#reginaldslythermole

Charlie looked up at him and gave the boy a forced, small smile when he put his books on the table the two of them now shared. She kept looking at him for a few seconds, knowing that her posture was rather defensive, expecting him to say something offensive or to find a look of contempt on his face; neither happened, which she found... strange. Charlie’s eyes were now on the teacher, paying attention to the explanation about the potion they would be making. “Do you have some lavender left? I need two more.” 

“To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance.”

“Agreed,” she said, hands concentrated on putting the ingredients inside the cauldron and her eyes slightly narrowed, focused on the potion she was trying to brew. Charlie wasn’t satisfied that Reginald had been chosen to be her partner- but until now, he hadn’t said anything offensive, so she simply did an effort to focus on her potion and not on him. Somewhere in their small talk the topic ‘love’ came up, and she stated that loving yourself is just as important as loving other people. Charlie found it weird that he was being somewhat friendly; yet, she’d keep one foot behind until she knew what he was really up to.

Defend — I’ll write a drabble of my character protecting yours.

The Dark Lord grinned as he looked around at the faces of the young death eaters, all of them so eager to please.  “My children, you will do so well.  You will be rewarded greatly and you should take great pride in knowing that you are all going to be part of making history.  But first… bring out the blood traitor.”  

Two hooded wizards brought out a boy as as he was dragged out.  His hair was matted with blood and his face was bruised.  They dumped the boy on the floor.  He couldn’t stand up, but he struggled to get up and managed to be on his knees.  

Aurora stepped forward from her spot towards the back of the new death eaters.  Aurora recognized the boy instantly, even from the back, even in the dim light.  

It was Reg.  Her Reg.  

“Now you will all see what happens to mudblood-loving traitors like this one,” Lord Voldemort said, wand raising to point at Reg.  

“NO!” Aurora cried out.  

She ran out, stepping in front of Reginald, blocking him from the Dark Wizard’s view.  

Confusion crossed Lord Voldemort’s face and then anger.  

“Get out of the way, you fool,” the Dark Lord said.  

What the hell was Aurora doing.  She was standing in front of Lord Voldemort, defending Reginald.  She was going to die and then Reg was going to die and this will have been for nothing.  And in that moment, Aurora found that there was something more important than survival at all cost.  Because she wouldn’t want to live if she had just stood there, hiding, doing nothing.  

“He’s not a blood traitor.” Aurora said quickly.  

Think Aurora.  How are you going to get Reg out of this?  

“Enough.  Get out of the way or you’ll suffer the same consequence as this poor excuse for a wizard.”  

“No,” Aurora said.  Her chin jutting upwards, defiantly.  She was scared shitless.  Greater wizards and witches than her had stood up against Lord Voldemort and they had perished.  She was a nobody.  But there she stood.  She had to protect Reg.  She had to save him.  She had to do something.  

“I knew you weren’t one of us,” Bellatrix said with a glare from behind Voldemort, a strong Voldemort supporter long before Aurora and the others had become death eaters.  “Let me take care of her.”  

But Voldemort held up a hand to silence Bellatrix.  

“Very well, Aurora.  You had promise, but I see now you’re choosing the wrong side.  But I can be understanding.  Step away from the blood traitor and all will be forgiven.”  

“If you want to hurt him, you have to kill me first.”  

There was one chance and it was slim.  So Slim.  But she had to take it.   

Anger flashed on Voldemort’s face. It felt like slow motion as Aurora watched Voldemort raise up the wand that would deliver the killing spell.  Aurora’s hand was in her pocket and it felt like she pulled out the potion vial in slow motion as well.  Her heart was pounding so loudly in her chest and ears that she couldn’t hear anything, adrenaline rushing through her body.  She threw the potion down and the whole room filled with dark smoke.  Aurora dove back, hitting Reg and knocking him down.  

A flash of green.  sliced through the black cloud, mere centimeters from where Aurora and Reg were laying.  She got her wand out and apparated them out of there.  

Leaving the Three Broomsticks in the cold, hands tucked into pockets and scarf wrapped around her face, Emma hears the shouts before she even catches sight of anything. At first she can’t make it out, but then an all-too familiar word punctuates the air like a pickaxe to the temple: blood traitor! She follows the sound, her fingers wrapped tight around the wand in her pocket, rounds the corner to an alleyway and stops in her tracks, her heart in her throat.

Three sixth year boys, wands drawn but not yet raised---one holds another one, not his own, in his left hand, lax. Cattermole, fear hidden on his face but still visible to her. ( She sees the same expression in the mirror every day --- she’s grown to recognize it. ) Their jeers are perfectly audible now. Can you believe it? Filthy stain on our house, fraternizing with mudbloods like they’re equals. 

And then all their words are but a faint buzzing, a soft hum drowned out by the rush of her pulse in her ear, her wand drawn. “Expelliarmus! Incarcerous!” she shouts quickly, the accompanying flick of her wrist sharp, perfect in execution, and the three boys hit the ground, tied at the wrists and the ankles, before their wands clatter to the cobblestones beside them.

She crosses the space between her and the boys, kicks one in the shins for good measure, and picks up what she assumes to be Reginald’s wand. “Use that word again,” she says to the boy at her feet, her voice calm, ice cold and razor sharp, “and you’ll lose your tongue.” It isn’t a threat---it’s an ultimatum.

Aurora was shaking as she sat down in a chair and looked at her torn shirt and the blood that was dripping down her arm.  She touched a hand to the back of her head and came away with more blood, her hair was wet and sticky from it.  Reginald was worried about her, she could see it clear as day on his face, but she didn’t want to tell him about what happened.  It was hard enough to admit that she had been attacked, admit she had been defenseless.  It was even harder to admit that her assailant had been her foster brother.  

He had tried to- he had attacked her.  It hadn’t been the first time.  But he had caught her off guard.  He had forced his way into the bathroom when she had run from him.  She’d punched him, fought him.  But he had thrown her through the glass shower door.  The glass had cut through her clothes, slicing her arm open, and she had hit her head on the tiled shower wall.  

She barely managed to pull out her wand.  She hadn’t attacked her brother with her wand.  Instinctively, she had retreated, apparating out of the bathroom, and without even thinking, she had ended up on Reginald’s doorstep.  

Fuck- Amycus, although I’ve heard the rumors about what he does to his sex partners and I’m definitely not happy about this arrangement.  Still if I don’t, I’ll have to kill him and then Alecto will kill me.  Although, that might be better than the alternative.  Caradoc.  

Marry- Reg, cause we’re friends and he’s definitely not hard on the eyes.  And we’d have an anti-blood-purity family with pretty babies.  

Kill- Caradoc, but only because I can’t kill Amycus without Alecto coming after me and killing me.  And we all know I”ll do anything to survive.  Even- ahhh hell, nope can’t do it.  Amycus.