon enough Diagon alley was blooming into sight around them and Alaric’s first reaction was to look down and check on Raphael. “You okay, sweetheart? Have you apparated much with your daddy?” Raphael seemed remarkably well behaved for one of Bas’ cats - but considering that it was really Squash that Alaric was thinking about, that didn’t seem fair to Raphael.

Turning his attention to Bas so they could actually get around to checking with the tailor, Alaric asked, “Are you only going to get him hoodies or are you thinking other things as well? I think a vest would look dashing on him and he might need some little cat slippers, although I don’t know if a cat would actually keep those on.”

“You’ve heard the noises she makes-- she screams and she beeps, there’s no real in-between. I swear, whatever’s wrong with her face extends to her voicebox.” Bas smiled even as he described the cat with such harsh language, the edge of his words worn smooth by the fondness in his voice. “Madonna’s got such elegant meows, but it seems those were entirely not genetic.”

He moved closer to Alaric, looking over Raphael to make sure he was unharmed. Bas didn’t miss the way his hands grazed Alaric’s arms as he touched the cat, but that was alright. Alaric couldn’t do much with the cat in his arms, could he?

“A vest is a good idea, and I’ve been thinking he might need some pajamas-- you know the Manor can get cold at night, and I wouldn’t want him to suffer as a result.” Bas put his hand on Alaric’s shoulder, using the touch to steer him towards the tailor’s building. 

Gilderoy paled and gulped, taking several more steps back until his knees hit his chair. Right. He was still at work. Desperately he wondered if calling for Gemma would actually work. She liked him more than Ainsley at least. Maybe she would make Rabastan leave.

“No, I didn’t think that. You’re far scarier than he is.” It was true. Rodolphus didn’t scare him in the slightest. Rabastan, on the other hand… Gil would never look at windows the same again.

He flinched. “You’re not really going to kill me are you?” He asked, voice raising a few octaves.

Bas mirrored Gilderoy, stepping forward as the man stepped back. “I could kill you,” he said, voice contemplative but without a trace of questioning. He raised the knife, tracing along Gilderoy’s neck in a path that rather suspiciously mirrored the scar that ran across Bas’s own throat. 

“Tell me, do you think you’d go where Regulus is?” A question meant more for his own rambling than an answer. “Heaven or Hell or something in-between, what do you think?” Almost a dare, to see if Gil would commit the blasphemy of deeming himself worthy or if he’d be coward enough to throw Regulus into the fire. 

He dragged the knife upward, now following the line of Gilderoy’s jaw. “Have you ever even bothered to repent for the things you’ve done?” 

“Cuddles are nice, aren’t they? I understand,” Alaric cooed as he rubbed at the cat carefully, wondering just how well its skin would handle the weather. Not that he thought Bas would take anything but the best of care for his new little angel, but still.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Raphael. Squash doesn’t try to hunt you, I hope?” Since Squash was such a fierce little murder kitty that clearly took after Bas, Alaric hoped Raphael didn’t look too much like a toy. “Be careful, darling.”

Trying to coax Raphael to settle into his arms so he wouldn’t be at risk of falling, Alaric held out his arm to Bas with his wrist up, not even hesitating as he continued to murmur at the kitty. “Oh, what a lucky kitty you are. Your daddy’s hoodies are very soft and I fully recommend them. You’ll be adorable when you match.” Alaric promised before flicking his eyes over at Bas, a smile lingering at his mouth. “We’re ready when you are.”

Bas was completely unsurprised that Alaric and Raphael were getting along-- in his opinion, they were rather like cat and people versions of the same personality. Even more of a reason to keep Raphael safe, as if there hadn’t been enough of those already. 

“Squash hunts the whole group,” he explained, though he didn’t know if Alaric was actually talking to him or not. “That little orange fluffball will chase Micheal, Gabriel, and Raphael into a corner and then beep at them until Madonna comes to carry her away-- I’m pretty sure Rodolphus was tricked into taking home a tiny daemon; she’s so precious.”

Most other days he would have had Squashie with him too, but he didn’t have enough hands to keep both of them under control and yeeting cats through the floo network was a strategy for emergencies only. He took hold of Alaric’s wrist, waiting until Alaric said he was ready before apparating to Diagon Alley.

Oh no, he spoke French, too? That just… that just wasn’t fair. That wasn’t nice at all. Now Rabastan could threaten him in his mother tongue as well. How utterly distressing. Perhaps he ought to move to Siberia. Did Rabastan speak Siberian? Gil wasn’t even sure if they had hair salons there. This was all so terribly horrible.

“Your accent is horrible.”  He said before he could help himself, staring with great trepidation at the knife. “Where on earth did you pick that up? You sound like English beat up French in alley.” Oh that brought back horrible memories, what had he done?

Bas smirked, this not being the first time he’d heard that sort of bullshit about his accent. Rodolphus had said the same thing since his French had become good enough to tell that Bas had an accent, and more than one tutor had tried to school it out of him. He’d worked damn hard to have such a horrible accent.

“It’s called Québécois,” he said, turning the knife in his hand. Merlin, it’d been ages since he’d seen Gilderoy’s blood. “You didn’t honestly think I had the same blood as Rodolphus, did you?” No one could make that mistake, not with how different he and his brother looked. “Not that Rodolphus doesn’t speak enough French to make any Parisian cabdriver think he’s a native.”

He took a step closer, knife scraping against the wall with a horrid shriek. “Wouldn’t that have been such a stupid mistake to die over? Thinking I couldn’t find you no matter where you go?”

“Your brother is not an option.” she said simply. Rodolphus had always made her feel uneasy, and he was married to Bella. If she was being honest, she had always liked Bas better. “It’s not Malcolm.” she said almost too quickly. Andromeda knew 100% that i wasn’t Malcolm, he was the reason Diana had sent the threat in the first place. The motive wasn’t what she was worried about it was the who and how. Andromeda fished in her pocket before pulling out a simple silver band with an intricate celtic knot design around the band “something in it for you, I don’t know that it matters to you much, but it’s really I have to offer for your services. Unless you can name another price.” Andromeda looked down at the ring in her hand. “it’s Evans. Used to wear it in Hogwarts and gave it to me when we were told we would be engaged…I’m not sure why I kept the ring but…It’s his and it’s all I have to offer you now.” she rambled. 

Bas recognised that ring, even though it’d been years since he’d seen it. He hadn’t noticed exactly when Evan had stopped wearing it, one of those things like how you look up and suddenly the autumn leaves have fallen off of the trees and there’s snow on the ground. Merlin though, what else had he lost track of? What else was he going to forget?

“You don’t have to,” he replied, trying his best to keep his gaze from lingering on it for too long. “It would mean a lot, but you don’t have to. I’ll do it regardless, tracking people down isn’t exactly difficult for me.” Not when he was still on the inside of things, treated as pure without the relevation of exactly how fractured his loyalty had become. 

“Because you’re good at finding out things, you’re good at knowing things, you always have been.” she said earnestly. “And I no long have any valid connections on your side…not any that can help.” she explained her predicament. “Diana Greengrass sent a threat to my home. I want to know who helped her. How they knew where I lived.” 

“My brother’s better,” Bas remarked with a raise of his eyebrow, though he knew why Andromeda wouldn’t be asking Rodolphus. The other Lestranges weren’t nearly as flexible as him when it came to what counted as acceptable conduct. “If it’s Diana Greengrass, Malcolm’s the first person you should look at. But I think they could stand to be haunted for a bit, don’t you?”

“I didn’t say you shouldn’t break their ribs,” she laughed.  That would be hypocritical, as she had broken her own fair share of bones in her time on the pitch.  “just maybe that it should be the aim.  But you make a compelling argument.  It is true they wouldn’t be able to get back on their broom…” Damn the morals that made it difficult for her to be okay with hurting people.  “True, very true.  Are you excited to get back at it?  I’ve missed it so much.”

“Coach says the aims of Quidditch are flexible.” Bas shrugged. True, Coach had probably meant something about the reward. He chose to think of the legal opportunity to break bones as a reward in and of itself. “Are you kidding? It’ll be fantastic when the Magpies win the first season back. We could get a whole streak going, see how many years of new Quidditch it takes before someone can defeat us.”