These Are The Dark Times

Cassie knew her boyfriend was already downstairs waiting, but she’d been chasing around an over-excited toddler for the better half of the morning. “Ilsa, come on,” she said in a stern voice, making sure her daughter’s flower girl dress was packed away and out of her reach. Once she finally got her ready, Cassie ushered her down the stairs, suitcases levitating behind her. “I’m sorry. I was about to commit a pint-sized murder,” she said at the exact moment Ilsa launched herself at Alpheus like she hadn’t just seen him. Cassie rolled her eyes at the display, but raised an eyebrow when he held out the boxes. She smiled when she opened it. “You, Alpheus Carrow, are a sap.” Cassie leaned up on her toes to kiss him. “I love it. And I love you.”

Alpheus stood with a dreamy look on his face waiting for her to open the gifts, two matching black coats for her and Ilsa, though Cassie’s was fur. He always was a bit dramatic with gifts. He beamed when she opened the gift, glad she was pleased with it. “I couldn’t let my girls be cold now could I?” He mused, returning the kiss. “I love you too.” He practically cooed in return, taking her hand, “Come on then, can’t miss the flight.”

Cassie just looked at her boyfriend. “Okay. I’ll pretend I believe that.”  She was about to say something else, but Ilsa running down the stairs - loudly - kept her from it. Cassie didn’t say anything though, because she ran straight for Alpheus. “I’m alright,” she finally said, getting up to press a kiss to Al’s cheek. “I tried to this morning, but the smell made me sick.” Cassie ran a hand through Ilsa’s curls. “And that’s why I never drink. This is worse than morning sickness was.” At that, she looked back down at Ilsa, honestly getting a little worried she wasn’t feeling better. “You’re okay going to Marcie’s wedding, right?” Cassie picked up her mug and looked at him, leaning against the counter as Ilsa sat at the table. “I reserved our hotel room for a few days before. I thought the three of us could play tourist before it gets crazy.”

Alpheus kept his eyes on Cassie as he felt Ilsa wrap her arms around his leg, “ma cherie!” He cooed as he greeted the little girl, smiling at her. He softened more when Cassie kissed his cheek, the contact melting the rest of his resolve to be angry that  morning. “Do you usually get so dick after you drink?” He asked curiously. “Yes of course.“ He wasn’t going to be left out twice. “That sounds fun.”

“Well, you seem mad,” Cassie replied, leaning back in her seat a bit. She let out a breath and rolled her eyes, setting her coffee down. It was making her feel even sicker. “Yeah. I didn’t have a bad time, but partying’s not really my thing.” She gestured to herself since she clearly felt horrible. “Obviously.”

“I’m not.” He insisted, drumming his fingers on his mug. He looked up at her when he heard her sigh, his eyebrows stitching together with worry. “You should eat something, it’ll help.” He suggested, standing up slowly. “Want me to make something?”

Dylan lowered his glass. “First off, she’s well aware of the son she raised. I’m 25. I can do what I damn well please. Secondly, why the actual fuck would I inform my mother I’m running around France with my shirt off?” He just looked at him. “Al, it was a bachelorette party for our mutual best friend. My boyfriend wasn’t there either. Relax. Take her to Paris another time.”

Alpehus scoffed, “You showed it all off on social media anyways, you don’t even need to tell her. Then again, you dont have much shame anyways.” He chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. “Maybe there was a no death eater rule.” He replied at Dylan’s mention of Nik not going, laughing again.

“Unfortunately I have,” Julien said with a sweet smile. He didn’t budge when Alpheus kept bothering him about the phone. “Was that so difficult?” he asked when he finally heard the s'il vous plaît he was waiting so patiently for. Julien unlocked his phone, handing it to his best friend, not bothering to turn the app on or to be of more assistance than he needed to be. “What are you even looking for?”

Alpheus huffed in response as he was handed the phone, annoyed that he had to actually be polite. “I just want to know what they’re doing.” He said casually, as if he wasn’t being creepy and overbearing. He manage to get to the app, after scrolling for a bit to find it in the phone. H had a bitter scowl as he scrolled, pausing on a photo Dylan posted of him and Cassie drinking, worst of all Dylan was half naked.  His face went a bit red at the sight but he played it off as anger and not embarrassment. “Look! He’s all over her.” They both knew Dylan was Cassie’s best friend and he was definitely being overly dramatic.

“Well, no. But it seems like you’re more mad than worried,” she commented, leaning back a bit in the chair. Cassie raised an eyebrow at his question, “I guess so. Should I not have?”

Alpheus huffed and took a drink of his coffee, trying his best to avoid looking at Cassie because when he did there was no way to stay angry. “I’m not mad.” He assured, though he was mad he just wasnt mad at her per say. “No of course you should have had fun, it was a party, supposed to be fun, right?”

Dylan cocked his head to the side and smirked. “Why? Is it so offensive that I took my shirt off? I’m sorry. I had no idea.” But he didn’t look it, and the expression on his face showed it. He laughed and sat his glass down, not moving from the position he was sitting in, though. “So are you mad that I danced with Cassie shirtless and maybe a little drunk or are you mad you weren’t there?” He smiled at him. “It’s okay to say you missed me.”

Alpheus had a sour look on his face, fingers drumming on his glass as he fidgeted from his irritation. “Does your mother know you go running about France with your shirt off?” he hummed, wondering if shaming him would actually even get a response. “I do not miss you.” He replied sharply, “I would have loved to spend a weekend in Paris with my girlfriend, thats all.”

At this point Julien was absolutely used to his best friend bursting into his patisserie, creating chaos and spooking out his customers. Luckily it was empty now, as the shop was almost closed. “Oui, that doesn’t sound controlling and unhealthy at all,” he mused, absolutely not making any intention to move and hand Alpheus his phone. Not until his best friend learns some manners and uses a please and thank you.

“Who ever said I was healthy and non-controling? Have you met me?” Al quipped in response, “Jules come on.” He demanded again, making a bit of a grabbing motion at Julien. He huffed, rolling his eyes and knowing just what Julien wanted from him, the look on his face the same as his mother’s when Alpheus wasn’t on his best manners. “S'il vous plaît, Julien.”

She gave him a look, wondering if he were even listening to himself talk. “Sure.” Alma said, clicking her tongue as she got up and went over to the liquor cabinet. There wasn’t much and she was well aware of which one he would prefer in that moment. Grabbing the bottle that had the highest alcohol content. “Here.” She said, her tone obviously annoyed as she slammed the bottle down on the table in front of him. Surprisingly it didn’t break. “Anything else I can do for you dear brother?” 

Alpheus rolled his eyes at his sister’s sharp attitude, “You know I thought you’d be more helpful, I thought you’d like...tell me to go follow her.” He huffed, pulling the stopper out of the bottle and not bothering with a glass before taking a swig. “If you’re not going to be help then at least drink with me. You’re the one who got all emotional about spending time together you know.”

Marcie: cassie is a grown ass adult, she doesn't need supervision

Marcie: and she doesn't need your controlling ass

Marcie: i'll attend her wedding. and you? not necessarily

Marcie: so kindly delete my number, fuck off, and leave me alone, raclure de bidet

Marcie: 💙

Alpheus: My fucking apologies for worry about my girlfriend

Alpheus: I'm not trying to control her I'm making sure she's okay

Marcie: how the fuck did you get my number

Marcie: don't bother, mightier than you have tried

Marcie: i'm a bad bitch, you can't kill me

Alpheus: I have my ways

Alpheus: You're lucky I'm not on my way to Paris right now

“My wicked sense of humor comes in waves,” he replied dryly, looking at the younger man. Harry let out a breath. Carrow technically didn’t do anything wrong, he had answered Harry’s question in a roundabout way. “Consulting you. Right.” He sat on the edge of the desk and picked up the photo of the broach in question. “Well, you are absolutely right, Mr. Carrow. There is a pretty nasty curse on it. And that is, as you pointed out, the reason I wasn’t allowed to bring it to my office. But if I had brought it to my office, I would be able to show you that your magical signature was on it.” Harry sat the photo down and looked at him, keeping his voice level and cool, void of any other emotion. “So I’m going to give you two options. You can come clean and admit that this broach did in fact come from your store. Or you can keep beating around the bush and I arrest you when you’ve decided you’re finished with this because you and I both know what you’re doing right now. I’ve been doing this since before you were born. I’m not playing this game today.” Harry got up from his desk, dropping the folder onto it. “However, if I were you, I might take offer number one. Because if you do something for me, I might be swayed to forget about this entire thing.”

Alpheus leaned back in the chair, trying to seem like he wasn’t currently worried about possibly being arrested and locked up for the rest of his life. He drummed his fingers on the arms of the chair, suddenly stopping as he felt his blood go cold when Harry told him his magical signature was on it. *Fuck* He kept his face as neutral as possible, keeping his mouth shut through all of Harry’s proposed options. He opened his mouth to once again deny everything, he had his father’s lawyers on speed dial and he was determined to fight his way out of this room if he had to, but then he paused. “Something for you?” He repeated back, “like what?” He wasn’t going to agree to any terms he didn’t fully understand, especially not for Harry fucking Potter.

Dylan picked up on Al looking at him, but didn’t comment. He just shifted a little under the other’s gaze. “I mean, talking nonstop is my torture method of choice,” Dylan replied, sweetly, moving his arms to shrug off his jacket. He snorted and reached forward to take hold of his drink again once it was off. “I was not running around with Cass half-naked. Merlin. I had my shirt off, if that. You’ve know me how long? That’s not an unusual occurrence for me.” He paused and leaned back in his seat, draping his arm over the back of it. Dylan smirked again, this time with a knowing expression. “Be a dear and tell me something though. How did you know I was with her doing all that, hm?”

Al looked down into his quickly draining gladd and honestly he was a little glad Dylan was talking so much, thinking that maybe if he paid attention to how stupid he sounded, he’d be less attractive. He looked back up from his glass to see Dylan had taken off the jacket, his bare arms on display now and he swore the man was flexing again. “Its bloody January why did you need to have your shirt off?” He chided, watching as he puffed out his chest when he draped his arms over the back of the chair. He started to get the feeling Dylan was messing with him on purpose. Al scoffed, “Don’t act like you weren't posting it all over Instagram and shit.”

“Oh. So I’m still in them, then?” Dylan smiled at him, obviously enjoying this way too much. “That wasn’t any kind of denial. But just know if you drag it out instead of killing me quickly, I’m going to keep talking. Unless that’s what you want.” He winked at him, before pushing himself up to sit straight. “It was a bachelorette party, Carrow. I was the only guy there because my best friend is the bride. Relax.”

Alpheus almost spit out his drink, coughing behind his hand as he tries not to make any kind of eye contact. “I never said that.” Fuck now he was just looking at his muscles in that stupid fucking jacket again. “You’re just going to torture me back by talking nonstop then? How creative.” He replied, trying to hide his previous behavior with another drink, but maybe that was making him down the whiskey a little too quickly. “You didn’t have to go and run around with Cassie half naked. Could Bloem not afford real strippers?”

“Never cute. Devastating maybe.” Dylan tilted his head and gave him an amused look. “I can handle myself, thanks. Don’t underestimate me.”  He laughed at Al’s reaction and reached out for his glass, but he didn’t drink from it as he leaned back in his seat. The smile on his face turned into a full-blown smirk. “There it is. I knew you brought me out here to kill me.” Dylan brought the glass to his lips. “And here I thought that would be your wildest dream.”

Alpheus rolled his eyes at Dylan’s cocky attitude, but as he sipped his whiskey he wasn’t sure if it was only the alcohol that was making his face flush. Al scoffed, “Kill you? No no no i brought you here to torture you slowly.” He replied in jest, chuckling lightly. “My wildest dreams tend to have me in them, not left out in another country.”

Harry gave him a literal no shit expression. “Yes,” he deadpanned, after a moment. “I called you in here on what should have been my afternoon off to get your opinions on wedding presents. Strike one, Carrow.” Harry sat on the edge of his desk and tapped the picture. “I can see that it’s a broach, thanks very much. What does it do? And think really hard before you answer.”

Alpheus sucked in a breath, clicking his teeth, “Think hard? Now i wouldn’t want to strain myself, sir.” He replied, “Come on, everybody says you’ve got a wicked sense of humor. I wanted to see if it was true.” He had a shit eating grin on his face, almost willing to see what happened when he got to three strikes. But he knew if the man knew about the broach and brought him in to talk about it, he knew he was already in hotter water than he’d like to be. “Well seeing as you’re consulting me, a curator of rare magical items, it’s probably a rare magical item.” He knew this wasn’t a consult but an interrogation, but he wasn’t going to incriminate himself, “It probably has a curse on it....pretty nasty one too otherwise you’d have it with you and not just a photo.” He knew just how nasty that curse was, but maybe he could talk his way out of this, tell Potter what he wanted to know and leave. He was being hopeful.