WHO: mary macdonald ( @macmary )
WHERE: the ministry of magic
FOR all intents and purposes, this should have been an ordinary day – though Larkin never liked being much of an errand boy, he supposes that sometimes, it was nice not having to skulk around corners, doing the bidding of greater Death Eaters. Even so, the light is not something Larkin is used to, and walking under the gaze of daylight feels amiss.
He knew the sun once. The unfettered warmth of its touch, the way it never discriminated who it’d touch. Of course, that was forever ago, lost to a space he no longer traversed, in fear of what it would reflect back onto his soul. Monsters could not be in the light, for they are unable to face their own monstrosity. Plainly said, Larkin Mulciber could not be good.
It’s retribution then, when he files into the lift at the Ministry without looking. From the corner of his eye, he spots the bounce of brown curls, the curve of a familiar pair of lips and his heart stops in his chest and falls the foot down into the pit of his stomach. Thankfully, there is a crowd between him and them to buffer the connection, but the connection is almost too forceful to bear. One by one, the other people file out of the lift, the robotic lilt of the phantom voice clucking away at each floor — all until it is just him and them, like it was before.
Things had always seemed easier when it was just the two of them, sneaking away into their secret like their own world — but now? Now, the hesitance and tension is practically unbearable in its weight. Larkin never lets his guard down, but even now, his shoulders stay tight, his hands balled into fists by his side. He doesn’t dare to look at them, not even a single bit. In a few moments, the lift would stop and one of them would leave, and they would never have to speak again, not for another thousand years —
The lift stops. The lights flicker. Larkin takes a sip of a breath, and holds, but nothing makes another sound or movement. Letting out his held breath, he releases himself from his tightened stance, careful to address the other without allowing himself a single glance. “This bloody thing’s stuck,” he says stiffly. “Do y’know how to fix this?”
it was an idle job really. they scarcely visited the ministry as it was, there being no need to outside of the occasional visit to see friends over a coinciding lunch break, but especially rare following their mission to steal the prophecy. one couldn’t risk the likelihood, or rather, the eventuality that they’d be recognised, subsequently pulled away and questioned over their very being there. more surprising turn of events had happened however, the wix having found themselves sent there to scope out just how pressing an issue it actually was to the ministry. or, if they’d even noticed it was gone... all the while, their home team worked tirelessly to uncover the prophecy’s true meaning.
the day was like any other, mary could have guessed. grand, domineering interior wasted upon the mundane energy about the place, juxtaposed with the great number of witches, wizards & wix who flittered around the atrium. dashing from one place to another. it’s so, that mary’s paying very little mind to those around them, letting others pass and pivot around their brightly dressed form. mind otherwise transfixed on getting downstairs, prying as best they knew how and promptly, getting back out.
it’s only as soft, brown hues rake across a strikingly familiar form that such a plan goes up in flames. darkness seems to encroach upon the lift car, sucking air from their lungs & optimism from their mind. any sense of protection, the walls they’d built up in their time apart, rendered wholly useless against his being there. his really being there. nightmares, and remnants of that night combined could have hardly prepared mary for the nauseating reality. they’d built it up in their mind, of course... fantasised about revenge and closure alike when face to face with him again but such confidence had all been vain... as stood just a way away from larkin mulciber, all that remained was the sole hope that his presence was to be short lived.
frozen, the safety net depletes. the wix defenceless as the lift descends... as do the number of workers along with it. icing on top of the ‘perfect’ day creeping in on mary as their car lurches to an abrupt, entirely unwelcome stop. a hand eagerly clamps to the rail beside them, desperate to ground themselves amongst the silent chaos unfolding around them. his refusal to even look at them stings more than mary cares to admit, tense words the only acknowledgment he grants. evidently, his deceit having developed to all out disgust in their time apart. a flat ❛ no. ❜ is all mary can stomach out in response, gaze fixated on the marble floor before them... unstimulating but anything to distract from the overwhelming panic otherwise flooding their senses. ❛ just... don’t say anything else. ❜ they cry, reaching over to push a button which would, merlin deliver them, call the attendant on duty.