#peacockheir

Dorcas was exhausted and wet from an unexpected downpour that drenched her from head to toe, however the hit witch didn’t let that deter her from her self-assigned mission of due process. Imploring every possible lead, she found herself shifting from one place to another all too quickly. Her feet felt like the only part of her that was actually dry, which were leading her down a dark and eerie cobblestoned path in the middle of the day. Quite often Dorcas found herself treading dangerous, but necessary lengths in order to achieve what everyone else was also after—usually it was clarity or insight, but these needs constantly evolved over time. This time in particular, she found herself seeking absolute truth regarding the events that had tumulted at The Ministry just days before. 

Her brain was in overdrive attempting to process the evidence, however scattered and minimal it was. The Death Eaters were organized and cryptic beings who acted in a single meticulous strike; it didn’t take a genius to realize someone else was pulling the strings. She could not figure out why her bosses would want to lie, deny, and essentially cover-up the terrorism that took place within their own walls. Nobody felt safe anymore and Dorcas couldn’t fix that, at least not by herself. Her conundrum however was she felt more alone at the Ministry now than ever before. It was unclear who was on her side and who was overwhelmingly against her.  

Entranced in her thoughts, her steel toed black boots caught her before she turned a corner and plunged herself head first into the midst of Knockturn Alley. She knew it would be foolish for a hit witch to enter such an area, pitted full-speed and determined. It would only send alarms and she didn’t want to alert a certain longtime foe of her arrival. So carefully, she transfigured her wet ensemble into more appropriate dark and hooded robes masking away her ivory face. This would suffice, she approved before turning the corner as leisurely as possible.

She gallivanted the streets, easily blending in as if it was just another day in Knockturn Alley for her, which essentially it was. Her work brought her down to these streets quite often and she knew it definitely would not be her last excursion here. In fact, that is how she knew her journey on this fine day may lead her to one Mister Lucius Malfoy, a particularly interesting employee of the International Magical Offices of Law—and quite frankly, someone who never sat well with Dorcas. To really set off the fire, she just knew in her gut something had been off in recent months. She just couldn’t put her finger on what that was—not yet. 

“When did you become so high and mighty?” Lucius sneered. Funny, how he could sneer and still be considered handsome, but there it was. There had never been a time when Amelia didn’t think him attractive. The years hadn’t changed that, though they had changed just about everything else. 

“What, because I’m one of the few who won’t bow and scrape before you? Cater to your whims?” Amelia asked, her tone slightly mocking. Lucius Malfoy had risen through the ranks of the Ministry over the years, making sure to cater to the right people, and garner influence and popularity. But he had not risen higher than Amelia and she took some perverse pleasure in that. 

Lucius gave her a long suffering sigh, and rolled his eyes. “I’m hardly asking any great favour,” he said, trying to downplay his request. 

“You’re trying to influence me and my position on a case, Lucius!” Amelia replied sharply. “Justice is depicted as blind for a reason. She cannot be swayed.” 

“Oh so you see yourself as Lady Justice now?” Lucius sneered. “Aren’t you attributing a little more importance to yourself than you really have?” 

“I am the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement,” she replied coldly. A position he clearly didn’t understand or respect. A small, still girlish part of her mind wondered if his position would be different if they had married all those years ago. The pragmatic part responded that of course his position would be different; he’d be using her then. If she ever got to this point. It was clearly a good thing that their betrothal had never turned into an engagement. Amelia doubted she would ever have had the chance to rise through the Ministry as she had if she had married Lucius. And while they might have been happy to begin with, Amelia could see now that it would not have worked. Lucius had grown continually too obsessed with public opinion, appearances, and blood purity. Amelia had gone in precisely the other direction. 

“Yes, well at least you have that,” he said, a mean glint in his eye. He was trying to take a dig at her. “Though, you know, Justice can’t protect you from those who scorn, or dare I say, hate you.” 

A small part of Amelia winced at his words, knowing that he was speaking about himself and his own feelings. But the larger part of her, the part that had grown and flourished with each success roared in defiance. He was too cowardly even to come out and say that he was the one who held her in such low esteem. 

Messing with Lucius felt like Gideon’s calling in life, Fabian didn’t even understand what it meant to him. So dropping his homemade stink bomb into Lucius’s backpack was just a normal occurrence. Once the deed was done Gideon quickly moved to another part of the hallway with a slight smile on his face. 

Send me 👙 to catch my muse wearing nothing but underwear!

Standing stark in his black boxer briefs as a small drop of water slid down his neck Regulus willed his cheeks to stay their same shade of pale under Lucius’ gray gaze. He knew he shouldn’t be embarrassed about his ‘nakedness’ in front Malfoy, this was the entrance to his dorm after all. But standing there in this stalemate, Lucius blocking the sole path to safety, only served to bring up all of his insecurities. 

Puberty had been kind to so many others, giving them the definition and maturity that he’d longed for and admired. Unfortunately though for Regulus it seemed as if he was going to wait forever to rid himself of his juvenile condition, stuck with a slim, soft, boyish, figure for the foreseeable future. And he knew that he should learn to love the body he was in while he was still in it, but there was no use trying to will himself into false feelings. No he hated being smaller, weaker, physically inferior to everyone else. It was why he spoke the way he did, dressed the way he did, Anything to make himself seem bigger in their eyes, when he knew he was just so small and insignificant. 

beowulf: is it always worthwhile to hear both sides of an argument?

No. My side is always the right side.

the giver: talk about a favorite memory

We were seven, I snuck out while mother had one of her fits, and found Amycus in the yard, beneath a tree, he was holding a stick like a wand. He told me he was the most powerful wizard in the world, and I knew it was true. We laughed and played, and then as we sat beneath the tree he took the stick and placed it over our hands. And we swore we would never leave each other, that we would always be there. We made unbreakable bonds before we could control magic. That’s my favorite memory. 

I doubt it would be his.

howl’s moving castle: how quickly do you form opinions about other people?

Dandelion: What’s a pet peeve of yours?

People In General 

Wisteria: What’s your favorite thing about yourself?

Nothing I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself 

I Like my eyes 

Sky Blue: Where do you feel the most at home?

In Amycus room, right before sunrise, as we are falling asleep.