vice and virtue

Honestly, stake outs had grown on Mirek. Compared to long hours at the hospital, they were a piece of cake. You don’t know true stress until you’re surrounded by twenty seven cauldrons at very different stages of preparation, and six of them start boiling during your partner’s smoke break. There were arround sixty things to worry about, compared to the three things he worried about in moments like this; not sounding suspicious, getting information, and getting the mission done well enough to remain in the Dark Lord’s good graces.

Dragon. Well, that sure was… something. He wouldn’t spend on that, and he did find it pretentious, but at least the material had many uses, and would not go out of fashion anytime soon, if ever. Mirek whistled to show his approval. “Very nice.”

With that out of the way, Mirek finally managed to focus on the people he was supposed to be staring at. They seemed tense, but not necessarily more tense than they were when they arrived. Whenever someone looked a bit more fired up, they calmed down almost instantly. “I thought the action was going to start when the guy with the green robe started talking, but these guys seem pretty tame. I pictured them more like a mob, I guess.”

They were both sent out to find out information from a trade meeting. There were rumors it was a highly rated poison and a complete set of vials of truth serum. Both were necessary for the death eaters to get more information about who they were after and of course, the Order. Malcolm was only staring at a poorly lit alleyway in pitch darkness with Mirek. Malcolm didn’t know the other that well other than death eater meetings but one couldn’t exactly talk there. 

Malcolm flexed his hand at the mention of his gloves. He always tried to be fashionable with the exquisite robes he had and gloves and boots. He prided himself on each compliment he received and this was no different. “Got them in Germany from a well-known designer. I’ve had them for a few months so they’re still in season.”

When there were a few people down below who seemed to peak Mirek’s interest, Malcolm turned his attention as well. There was a conversation that was happening but other than that, Malcolm couldn’t hear anything. “It is supposed to be a practical deal. If there is going to be any violence might as well leave it to others. We need to get closer to hear what they’re saying in this elaborate long conversation they’re having.”

The first time Zephyr met Malcolm Greengrass, he hadn’t been terribly impressed by him and the longer he listened, the more he was certain that his first first opinion was absolutely, entirely correct, as it usually was. He was pompous, egotistical, self-aggrandizing, and quite possibly small minded. Did he even realize that Zephyr hadn’t asked for his opinion or his advice? Probably not, the man seemed like the sort that thought his words should be worth their weight in dragots while personally Zephyr wouldn’t have paid a sprink for them. “Looks like I’m already going against your advise. I said hobby and I’m sticking to it, I’m not trying to find another job. You don’t need to worry about your business from me.” While he likely could buy a disaster of a home and fix it up in order to rent it out and have a side business going, Zephyr wouldn’t want to be any sort of work partner with Malcolm since he’d likely end up taking on Order members as tenants and Malcolm didn’t seem the sort to be sympathetic to their cause. “Besides, sometimes I like to take it slow and do things the non magical way. It can be fun to take a sledgehammer to things.” Not that there had really been the chance to move slowly when he was redoing his old home considering he wanted it fit or Katie to live in as soon as possible, but that wasn’t the point.

Malcolm was still not entirely convinced about what person Zephyr Bell was. Walden had done a good enough job of putting a good character testimony about Zephyr and Malcolm had filled in the blanks with who Zephyr was affiliated with. He hid everything he knew about the other and his activities behind a careless smile. “Try telling a tenant or a resident that you want to redo their interior for a...hobby. If you want to tell them you are on a contract with a well-known company in the area then I’m sure you will have more of a reputation. I am not worried about my business and yours except a little friendly competition which I’m sure I will win at. But, if you want to actually be productive, then my advice is sound and I am merely trying to help you.” It wasn’t something that Malcolm did often but this seemed like a business investment and Zephyr was disrespectfully turning it down. The brut of a man was not even seeing that Malcolm was trying to help him which made the fine features on his face crinkle together but he gave a small smile. “The non-magical way is slow and unrefined. People need things fast and now in an economy that is slow.”

It was always nice to remind people just what you were capable of. Sometimes a suggestion was a powerful thing, a possibility left to rattle around in someone’s brain causing their thoughts to work against them as they pictured one terrible possibility after another and Cas didn’t really care what Malcolm did to them while they were under the spell. That was his business as far as Cas was concerned and all he wanted to do was make sure the objective was completed because he wasn’t about to go against the dark lord’s displeasure just because some two bit shopkeepers decided to try something and failed.

“Well, you heard the man. You’re my problem.” Cas announced as he turned towards their unexpected, ‘honoured’ guest. “It’s up to you just how polite this conversation is. Actually, no, it isn’t.” A flick of his wand and one unforgivable later, the man was glassy eyed and loose limbed, looking as if he was out of his mind on some substance. “So, are you a thief? Or a spy?” He asked. “What did you want?” It was with some surprise that Cas watched the man smile, as if he couldn’t believe his luck. “The hand of glory, that’s what I wanted. But I know people who will pay to hear about you.”

These missions were always so dull and always the same repetitive duty. Malcolm flexed his fingers on his wand, knowing they would have to do some major clean up in order to not leave a trace. He was already wondering how secure the area was and if someone had seen anything through the curtain or heard any muted screams. The two people were casualties and Malcolm couldn’t care less if they became victims but that wasn’t the point of today. The shop owner had information about something they wanted to collect and these fickle problems only aided in the problem. 

Malcolm dealt with his own man, cleaning up the fresh stains of blood on the wood flooring and any other evidence that aurors might find later. He knew enough to obliviate the man and perhaps render him unconscious. His gaze flicked to Cas who was busy with the other thief. “We are here for something of importance which I’m sure you’re aware of by now. Either the thief has it or you do. You have ten fingers so I’ll give you ten tries. Tell me where it is.”

“My father is imprisoned, my mother has been out of my life since I was a child, and I really don’t associate with Sofiya’s mother much. Perhaps some people think of family as a group, but I think of us as an archipelago, I’m separate from the rest of them and grateful for it.” As for Dmitry’s relatives in Russia, Valentina had nothing to do with them. You would think that when a man had three children by three separate wives, there would be all sorts of connections and relatives and yet war had cut them all away, the only string left to attach her to a blood member leading her to Sofiya, a relationship that was complicated and not one that she cared to discuss much with anyone. “I assure you, your family did a service by only breeding once.” Of course, perhaps Malcolm had half siblings that she didn’t know about, but he didn’t seem like the sort to want to entertain any such ideas of extended family.

Considering that her father and her own intended were both rotting away in Azkaban, it wasn’t a surprise that people were asking how she got out of it and while she normally wouldn’t, Valentina decided for a moment to allow some vulnerability to show on the topic. “I didn’t expect to come back. When they led me away to the dementors, I fully expected to be left to rot.” Looking down, Valentina tapped her fingers against the side of her glass before finishing it off, savoring the taste on her tongue despite the way it burned as it slipped down her throat. “I’m not the only death eater in the Ministry, some of the higher ups in our new Minister’s party are on our side, which I’m sure helped my cause.” She didn’t particularly want to go into too many details with that particular situation, just like she didn’t want to spend too much time thinking about Azkaban. “And who do you think is the next lamb? Do you have your eye on any good sacrifices, Malcolm?”

“Family is a rather difficult subject for some. You don’t have to explain what it means to you. It means something to everyone. For instance, you and I are quite alike. My father was imprisoned for embezzlement of his own company and later murdered on my birthday. My mother...she left us for a muggle man. She was nice from what I can remember so I don’t know how she got brainwashed by those people.” It had been hard on him when he was a child, learning his mother was leaving the family. Malcolm was sure she would have stayed if it wasn’t for the blunt force of his father telling her to leave the manor and Malcolm for the muggle. It wasn’t a threat anymore until she did just that. Malcolm released a tight chuckle and glanced down. “I was only meant to be alone. There was...a witch or seer-the actual person has been lost in translation throughout the decades...someone put a curse on my family for all the women to die in a sad, unfortunate way. I think when they had a son, my parents were thankful for just that.”

It did set a nasty tone for Malcolm knowing that Daphne could grow up with the fears of something unknown hurting her eventually. Malcolm didn’t know if he should tell her or let it bury itself in Malcolm’s mind. “I don’t blame you. Something like that is a fear no one needs. Dementors...you can’t not get chills from them. Even in school, the idea creeped me out. Now, if they get released like they do sometimes, I freeze and I’m sure that’s not the dementors’ doing.” The words came out candidly and honest, surprising even Malcolm. He allowed a smile to his features to smooth out any traces of a frown. “I always am brewing something up. I guess I just need a kick of inspiration.”

She nodded.  “Exactly what you should be doing,” she said with approval that Malcolm didn’t need.  He would and should do whatever the hell he wanted to do, when it came to his wife and daughter.  It was weird though, when she considered how many people her age were finding themselves with children.  She barely wanted a dog.  Kids were too much responsibility for her.

“I suppose that’s fair,” she agreed just as someone bumped into her from behind.  She laughed at the timing, rubbing a spot on her back where their elbow jabbed her.  “A bit of personal space might have made the night perfect.”  When he said it was the worst she shook her head.  “This well-meaning witch hosted a signing outside her restaurant.  It was for some charity.  But she didn’t consider the fact that it was winter and our fingers were ready to fall off by the end of the evening.  This is downright pleasant compared to that.”

It didn’t make a lot of sense, the things he was saying about Rodolphus Lestrange.  She thought that had run in the same crowd, but maybe she was mistaken.  Either way, she wasn’t going to stop him.  She’d rather eat a bowl full of rubbish than be in the same room as that man again.  “Of course.  I’m always up for an interview,” she agreed easily.  She loved a good interview, and it wasn’t a thing to sign her name.  “We’ve certainly done well for ourselves,” she agreed. 

It was odd thinking about Diana and Daphne, causing him to become sentimental in an instant. The definition of a healthy family had never been applied to Malcolm and suddenly he was being cleansed of his family in replace of his own. He loved Diana and Daphne tenderly, loving every moment he had with them and realizing he was becoming a different person by the change. “Oh, don’t think I don’t. I’m going to spoil the hell out of that girl. The moment she interacts with a boy I might have a heart attack. I can’t imagine her growing any bigger but I know she will. I’m just going to take advantage of the time I have with her now.”

“Perhaps we can try doing this again. That is, if you’re available. I know it is a strenuous time for all quidditch teams. My friend Anson is still missing and none of the sports are being played. I’m not sure what alternative universe we’re living in, but I’m getting tired of it. I saw you play in November in France though. You’ve gotten loads better but I’m sure that’s what years will do to ones practice.” Malcolm gave a chuckle at the similarities, not wanting to be compared to a similar situation. “This bookstore is older than me and eons of my family. I would think they would have renovated to have more space but I suppose they’re trying to obtain the quaint atmosphere.”

Malcolm had his hands tied by all the companies he had picked up and acquired. The Prophet was taking on more effort than he would have preferred and was only in the office for a reasonable time during the week for the other reporters and editors. “Perhaps-” Malcolm began before someone bumped into him. He smoothed the annoyance of his face with a smile and turned his gaze back to Hestia. “Perhaps we can have an interview where I can think clearly. I’m much too tempted to set fire on people’s robes in here for being so rude. If you want, you and your team can take a break in the back while I try to sort this out. This is inexcusable.” 

Bailey couldn’t fathom the amount of stupidity and prejudice that it took for someone to say what Malcolm Greengrass was saying, and with a straight face. She wasn’t designed to have intelligent arguments, or debates, or even to calmly explain to someone the error of their ways. She had no soft empathy or patient understanding and hope for redemption. There was only righteous anger, and indignation on behalf of Remus and all sane people. 

“Wizards are the savages!” she snapped, smoke practically coming out of her ears as she rose up from her chair, hands in fists at her sides. “Wizards are the ones who have hunted them for parts and for sport when they’re just trying to live! Wizards are always the first to be violent and history shows that!”

The minute Greengrass said the word “werewolf” though, Bailey went ashen. “I- I never said anything about werewolves.” Had she? She had an excellent memory but right now she was seething, and for several moments she honestly doubted everything up to that point. Had she accidentally betrayed Remus? 

Malcolm was still talking but she wasn’t particularly paying attention until he laughed, and her gaze snapped back to him where he lounged while she still stood, arms stiff at her side. 

“My friend is not a threat. He’s a good and safe teacher and everyone who’s important knows that. You’re just a rumor monger and one day all you’ll be known for is selling lies on the wrong side of history.”

Malcolm knew he shouldn’t be wasting his breath on someone who couldn’t debate with him on a serious and intellectually. He knew that he had triggered something within the woman as she decided to talk to him when she was being silent for...Salazar knows why. Malcolm fixed his eyes on the woman once again with a less than interested expression. 

“Are you mad?” Malcolm hissed out, glancing around them at the corner of his eyes. There were other people around and her outburst was sure to draw attention. She was overreacting and creating a delusional scene, one that Malcolm was already impartial to. “You yourself are at fault then if you want to be so candid about the history of wizards. Find me a culture that doesn’t have a bloodstain to guide them towards victory. I’m sorry this is so hard for you, but you need to calm down and suck it up. This is a war, people die and feelings get hurt. This is going to last long so don’t get offended right off the gate, yeah?”

Malcolm had enough resources to tell him that the werewolf in question was in fact, a werewolf. The fact that she had forgotten her words made Malcolm’s lips fold into a victorious smirk. “Come, now. We are both yielding the truth and the simple truth is that your friend is a creature. Yes?”

“He has claws, teeth, no sense of control. Has he manipulated you to think any different? That is sure as hell the definition of a threat. I don’t doubt his capability to be interested in teaching, but it’s the right of the people to be aware of what he is. This is just a side job. Don’t be so quick to say all news is rumor base. That is just blind naivety.”

Zahi chuckled dryly as he listened to Malcolm explain why he would want such a garish eyesore of a price. Expense and enviability weren’t factors Zahi typically considered. The scales argument was a decent one, but he wasn’t sure it was enough. “Certainly a unique item,” he said as a way to provide a bridge. He hadn’t meant to offend Malcolm, after all. He simply didn’t see the point in keeping it for his own purposes.

“That you do,” Zahi agreed. It wasn’t even empty flattery. Clearly the man did. “Did Diana have her usual design hand in the mix, or was she busy at home with the baby? Congratulations, by the way. I’m not sure if I’ve actually said it yet.” He gestured for a drink from a passing waiter, wondering if Malcolm would take one or wait until further into the party.

Taste was not a commonality and only few had it and Malcolm was happy to have it. The evening was in fact, decorated to the nines and Malcolm had made sure everything was perfect and in its place. There were only a few people who Malcolm thought could have dressed better like they were actually attending a social gala and not going to a pub or library. 

“She helped out, of course. It’s unreal the eye that she has. But of course, Daphne has kept us both busy.” The manor had a different mood than before and being a father and husband was something unimaginable two years before. His life was completely different back then and he wouldn’t change it now. “I do sincerely thank you. It is the best thing to happen in my life besides Diana of course.”

“Then I guess we need to change his mind. I’m not exactly a guy that comes equipped with veritaserum, but I bet crucio would make them start talking.” Cas knew very well that the government didn’t consider confessions brought out by means of torture to be valid because the theory was that the suspect would say anything to make the pain stop, but they weren’t exactly working inside the government and besides, nothing wrong with a few threats. “But I think the Imperius curse would be cleaner. Could get them to give any name we want that way, could even make them go home, kill their family, then burn down their house if we wanted.” Shrugging like he hadn’t suggested anything more extreme than giving the shop a good dusting, Cas watched Malcolm as he examined the informant turned captive.

“A situation makes it sound like something that needs to be cleaned up, if you ask me.” Cas commented as one of the men they were supposed to meet up with began to wheeze, his eyes appearing somewhat bulbous and his voice nasally, almost like he had a cold. Ugh, best to avoid that one. “They weren’t supposed to be here.” The man said with a hack, sounding almost as if he was choking, and Cas frowned slightly in response to it, but didn’t interrupt as the man continued. “Probably a common thief to be disposed of.”

Malcolm wasn’t present to oversee any of the dramatics that happened before he entered the shop and he made his annoyance known with his chide remarks and empty stares. The last thing he wanted to do was be placating to another death eater and in front of the tortured souls that witnessed the two. “If we wanted,” Malcolm echoed, his sense of humor ebbing from his features and he held his wand tighter. It wasn’t necessary to have a shopkeeper burn his home and his family, but it was something he mused on. Eventually, Malcolm held his wand to the forehead of the man beside him and barked out imperio. Whatever limbo he had been held by Cas had collapsed and now the curse overridden him. The man let out a lengthy and breathless hiss at the curse and Malcolm watched onward without a change in his expression. 

“Well at least we can make ourselves useful,” Malcolm recommended with a careless shrug. His head tilted to the side at the man’s confession and his eyes found Cas. What in the hell was happening here and Malcolm wiped an exhausted hand over his face. “Do with him what you will. A thief is a coward and all cowards deserve a coward’s end. Ask him what you will but I don’t think he’s much use to us. It’s not him we were after, after all.”

Being a Yaxley was something Mirek couldn’t not be proud of. While they weren’t necessarily among Europe’s oldest or richest pureblood families, they were definitely among the most accomplished. They weren’t by any means badly off either, but their family relics were less on the opulent side and more on the cultural one. Like anyone from an old bloodline, Mirek could chant off his family’s accomplishments in his sleep, but his parents had been very clear that meant that he was personally responsible to remain relevant. 

Maybe that was why he couldn’t stand other purebloods sometimes. It seemed to him that some were too attached to the material side that was often tied to their blood. Like their inheritances were what made them better. Bullshit. He didn’t know if that was the case for Malcolm Greengrass. He seemed to be actually skilled, actually cunning. But there was something about the gloves he’d picked for this mission that made Mirek doubt him. He wasn’t even sure what they were made off, but they seemed new and undoubtedly cost more than his monthly rent.

He tried to focus on something else. When Dumbledore asked him about this mission, he couldn’t really go on and reply “well he was wearing some really elegant gloves, all things considered”. But he was definitely staring. He needed to get past it if they were going to get to work. Plus, some small talk couldn’t hurt. It would be weirder if he didn’t talk for the entirety of the mission, actually. “What are those even made of?” He said, pointing to Malclom’s hands. 

@themalcolmgreengrass​

There was grueling work in the long hours that came with death eater missions. It seemed that he was doing more for the dark lord than the dark lord was doing for him. The businesses that he helped grow were crumbling from debt around him. The people in the community were scared and sheltering themselves inside when Malcolm could be earning interest from them. The war had turned most of his life upside down, twisting it until it was something he didn’t recognize. Though it was a downside, Malcolm continued to lend a hand when he could. 

Most of the time he was assigned to be with someone he hardly knew and it rarely mattered if most of the time they were clothed in the robes and donning the familiar mask. Malcolm persisted earnestly at the mission, tasking himself with adapting to the social situation that came with it. The mission tonight was watching a community meeting discussing the shops around them and it seemed like there might be a word of rioting. 

Malcolm gave the man beside him a calculating glance before his smile curved into a small smirk. If he could choose a conversation, Malcolm preferred clothing as it was something material he liked collecting. “Nice, aren’t they? Dragon hide from a collection last summer.” Malcolm displayed his hands in front of him in a fashionable flourish. “When do you think we will see action?”