C H A O S

setting: the apothecary, late afternoon who: alecto and travers

“I’ve a bit of a cold, you see,” Alecto says, crossing her hands over her throat. She grins, her eyes going cold as impatience sets in. The attendant she’s talking to seems not to notice, rolling his eyes as if she were a normal customer. Alecto smiles wider. She turns her head just so, eyeing the man at the cashier, whose eyes widen in alarm. 

“Miss Carrow, what will you need from us today?” he says as he brisk-walks toward her, his voice shaking. Before Alecto can say anything more, the bell at the door chimes and he looks toward it. 

It wasn't often Travers bothered with such menial tasks like a trip to the apothecary. Those idiotic elves would fetch him what he needed, or he would have it ordered in. But he was just so...bored lately. Ever since Easter, there had been no progress, no updates. Nothing of interest to keep his attention occupied. That's how he found himself wandering Knockturn Alley to find the little shop, entering it with a gentle chime of a bell.

"Carrow," he greeted, the name lacking the usual disgust Travers gave in tone when speaking to her twin. That moron, kidnapped and now dead - allegedly. That cockroach was probably hiding out somewhere, his cowardice keeping him from facing the Death Eaters. "Frightening the staff again, are we?" Although, from the looks of it, the cashier wasn't all too comfortable in Travers company either.

The smirk grew into a grin, tongue poking between her teeth. “Then I guess I’m all yours tonight. You know I always take care of my favourite client… As long as he takes care of me,” she teased, lips transforming into a pout, but the smirk was still clear in her eyes. She didn’t need his money. Hell, she didn’t even need to dance for tips. The Rookwoods had plenty of wealth, and Merlin Rouge had proven to be quite the investment for the three siblings. She could stay behind the scenes, doing the book work, but what fun would that be? Alessia and Jonas enjoyed each other’s company, and this little arrangement of theirs would continue until one of them got bored with it… if they got bored of each other. He was the most entertaining part of her job most days. She shrugged one shoulder in response, but a bored look crossed her features. She didn’t care much either way when it came to blood purity, that’s why she stayed decidedly neutral in matters of war. She could play both sides without getting her manicure dirty. “Sounds like we have something to celebrate.”

Travers leaned forward, lips ghosting over hers - a breath away, but careful not to touch. It was all a game, something a bit exciting, something to pass the time. Alessia's company was welcome, even craved at times. "I always do, you know that." He ducked his head, finally leaving a kiss but at the base of her jaw. "You'd let me know if I didn't." It seemed each of the three Rookwoods had some sort of connections to him, some relevance and reliance in his life. Augustus, a promising Death Eater with rising stastitics; Ariadne, deligating his funds to this charity and that; and here, Alessia. His favorite of all, his favorite in this whole damn club. She could keep his attention for more than an hour - it had been months now, and still he came back night after night. "Glad you agree."

ariadne.

She felt nothing for the child,   of course.   But a small part of her could not overlook the fact that the Potter boy was no older than Blaise,   or little Draco.   The comparisons began and ended there,   however.   She’d never have to worry about such a thing happening to own child.   Not with her affiliations,   not with Augustus looking out for them.   “   A terrible shame after all.   ”   And as the door swings shut,   her smile dims only slightly,   pausing before taking a sip of her own.   Criticism is heavy in her words.   “   Though none can be blamed but the parents themselves.   Perhaps if they’d kept a closer eye…   ”   her words fade,   silenced by the goblet against painted lips.

“   You’re a busy man I know,   ”   she muses.   “   We won’t keep you tied up too long.   ”   Another flick of her wrist,   and a file is zooming towards them.   A single lithe finger moves to open it,   eyes scanning the page.   “   Same causes as usual,   or are you considering broadening your scope?   ”   

Travers rolled his eyes. All those poor martyrs, trying to save everyone from the big, bad Death Eaters. What a horrible joke, a hilarious attempt. But their pursuit over a child, their success in his demise, showed just how ill equipped their opponents truly were. This drawn-out war was soon to end. What did they call themselves? The Order of the Phoenix? He had heard of their infighting and grief - it was only matter of time before they destroyed themselves, but Travers would've much preferred the pleasure. "It's a reflection on them, really. To let their own kid get taken and killed," he clicked his tongue in disappointment. "Makes you wonder what kind of a person lets that happen."

Broadening his scope. Funnelling his funds into these pointless causes was broad enough. "Do what you want, put it where you think is useful, but double to amounts." Without asking, he pulled out a cigarette and lit it. The smoke bothered some people, but he couldn't be bothered to care.

Travers was becoming impatient for progress. So many promises from eager young members, and yet, none of them were fulfilled. He was getting tired of such incompetence, as was the Dark Lord. As Voldemort's eyes and ears, as one of the Inner Circle, Travers did not take kindly to failure within the Death Eaters. He had little faith in Katarina, yet that was more than he held for others.

"Well? You promised me names, recruits - that better be the reason you're here. Otherwise, you're wasting your own time - and more importantly, you're wasting mine."

He spotted that flaming red hair from across the shop - what an unfortunate trait it was, like an arrow on her head alerting her enemies to her exact location. Of course, Travers wouldn't harm her in such a crowded area, but just as with the McKinnon girl, it would be oh-so fun to toy with her. "You're Potters wife, aren't you?" He drawled as he approached her, lazily picking up a potion from a nearby shelf. "I'd like to offer my condolences. We were all praying for your son's safe return at Travers Manor. I'm sorry it didn't end up that way." He would be shocked if she believed a single word he said - there was little effort to make his sentiments seem genuine.

Time and time again, the biggest weaknesses the Order displayed was their heart. It beat in their chests, guiding each and every moment they made. Never ones to cross their principles, the righteousness of the group stabbed away at their potential. How dangerous could they be if they put away their humanity? How much more even with this war be if two bloodthirsty groups went head to head? Those differences between them- she was sure of it- counted for a great deal. As much as the world wanted to believe that good conquered all, more often than not people like Bellatrix or Jonas won. In ruthless strategy, there was no time for delusions of morality. “You and I have the same mindset… now if only more shared it.”Bellatrix nodded, that cheshire cat smile ever present as her thoughts turned. “He’s been very consistent, however, a part of me doesn’t trust him… he’s proven himself to be a traitor.”  She always found herself growing bored with the others- Lucius was so hesitant to plan anything, Rodolphus lacked any kind or backbone. At least in Jonas’s company, she could be unapologetically herself- in all her brilliant danger. “Having evidence that he kidnapped a child, a crime like that could land him in Azkaban… and that is something we can remind him of if he ever strays.” Against the protest of her straining muscles, Bellatrix pushed herself up and turned to face Jonas. Perhaps it was risky business, with Rodolphus hidden somewhere in the Lestrange Manor… but Bellatrix had never brought herself to care much. Molten black eyes studied his features, fingers tracing down his jawline before they lifted his chin. “For the cause, I will.”

Travers smirked at her comparison - they were always the same, Bellatrix and himself. Ruthless, cunning, patient. They knew that it took great restraint to wait for the correct time to strike, but when that time came, restraint no longer had a place there. The waiting was becoming tedious, his patience waning thin, but that look in her eyes, the look that told him something big was coming for them all, kept him sated. "We'd finally get some fucking work done, if there were more of them like us," he chuckled, an uncharacteristically light sound coming from his chest. "But, fuck, I'm failing to see any potential in our younger recruits." Travers leaned forward, rest his forearms on his kness, trying to stretch closer as if someone could overhear, as if this planning was for their ears only. "He's a traitor to them, he could be a traitor to us," he mused in agreement. "Never trust a fucking rat, but if we do, and he doesn't betray us..." A sick grin twisted his lips as he imagined the chaos that would ensue if the little Potter boy was stolen away successfully. "So, we trust him enough to be able blackmail him later. Sometimes I do wonder why you aren't running the whole place." Whenever she spared it to him, he savored her touch. How different things would be, how much better things could have been, if only...His eyes shut for a moment, only a long blink to those who didn't know him. "I'll leave you then," although he wished he didn't have to.

She didn’t know what it was about his laugh that was so unsettling. Maybe it was the fact that Jonas Travers was one of three people Antonin asked her not to fuck with. (That was his first mistake.) Maybe it was the fact that the laugh didn’t sound humorous at all. It was almost mocking, and made her want to skip the wand and punch him in that smug little face of his. Yeah, that would teach him a lesson and give her a shallow grave. Still probably wouldn’t be the most reckless thing she did that week. “Yeah, that’s kind of the point of a threat,” she bit back, eyebrows raised in challenge. She didn’t have time for his games. She was wasting precious drinking time, damnit. She hated the way he called her a good little auror, like it was an insult. “You’re right, I am a damn good auror,” she stretched the truth, twisting his words. She knew it wasn’t what he meant, but, well, she was a brat. “Well damn, that only makes me want to stay put and ruin your night, buddy. Wanna share a bottle of this cheap swill here?” she asked, setting the bottles down on the bar but dangling one in front of him like she was offering a dog a treat as she leaned back, half sitting on one of the stools there. 

This one was a firecracker, he would give that much. It would be so much more satisfying when she was finally felled, either by him or another. He hoped he would have the pleasure of taking her life once and for all - Rookwood almost did, a slightly impressive feat, but wasn't able to complete the job. The next time a wand was pointed at the girl, that mistake wouldn't be made again. His eyes narrowed slightly, and he cocked his head to the side. "Is that what passes for being a good auror these days? From what I've heard, the entire Ministry is in a state of shame for letting a boy get murdered and their most elite team couldn't even save him. I heard they didn't even get close." It took effort to keep the vicious grin from spread across his face. The taunts may have gone too far, but oh, he couldn't resist knocking that ego down a peg or two. This time, he cocked a brow at her offer, expecting it to be rescinded soon. Tentatively, he read the label of the bottle and nearly gagged. "I would've expected the daughter of McKinnon to have better taste, but maybe he didn't raise you all that well after all."

It was strange but then Evan figured squibs had to find some way to deal with the disappointment of being born without magic. Far be it from him to judge whatever fucked up coping mechanisms they came up with. He scoffed, “A Death Eater? In the Auror Department? Don’t be ridiculous, Travers.” His tone was dripping with sarcasm. Evan had found that people often saw only what suited them and no one wanted to believe that the DMLE could be infiltrated or even the Ministry could be infiltrated. Evan might be good at deception but people usually did half his work for him. “Besides I seem to be more competent than most of those idiots.” He paused for a moment, “There are some that may pose a problem in the future.” But they would be dealt with if the time came. “We should be more concerned with strengthening our ranks rather than numbers.” 

Travers scoffed. He didn't doubt Evan - at least not as much as he doubted everyone else - but he was still surprised that the auror department hadn't caught on yet. They claimed to be a team of elite witches and wizards, capable of anything thrown their way, and yet they weren't able to save poor little Harry, or notice an intruder in their ranks. Ignorance would be their downfall, if incompetence didn't get to them first. "Yes, it would be completely unfounded for someone to accuse to department of being infiltrated. You haven't given them any reason to suspect you, have you?" Travers gave his friends a sidelong glance. "Don't keep me in suspense - who are these problems?" It was always fun to extinquish fires before they became out of control, and there were oh so many ways to do that. "With the idiots we already have, I wonder if they're even capable of strengthening themselves. I'd sooner replace to whole lot than depend on Wilkes to get my fucking tea."

“Killing the fool is a kindness.” Carrow had signed his life away the moment he let himself get captured. He should’ve known better. Now he would pay the consequences. At the mention of the Potters, Bellatrix felt a prickle of hatred. They had managed to evade the Dark Lord once. Not to mention Sirius had found a new home in them. Knuckles turned white as they grip the bedpost, listening. “A child.” Bellatrix repeated, the words turning wheels in her head. James and Lily would do anything to keep their beloved boy safe. The very day Harry was born, he became their biggest vulnerability- and now it was time to exploit it. After all, all was fair in love and war. Impressed, her eyes gave him a quick once over as he made his way into the room. “Your mind is a lovely, depraved place, isn’t it?” She couldn’t help but smirk. Maybe that was what set them apart from the others, an innate disregard for morality. Was there anything that they wouldn’t do? Anything too vile that would make their skin crawl? Bellatrix had yet to find that point of contemplation.“Pettigrew- he’s close to the Potters… maybe it’s time we gave him a chance to prove his loyalty?” The spy was the perfect candidate. He had a well fleshed out cover,  his true identity still in the dark as he operated for the Dark Lord. Moreover, he’d yet to gain the trust of higher-ups like Bellatrix- now he had the chance. “We would need to make arrangements- when to strike, a place to keep the little runt…” 

"He should hope they kill him so we don't get the chance to - I doubt we'd be as kind as those sappy others." The Order of the Phoenix. What a ridiculous name, come from an even more ridiculous man. He had heard of Dumbledore from the Dark Lord and others, but had never spoken to him himself, due to his tenure at Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts. And he was glad for it. Attending a school run by that fool was sure to have been a waste of formative years. No wonder these younger members were such idiots, to have been taught by such a man. "You say depraved," he drawled, matching her smirk, "I say strategic. We should bother holding anything back, especially not for any sentiments." A child - yes, what a perfect bargaining chip. The Potters would do anything to get him back, but the more he thought and planned, it became clear that the end of this scheme would not end with a happy reunion once the Dark Lord was involved. It made him pleased to be plotting in the company of Bellatrix - there would be no scolding from her, instead only encouragement and collaboration. Perhaps the two of them together would be more efficient than the Dark Lord had been all these years. "Pettigrew...never liked him, but...I suppose he hasn't fed us false information yet." Travers took a seat in an armchair near the bed, resting his chin on his palm. His eyes trailed along her body, studying her face last. "You should rest. We'll need you at your best."

His own interests had always come before all else and his family was a part of that. The Dark Lord’s goals just happened to align with his and that was all that tied him to the movement. It would be a lie to say that he held no loyalty in his heart for the men and woman who also bore the Mark. They had his support when needed and he would never see them stuck if there was something he could do. It simply came down to the fact that his family were an extension of himself and for that they would always be his main concern. “What’s the point of it all if there’s no one left to inherit it? No steady hands to take the wheel once we’re done.”

The notion that he was sidelining his wife was one that didn’t sit well with him. Perhaps with some other woman he might have been guilty of it but when it came to Narcissa he was well aware that she was his match, his equal. It was something he was proud of, not threatened by. “My wife is playing her part in all this.” The words were firm, leaving little room for argument though he was almost certain that there’d be some retort. Drink was taken from his glass before dry words leave his lips. “I’d also like him to be alive to see the end of it.” 

Travers resisted the urge to argue. He had little hope in the younger generation, and therefore even less for the one below them. If these twenty-something idiots couldn't do anything right, how could he place faith in the future competence of these little infants? They were already irritating enough as it was, screaming and squirming about - how could they possibly grow to be his own equal? to serve the Dark Lord to success? "If you'd like your son to inherit a world worth living in, then perhaps you should start his training sooner rather than later. Not now of course, but consider Durmstrang for when the time comes. Hogwarts," he said the word as if he could spit on it, "does not have the same standards."

He rolled his eyes. Such sentimental emotions between Lucius and his wife - rare love in a society of loveless marriages. It made him sick. It was a weakness, a waste of time. The only woman he imagined as his bride was her sister Bellatrix, his only possible equal, but alas. "If she were playing her part correctly, she would not be so fearful of taking the Dark Mark." Travers refilled his drink which was not yet empty. "By all means, keep him alive. If you raise him correctly and do you job well, then he will ineherit the world we all hope to create."

NARCISSA MALFOY.

who: @lmalfoys· & @jonastravers·.

The Malfoys sat, awaiting Jonas Travers’ footsteps. Narcissa couldn’t sit down, instead, she paced but try to make it look as though she were merely examining Travers’ home decor. Not that she truly cared about decorations, or anything at the moment, other than making sure her own son would be safe. Someone needed to be blamed; and if that someone couldn’t be Lord Voldemort himself, why Narcissa would go to his second in command. Lucius had, thankfully, supported her, so here they were, patiently (or anxiously in Narcissa’s case) awaiting Jonas to grace them with his presence.

Finally he arrived, and Narcissa stood straight, rigid, eyes boring holes into the other man’s. “I would like an explanation,” she said, fire burning in her pupils. “For the horrific actions that were committed in my home, without my consent, and without any regard for my or my son’s safety.” 

If he ever had to pick a flaw for himself ( already something of a nonstarter when he would happily declare that he had none )  rage or wrath would not be the first that came to his mind. His pride had always been the sin that he was guilty of but not this time. No, this time he truly was livid. Enraged at the precarious position it had put his wife and son in as well as the general unpleasantness of what had occurred. Incensed that after all his family had done for the cause they weren’t even given the courtesy of a warning.

As soon as Travers entered, he’d moved to stand beside his wife. A united front. Despite her subtlety, he knew she had been pacing. Knew that she had been anxious. And so a reassuring hand was placed on her back, letting her know that he was there as he spoke up. “And as well as giving my wife the explanation she wants, I would like one as to why we were given no warning to all of this.” 

@jonastravers·

When one of those scurrying little elves told him of the Malfoy's arrival, Travers rolled his eyes. What they could possibly want, he didn't know - nor did he care, really. Where once Lucius had been revered, Travers now found him to be more trouble than he was worth. The man's loyalty was slipping and his wife was an annoying little nuisance. As he lazily made his way to the sitting room where they were waiting, he idly wondered if this had something to do with the Potter boy.

"Well?" He said as way of announcing his arrival. He listened to their complaints, offering no reaction beyond his obvious irritation at having this conversation at all. "Mrs. Malfoy," he began, mocking her with the formality, "you did give your consent, if you recall. I asked for your home, and you gave it to me. As far as I'm concerned, that included whatever we wished to do in it." His head lolled in the direction of Lucius. "As for you, the Dark Lord didn't think your knowledge of the plan was necessary. There was simply a lack of...trust. And - as for your son - as I've said before, his safety is your concern, not mine nor the rest of the Dark Lord's followers." He strolled over to the sizable bar cart near the corner of the room and poured himself a glass of scotch, but did not offer one to either of his guests.

where: ariadne’s office

Whether they thought it a worthy endeavor not,   image was everything to the elite.   Involving themselves in charitable causes offered good publicity,   and Ariadne had always kept very detailed ledgers of their generous donations.   Of course,   the main goal of this particular organization was less than noble.   The Zabini foundation and all who donated to it were wrapped up in their own selfish interests,   all working together in support of one cause.   It was good that she had never been one to concern herself with morality.

Unfortunately,   her role meant she was subject to meetings with stuffy old men quite frequently   -   they were dull,   but she was a business woman at heart,   and this particular stuffy old man   (   hardly an apt assessment,   if Alessia’s words held any truth   )   was the foundation’s most generous benefactor.   “   Mr.   Travers,   to what do I owe the pleasure?   ”   It’s an effortless charm with which she addresses him.   With a flick of her wrist,   a luxe decanter is pouring Elven wine into two crystalline glasses.   The reason for his visit are implied,   but she doesn’t falter in her professionalism as she speaks again.   “   Please,   do shut the door behind you.   ”

@jonastravers·

Charity was hardly something he would have cared about if there hadn't been something in it for him. Let's those beggars continue on, let those without money figure something else out - he owed nothing to society, just as it owed nothing to him. However, he saw the merrit in his donations early on. Those sickles and knuts secured his reputation - would such a horrible man spend so much to cure illnesses? or to support those dirt poor and destitute? It gave him a leg to stand on where he otherwise would have had none. His favorite charity - really the only one he bothered with, due to its faceted business - was the Zabini Foundation. It helped that Ariadne's presence was bearable, too.

"I figured it was time to add a little money to the foundation's accounts. After all, it is a terrible shame that a baby was murdered. There are many people in need of charity during these dark times." Each word was dripping with ridicule and tar, not a sincere sentiment to be found. It wasn't for a care of those affected, but to sway those who thought he might be involved. He smirked and grabbed the crystal goblet, taking a careless swig.

Sometimes, Sofia wondered if it was as much of a thrill to him as it was to her, how he could terrify everyone but never quite her, not anymore. How did he feel, knowing she had the power to ruin his so treasured reputation? Maybe they hated each other, underneath it all, but maybe there was something electric there, too. As much as she loved the shifts she shared with Alessia, she thanked whoever was bothering to listen that she was off that night. Sofia hadn’t had a challenge in a while, and she was ready to see just what it would take to get under his skin the way she used to - the way she was pretty damn sure she still did. Tilting her chin just so to chase the feeling of his caress, giving every impression she didn’t want his hands to leave her skin ( and she didn’t, not really; she knew just what those hands were capable of ), she smiled her most innocent smile. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to disappoint you.” Sofia tilted her head, pouting ever so slightly. Under the guise of steadying herself, her hands returned to his legs. “Unfortunate. It’s always more fun when you’re both here.” Blinking her long lashes demurely, she cocked an eyebrow, words half innuendo and half challenge. Outside of the club, her interactions with her baby’s father were strained, uncomfortable, but here? Everything was a game she never really cared if she won; just playing it was reward enough.

The brief touches, the trailing of her hands, it all had his heart beating a little faster - not in any sort of sentimental way, but in anticipation of what he assumed, and maybe hoped, would happen. Alessia was his favorite, of course. That girl was something else, a firecracker and an entertainment no one could quite match - but he enjoyed the nights Sofia occupied his attention, as well. The tension between the two - the knowledge that one word from her to the correct person could ruin his entire reputation - made the experience all the more better. His fingers grazed up the length of her thigh, curling around the back to briefly skim her ass then insteads gripped her hip. "Trust me - I don't mind," he smirked. After all, it had been a while since he found Sofia on shift like this. He snorted at her insinuation, though. "You can go find him if you like, but I'd rather have you to myself." It was a game, simply and easy, complicated and dangerous. Oh, how he did enjoy these nights. On the tip of his tongue lingered the question, wondering how to phrase it without sounding desperate: how's the kid? is your kid still around? did you get the money? But he held off, waiting. He shouldn't care, anyway, about some half-blood bastard - but she was his and somehow that changed things.