An Open Book

“Maybe it is just an old thing,” Igor countered, chuckling. Maybe they were all destined for the battiness of old age, if they were lucky enough to live that long. He supposed that there were worse fates. For example, not living that long.

He watched as Ed brought his wand to his temple again, drawing forth another silver thread of memory. He assumed that it was the memory that Ed spoke of, but there would have been no way to know otherwise. It simply looked like beautiful light, with no hints as to the true contents. There was something strangely moving about watching his friend perform such amazing magic so nonchalantly. Ed truly didn’t realize how impressive he was. That was a truth that managed to be both refreshing and maddening. A conundrum seemingly only Ed could embody.

For a moment after Ed finished speaking, they sat in silence, watching the memories swirl around in their bottles. It was an entrancing thing and Igor found it hard to look away. Or maybe it had just been a long day at work and he was tired. He tried to chide himself over all this unexpected sentimentality, but even in the privacy of his own head the scorn lacked its usual venom. 

He was drawn out of his thoughts by Ed’s question. He snorted again. “No,” he said firmly. Then, unexpectedly, felt a twinge of guilt over sounding so dismissive. He knew that Ed had muggle relatives. He softened his tone a bit as he continued on. “I do not know any, at the least.” It was frowned upon enough to marry a Halfblood (though increasingly unavoidable, unless you wanted to marry your cousin), let alone a Muggleborn. Igor, who didn’t intend on marrying anyone, rarely thought about such things, but he could imagine his family’s horror if anyone brought Muggles anywhere close to their lineage. 

“Most of my cousins are marrying foreigners,” he added dryly. ‘Foreigner’ was a word he’d come to know well, as it was quite often tossed his and Volkov’s way. “So that they are not marrying anyone who is a… ah… related person?” He wrinkled his nose, thinking of his favourite cousin, Tatiana, who had married an exceedingly boring wizard from Scandinavia. She deserved better, but at least he was rich and stupid enough that he would be easily manipulated into doing whatever she wanted. 

There it was again, though. That accidental honesty, that openness that he never would have shared if it had been almost anyone else. This time, however, he didn’t immediately change the subject, instead letting it sit in the air between them, this chink in his armour. Armour that always seemed softer when Ed was around.

Edgar glanced up at Igor quickly when he answered the question, but the man was quick to change his tone, his expression softening to the idea. It wasn’t uncommon for pureblood wizards to frown upon having Muggle relatives, so he couldn’t say that he was surprised by Igor’s initial reaction. It was simply unfortunate that so many people looked down on Muggles. 

It was slightly amusing, though Edgar tried to keep his smile under wraps, when Igor continued on to explain that his family married foreigners to avoid marrying relatives. That was the difficulty, wasn’t it? So many British purebloods hadn’t bothered to try similar methods, as the rampant xenophobia was surely getting in their way. Edgar simply thought that if you had to think that hard about not marrying your cousin, perhaps your methods weren’t quite right.

He didn’t dare say such things to Igor in this moment, instead he nodded along. “That’s smart,” he reassured. “I can’t promise any of the purebloods here can claim the same.” He smacked his hand to his face the moment the words left his mouth. That wasn’t something to be spouting during a war like this one. 

And yet, he couldn’t stifle the laughter that erupted from his chest a moment later. “Sorry---” he added quickly, shaking his head. “---Probably shouldn’t have said that. It’s … It’s … Nevermind. It’s not important is what it is.” 

It wasn’t an opinion he was necessarily ashamed of. Having been raised to pretend to be a pureblood his entire life, he had come to resent them as a whole. It also wasn’t as though there were Death Eaters lurking in the corners of the shop waiting for him to say something defamatory about the purebloods. But this was still Knockturn Alley, and who knew where there were ears. He preferred they listen to him say wonderful things about Muggles, rather than terrible things about purebloods.

Red rimmed and heavily bagged eyes blinked at Edgar with a look of dumb awe and embarrassment. Good god, she was being advised to use Muggle Medicine by a Pureblood, and if that wasn’t evidence that the world had gone topsy turvey, she wasn’t sure what was. It was so obvious and she should have thought of that, why hadn’t she thought of that? Another point of guilt to add to her pile, with the worries that she was losing touch with her own muggleness that was far too overblown for this late at night and this sleep deprived.

“I’ll go check,” she said, scrambling up. A furious riffling through the bathroom cabinets later and Lily was back, a couple bottles in hand. “Got a few, they either don’t say anything about kids, or say ‘Under 12, ask a doctor’, which I know my parents never did when I was little and I turned out fine–” Mostly. “But they definitely don’t say anything about infants and dosage, or what is or isn’t safe.”

Holding them out for Edgar’s inspection, she worried her lip between her teeth. He was an old hand at this, and he’d said he’d used Muggle medicine before (miracles never ceasing), so maybe he’d know? “There’s a chemist a few blocks over, I can go over and ask, too.” She’s have to get Harry bundled up and on her chest, and leave a note for James so he wouldn’t worry if he came home to an empty flat; a nightmare none of them wanted to face.

Lily seemed momentarily dumbfounded and Edgar couldn’t tell if she was mortified by the idea or that she hadn’t thought of it first. Guessing from how quickly she ran to check her cupboards, he could only assume the latter. He wasn’t about to judge, he’d lost his mind over quick minor injuries in regards to his own kids before in the past. It wasn’t uncommon not to be thinking of everything when you were worried your kid was dying.

When she came back with the sparse selection of Muggle medications, Edgar bit his lip. He had only ever used medicine that was specifically for children, and with Harry being so young he wasn’t sure he wanted to risk the chance of giving him something he shouldn’t have. 

“I think it’s best we go to the shop,” he admitted, looking up from the labels. “I use child-specific medicine most of the time. I don’t know how much to give him otherwise.” At least the shops would be open, and pretty much all of them would have a decent selection for them to choose from. 

Handing the baby back to Lily for her to get him ready, he took the medicine and put them on the nearest table for the time being. “We’ll get a few things,” he informed her. “That way if he comes down with anything else in the future you’ll have a few options.” It was always nice to have something on hand for the occasion. It was something that every new parent had to learn the hard way, but it was simple to remedy. 

Igor hummed in interest at the news that there was indeed a magical garden that they could visit. It was in Ireland, but the distance wouldn’t be too much of an issue. He’d gotten more accustomed to long-distance apparation, as it was common practice here to go between places like London and Hogsmeade. And even if they didn’t want to go via apparation, there was surely a Floo grate or a portkey available, if the place was a tourist destination. “We should go there,” he said, not in the slightest bit put off by the prospect of man-eating plants. Being raised by a herbologist meant that you grew accustomed to certain things.

“I am thinking we should go to the magical garden first,” he asserted. “It would be nice to see the plants there. If there are any very very interesting ones, I will write to my mother about seeing them.”

The statement, seemingly innocuous, slipped out before he could stop it. If it were anyone other than Ed he was speaking to, mentioning his mother like that would be horrifying. He tried to cultivate the impression amongst everyone here that he wasn’t close to his family. Certainly that he didn’t write to them. He wanted them to never cross anyone’s mind. It was the best way to keep them safe. Ed had an irresistible power over him, though, always managing to gently pull truths from him, seemingly without even trying. It was terrifying. He paused for a moment, mind racing, trying to come up with a way to backtrack. There was no way to smoothly do so, however, so instead he latched onto Ed’s comment about the herbologist who owned the garden in question, hoping to distract from his momentary bout of openness.

“All old witches and wizards are like this,” he pointed out. ‘Batty’, he’d come to learn, meant mad. And while he knew plenty of people who were, for the most part, fairly sane, he couldn’t help but notice that there seemed to be a strong tendency for elderly magical folk to be more than a little odd. Maybe this was true of Muggles, too, but they were all weird to start with, so it was hard to know. “Maybe the magic in our blood makes us strange after many years,” he suggested. He snorted and shrugged a shoulder. “Or maybe old people are just strange.”

There were certainly worse sorts of ‘batty’ than an old woman who liked to point out which plants could eat you. Igor, for all his loyalties in the war, would much prefer to spend time with someone like that than any of the Lestranges or Rosier or the like.

Unsurprisingly, Igor was far moree taken by the idea of the magical garden than the Muggle one. It was more of a surprise when his friend openly admitted his motivation. It was a rare thing that Igor spoke of his parents, and Edgar always counted it as a privilege when the other man allowed him a small glimpse into his home life. He had known the man’s mother was a herbalist, but hadn’t really expected him to bring the fact up himself so easily. It was nice.

Though, he couldn’t help but wonder whether this small tidbit had slipped out on purpose. Igor seemed momentarily stunned by his own statement before quickly changing the subject. Edgar quirked a brow but didn’t push the subject, he would take what he could get.

“I don’t know,” he said, thinking of his family. “My grandfather was always a bit batty and he was as Muggle as they come. In fact, I’d almost say my mum’s muggle family are all a little more out there than most of the Wizards I’ve met. I think it might just be a personality thing.” 

Putting his wand to his head once more, he thought of the time they had pulled up to the old farm house where his cousins lived, his grandfather waiting to greet them on the porch. Slowly, he started pulling another silvery string of the memory from his mind, allowing himself to focus on that moment. “We would go stay with my cousins during the summers sometimes. My grandfather would always greet us. He seemed to think it was funny to pretend he was dying whenever he saw us, only to leap to his feet and do a funny dance before swinging us around. I think those times were some of the only times I saw my mother let loose a little.” The final strands of the memory contained his mother’s smile. 

Letting out a long breath, he dropped the memory in one of the bottles before him, letting it swirl around with the rest, dancing around as though taunting each other over which was more important. They were all important. Each one of those memories held a piece of him, good or bad. 

As much as it hurt his heart to think of his parents, of those times that he had spent with his family in Italy, he was glad that he had them. Glad that he could still recall her smile, even if he knew he would never see it again. 

Igor’s brows drew together at Ed’s gentle reminder about Muggle art. He’d heard about the strange stillness of non-magical paintings before – even witnessed it himself once or twice – but he was out and about amongst Muggles so infrequently that it was an easy fact to forget. “Oh yeah,” he said, sitting back in his chair and trying to imagine the bizarre experience of wandering through a museum full of motionless, lifeless paintings. “That is very weird.”

Ed did make a good point, though. It might be nice to get to look at a painting without its inhabitants staring back at you or spoiling the scene by wandering off. Art appreciation could be a little awkward when the portrait you were admiring kept telling you to buzz off. On the flipside, however, the eerie lack of movement in a muggle museum was bound to be off-putting. 

The gardens sounded like the better option anyway. Spaced out from the crowds of Muggles and out in the open air. And sure, the muggle gardens wouldn’t have magical plants, but that wasn’t the worst. There was plenty to be appreciated about plants, magical or not. 

Yet there was a hint of melancholy sneaking back into Ed’s voice as he spoke of the gardens. It was subtle, but Igor had spent the last two years becoming finely attuned to the nuances of Ed’s moods. Not that it was a great mystery as to what was on the other wizard’s mind. It hadn’t been that long since the death of his parents. Wounds like that healed slowly. Imagining the loss of his own mother and father and how it would make him feel, Igor wondered if perhaps they would ever heal at all. Time would ease the sting of grief, but he wasn’t certain even the passage of years could banish it completely. Especially for someone like Ed, who felt everything so keenly. Igor couldn’t imagine living like the other man did, feeling everything so ferociously. How did it not drive him mad?

Best to steer clear of talking about it, he decided firmly. “Are there any magical gardens to be visiting here?” he asked. “Like the ones that are in London, but just for wizards and witches? With magical plants?” He didn’t want to let on to Ed that he’d noticed his sadness, so didn’t want to alter the course of the conversation too dramatically, but it seemed prudent to avoid talk that would have him delving into sad memories. “It would be nice to see those.” His voice was a little brighter than usual in his efforts to cheer Ed up.

Edgar laughed when his friend made it clear that he had forgotten the oddness of Muggle paintings. It honestly wasn’t that odd to him, but he knew many people in the wizarding world found it unsettling. He supposed being stared at unblinkingly by the people in the painting was a little unsettling.

It was something of a relief when Igor snapped him out of his melancholy musings by asking about magical gardens. “Oh yes,” he offered, happy to take the distraction. “I almost forgot - there’s one in Ireland I believe. Out in the country-side where Muggles wouldn’t think to go.” It had also been a very long time since he’d seen that garden. They had gone for a herbology trip once in his later years at school. “That’s definitely something to see. They have all sorts of odd, people-eating plants to see.”

Going to either of the gardens would be nice. Somewhere with plants, where maybe he could find some peace. Not that he often travelled out of the towns and cities. He wasn’t much of a country-boy, despite how peaceful he found the green hills and grey skies of Ireland. “Which one would you like to see first?” he asked Igor, feeling it should be more the man’s choice since he had seen neither and Edgar had seen both. “The wizard gardens are a bit further away. Also the keeper of the place is a bit batty, but I suppose that’s to be expected when you tend magical gardens all day and only chat with the plants.” She was a slightly older witch if Edgar remembered correctly. Though, he supposed after all these years she might simply be old. Maybe she didn’t even manage the garden anymore, he wasn’t sure. It had been a long time since he’d even thought about the place.

With Edgar’s assurance to keep the incident to himself, Alastor continued to lead them toward the main floor. Before they got there though, the man was asking him something else. “I’ve got Mondays off, but I’m here the rest of them,” he answered, stopping in place. It wasn’t a bad gig over all, even if he only got one day off but that was because there was other stuff to do around the place besides making his rounds. There was a decent amount of administration, perhaps more so because of the way he liked to run things. Besides, it wasn’t like he did much during the time he had off during the day.

He tried to think of where would be the best place to find him. Truth was that he had rounds and he didn’t exactly have a precise schedule. “Here, I’ll give you my card.” Reaching a hand into his jacket, he pulled out a rather plain business card. It wasn’t flashy, but it had the club’s name and his embossed in black on something similar to nice card stock. “Call me if you see him,” he said and offered the card. “I usually answer even when I’m not working, so someone will show up even if it won’t be me.” Whoever was working security would be able to handle the situation on their own, if needed.

“Thank you for your cooperation. I’d offer a drink on the house as compensation, but I’m not sure if that’s something you’d want given the circumstances of our chat.” He’d gotten all he needed from the man, at least for now. There were things he needed to follow up on, but Edgar wouldn’t be needed for any of that. Hopefully the next time he had a chat with him, he could assure him that such a thing wouldn’t be happening again. He wasn’t about to make that sort of statement right now, even if he thought the offender would back off because of an investigation.

If he was being completely honest, he doubted the offender would stop because of his doing. There was little to go on, and if the bartender didn’t provide much else, then all any of them could do was tighten security and hope that no one’s drinks got spiked again. There was only so much surveillance with security cameras and people walking around. Not only was it more expensive, but it probably wouldn’t make much of a difference. Even the army, for all its budget and resources, couldn’t promise one-hundred percent security.

“Is there anything I can assist you with, Mr Bones?” It seemed fair to offer some of his time since the man had been generous with his. “If not now, then maybe later.”

Only one day off a week? This place certainly liked to work its employees hard. Igor at least got two days off, though Edgar supposed that security was entirely different from bartending. 

He took the card as it was handed to it, glancing it over before quickly putting it away in his pocket. It was unfortunate that nothing fruitful had come from their chat, but there was little else that could be done at this time. Edgar could only hope that someone else wouldn’t befall the same fate as him, or worse. “I’ll be keeping an eye out,” he assured the man. The last thing he wanted was to let the stranger slip under his nose and actually succeed. 

He laughed at the offer of a drink, though he wasn’t sure if the man had been trying to make a joke. It wasn’t really funny, he supposed, but what more could he do about the situation. It didn’t seem productive to stay miserable and scared. 

Luckily, the conversation was moving along quickly before Edgar could contemplate that train of thought further. He pondered the question and eventually shook his head. “I should be alright. I suppose … Just feel free to say hi. I’ll be around and I don’t mind a chat from time-to-time,” he answered with a laugh. It was unlikely that the head of security would have time to sit and chat - nor was he sure that they would have much to talk about, but he wanted to seem friendly. The man was just trying to look out for him, after all.

Glancing at Igor who was hovering by the bar, finally free of the customers as the next show started, Edgar turned back to Moody with a shrug. “If there’s nothing more, am I okay to head back to my seat?” It wasn’t often that Igor had a reprieve from his job that wasn’t a break, and he was sure his boyfriend was curious as to what the head of security had been questioning him about.

In fact, it was probably best for him to end the conversation as quickly as possible so Moody wouldn’t have a chance to remember his earlier slip-up and start questioning him about his “activities” in the club. Would the man be surprised if he did find out? Surely he and Igor weren’t the only ones to take questionable breaks. Best not to test the theory, however.

Igor shrugged off the correction, but made note of it. After a couple of years in England, his grasp of the language had improved greatly, but he still made more mistakes than he cared for. The trick was to remember them, so that he didn’t make them more than once. That was the idea, anyway. English was hard.

He turned his mind to Ed’s question. Were there any places in London that he wanted to see? He honestly didn’t know much about the city outside of the magical areas, like Knockturn and Diagon. Despite the time he’d been living there, he hadn’t done all that much exploring. He didn’t like or trust or even really understand Muggles, so he rarely placed himself amongst them unless he had to. The handful of times he had were almost always in Ed’s company, so it made sense that any future ventures would be as well.

“I do not know,” he said slowly, mulling over what he knew of Muggle London. The city was big and there was a lot to it. “There are gardens, yeah? I would like to see those, I am thinking. Or somewhere with art.” Then again, those sorts of places would probably be swarming with Muggles, wouldn’t they? He grudgingly supposed that would be the case for pretty much anywhere in the city. That was, after all, one of the downsides of cities: they were full of people. At the end of the day, Igor would always be a country person, happier in the relative seclusion of nature than the bustling streets of a city.

As they talked, the worries and thoughts of the war that had been weighing heavily on Igor’s mind diminished, falling into the shadowy corners of his brain, temporarily forgotten. For the moment it was easy to forget and simply think about how to spend time with his friend. Away from Death Eaters and Orders and Dark Lords. Being amongst Muggles might be worth it for the brief freedom it bought them both.

“Have you been to places like that?” he asked Ed. It was a silly question, he was sure. Ed was a Londoner, he probably knew the city streets like the back of his hand. But asking was better than overtly admitting how little Igor himself knew about the city he’d been living in for two years now.

Edgar nodded when Igor listed off places that he would like to see in London. They were fairly tourist-y spots, but nothing quite as busy as the London Eye or Big Ben, luckily. As much as he enjoyed being out on the streets of the city amongst the Muggles, he didn’t really have a fondness for the tourist traps. They were interesting for a one-time trip, but they were extremely busy and mostly involved standing in lines rather than actually seeing the sights. 

“I’ve been to a few museums and the botanical gardens,” he answered. When he had been a child, his parents had brought them on a few trips to the muggle museums. His mother had always appreciated the art there, proud that so much of it had come from her home country. He couldn’t argue, either. He’d seen some of the art in Italy when they had been visiting family and it truly was incredible. The art didn’t move, talk, or scatter from frame to frame the same way wizard portraits did, but Edgar almost liked it better that way. It was far more peaceful to view muggle painting than to view wizard art.

Which made him wonder whether Igor had much experience with the eerie yet fascinating stillness of muggle art. “You know the paintings and statues in the museums don’t move, right?” he asked honestly, hoping he wouldn’t offend his friend with the question. Considering how lost the man always looked on the streets of muggle London, he couldn’t help but question. “It’s … well, it’s actually quite nice. You get to guess what the people in the paintings were like, rather than have them snark at you for staring too long.” Something that had happened far too often when he had been younger and admiring the paintings at Hogwarts. Those paintings were far too nosy and sassy to truly be able to appreciate the artist’s skill. 

The man’s calm was infectious, or at least reassuring enough that Lily felt slightly less like the world was crashing down around her ears all at once. It was enough for her remember her surroundings and her manners, quickly stepping back to give him more room and then nodding. “Yes, of course, living room, sofa, this way.” Still a bit scattered as she shuffled into the next room, settling on the sofa, shoving some parenting books out of the way that had proven woefully unable to reassure her panic.

“His temperature has been up all afternoon, and he’s had this rattling cough that shakes his whole body. I would have given him a fever and cough suppressant, but some of the ingredients in those potions aren’t baby safe–” So many brews weren’t safe or healthy for babies, according to her research, and yet there weren’t alternatives that she’d been able to find.

(Her sleep deprived brain was spinning a grand conspiracy of healers that wanted to maintain their relevancy by controlling such information, all so they could hoard the glory and power of keeping the cute adorable babies healthy. Lily really needed some sleep.)

Laying Harry down on her knees, she shifted him carefully so she could show Edgar the rash that was creeping cross his soft pudgy skin. He seemed to be not overly bothered by it but in her eyes it loomed itchy and red and uncomfortable. “I thought it was maybe some kind of diaper rash, but I’ve been being so careful about keeping him and clean.”

Some of the panic seemed to ease from Lily’s expression as she led the way to the living room and allowed Edgar to examine the small baby. He was flush, likely from fever and crying, and there was a soft gurgle that came with his breathing. It was always stressful for a parent to see their kid in such a condition, especially a new parent who wasn’t sure what was an emergency and what was just a simple cold. 

Edgar smiled when she talked about the rash. “It could be related,” he told her, “or it could still be a diaper rash. I’ve yet to meet a kid who hasn’t got it at least once despite the best efforts of the parents.” That being said, the rash did look angrier than a typical diaper rash. 

Taking out his wand, he cast a few spells, watching the symbols that hovered above his wand with information. 

Chewing on his lip, he considered the information. “Well, it’s nothing life-threatening,” he said at last. “Couldn’t tell you exactly what’s wrong, but from what I can tell, he’s just caught a bit of a flu. Still not sure if the rash is related, a healer would be better suited for that.” He had a few spells for discovering what was wrong with a person, it was useful when he was in the Order and needed to help someone who was unconscious, but it couldn’t diagnose. That was a far more difficult process that he wasn’t trained for. 

Brushing a hand over Harry’s forehead, he felt the heat from the child. The fever wasn’t dangerous yet, but he wanted to get it down before it could get any higher. “We should try to get his fever down, though. I know potions can be dangerous for children, but there might actually be some Muggle medicine that we can try, do you have anything around?” Lily was a muggleborn, so Edgar knew that she wouldn’t baulk at the idea like some people might. He had used Muggle medicine for his children when he hadn’t been sure of certain potions. “If not, we can always try one of their medicine stores. I think most of them are open late.” 

They were running into a dead end with the room, as he couldn’t think of anything else to check. Nonetheless, he walked around the room slowly and scanned the floor and furniture for anything he might have missed. No dice. Perhaps he would talk to some of the cleaning staff to see if they had found something interesting in the room. In any case, he wasn’t going to get any more answers here. Perhaps the bartender would remember a little more.

“Oh no, this is all helpful. Anything that you can remember is helpful,” he reassured Edgar. “We may not have found anything here, but I have a couple of things to follow up on now.” Alastor nodded toward the door. “It sounds like nothing bad happened, excluding the drugging bit.” Things definitely could have been a lot worse; maybe the person who spiked the drink got cold feet - to the benefit of them all.

He exited the room. “Have you been to the police about this?” While he wouldn’t have discouraged Edgar from reporting the incident, he was sure that management here would want to conduct their own inquiry before getting the law involved. Though, given that he didn’t know anything about police dropping by, he guessed that the incident hadn’t been reported. That or the police were taking their sweet time getting around to it. They probably couldn’t really do much anyway, except take statements and he was already doing that.

Once Edgar was out of the room, Alastor closed the door behind them. “You mentioned Igor. You two friends,” he asked. It wasn’t necessarily relevant to the investigation. He liked to know what was going on and who knew who, not for any particular reason except curiosity. Perhaps it was out of habit that he wanted to know the comings and goings, what was regular and normal, in the event that something or someone changed that. What are you expecting? A bomb?

He had to remind himself something like that would be extremely rare; the only thing he had to worry about were people who had too much to drink, too handsy with the dancers, and now people who spiked drinks. The last of that list was potentially the most damaging. If word got out about it, then it would no doubt make their customers worried that such a thing could happen to them. He could only hope to get to the bottom of this and prevent another occurrence. Or maybe, with any luck, there wouldn’t be another spiking anyway. Either way would be a good outcome. “I know you probably won’t, but I’d appreciate it if you kept this to yourself as much as possible.”

Edgar was relieved to hear that something he was saying seemed to be helpful. It would be nice to know that the head of security at the club would be keeping an eye out for the man who had drugged him. It made him feel just a little better.

Nodding in agreement, Edgar followed the man out of the room. It was true, things could have been much worse if the man who had drugged him had managed to get him away from the club. In a way, he was almost glad that the bartender had gotten drugged as well, that might have saved him a lot of trouble. Immediately, he felt guilty for thinking this way. It wasn’t good that the man had been drugged as well, but he couldn’t help but feel a little grateful. Maybe he should try to do something nice for the bartender, just to make up for the whole fiasco.

“No,” he answered Alastor. “I … I honestly didn’t even think about it.” No one had been hurt. Well, he had come away with a hell of a hangover, but ultimately he’d been okay. He’d also been very confused and disoriented and had simply wanted to go home. By the time he had been conscious enough to really think about legal action, it had simply seemed pointless. What could the police do in a situation where there wasn’t even solid evidence that the stranger had drugged him? 

They continued back toward the main area and Edgar nodded again to confirm that he and Igor were indeed, ‘friends’. He didn’t offer any further detail, knowing that saying too much could put him and Igor in a compromising position. Not that he thought the man would care too much, but he knew Igor would care and there might be some questions about their more questionable activities that occurred on his boyfriend’s breaks.

“Oh --- I --- I probably won’t,” he told the man honestly. It wasn’t something that came up in conversation very often. Even if it did, it wasn’t something Edgar was all that comfortable with discussing. He hadn’t enjoyed the experience and talking about it just made him think too hard about things that could have happened. He just wanted to forget about it and be glad that nothing more serious had happened. 

It seemed like his soft hand approach was somewhat successful, as Edgar told the boy it was fine to leave. Alastor felt some amount of relief by that; it had been partly annoying that he needed to get through the kid before Edgar would talk. But Zane was only trying to protect his father, and who could blame a kid for that? Still, it didn’t quite sit well with him that Edgar allowed the kid to be put in that situation. The next time he needed to have a conversation, he’d have to try to avoid having it in the man’s home with the kids around. Zane gave him a warning look, and Alastor simply nodded. How the kid interpreted that wasn’t his problem, but he hoped it wouldn’t be taken in a bad way. Perhaps Edgar and his wife would explain the situation a bit better to their children.

He was still waiting for his answer, though he kept quiet. Finally, after what felt like an awkward amount of time, Edgar spoke. It was good to hear that intelligence gathering was something that the man wanted to continue. Alastor was far too tired now to try to work out something new right now. What had been interesting to hear was that Edgar found the task to be easier than some. He hadn’t taken the man to be one to be good at deception and lies, but he supposed he ought to be used to being surprised. Few things seemed to be what they actually were these days.

Did he think Edgar was still capable of carrying out the mission? “It takes time for missions like these. Building relationships and trust. So, at the moment, little information if any wouldn’t be unusual. The difficult part is when you get that information, because we will most likely act on it. If we do, it puts heat on you. Depending on the information it’ll burn the relationship you’ve cultivated. So long as you believe you can break that trust at any time, then yes, I think you’re still capable of carrying out the mission.” He wanted to make it clear that his trust in Edgar depended on Edgar’s trust in himself. “It’s important work. Something that could save lives. I know it’s not an easy task, but I think you’ve got the resolve to see it through,” he added in hopes that a little encouragement would help.

Was he pushing Edgar too much, part of him questioned. He’d said that he’d prefer to have people live as normal lives as they could if they made it out of this, yet here he was encouraging the man to continue. Was he just throwing in more embers? What if he caused a fire? Let him decide. He couldn’t help but think about the Aurors who’d died on duty; they had decided but he still didn’t feel any less responsible. “That all said, you let me know if anything changes. And if you have any questions, just ask. Alright?”

Seeing as there didn’t seem to be anything further to talk about with Edgar’s membership status or mission, he decided to move on. “Your son, is he always so… protective?”

Edgar felt the curling of his gut when Moody explained that his relationship with Narcissa would eventually be burned. He knew this, of course he knew this. Going into this he had been sure he could handle that. Death Eaters had killed his parents and nearly left him incapable of looking after himself. They deserved this, and he knew that. If it meant saving even one more life, he knew he would be ready to sacrifice almost anything. 

It still didn’t sit right with him. This wasn’t the person he’d ever wanted to have to be. Honesty was a virtue that he valued deeply, and to have to pretend to be someone’s friend only to betray their trust … it felt like he was going against everything he believed. 

He had to do it, though. He had to. The Death Eaters couldn’t continue like this. 

Edgar nodded when Moody continued. “I’ll be sure to send you an owl if anything comes up,” he told the man honestly. The last thing he wanted was for something to go south in their plan because he didn’t know enough or was too bold in his actions. If something didn’t feel right, he knew he would have to step away and look for a different approach. Thinking about things more strategically rather than personally was an easier way to do things. He had to stop thinking about how pleasant Narcissa was and simply think about the end goal. She was a human, and humans could do good, but they could also make some truly terrible decisions. He had to remember that. 

The question about his son distracted him suddenly from his thoughts and he glanced up at Moody, trying to judge whether the man meant the comment as a good thing or a bad thing. It was too difficult to tell. Moody was one of the few who Edgar really couldn’t get a good read on his emotions at any given time unless the man wanted him to. 

Offering a wry smile, he shrugged. “He’s a lot like his mother that way I suppose,” he told the Auror. “Seen too many bad days, I think.” He hadn’t meant to say it, the words came out bitterly as self-loathing overwhelmed him. It wasn’t supposed to be like this and he knew it, but there was little he could do. Zane reminded him of everything he lost and everything he could lose. Edgar hated that his own son had become one of his triggers, though that hadn’t happened in a long time now. Unfortunately, Zane couldn’t forget those days any better than Edgar could and it had left them with this warped family dynamic where the boy was determined to protect his father from any more trauma, and in so doing, he would be protecting himself.

The shame that washed over him made him want to leave again, simply walk out the door and let his family live in peace. This wasn’t what their life should be. 

Igor was rather surprised to hear Ed answer in the negative. There was a frown softly darkening the other man’s features, as if the notion of storing happy memories wasn’t one that had occurred to him. Igor wondered if he’d only learned the memory extraction spell as a sort of coping mechanism to distance himself from his bad experiences and that was why he’d never explored what else he could do with the magic. The frown was a thoughtful one, not unhappy, so Igor hoped that maybe it would be something Ed would try in the future.

He nodded vaguely along as Ed started musing which memories he would store for repeated viewing. Things like his children’s births and his wedding were unsurprising, as was the unwelcome pang of resentment Igor felt deep in his chest. The childhood story made him snort a quiet laugh, though. He would much rather imagine a child Ed wandering through the rainy-day wilderness with his sister (who in Igor’s imagination just looked like Ed in a dress and pigtails) than dwell on his wife and children and the domestic bliss that was Ed’s life away from him.

Better still was the mention of a memory that involved Igor himself. He blinked, surprised that a moment from their friendship had made the cut. It wasn’t that time spent together with Ed was unhappy – indeed, Igor treasured these moments more than anything else on this blasted island – but it seemed to him that he’d come into Ed’s life at the worst time for both of them. So many of their memories together seemed mired in darkness or in the conscious pursuit of escaping it. Yet the memory Ed brought up was a happy one. No fear, no pain, not even any secrets. Just a day out in search of puppies. Igor’s laugh was stronger this time, coupled with a genuine smile.

“That is a good memory,” he agreed. It felt like a million years ago, but it was a good memory. Even if they’d almost gotten in a spot of bother with the muggle aurors, if he remembered correctly. Trouble with Muggles was hardly anything, though, and certainly not anything that would tarnish the memory. “We should do something like that again. You are wanting another dog maybe? A brother for Socks?” he joked.

He had expected the question in turn, but still paused to consider how to answer it. With most other people it would have been easy. He would have simply lied, evading or creating depending on how much effort he felt like putting into it. When it came to Ed, he found himself less keen on avoiding the truth.

“I do not know,” he said slowly, buying for time. “Memories of my baba… ah, my… greatmother?” he suggested. He missed his granny more than he dared admit and many of his fondest childhood memories were carried on the creaky sound of her voice, telling him stories by the fireplace or singing old folk songs in the long winter nights.

As harmless as the answer was, it felt uncomfortably vulnerable, so he quickly followed it up with a less serious example. “Or maybe that time when we took the muggle automo-thing, yeah? That was fun.” He flashed a wry grin over at Ed. “We have had some very strange times together, I am thinking.”

Edgar huffed a laugh through his nose at the suggestion of going for another dog-seeking adventure. “Rommie would murder me if I brought home any more pets. Our house is crowded enough as things are.” As much as he would love to have another dog, Socks was excellent all on her own and he had three troublesome children to chase around most days. “But I do believe we’re due for another trek into the Muggle world,” he added with a soft smile. 

On his own, Edgar had explored much of the Muggle world without much drama. However, whenever he went out with Igor, they somehow managed to be chased by police, falling in the Thames, or crashing cars. Perhaps it was simply his friend’s inexperience, but Edgar had never met anyone else so prone to unfortunate adventure when introduced to Muggle mundanities. 

The man himself was taking a moment to think about the answer for himself. It was to be expected at this point, as Igor rarely enjoyed speaking about his own life. This was exactly why Edgar asked. Any scrap of information he could get, he considered a victory. Another piece to the somewhat strange puzzle that was Igor Karkaroff. 

“Grandmother,” Edgar correctly earnestly when Igor questioned the word. It was odd to imagine the other man spending time with his grandmother. Not that he thought his friend was heartless, but the cold and somewhat aloof demeanor didn’t exactly fit the image. This was something he found oddly endearing. Nothing about the way Igor presented himself seemed to be true to how he actually was. 

As he waited, he had one eye on Edgar and one eye on the hallway to see if anyone else walked by. It wouldn’t have been unusual if someone did, though now his mind entertained the possibility of being followed. After all, if someone was going around spiking drinks then there was a good chance that they’d want to not get caught. If he were the one behind it, he knew he’d want to keep an eye on what was happening so that he could make a move if he needed - to be one step ahead. No one came by that he could see.

He pulled out his phone just to check if someone needed him, but there were no notifications. As far as he knew, everything was running like clockwork. It was shortly after that he heard Edgar. He slipped his phone back into his pocket and walked over to the door. When he saw the door, he kept his face neutral - years of practice made this easy - but in his mind he thought, really? This one? His surprise wasn’t due to the room that had been picked out, but rather that his idea had actually worked. It wouldn’t have been unexpected if the man hadn’t recognized the room at all. He stayed a step back and let the man open the door. There weren’t any surprised voices on the other side of the door. He’d done his fair share of interrupting at less than ideal times, but it came with the job. Stepping into the room with the man, he took a quick scan. Nothing seemed out of place.

“They’re all a bit different, so if you think this is it then it probably is,” he commented. Alastor reached into his coat and pulled out some black latex gloves. If there was evidence, then he didn’t want to contaminate it further. He walked over to the bed. “Anything, really. Cleaning comes by regularly, so the likeliness of finding something left behind is probably slim but who knows.” He pulled back the sheets halfway down carefully and then reached into his jacket and pulled out a UV flashlight. “Get the lights will you?” When the room was dark, he turned on the flashlight and shone it at the sheets. Nothing lit up. “Alright, you can turn the lights on again.” He turned off his flashlight and put it away. It looked as if the bed had clean sheets - an important thing - as he didn’t notice any signs of someone having been in the bed recently.

Returning the bed to its previous undisturbed state, he focused on the closet. He opened it and peered in. Nothing seemed unusual. There were a few articles of clothing hung up but not much else. “Anything of yours in here,” he asked. While Edgar looked, Alastor backed away and lowered himself onto the ground to check underneath the bed. Nothing again. Sighing quietly, he pulled himself up. “Can you tell me what you remember after you woke up here?”

Edgar blinked but did as he was told and turned off the light. Moody pulled out a flashlight and started lighting up the bed. Curiosity was starting to take over embarrassment, Edgar inched forward to try and get a look at what the security guard was looking for. It was odd to see the amount of detail he was putting into the investigation, almost as if he were an officer rather than head of security at a strip club. 

It was something Edgar found himself appreciative of as he turned the lights back on. The fact that the man wasn’t just telling him that this was an unfortunate accident and that he should move on was impressive. It was nice that this sort of thing was being taken seriously, it meant that perhaps he wouldn’t have to be so concerned that it might happen again.

Looking around the room at the question, Edgar shook his head. It had been long enough since the incident that he hadn’t really expected there to be any evidence of what might have transpired. Judging from the sigh that the man gave, he could only assume that there was nothing to be found in the way of clues.

“Um, well … I suppose when I woke up things were a little clearer,” he told the man, rubbing the back of his head and looking around to try and trigger a memory. “I don’t think much happened after we were put here … other than some confusion and then we both went on our way.” Igor had helped him home after the whole thing. His boyfriend had been utterly furious over the incident, which had also been a comfort. Edgar had been extremely stressed and doubted he would have attempted to make it home on his own after the ordeal.

“I … Well, I think we both tried to figure out what was happening. It was late … or early, I suppose. We made our way out of the room and … um … then the bartender - Igor, I mean - he helped me home. I’m not really sure what happened to the other bartender afterwards. I suppose I probably should have made sure he was okay as well. Sorry.” Edgar frowned, looking down at the bed. He hoped the other man had been alright as well. He’d simply been too groggy from the whole ordeal that he hadn’t even thought to look out for the other man.

What Gnaws || Edgar & Alastor || July 22, 1980

It was hard to tell what was and wasn’t setting Edgar back; and without asking anyone else, he only had the man’s word. And yes, no one else had been injured that night. So, that at least sounded like an improvement. He had no reason to think that he was being lied to, though he recognized that there was motivation to stay active in the Order. 

Sitting across from Edgar, observing and listening was difficult. It wasn’t because he was itching to say something and couldn’t wait until there was an opening, rather, it made him uncomfortable. Here he was, having forced the man to put into words how he was feeling and question his competency. Now that he’d broken the defences and he had his answer, he felt like shit for having to do all of it. But it was necessary.

Edgar’s questions highlighted another difficult aspect of Alastor’s job. There were a lot of expectations, spoken and unspoken; they were changing as the War went on. Though, one unchanged expectation was dedication to the Order. As far as meeting that expectation, all of them surpassed it. While that was great, he’d be lying if his concern about all of them being mentally whole - or at least sound - hadn’t grown. It was hard to determine who was coping and who wasn’t; there were clear indicators of course, but usually it wasn’t as straightforward. He just wanted the rest of them to be able to live something of a regular life after the War. Yet, they had to give it all in order to have a chance at that. He hated the dichotomy - risk life, limb, mind to live worry free. Maybe he was going soft.

Alastor rubbed a hand back and forth across his face. “The last thing I want is for our numbers to decrease.” He looked at Edgar again. “We already struggle with keeping up. You know that. So don’t think that I make any decision about membership lightly. You and your family have made considerable sacrifices in the War. I would like it if all of you could live relatively normal after it, whatever normal actually is because there won’t be a normal for any of us. Otherwise, what would those sacrifices be for, hmm? That’s my perspective. But -,” he took in a breath and exhaled. “But what sacrifices you make isn’t a decision I can or should make on your behalf.” He let his shoulders drop a little, letting some unknown tension release. “I’m going to continue to trust your judgement with the same terms as we’ve agreed upon before. In the future, when I do ask this question again, and we will probably have this conversation again, I hope it’ll be easier for the both of us.”

Hopefully Edgar would accept the decision and that they were done with the hard part. “Now, I take it that you still want to continue with your information gathering missions, as opposed to frontline duties?”

As much as it had frustrated him to be cornered into admitting things that he hadn’t quite been ready to face, Moody seemed satisfied with the answer he gave. There was a short moment when he thought he might have to fight, but when the man spoke again Edgar found that he had to turn away. 

A small hand, a reminder that Zane was still there, silently listening to them speak, reached out once more and took his. It was both a comfort and a concern that a boy his age understood to any degree the distress this conversation was causing him. It made him feel weak, like a failure of a father, and suddenly he wished the boy wasn’t there at all despite finding comfort in that small hand on his. 

We’ve sacrificed far too much, he thought to himself. Moody was right about that. It was … kind of the man to acknowledge this. Most days Edgar felt less like he had sacrificed, and more like he had simply lost. 

Taking Zane’s hand and offering it a firm squeeze, he looked down at the boy. “Thank you,” he told his son seriously. “I think you should go check on your mother, see if she needs help with your sisters.”

Zane frowned, but didn’t argue, seeming to understand that he would be okay. He did, however, offer Moody a final warning look as he left the small living room, once again looking far too much like his mother as he did so. Edgar listened to his small footsteps as the boy hurried upstairs, liking to tell Rommie everything that had been said. He wondered how much the boy really understood of their conversation, but he knew better than to assume it was nothing. Children could be far more perceptive than people gave them credit for, especially children who had seen as much as Zane had.

Ed waved aside the difficulty of the magic involved, but Igor suspected that it was bashfulness and humbleness on his part more than anything. Ed often seemed unaware of his own abilities as a wizard, convinced that he was bumbling and foolish, when Igor had seen more than enough evidence to the contrary. Yes, Ed was often awkward (frustratingly endearingly so), but he was also keenly intelligent and magically gifted. His emotions simply got in his way. If it were anyone else, that would grate on Igor’s nerves, but somehow it had become something he loved about Ed.

Igor hummed, the sound a mix of understanding and sympathy as Ed explained himself. Igor wasn’t sure he completely understood what about the process of extracting memories was so unpleasant, but he was willing to take Ed’s word for it. After all, Ed was the one who had the experience and besides that, Ed rarely told anything other than the truth. 

Ed’s ensuing smile was shaky, as was his attempt at humour, but Igor was eager for the chance to lighten the mood and he wasn’t about to let the opportunity slip away. “There are a few, yeah,” he said with a laugh. “But maybe I will keep them in my head.” He offered Ed a mischievous smile and a wink, leaving it to the other man’s imagination what the happy memories might be. “Just for me.”

He wasn’t sure he would want to revisit any of his happier memories – or joyfully naughty ones, for that matter – from the sort of outsider perspective that Ed described. He liked them as they were, even if they faded with time. He didn’t want to look at his memories like events separate from himself.

Again, though, it crossed his mind that this conversation could be useful to the Dark Lord. Being able to view people’s memories, to explore them freely and learn their secrets, that would be an undeniably powerful tool to have at their disposal. 

Fuck! Stop thinking about it! Igor gave his head a little shake, trying to shove aside thoughts of Lord Voldemort and the War. He was trying to cheer Ed up here, but all he seemed to be managing was stressing himself out as well.

“You save happy memories like this also, then?” he asked, determined to get things back on track. “What is the most happy memory you have like this?” He pointed at the bottles of liquid memory. Surely getting on the subject of happy memories would be the best way to cheer Ed (and himself) up, right? And he knew that Ed must have a few really good ones, considering he’d seen him cast a patronus before.

Edgar was feeling far to modolin to be embarrassed by the slight insinuation that Igor tossed his way. “I bet,” he offered with a small laugh, a laugh that seemed to lift just a small amount of the tension in his chest and off his shoulders.

This was why he always came to Igor. Good or bad, there was simply something about the place that made him feel safe and protected from the outside world. Perhaps part of this came from the fact that their visits often happened in the evening, when Igor was done work and there were no customers to disturb their quiet chatter. There was something about the night, while it held a lot of pain for Edgar in the forms of nightmares, there was also something serene to be had in the cool dark. There were no real obligations, no appointments or engagements most evenings. It was just them and the spiders that hid amongst the soft murmuring of the books.

At the question, Edgar glanced up from the bottles. “Oh, I don’t typically store any good memories,” he answered honestly with a frown. It wasn’t something that had really occurred to him before, mostly because the good memories that clouded his mind didn’t bother him nearly as much as the bad ones. “But I do have some that might be nice to keep safe.” Maybe, now that he knew how to do the magic, it would be good to extract a few of his more precious memories. It could be something that he could show the kids when they got older, or simply revisit himself if the memory ever started to fade.

It might be nice to revisit them on his darker nights too, when it was difficult to capture those good memories in his mind.

“If I did start, though, I would probably have my kids’ birth,” he said, listing off the obvious memory. “Wedding day would be nice to have too.” Those were all so obvious, though. He thought harder, searching for any of the good memories that would otherwise be lost in time. The moments that were never quite captured because they were more impromptu. “There was a time when I was a kid that my sister and I found a baby duck lost in the woods. Or ---” he threw a finger up suddenly as he recalled one of his favourite memories, “What about the time we went to get Socks? The dog I mean, not what you put on your feet. I think that was one of my favourite of our outings.” 

edgarbonesknows​:

  ‘Don’t get your knickers in a twist’ was a defense line from someone who wasn’t planning on apologizing for their insensitivity, which managed to irk Edgar even further. As if his reaction to the man’s words was the wrong part of this conversation. 

It’s not worth it, he reminded himself firmly as he reeled in his frustration. Sep meant well, and he understood that, but it didn’t make him any less annoyed at the assumptions he was making about his boyfriend. However as the man continued, Edgar did find that it helped ease some of the tension. Perhaps because he found the imitation of Igor’s near constant state of consternation or aloofness ridiculously accurate. 

Offering a small smile and a gentle roll of his eyes, he offered Sep a shrug. “I suppose that’s not an entirely wrong depiction of Igor,” he admitted grudgingly. “But that doesn’t mean you get to make assumptions! I make stupid faces all the time, usually I’ve got nothing on my mind but what I’m going to have for lunch.” Edgar glanced over at Igor, wondering if the man in question could hear any part of their conversation. He doubted it, the music was loud and the crowd was louder, but he still worried what his boyfriend might think when he learned that Edgar and this bouncer had been talking about him. 

Before he had a chance to let his worries try to change the subject once again, Sep was cutting in quickly. Edgar glanced back in surprise before remembering that Sep did, in fact, have a job that wasn’t chatting with the patrons of the club. Chewing his lip in an attempt to try and hide his relief that the conversation was coming to an end, he nodded as the man placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, it was good to chat with someone else from the club. I’m starting to get a better idea about how things work around here,” he told the man with a genuine smile. As much as the conversation had teetered into dangerous territory, Edgar always enjoyed talking to new people. It was his inquisitive nature to what to learn about every type of person. “Maybe I’ll see you around again soon!” He had a feeling he would be noticing Sep more often, considering they had now been properly introduced. Hey, it was always a bonus to have the bouncers on your side, right? Edgar couldn’t complain at this new and somewhat shaky friendship.

“Have a good shift,” he said finally, offering a small wave.

At the very least, Sep wouldn’t be leaving the conversation on completely bad terms. It seemed like Edgar’s annoyance had been eased somewhat, as he chuckled and grudgingly admitted that Sep’s Igor impression held some merit. Sep grinned, the expression in sharp contrast to his stern look from the moment before. He didn’t get away with his cheekiness without a little scolding, but he was able to shrug off far harsher words than what Edgar had to offer and the words of warning fell on deaf ears.

Indeed, he was quite convinced that Edgar thought nothing but the best of him as they parted ways. “Enjoy your writing or whatever!” he said in cheerful reply to the other man’s words. “See you around, mate.”

Pushing away from where he’d been leaning against the bar, he offered Edgar a final wave and then made his way towards the dance floor. Igor caught his eye as Sep passed by him, the look on his face flickering momentarily to something questioning. Sep didn’t bother stopping, just winking at the bartender and offering him a silent thumbs up. Igor’s brows drew together, but he didn’t have a chance to say anything, as Sep kept walking and more patrons clamoured for drinks.

Sep had already turned his attention to someone else. “Oi! Ram!” he called out, waving at the other bouncer, who was wandering sourly through the tables and looking professionally uncomfortable. “Over here!”

Immune to the annoyance in his friend’s voice as Ramsey spotted him and demanded to know where he’d been, Sep made his way over to him. “Sorry, mate,” he told him, as they headed back for the front door together. “Got distracted. You know how the waitresses were saying Karkaroff’s seeing someone? Guess who I just met!”

With enough gossip to get them through the rest of their shift, there was a spring in Sep’s step as he got back to work, leaving the fanfare of the club’s indoors behind.

~

It was becoming more obvious that he needed to talk to the bartender. The timeline was becoming more clear, but he needed to know if the bartender kept an eye on the drink or if someone else could have slipped something in without being noticed. Not to mention, the bartender seemed to be a key player in the events. He put the thought away for now.

“Well, we have at least one room with a bed in it,” he remarked. “I suppose if anyone needs some extra sleep before or after their shift.” There could be other private matters happening in those rooms, but Alastor didn’t particularly care whatever went on in them or whatever arrangements management allowed, so long as the people who worked here and their clients were safe. That’s what he was paid for after all.

Alastor waited for Edgar to lead, following close behind the man. He kept an eye out on the floor as he usually did while keeping his main focus on where Edgar went. Most people were focused on the stage and the performance. Others were walking around, presumably to go to the bar or bathrooms. His mind had been conditioned to be able to split focus and spot things that looked off. Being in a war zone and a club were two very different things though. He didn’t have to worry about getting blown up here. No trip wires, hostiles, or explosives. Just people looking to escape and have a good time.

The rooms were down a fairly quiet hall, and as far as he knew, only really used by the employees though there were probably a few clients who knew about them either by wandering around or otherwise; they weren’t off limits unless they were locked. “Let me know if there’s anything that strikes you as familiar.” He knew people could remember things just by the senses; something would trigger an otherwise suppressed memory. Sometimes a car backfiring made him jump, or the smell of burned tar would trick his mind into briefly thinking he was miles away. Thankfully, neither of those were particularly common in his new line of work.

They were approaching the rooms, and he stopped and leaned up against a wall. He wanted Edgar to take his time and hopefully pick out the room. Worst case was that he’d have to open all of them and let the man have a peek inside. There was a good chance that anything that would still be there from that night would be gone but it was worth a shot. He wasn’t going to leave a stone unturned.

Edgar blushed and turned away when the security guard admitted that there was a room with a bed in it. The excuse of it being there for the dancers to rest sounded ridiculous. It was likely obvious to the both of them what that bed was used for. The fact that he and a random bartender had both wound up in it through no fault of their own made him uncomfortable. 

As they wandered through the back corridor, Edgar tried to focus on the details, to see something that might trigger a memory. Nothing was jumping out at him immediately, but he knew he had been in this hall once before. What route had he taken when he'd left the room that night? It was all so hazy, even after the drug had mostly worn off. 

They stopped next to some doors and Edgar glanced over at Moody, trying to figure out if it was safe for him to start opening these doors to check inside. The man looked expectant, so he could only assume he should start checking the rooms. 

Rather than risking walking in on something he'd rather not see, he first looked over each of the doors for any kind of hint of something familiar. For the most part they were all uniform, painted the same dull white. A few had signs over them, but most of them didn't jump out to him until…

"This one … I think it's this one," he said, standing in front of a door that had a frilly, rather gaudy-looking sign that currently read 'open'. Taking the sign to be telling the truth, he opened the door slowly, hoping that anyone who might be waiting on the other side would let them know if they could enter. He was relieved to discover that there was no one on the other side and he was relieved when no voice shouted out in alarm and the room was revealed to be vacant.