Quentin Crabbe

He wasn’t thinking about Alecto, and that should have been his first clue that something strange was going on here. He didn’t realize a thing was amiss, watching Quentin Crabbe the way that he was. He didn’t often go for men. They were weaker than women, and therefore no match for Amycus, although perhaps Mulciber was the exception to that. He tilted his head, reaching out and grabbing Quentin by the back of the neck, pulling him lower to meet Amycus. “I need a moment alone, with you.” He motioned with his head towards a secluded area of the room, where less people were. “Go.”

Quentin didn’t even care about Amycus touching him. If anything he found himself enjoying it, wanting more. “Alright.” He said as if he really had a choice. Though he wouldn’t have said anything else if he did. He wanted to be alone with the other man as well. He began walking out first, pushing his way past all of the other people and not bothering to check to see if Amycus was following. He just figured he was. “Where did you want to go?” He asked, figuring that he already had an idea in mind. 

Gwen wrinkled her nose at the thought of swimming in the Black Lake with the creatures she’d seen swim past the Common Room windows over the years. It certainly wasn’t her idea of a good time. “A simple drying charm might save them.” She retorted, though she knew that was a lie. The delicate fabrics of any of her outfits aside from her school uniforms would be ruined if submerged in the lake. Not that she would even wear the school uniforms if they took a dip in that water. “My hair would never recover though.” The very thought making her scalp tingle uncomfortably and she ran a hand over her perfect locks. 

Quentin was right, it was an unlikely scenario. Gwen enjoyed following the trail of thought in such a wild direction, however, as it was more fun than the whispers of Death Eaters, the war, and the future of pureblood society that plagued the Common Room this year. And the betrothals. Gwen could swear everyone had gotten engaged all at once. Everyone but her anyway. “It would be nice if nothing happened for a change.” She grumbled, pushing away thoughts of attacks, responsibilities, and the future.

He rolled his eyes. Of course her hair was more important than her clothes. Much to important to be fixed by a simple drying charm. Then again he was sure that all the work put into her hair cost as much as most of her clothes. And Gwen only bought the very best clothes. “Of course not, you’d probably have to shave it all off.” Quentin smirked, knowing that the comment would most likely send uncomfortable shivers down the girls spine. “Personally, I think you could pull off the bald look.” He told her purposely to make it even worse. The girl cared about her appearance, not that there was anything wrong with that, but she could also be a little high strung. He made it his personal job to try and loosen her up a bit. 

Nothing happening for a change sounded nice, definitely something he could get behind. “If something does they might as well post-pone graduation.” He laughed. “Not that that would be the worst thing in the world.” Quentin grumbled lowly. Though he was sure the girl probably heard him. It wasn’t exactly a secret that he wasn’t looking forward to entering the ‘real world’ and having to get a job. Though his father already had one lined up for him at the ministry once he completed an internship over the summer. He just didn’t think it was actually what he wanted to do. He had no idea what he wanted to do with his life. 

WHO: Amycus Carrow and Quentin Crabbe WHEN: Saturday, March 18th, 1978. WHERE: The Room of Requirement, Emma’s cat’s birthday

“You, Crabbe.” It was an order on Amycus’ part, the words falling from his mouth without any care on his part. “Come here.” @quentin-crabbe

Quentin had been eyeing Amycus up for a few moments when the other boy called out to him. He was surprised, but walked up anyway. Standing much to close to the him. “Carrow.” He said low, beginning to wonder when he’d begun to find any man so attractive. “Do you need something?” 

althea-nott‌:

January 3rd, 1978

Dear Quentin,

To know that I was able to ease any of the tension that night is of course a consolation, and to think you found my clumsiness charming, I’ll admit, is endearing.

I see we have found something in common already, I too found Professor Binn’s lectures extremely boring. I used to spend his lectures completing other assignments so that I might earn myself some more free time to do as I pleased. What do you like to do in your spare time? When I attended Hogwarts I was a member of the Astronomy club, the Charms club, the Potions club, and the Slug Club.

While Madame Pomfrey is an extremely talented healer, I cannot say she was my true inspiration in becoming one myself. Rather a wizard I think we’ve both come to admire greatly suggested my talents were best suited to healing, and that our community might benefit from my knowledge of the practice.

Sincerely,

Althea

January 4th, 1978

Quentin,

I heard about the attack on Hogsmeade. Are you alright? I’m sure the school is overrun by owls at the moment, and I’m sure you have many others to write before answering my letter, but please let me know that you are safe.

Be well,

Althea

@quentin-crabbe​

January 5th, 1978

Dear Althea, 

I’m writing to inform you..... I just want you to know..... I would like to apologize for my re-writes. I would have you another piece of parchment but I have already used quite a few during drafts for my reply to you. What has happened is difficult to describe. I am thankful to say that I am perfectly fine and safe. Thank you for writing. It means a lot. 

I am apart of the Potions club and Dueling club. Though in my actual free time I like to hang out with my friends. Gwendolyn Goyle and Lucius Malfoy. 

Thankfully, 

quentin-crabbe‌:

Quentin wasn’t supposed to be where he was at the moment, having supposed to be released completely separate from where everybody else was. As soon as he’d been able to move though, he didn’t care about what was ‘supposed’ to happen. Even as he heard Aurors calling out his name, it all blended in with all the other noise around him. All he could focus on was the fact that he could actually touch Althea. Hold her and Vincent in his arms. He didn’t want to ever let her go, even though he knew that he would have too. If only so that they could go home. For now he only pulled back a bit. Resting his forehead against hers, he moved one of his arms to Vincent. Maneuvering so that their son was now tucked away in his arm and his free one was holding his wife close. 

It was still surreal that they were all standing there together. That he wasn’t being escorted to Azkaban in that moment. “I’m so sorry you had to sit through all of that.” He murmured to her quietly, mainly so that onlookers would be unable to overhear. Quentin was fully aware of the flashing lights and the watchful eyes on them during that moment. A moment that should have been just between the three of them, but they’d been too impatient to wait. He held back his tears though, that would be one thing he did not allow them to see. He didn’t even want Althea too see him cry, though he knew that she would as soon as they were within the confines of their own home. “Let’s just- Let’s go home, alright?” He asked, a desperate look in his eyes as he looked into hers. 

There were lost of things that he was unsure of, all having to do with what would happen after this. Would he still have his job at the ministry? If not, then who would hire him? What was he even good at? Would would he do if Vincent every asked him about his time spent as Death Eater? Would it be best to be upfront about it, or should they hold off on telling him until he got older. Most he would discuss with Althea. He also wondered what was going through her mind, if her supporting him through all of this would affect her somehow. Even though he was found innocent. The verdict meant close to nothing when he was sure that many people still thought of him as guilty. When he himself knew that he was guilty. At least of somethings. He definitely could’ve been worse, probably would have been worse if it hadn’t been for his wife. Her influence on him. 

Althea shifted, allowing Quentin to take their son from her arms, their movements instinctively working together without so much as a second thought. It had taken them practice at first, when Vincent had been so new, so fragile, and them so inexperienced. How careful they had been when passing him back and forth, watching carefully to mind his head and anticipate any of his wild movements so as not to let him fall. It had been a gradual shift in their confidence in themselves as parents and in each other, a new familiarity between them growing until they found a sense of ease in their practiced movements. Still, Althea’s hand lingered at Vincent’s back as he settled in his father’s arm just in case he managed to squirm his way out. The sight of Quentin holding their son had her eyes stinging once again and Althea let them flutter shut, her forehead still resting against her husband’s as she took deep, calming breaths. They were safe, they were together, and they were free from all of the horrors that had plagued them during the war.

I’m so sorry you had to sit through all of that. Althea’s eyes snapped open to meet Quentin’s at his apology, her brows drawing together. “Don’t-” She whispered, her gaze meeting his earnestly as if she might convey the words she left unspoken. Don’t apologize to me. If either of them should have apologized, it should have been her. For years she had worked to undermine Quentin’s every move in the war, taking whatever knowledge she had of his assignments, and the plans of their friends, family, and allies back to the enemy to thwart them at every turn. Quentin had known of her schemes all along and what had he done? Supported her, protected her, even loved her in spite of her betrayal. If either of them had caused the other any sort of suffering, she was to blame, and it was she who should apologize to him.

At his prompting, Althea pulled away from Quentin in order to grasp his hand and tug him gently in the direction of the floos. Aurors had encircled them in their short reunion, and were working to hold the crowds around them at bay, for which Althea was grateful. She caught the eye of the one who had led her to the courtroom and gave him a small nod of thanks before setting her sights forward and walking at a dignified pace toward the nearest floo that would take them away to their safe haven. “Take Vincent and go, I’ll be right behind you.” Althea said softly, her hands gently pushing him toward the floo and stepping in front so that she might shield him from the photographers closing in around them. She lingered for a moment, straightening the collar of Quentin’s shirt and smoothing a dark lock away from Vincent’s face before stepping back out of reach of the green flames. No sooner had they died down than Althea stepped into place, turning to look out at the crowd one last time as she reached for a fistful of Floo Powder, before closing her eyes and letting it fall at her feet, returning home and to her family there waiting for her.

December 30th, 1977

Dear Mr. Crabbe,

Your apology, though greatly appreciated, is not necessary. I believe the formality of our meeting in August was to blame for any awkwardness between us and I assure you that I was nervous as well. I am more of the quiet sort myself, but I don’t tend to fumble my silverware as I did that night. Besides, casual conversation is difficult to manage under the circumstances we found ourselves.

I think your idea to write to one another is a great one, as I would like to know more about you as well. It’s my hope that we’ll find some things in common, or find that words come easier in the future.

Sincerely,

Althea C. Nott ~ Though, please, call me Althea.

January 2nd, 1977 

Dear Althea, 

Well if it is any consolation, I found the fumbling more charming then anything. Helped to ease the tension of it all a bit. 

Finding out if we have anything in common would be nice, as that will surely help make conversation easier. Tell me, did you also find Professor Binn’s lectures extremely boring? Also, I believe my parents mentioned that you are studying to become a healer. Was that inspired by Madame Pomfrey at all, or some other reason? 

Sincerely, 

“At any point did you consider leaving the Death Eaters, turning yourself in, or reporting known members? If so, why didn’t you?” Althea held her breath, silently willing Quentin to tell the truth but forcing herself not to coach him from the stands. It was difficult to hold her head still when it would have been so easy to nod along encouragingly, and she had to remind herself that doing so would only negate his response. The longer he paused to mull the question over, however, the more Althea feared Quentin wasn’t sure how to answer, too focused on trying to say what he thought the Wizengamont wanted to hear. She needn’t have worried. His words rang with the sincere honesty she had found so familiar over their years together, something that couldn’t be faked even if there were so many present today who would have liked to think so.

When Quentin mentioned her and their son, Althea felt the crowds turn to glance her way, but she couldn’t tear her gaze from his, fighting to keep her tears at bay as her arms wrapped protectively around Vincent. Everything Quentin had done, he had done for her and for their son. How many times had they whispered of running away? Of Quentin switching sides as she had? And yet he had never done so, for her sake and for the sake of the precious boy bundled in her arms. To betray the Dark Lord would have meant forfeiting everything, starting over from scratch, and rebuilding their lives. That they would have done gladly if it hadn’t also meant putting their lives on the line along with Vincent’s. The moment Quentin had switched sides, they would have been marked as traitors, hunted by those who had once been their comrades in arms, their neighbors, their friends, their own family. No one lived once the Dark Lord marked them for death. No one, except for one little boy.

The murmurs pulled Althea from her thoughts, and she tore her gaze from her husband to glance around the room, trying to gauge the reactions of those around her. Curious whispers, suspicious glances, and resigned nods passed between members of the Wizengamont and Althea sent silent, pleading prayers to whoever might be listening for the verdict to be an innocent one. Vincent squirmed in her arms, his small fingers again curling around a strand of her hair but she couldn’t be bothered to stop him from tugging on it, as it was a welcome distraction from the way her stomach curled in knots. She glanced down at him, her thumb brushing a rosy cheek before smoothing his dark curls so very like his father’s. How unbothered he was, unaware of the severity of the situation their little family had found themselves in, and how their very futures hung in the balance. The suspense was too much, and yet Althea would have lived in that moment forever if it meant prolonging the worst, her breath again catching as the Wizengamont called for silence.

“In regards to the charges brought against Quentin Aldric Crabbe, the court has found him to be not guilty on all counts.” The sea of onlookers around Althea seemed to explode as witches and wizards jumped to their feet, yelling words of protest at the verdict, and yet Althea paid them no mind. Though her features remained resolute, she could feel the hot tears of relief spilling down her cheeks as she, too, rose to her feet, watching as Quentin was pulled from the room. It was then that she realized she had no idea as to where they would take him. Another holding room perhaps? Or would they release him into the crowd so angry to see him walk free? Spinning on her heel, she pushed her way through the crowds, wiping the tears from her cheeks before journalists could snap pictures, and pushed her way back into the corridors she had walked only a short while ago but now without the heavy weight of the trial hanging on her shoulders. Voices called out to her, trying to halt her in her tracks for a word about the verdict, but Althea only pushed her way between them, lifting a hand to shield her eyes from the flashes of cameras, until she found who she was looking for.

While she had been so painfully aware of those around her watching as she searched, the moment she laid eyes on Quentin, it was as if they all melted away. She ignored the continuous shouts as her pace quickened and she very nearly ran into Quentin’s arms. Her free arm clutched him tightly as more tears spilled down her cheeks and silent sobs shook her body. “Thank goodness…. oh Merlin… thank goodness…” she cried, her words muffled against his shoulder. “Quentin-“ Her fingers curled tightly into the fabric of his shirt as she held all of the words she might have said at bay, tucking them away for later when there weren’t so many curious onlookers. The shouts around them seemed to fade uncomfortably, though whether that was out of some sort of reluctant respect for the reunion they were witnessing, or a morbid curiosity to hear what was said between them, Althea didn’t know and she didn’t much care so long as Quentin was free.

Quentin wasn’t supposed to be where he was at the moment, having supposed to be released completely separate from where everybody else was. As soon as he’d been able to move though, he didn’t care about what was ‘supposed’ to happen. Even as he heard Aurors calling out his name, it all blended in with all the other noise around him. All he could focus on was the fact that he could actually touch Althea. Hold her and Vincent in his arms. He didn’t want to ever let her go, even though he knew that he would have too. If only so that they could go home. For now he only pulled back a bit. Resting his forehead against hers, he moved one of his arms to Vincent. Maneuvering so that their son was now tucked away in his arm and his free one was holding his wife close. 

It was still surreal that they were all standing there together. That he wasn’t being escorted to Azkaban in that moment. “I’m so sorry you had to sit through all of that.” He murmured to her quietly, mainly so that onlookers would be unable to overhear. Quentin was fully aware of the flashing lights and the watchful eyes on them during that moment. A moment that should have been just between the three of them, but they’d been too impatient to wait. He held back his tears though, that would be one thing he did not allow them to see. He didn’t even want Althea too see him cry, though he knew that she would as soon as they were within the confines of their own home. “Let’s just- Let’s go home, alright?” He asked, a desperate look in his eyes as he looked into hers. 

There were lost of things that he was unsure of, all having to do with what would happen after this. Would he still have his job at the ministry? If not, then who would hire him? What was he even good at? Would would he do if Vincent every asked him about his time spent as Death Eater? Would it be best to be upfront about it, or should they hold off on telling him until he got older. Most he would discuss with Althea. He also wondered what was going through her mind, if her supporting him through all of this would affect her somehow. Even though he was found innocent. The verdict meant close to nothing when he was sure that many people still thought of him as guilty. When he himself knew that he was guilty. At least of somethings. He definitely could’ve been worse, probably would have been worse if it hadn’t been for his wife. Her influence on him. 

When: Beginning December 28th, going forward 

What: Letter Correspondence between the two 

December 28th, 1977: 

Dear Ms. Nott, 

Firstly I would like to apologize for how I acted when we met back in August. I was fairly nervous and am not usually that quiet. Secondly, I am writing to try and get to know you better. I figured with me being at school and you busy with work, we will not have many opportunities to meet up as others might. Please do not feel obligated to write back, I will understand if you do not want to or do not have the time. 

Sincerely, 

Althea stood, her knees shaking, as the court hearing was called to order. She continued to bounce lightly, not only to keep Vincent content but to hide her obvious nerves from curious onlookers. No doubt she was under as much scrutiny as Quentin was. As his wife it would be assumed by many that she knew the truth, and the presumption of his guilt weighed heavily on her. The slightest flinch, a darting glance, or even a sigh, would all be read with only the worst of intentions. In retaliation, Althea cemented her features in only one of genuine concern, determined that her reactions remain her own and far from view where they might be misconstrued. It was a skill honed out of years of necessity, and it had served her well in the war, though these were much more dire circumstances.

While it was not evident to any curious onlookers, Althea was relieved when the courtroom was invited to sit, and she easily sank onto the bench, shifting Vincent to her lap. She watched, unblinking, as Quentin prepared to speak, looking as if he might be sick. He was much too pale and had a greenish sort of tinge to his skin, though Althea wondered if it might just be the lighting playing tricks on her eyes. She so desperately wished she could speak for him, knowing that he wasn’t much for a crowd, and even less of a liar. Unlike her. Althea had lied for years, silently rebelling against the cause her friends and family supported so whole-heartedly and working to thwart their victory. She felt sick with the guilt steadily mounting in her heart as each faced trial, still unaware of her betrayal and how it had played a hand in bringing them to justice. None of this felt like justice.

Each charge against Quentin only filled her with dread. Surely there was plenty of evidence of Quentin’s involvement with the Death Eaters, not to mention countless witches and wizards in this very room who had likely even crossed wands with him at some point, no doubt eager to testify. Denial would not be enough, only a clever lie as to why he had done what he had could convince the Wizengamont of Quentin’s innocence. The imperius curse. The excuse had been whispered amongst some of their friends in only the darkest of moments, when faith in the Dark Lord’s plans had waned and his victory seemed nothing more than a fanciful wish. It had merely been a suggestion, an idea shared between those who had claimed true loyalty to the cause, only to lie awake at night with the realization that involving themselves had been a grave mistake. But then the tides had turned in the war, and it was Althea who instead spent sleepless nights in worry over her own fate should the Dark Lord discover her true allegiance. So many nights where she could have better prepared Quentin’s case, wasted on worry for herself and leaving her with nothing but regret.

Althea quickly pushed thoughts of self-pity away in order to better listen to Quentin’s testimony. The story was familiar enough to her by now, his involvement with the Death Eaters, as it had played such a vital role in their engagement. Quentin’s debts had not only been used by the Dark Lord as leverage, but by Althea’s own parents as well. After all, what better sort of son-in-law could there be than one who could be controlled? Quentin had paid his debts in service to the Dark Lord, to the Notts, and even to her. How easily Quentin could have resented his marriage to her, as it had been nearly as inescapable as allegiance to the Dark Lord. How easily he could have used his knowledge of her betrayal to terminate their betrothal and escape the debts hanging over his head. And yet, Quentin had done no such thing. He had remained loyal to her, despite her lies. He loved her and supported her, even when she’d stood against him on the other side of the war. He hadn’t resented her, even when her side had won. Surely that had to count for something.

Quentin’s words, though shaky, were compelling if only because of his sincerity. Althea had always loved how genuine he was, how kind. It was rare he ever managed to be truly deceptive, and often his lies were easily spotted. His strategy was smart, to stay as close to the truth as possible, only exaggerating for the sake of his freedom, for the sake of his family’s future. In a way, Quentin had been compelled to serve the Dark Lord, it was only a small stretch of truth to fault a curse. Still, small noises of indignation, disbelief, and what Althea would later identify as disgust trickled through the courtroom at his tale. They wanted him to be guilty, they wanted to ignore the possibility that misfortune had played a heavy hand in the turn of events in Quentin’s life, and they surely did not want to understand the reasons behind his allegiance.

Quentin took a moment to glance up at Althea, a moment to breath and anchor himself back to reality. A step to stopping himself from spiraling out of control. The more he talked about the past, the more likely he was to forget what exactly he was working towards. Forget the lie that he was trying to sell. Even though he would have preferred for Vincent not to be there, part of him was thankful that the boy was as he reminded him why he was doing this. His family. Not the one he had grown up in, no that had fallen apart long ago. The family that he had built with Althea. They were what mattered the most to him. If he had to lie to keep them, then he would lie as much as necessary. 

“At any point did you consider leaving the Death Eaters, turning yourself in, or reporting known members? If so, why didn’t you?” The question caused him to pause for a moment. Just how much should he reveal? Too much, and remaining members that might slip through the cracks could come after him. If he started listing off names now, would that appear to be a pathetic attempt to clear his own? Everything with the war should be over now, but there were so many unknowns. At the same time, there were so many possibilities now. Possibilities that he was sure Vincent would have that he just didn’t. Each and everyone was something he wanted to see some day, and hoped he would get the chance. 

“I thought about all of that.” A small stir in the crowd. It was as if they were reacting to everything he said, every small glance and head movement. He wondered for a moment who was all up there but it was too hard to tell from how he sat. Quentin also didn’t bother looking at anyone who wasn’t Althea or the members of the Wizengamot. “Except I couldn’t. When you’re being controlled, you can’t do anything they don’t want you to do. Even during times that I wasn’t being controlled, I knew that if I stepped out of line it wouldn’t affect just me but my wife as well.” He let out a shaky breath, though it was hardly noticeable as he kept his voice steady. “Now we have a son, and if my actions had caused something to happen to either of them, then I don’t know what I would have done. So yes I considered all those things. But this wasn’t just about me.” 

Murmuring, deliberating among the members. Nodding. Were they nodding because he was guilty, or because he was proven innocent? It was impossible to tell with the steady increase in restlessness among the crowd. It felt as if everything had lasted for hours, though he knew that it might’ve been five minutes at most. Silence was called for, signalling that they were moving forward. Whether that meant further questioning or the end of the trial was unknown until Crouch started to speak. “In regards to the charges brought against Quentin Aldric Crabbe,” He spoke out. “The court has found him to be not guilty on all counts.” The reactions were almost deafening. “Court dismissed” The statement was hardly heard. Though as the Wizengamot stood, Quentin was also pulled away and out of the courtroom. 

He waited anxiously as they released his binds. Letting him go and he heard murmurs of what seemed like an apology of sorts. He didn’t bother paying attention to them though, or the people he passed on his walk to find Althea. They’d been together before the trial but it still felt like they’d been apart for weeks. Going past other people also meant ignoring all of the comments they made towards him, obviously not convinced by what he’d said. Since the Wizengamot had found him innocent, there was nothing they could do. Instead he blocked them out, something that became easier as he laid his eyes on Althea. Opening his mouth to say something, no words came out as he wrapped his arms around her, being careful not to squish Vincent who was still in her arms. 

“You said it out loud, loud enough for people to hear and it’s been confirmed by at least three and a half witnesses. That makes it true.” Rita shrugged, no longer caring to speak to the person in front of her. “You can’t get mad at me for writing about the truth.”

“And a half?” He asked rather curiously. “Look, I don’t mind if you go off and write it. I’m more curious as to what counts as half a witness.” 

Gwen felt a small smile tug at her lips as Quentin slug his arm over her shoulders in that all too familiar, chummy way. Her arm easily wrapped around his waist in turn, their strides matching as they made their way down the cold stone corridors of the dungeons. He was as much her brother as her actual brother was, having been her very best friend since as far back as her memory could span. Having him around made up for her brother not returning to Hogwarts with her that year, though the thought of Quentin and Lucius not returning with her next year was a depressing thought she’d rather not dwell on.

“Aesthetic, I’d say.” Gwen mused, happy to think about something much more amusing. “From the stories it sounds as if Salazar was the dark, brooding type. And nothing says ‘go away and leave me alone’ like dungeons submerged underwater.” Quentin’s concern over the safety of the dungeons perhaps wasn’t as amusing as he’d meant it to be, however, as dungeons weren’t often designed with escape in mind. “I hope you know the Bubble-Head Charm, because escape out the window might be the best solution and it’s a bit of a swim.” She teased.

He rolled his eyes. Of course Gwen would chop it up to aesthetics. Though he supposed she did have a point with it. Compared to the rest of the castle, this was the most likely place for a stereotypical Slytherin to hang out. And while Quentin definitely belonged in his house, he certainly wasn’t as dark and brooding as some of his housemates. Neither was Gwen for that matter though. In fact, the Syltherin’s he got along best with didn’t really fit the bill for what would be expected. Though he couldn’t quite see them in any other house either. Except possibly Ravenclaw for Gwen, but that was only because she was naturally pretty smart. 

“And run into everything that lives in the lake?” He raised an eyebrow to the girls suggestion. “No thanks.” He scoffed. Quentin didn’t doubt that there would be ways to get away from the creatures who lived in the lake, he would just prefer not to piss them off. He also wasn’t the best “And don’t act like you’d be more than thrilled to go for a swim either, it’d probably ruin your outfit.” He teased her. “Anyway, I doubt something like that would actually happen.” A lot had already happened that year, to much if you asked him. He found it hard to believe that anything worse could possibly happen at the school, especially before the end of the year. The only thing he really worried about was if something happened next year after he graduated. 

liz-killick‌:

It hadn’t surprised Liz when some students and aurors came in knowing Althea, the girl still being pretty young and having graduated not to long ago. Plus, she was pretty easy to get along with and likable. What did catch her surprise when a boy came in and sat down, seeming like he was going to stay for a bit. She couldn’t help but try and listen in a bit as to what was going on. Purely because whoever could make Althea so nervous must be someone interesting. Being caught spying on them though, was quite embarrassing as she made a poor attempt to seem busy. 

Liz was unsure if she should be grateful the boy called her over, or embarrassed. She surely would have made her way over to them eventually, or at least to Althea after the boy had left to get any details that she might’ve missed. “Well how nice of you.” She smiled, raising an eyebrow as she shook hands with the boy. Breaking the eye contact to glance over at Althea. “I’m Liz, I help train Althea when she’s not busy talking.” 

@althea-nott​ 

“Not usually.” Althea replied, smiling at Quentin’s teasing tone but quite serious. “Then again, I don’t often have visitors while I’m at work.” She said pointedly, though there was no sting in her words. In fact, she rather liked this friendly bit of back and forth between them. It was certainly the most they had ever spoken to one another in person, and the few meetings they’d had before had been stiff, formal, and worst of all, observed. And though she had been nervous to speak to him alone, Althea found that she dismayed when he called Liz over to join them, for a vast number of reasons. The foremost of which, Althea worried they might not get along or happen to offend one another considering Liz was muggleborn and Quentin a Death Eater.

Althea found she held her breath as she watched the two shake hands, though she did her best to smile as they did so. Liz’s self-introduction sent the heat of a blush spreading across her cheeks and she laughed, embarrassed. “I suppose I ought to take that as my cue to get back to work.” She said, wringing her hands. “Besides, I’m sure Quentin has much better things he could be doing as well, don’t you Quentin?” Althea suggested, glancing between the two of them. 

@quentin-crabbe​

It seemed as if they had gotten past being awkward, something he was thankful about. He had originally worried that they never would, or that it certainly wouldn’t become friendly. It was easier to fake being friendly, or even mistake politeness with such a thing over letters. It certainly hadn’t helped that neither of them had ever been very forthcoming with each other the other times they’d met. Those had always been observed though, under the pressure to act respectfully and properly. “It’s very nice to meet you Liz.” He laughed at her introduction, finding it rather charming if anything. 

Cute. Quentin couldn’t help but think it when he noticed her blush at her coworkers words. He shook the thought out of his head quickly, “I don’t, but I probably should get going and let you get back to work.” He smiled, taking the chance to stand up from his seat. Thinking about it, Lucius should be free at this point of the day so he would just go find him. Maybe he would even study a bit if there was really nothing else to do. “Just uh- shoot me an owl if you want to talk again, or if my friends come by and annoy you.” He joked, turning to wave a polite goodbye to Liz before exiting the Hospital Wing.

There were so many things Althea wanted to tell him suddenly, knowing that their time together was drawing to a close as the Aurors and Dementors moved in around them, but she couldn’t settle on what to say to him. Words of encouragement seemed falsely optimistic, words of love redundant, and goodbyes a premature acceptance of defeat. All she could do was hold his gaze as he continued down the corridor, before he disappeared from view. Bowing her head for a moment, Althea allowed herself a few last shuddering sobs before she would no longer enjoy the luxury of relative privacy once amongst the crowd in the courtroom. Althea hardly noticed the Auror’s hand on her arm until he spoke, pointing her in a separate direction with instructions on where she could enter the courtroom.

She glanced at him, feeling rather dazed, and not quite absorbing what he’d said. His features surprisingly softened as she met his gaze, and she wondered if he could read the confusion mingled with the panic and worry on her face. But truly, she wondered why he seemed to care. “Come with me.” He said lightly, leading her down the way he’d gestured, muttering something about Dementors as they walked briskly down the corridor. The quick pace did well to help her find a steady breath once more, the small amount of exertion chasing the chill from her bones. And though they passed several doors Althea suspected led to the courtroom, he continued walking until they arrived at what looked to be the very last one. “This will put you closest to the center of the room, he should be able to see you there easily enough.” The Auror informed her, his hand already on the doorknob, and Althea reached to cover it with her own. “Wait.”

Althea took a moment to lift the edge of her cloak, still bundled around Vincent, to her eyes, wiping away any last traces of tears and squaring her shoulders, bracing herself for the onslaught of curious stares and whispers that would no doubt accompany her arrival. It dawned on Althea that the Auror hadn’t simply positioned her in the best place to stand in support of her husband, he’d given her a moment to collect herself. It was a kindness few had shown her since her arrest and she glanced at him once more. His features were kind, familiar to her, and it occurred to her that she’d seen him before. Perhaps from the raid that night the Aurors stormed their home nearly a week ago? No, she hadn’t seen him there. The Order. He’d been there at the meetings, she was sure of it, though they’d hardly ever spoken. What was his name- Donald? “Thank you, Don.”

As she slipped through the open door, the shifting and turning of heads was audible, accompanied by an expected wave of whispers, which Althea did her best to ignore as she glanced first to the rows of witches and wizards clad in purple, then to the single chair positioned in the middle of the floor, empty. Mercifully, she’d made it before him, though she stood at the back of the stands. There was hardly room for her, the courtroom full as she’d suspected it would be, the flashes and clicks of camera’s, deafening as Althea made her way to the front row, as close to Quentin as she would be able to get. It came as an unintended blessing she didn’t have to push her way or ask anyone to make room as they each took steps away from her at her approach, not eager to be seen sitting next to the wife of the accused. Althea didn’t care, her gaze locked on the door across the room, waiting for him to enter.

The courtroom rumbled with conversation though voices remained low and hushed, a sort of frenzied energy nearly palpable. Vincent must have sensed Althea’s unease because he squirmed in her arms, his small hands grabbing at the front of her robes as he garbled at her. She shushed him absently, bouncing lightly to soothe him back into stillness, afraid he might cry and she would be expected to step out of the courtroom. Thankfully, he settled easily, moments before the thick doors swung open and Quentin was escorted in, then bound to the chair before them all. I’m here. She didn’t dare say aloud, though her gaze bore into him as if he might sense she was there. Althea caught her breath when his eyes met hers, relieved he had found her amongst the rest though far from at ease as the trial was about to begin.

Quentin felt nauseous, as if he were about to throw up. For once he was thankful that he hadn’t eaten that day. The food that had been offered to him that entire week had either been turned away, or thrown up. At this point he had certainly lost weight, but he hadn’t had any sort of appetite either. Though he couldn’t help but wish for a glass of water. His mouth was extremely dry and he knew that it would only make it harder for him to speak. Public speaking was never something he was very good at. During his Hogwarts days he’d rarely answer questions in class because of that fact, and because he rarely knew the answers, but when he would answer questions he would simply just stutter. 

The only time he’d spoken in front of a crowd of people and hadn’t embarrassed himself was at his wedding. A day that he could still remember so clearly in his mind. A day that he had been more sure of than anything else in his life. Quentin would have to be just as confident now as he was then. If he stuttered, or messed up in any way then they would surely find him guilty. If he cried, something he so desperately wanted to do, they would surely think it was just a ploy. Crying would have to wait until later when he was reunited with Althea and Vincent. For now he had to be strong for them, because he knew that he had to return to them. 

“You have been brought here before the Council of Magical Law so that you may stand trial on the charges brought against you. You are accused of being a death eater and partaking various attacks and missions. What do you plead and state your full name for the record.” Barty Crouch Sr. did not immediately look intimidating if one were to meet him in different circumstances. Quentin had only met him on very few occasions before now, but the mad absolutely terrified him in that moment. “Quentin Aldric Crabbe. I plead not guilty.” There was a murmur across the room, surely full of comments from people who was sure that he was guilty. People that he most likely hadn’t ever met before, but had been effected negatively by death eaters at some point during this war. 

The look that Crouch gave him was serious, and Quentin was unsure as to what it meant. Either the man was already sure that he was guilty, or he was still trying to decide if he was innocent. It was definitely not the face of a man who already believed him to be innocent, if that were the case than surely this trial would not be going on at the moment. “During initial interviews you claimed to have been placed under the imperius curse, when did this occur and how long did this take place?” Quentin took a deep breath, hoping that his mix of truth in with the lie would make him sound convincing. He found it hard to not glance over at Althea, wanting nothing more than to do so but worrying that it would come across as suspicious. 

“When I was seventeen I began to get involved. My family had money trouble, and the Dark Lord said he could help. He did, but I didn’t realize how much bigger his price way.” His breath was shaky, finding it difficult to hold his voice steady as he spoke. “I tried to tell him no, that I didn’t want to clean up after him. He wouldn’t take no for an answer though, he made me do it.” It wasn’t a lie, he had been made to do it. Only it wasn’t because of the imperius curse, rather his family had simply found themselves in worse money troubles than before. “Anytime I would try and go against it, to just do anything else, he wouldn’t let me. I didn’t have a choice. I wasn’t in control of what I was doing.” Quentin’s words came out more pleading than explanatory, though that was because he was pleading with them. Pleading with them to see that he hadn’t chosen this like due to prejudice, but rather out of necessity and bad fortune. 

You always have been so much smarter than me. Althea glanced up with a watery laugh that sounded more like a sob and tried her best to quell her tears. Quentin always did that, tried to make her smile even in her sorrow. Even now, in their darkest moments when laughter should have been impossible, he’d managed to humor her. She thanked her lucky stars every day that they had been matched. It was rare that they should have fallen so in love as they had, but it had been the easiest thing she’d ever done.  “And you have always been so good.” Althea managed, trying to take even breaths. “To me, to our son.” The way he leaned in, pressing a kiss first to her forehead and then to Vincent’s nearly sent her into tears again, but she blinked them back, trying so very hard to be strong for him.

If he could not betray his own guilt with tears, than neither could she. The evidence of lack of sleep was clear on her face, but worry could be pitied and perhaps help his case further. A young mother, her son in her arms, distressed over her husband’s fate would be a powerful statement in the courtroom. No doubt the journalists would eat up the story regardless of the verdict and Althea would let them, for Quentin’s sake not her own. In defeat it was all too easy to paint your enemies in hyperbolic tales of terrible deeds and evil intentions. Althea determined that the wizarding world would see who it was Quentin had sacrificed for, as well as what it would cost him should they send him to Azkaban. She would not make their retribution comfortable by letting them twist his story into that of a fanatic.

Althea watched him carefully as he gazed at their son, unblinking as if trying to memorize his face. She reached absently for Vincent’s tiny fist, still holding onto her hair to uncurl his fingers gently and spare her scalp from the wild tug she had no doubt was coming. Quentin was right, she didn’t want to think about the possibility of her son growing up without him. All of the little things that he would miss like the sweet coos, and occasional words that were usually no more than nonsense now. Quentin wouldn’t be there to teach him how to ride a broom, or tuck him into bed at night, or to kiss away the pain of nightmares or skinned knees. And he wouldn’t be there for the big things either, like Vincent getting his wand, or sending him off to Hogwarts for the very first time and a heavy weight settled on Althea’s heart at the thought that she alone might be there.

And she truly could be alone, none of their friends or family there to share in any of it either as they were all likely to share the same fate as Quentin. The future seemed a daunting, cruel one though Althea supposed it could have been much worse. She, too, could have been taken from their son had her betrayal of those closest to her not also been her saving grace. Liz had been gracious about taking Vincent at his parents’ arrests, but Althea knew she would not have wanted it to be a permanent arrangement. At the very least, Vincent would have his mother, though Althea knew she was hardly a replacement for the network of support they’d had until this point.

“Of course, he’ll know.” She practically whispered, sure her heart was breaking into a million pieces. “Just as he’ll know how much I love you. How much I will always love you.” Her free hand lifted to his cheek as she spoke, and she met his gaze earnestly to convey the sincerity of her promise to him. He would not be forgotten should they take him away. Not by her, and certainly not by their son. She pressed a soft, all too quick kiss to his lips before adding “He’ll know, because you’ll be there to tell him yourself.”

There had been many nights when they hadn’t known what was going to happen. When he’d gone out on a mission, unsure whether it would be the one to get him killed. Even the times when he had run into her during a battle. Each time got scarier than the last. It felt like all those moments had been leading up to this, paling in comparison to how he felt now. They had gotten so close to the finish line, to all of the pain being over, and now their biggest hurdle was in front of them. It was their biggest because they had so much to lose. It was different than just facing the possibility of death. If Quentin went away then they would both know that the other was alive, desperately wanting to be together but never having the chance. 

What was worse than the prospect of not being with Althea, was not watching Vincent grow up. Not being able to hear his first words, see his first steps. There were so many things he planned on teaching the boy, things that were still years to come. Most importantly he had wanted his son to grow up in a world much safer than the one he had, one without a war that had been going on. Quentin had originally felt guilty at the prospect of bringing a child into the world that took so much away from people, but the boy had been a light in the darkest tunnel. Proof that there were still things so undeniably good in a world filled with cruelties and evil. Now he found himself thankful that he had the chance to meet his son, not imagining how different things would be now if they hadn’t of had him. 

The kiss was quick, but he knew the emotion behind it. The emotion that shown through in her eyes, and her voice. Her words that gave him hope for a better outcome than he had seen for most. “Okay.” He nodded, not wanting the moment to end but he could already feel himself being pulled away. Quentin wished for more time, there were still so many things he wanted to say. So many little things that he had never had the chance to tell her. But he had to hold onto hope that he would have the chance to tell her, even though he could feel the dementors sucking every once of hope out of him as time went on. 

He was sure that if he hadn’t of gotten the chance to see Althea and Vincent before the trial, everything would’ve been a lost cause. He would be feeling lost, as if there was no point to it all. Without them, Quentin would have surely just given up and accepted his fate. They gave him something to fight for though. Something that he hoped the Wizengamot would see, that they would realize he wasn’t heartless. He was hoping for sympathy. Something he was sure many others before, and after, him hoped for. But he wasn’t sure if all of them quite deserved it like he did. That wasn’t to say he thought himself better than others, or that he didn’t know any other death eaters that hadn’t been in a situation similar to his. Gwen and Lucius certainly deserved it as well. But there were many others who he knew had truly enjoyed all of the horrible things they had done. Those were the ones that he did not believe deserved any sympathy. 

Not being able to move did not help to quell his nerves, and only made them worse as he was sat in the middle of the room. It felt as if a thousand pair of eyes were on him, and there might’ve been with how packed the court room was. It took a moment for everybody to get settled, once they had he immediately began searching for his wife and child. They would be his life line, his reminder as to why he was enduring this instead of just pleading guilty. For a moment, he was able to meet Althea’s eyes before his attention was drawn away. They were ready to start. 

She wanted to run to him the instant she saw him, but she couldn’t. Overcome with emotion it took every ounce of willpower she had left just to stand. Time seemed to still as tears blurred her vision before spilling silently down her cheeks. It hurt to cry after the torturously long days she’d spent clearing her own name to escape trial herself, and begging to be reunited with her son. Althea had lost track of the number of times she had broken down in tears as the days unfolded into nightmares, the names of friends and family appearing one after the other in the headlines of The Daily Prophet as the Aurors’ raids rounded them up for questioning.

She worried for a moment she might frighten him, standing there in tears, shivering, with dark half-circles stamped under her eyes from the sleepless nights. No doubt her hair was a mess from the number of times she’d run her hands through it in distress. He might not even notice Vincent in her arms, obscured as he was bundled in her cloak. Their son had hardly left her arms since she’d been released from custody and had been informed that Liz had taken him as Althea requested, having no one else left to turn to. 

She should have assured Quentin that they were safe, told him that she’d been cleared, and so many other things she couldn’t put into words in the moment. Perhaps it was the Dementors that had pushed her to this level of despair, or perhaps it was being faced with the reality that even in victory, she was on the brink of losing everything in this war. The soft way he spoke the nickname only he had ever given her broke something inside of her, and Althea wondered if it was her heart. As his arms circled around her, she released a shuddering sob, her free arm reaching around his shoulders to clutch him as tightly as she could without crushing Vincent between them. “I love you, too.” She managed.

Althea allowed herself a moment to commit him to memory, the feel of his arms, the sound of his voice, his warmth, and the beat of his heart in case this happened to be the last embrace they ever shared. She wanted to push those terrible thoughts away, promise him that everything would be alright, but they both knew that it likely wouldn’t be alright. When all was said and done, Quentin Crabbe had found himself standing on the wrong side of the war, and there was no use pretending that he might not be condemned for it.

With no words of comfort she could think to offer him, Althea pulled away just enough that their noses brushed and she reached to wipe his tears. “Don’t let them see you cry.” She whispered urgently, though her voice shook hypocritically. “Guilty men cry and you” Althea paused her breath hitching “you are innocent.” A lie. Quentin was guilty of the accused crimes, but he would have to deny. “They have to believe you are innocent.” Indignation, shock, bewilderment, all would be more fitting of the wrongly accused, but tears?

He had never been much of a liar. Perhaps that was what had drawn her affection first, his honesty. And now it would be his undoing. “Please-“ she said, her head bowing to hide her tears. Please let them find you innocent. The unspoken plea hung in the air between them as Althea’s tears stained the cloak in her arms, though they missed Vincent, who reached to tug at her hair.

Quentin knew that he did not look any better, if not worse, than how Althea did. His hair might not have been long, but it was still messy and sticking up. Dark bags had formed under his eyes, showing his lack of sleep. None of that mattered though, at least not in that moment. Hearing her say that she loved him only reminded him how lucky he truly had been up until now. Most arranged marriages did not go nearly as well as his had, something he was truly grateful for. He wondered if this was all karma. That since he had found someone so undeniably perfect for him, that that was the reason why he was now having to suffer. 

But they were alright. They had been his biggest concern during his time in holding. It made everything he was about to face so much easier. And while he loved and cared for Althea so much, an even bigger worry for him had been Vincent. The entire time he’d spent worried about who was taking care of his son, if they were doing it properly. While Quentin was fairly certain it had been Liz, who he trusted, he still worried. If he had gotten the chance to chose where his son could have gone, it would have been been with Gwen or Lucius. But neither of them had been options, and so it had been left up to Althea to chose as she knew more people who weren’t death eaters. 

That was where his anxiety stemmed from, the thought of someone they’d trusted to look after Vincent to somehow take it out on him that his parents had been death eaters. Or rather, that his father was very much a death eater. Liz was a good person, but he had always worried that if she ever found out the truth, the fact that she was a muggleborn would mean she might not believe them. Might not believe that they truly weren’t prejudiced people, only people who had poor luck in life. As he glanced down at his son, he knew that hadn’t been the case. The boy looked just as perfect as he did when they had been taken away. Quickly he moved one of his arms so that his hand could be touching his head, desperate to show his son affection for what may be the last time. 

He nodded along to what Althea told him, steadying his breathing so that he could stop his tears. Quentin wanted nothing more than to stop hers, though he knew that she would surely have more once the trial began. Her lie did little to quell the anxiety that had settled over him. But knowing she would be there, although not quite with him, did ease some of it. Having her by his side, even metaphorically was the most important thing he would need when presenting his case. For it she believed in him then he knew that he could make it. Or at least knew that he would be able to give it his all. That was all he could do anymore, and hope for the best.  

“You always have been so much smarter than me.” He tried to smile, a poor attempt to show her that everything would be fine. Quentin’s entire being felt heavy, much to heavy to be able to lift up his cheeks and form a proper smile. It wasn’t as if it would reach his eyes anyway. The sadness he felt showing through. He couldn’t stop looking at her though, or rather wouldn’t stop. Only taking short breaks to look at their son. Both so beautiful that it hurt him, imagining what it would be like if he got locked up and forced to leave them. Something that he never wanted to do, but might not have any choice. 

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead while he blinked the last of his tears away. Making the moment shorter than he wanted so that he could give Vincent a kiss as well. “Al, I know you don’t want to hear this right but but-” He stopped for a moment, a lump in his throat. His eyes couldn’t bare to tear apart from his son. “But in case it doesn’t go well, make sure he knows how much I loved him. And you.” Looking up at her, a determination in his eyes. A look that held so much meaning behind it, but mostly just ‘I love you’. The only reason why he hadn’t said it was because he knew that it was something she already knew. Or at least he hoped that she did. 

There was much more that he wanted to say to her, but they didn’t have the time. He wanted to tell her how much she meant to him. How every once in a while he would still look back at the letters they had once sent to each other and laugh, laugh because of how silly the two of them had been to ever be nervous of each other. It hadn’t taken him very long to realize that she was a good person, and not much longer after that had he realized that she was the person for him. That somehow, through a terrible series of events, he’d ended up with the person he would easily chose to marry time and time again without even trying. 

Who: Althea Crabbe, Quentin Crabbe, and Vincent Crabbe When: After the fall of the Dark Lord Where: The Ministry of Magic, Level Ten What: Quentin’s Trial

Althea bounced lightly as her gaze darted around the small, empty chamber. She could hear the sound of the crowd chattering just outside the door at her back as they took their seats in the courtroom, awaiting the beginning of the trial. The trials of the accused Death Eaters had become something of a spectacle, attracting larger and more impassioned crowds as victims and their families were emboldened by the fall of the Dark Lord to seek revenge on his followers. Althea understood the anguish and the pain of war, and she supposed she could understand the desire for retribution, but her knees shook at the prospect that her husband might be one to suffer it.

As the room grew colder, Althea knew he was nearer, no doubt escorted by a number of Dementors as so many others had been already in the string of trials that seemed to stretch on for eternity. For the first time, she regretted bringing Vincent along with her as she felt the chill deep in her bones and her despair intensifying. She shifted, wrapping her cloak more securely around him, hoping her warmth might shield him from the worst of it, and pressed her lips to the top of his head as if she might ward off the summons of any bad memories. The Auror at the door who had hardly spared her more than a cursory glance before now cleared his throat to announce the arrival of the accused and Althea felt her heart sink. “Oh Merlin.” She breathed. “Quentin.”

@quentin-crabbe

The end of the war had been wonderful, for the first few minutes. While it had been something he’d wanted, even supporting his wife in any way he could through all of the turmoil, Quentin had been unable to escape getting accused. The war ending had been something he’d hoped for, but never quite believe would happen. Or at least, he hadn’t expected he would be around to see it. He knew that Althea would, there had never been a doubt in his mind. She would survive and take care of their son, hopefully explaining to the boy one day that his father hadn’t actually believed in the cause. That’d he’d really had no choice when it came to where his loyalties were. He had picture that his end to the war would surely be his death following the discovery that he didn’t believe in the death eater cause. Not truly. Or rather that he didn’t believe in killing other people due to different beliefs. Maybe he would have been caught helping Althea, a secret Order member. Quentin had never imagined that he would live the day to see trial. 

Being in holding was bad, but nowhere near as terrible as he was sure Azkaban would be. Still, it was hard not to be uncomfortable when there were dementors nearby. Although they had said that he’d only been in holding for a short while, he felt as if weeks had surely gone by. Perhaps it was the boredom, nothing to do besides sit and think about his defense. A defense he was unsure was going to work. While there was certainly some truth to the claims he was going to make, he’d never been placed under the Imperius curse. Surely he wouldn’t be the only person to use the excuse either. Hopefully his mix of truth with the lie would make it believable. He’d never been a very good liar, that would have to change though. If they saw through him then he would be going away for life, never to see the two people he loved the most again. 

Having the dementors escort him to the court room felt unnecessary, seeing how there were plenty of aurors around to keep him from even thinking of doing anything. Not like he would, still holding onto the hope that he would make it out of this. It was that tiny bit of hope that helped him not get overwhelmed by the terrifying thoughts brought on by the dementors. His bones felt like ice, a chill that surely wouldn’t leave him for weeks to come. Even while he was standing and awake, his mind was plagued by nightmare-like thoughts. Only the worst outcomes coming to mind, Even when the opportunity to sleep had arrived, before the trial was to begin, he hadn’t been able to get any as once his eyes were closed. The only thing he could see were the most horrible parts of the war, almost all of them involving Althea being in danger. 

Entering the corridor had been harder than expected. Seeing his wife standing there looking disheveled, holding a bundle in his arms that he knew to be his son even though he was tucked safely away. Quentin felt years of guilt hit him all at once, wondering why he had gotten her so involved with everything. For once he regretted his choice to marry her, as surely he had caused her more pain than he had ever meant to. He wished that he had allowed her an out, forced her into one, as soon as he realized how good of a person she truly was. Though if he was being honest, part of him had always known that she was a much better person than he was. It was to late for it all now. Now all he could do was hope that Vincent would never have to know all of the pain they were currently going through, happy that the boy was to young to realize what exactly was going on. 

Hearing her voice was enough to drop him to his knees, but he had to at least make it to her before he could do so. He was grateful for this chance to see them though, no matter how quick it would be. Quentin had so much he wanted to say, and knew that he wouldn’t be able to say it all. Which just meant he would have to say only was was most important. “Allie” He breathed, one of the various affectionate nicknames he’d given her over their time together. Though the dementors were still so close by, he reached forward to wrap his arms around his little family. “I love you both so, so much.” There were tears in his eyes, wondering if this would be the last time he would be able to say those words to her. 

“That’s what I’ve heard, anyway. I can’t say I keep careful tabs on their rounds though.” Gwen replied, flipping her hair free of her cloak so her blonde curls spilled over her shoulders. Truth be told, the Aurors were nothing more than a new source of gossip, and one that was quickly becoming old news at that. Really, they hadn’t been very useful thus far, and were becoming something of a nuisance as students weren’t even allowed out of the castle anymore. Sneaking out past them was just reasonable retaliation at this point, a protest if anything. Flashing Quentin a bright smile, Gwen nodded. “Ready.”

Leaving her dormitory, Gwen glanced around for any prying eyes. It wasn’t as if she cared if her housemates saw her leaving dressed for the outdoors, as they’d hardly tattle on her anyway. No, unsavory rumors about leaving her dorm with Quentin at her side were much more damning and she didn’t feel like hexing anyone today. Over their many years of friendship, Gwen had endured the jokes and teasing, as well as the questions. And though she’d assured everyone countless times that Quentin was not her type, that hardly stopped the more mean-spirited students. Their fellow Slytherins were not above stirring up trouble now and then, and trouble was much more easy to come by now that Quentin’s betrothal was final. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” Gwen said, heading back toward the Common Room. “I’m sick of this dungeon.”

Rolling his eyes, knowing that Gwen wouldn’t just say something if she didn’t believe it. She might’ve kept up with the gossip that went around the castle, but he knew that she was smart enough to decipher what was true and what wasn’t. It was part of the reason why he was happy that he didn’t have to deal with it, preferring to get filtered information through the girl. It wasn’t as if Quentin was particularly gullible, but he also had a difficult time telling which rumor was too far-fetched to be true. For a moment he thought back to his first year, before Gwen had been able to come to school, and all of the silly things he’d believed. Mostly he believed it because people would always be so serious when they spoke of it. 

“Finally.” He laughed, following her out. Quickly he caught up to her, slinging an arm around her shoulders. It was something harmless, and he refused to change how he acted with her just because some people liked to believe that it meant they should be together. Gwen was basically his younger sister, and he was betrothed to someone else anyway. “I would just like to know why Salazar put the common room in the dungeon in the first place! Like if the steps out of here were to collapse for some reason, we’d all be trapped! There are so many things that could go wrong with this poor set up if you think about it.”