волк

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Perhaps Wendy did over pack when it came to going out in the field when she worked. Yet, she was never ashamed of it. It was always better to be properly prepared for anything that could happen than regret leaving something behind. Every kind of potion and powder that could possibly be needed were in her bag. If its leg truly was broken there were signs since the thestral’s normal anatomy could sometimes look like there were broken bones. The creatures were surely a sight and it was easy to think as such. Still, she started rummaging around for a potion that would help mend the bone if that were the case. The apple disappearing was a sight to see. She forgot herself for a moment and who she was with to laugh at the surely adorable sight. Someone surely was hungry! And hearing Antonin laugh only made the whole ordeal even more endearing. “I’d say he liked that a lo-” She started laughing only to be cut off when she let her eyes lock on to Antonin’s. Suddenly she cut off and grew quiet. She shouldn’t be laughing and smiling with Antonin Dolohov. Even if the thestral had made her laugh, she shouldn’t give in to whatever was happening right now. She had to remind herself that she hated him, no matter how human he seemed in the moment. No matter how endearing he had seemed. He wasn’t. Still, she looked down when some bottles of potions clanked against each other as if an invisible nose was shifting through them looking for another apple. “You’ll get another one if you are a good patient.” She spoke softly and reached out in search of its nuzzle. When she found the invisible creature she petted softly and smiled getting lost in the private world of the thestrals. Antonin’s voice brought her out and her head snapped up and she started collecting all the items to put back in her back. “Clodfoot. I can fix that.” She sorted through the glass vials until she found the poultice she needed. “I’ll need you to help me. I can apply it, but I need you to help me find the infected areas. Guide me to the area on each foot that’s affected and I’ll do the rest.” Her voice was serious once more and the smile was gone from her features. 

Antonin knew how strong and resilient equine beasts were. Thestrals more so than horses. More often than not if a horse was limping it’s shoe was usually broken, or there was something embedded in it’s foot rather than it having a broken bone, but you always had to check if that were the case or not. Antonin hoped it wasn’t broken and had almost sighed in relief when he’d seen the thick substance beneath it’s foot. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to set it’s bone by himself, Wendy wouldn’t be able to help with the amount of traction that would be needed to get that done. Always trying to stay in control, he watched as Wendy checked herself. Watched as the light of mirth left her eyes as if she were finally remembering who she was sharing a joke with, Antonin wanted to groan. Did she have to be so uptight all the time? She definitely was more likeable when she was smiling and laughing. Antonin nodded at her words, it sounded easy enough except that he would have to be her eyes, they would have to work together which shouldn’t have been so worrisome of a task. Antonin checked the hooves to find that there were 3 that were infected. He knelt by the first one and bent it’s leg up so that it’s upturned foot was resting in his lap. He hesitated a moment then held a hand out towards Wendy so that he’d be able to guide her down to the affected area. “It’s okay, I don’t have disease.”

*

Even if he never would admit it to himself, William’s desire to mess with Antonin Dolohov came from a place of wanting his acceptance.  It was seemingly never going to happen, though, so terrorizing him every chance that he got was William’s go to.  Thrilled when he realized that he was going to be working with Dolohov, even though he always would have preferred to work with Bellatrix, he couldn’t help but smirk at the terse directions snapped at him. “Whatever you say, boss.  Don’t tell me you’ve lost your touch?”  The goad wasn’t exactly called for, but really, when had Dolohov lost his sense of humour?  And really, how could he be expected not to have a little fun with someone who was under arrest?

Gesturing mockingly, William said, “After you.”

-

Antonin narrowed his eyes at Mulciber. He took a moment to debate with himself just how much trouble he would get in if he were to punch Will at some point today. It probably wouldn’t be worth it. “I swear Mulciber, if I have to fill out any extra paperwork because of your messy work...” he trailed. 

Without further warning, Antonin marched out of the office, taking long strides in the hope that he would avoid any further conversation with the other wizard. He didn’t check to see if he was following, but Antonin found that he didn’t care either way. He’d be able to make the arrest alone anyway, he didn’t need a shadow, albeit an annoying talking shadow.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

He didn’t rise to her challenge and part of Wendy was slightly impressed that he showed that amount of control. Of course it would have only angered her if he had because he would have gotten angry around the animals and she could have used that as an excuse for proof that he was a horrible person. Instead he stayed calm and turned his attention to the thestrals. He was almost serious in a manner how he handled the task at hand. Again, a part of Wendy was impressed. Maybe she shouldn’t try to rile him up today. She did have a job to do and the thestrals were more important than whatever was between them. She watched him interact with the baby, his hand was at a height that was about how tall the creature would have been. “It’s going to be a little difficult with you trying to be my eyes.” Wendy sighed, but for once her frustration was not directed at him. “Oh wait.” As he inspected the creature she started to rummage through the bag she had brought with her. It was charmed to be bigger on the inside and she squatted down pulling many books and scrolls, bags and bottles of potions and salves for treatments and even apples. Finally she found a small book about thestrals with illustrations and handed it to him. “Here, this can help.” One of the apples rolled a little. Then a little more. Until finally it floated in the air and disappeared. “I think someone stole my apple.” Wendy couldn’t help herself and laughed softly, forgetting who she was with. 

Antonin could only watch as she pulled books and little bits and pieces from within her bag. She had certainly come prepared. Antonin grew wary, did they actually expect him to fix this thestrals foot? He was much better at breaking bone than mending it. He took the book from her wordlessly, he wanted to point out that he didn’t think the book would help without actual experience when the young thestral suddenly lurched forward. Antonin watched as it took an apple Wendy had fetched from her bag and swallowed it almost whole. Despite himself, a low chuckle escaped Antonin’s lips. The whole scene was comedic really, the thestral was now watching Wendy expectantly. “Oh he liked that, I think he wants another one,” Antonin said, smiling as he turned his gaze back at the witch. He sobered almost immediately when their eyes met, he cleared his throat. “If you have more,” he muttered before he eagerly turned his attention back to the book in his hands. He flipped through it’s pages, his fingers working quicker than his brain. Why was it so shocking that Wendy could be so personable? Endearing even? No, thestrals, he reminded himself as his eyes finally began to take in the words. Habits, feeding, common ailments. There. He let his eyes scan the page, a finger running over the words as he read. He found a passage about limping in infants. If his leg was broken, he’d be laying down with no appetite to feed. Judging by the way the little guy wasn’t leaving Wendy alone it certainly wasn’t that. If it’s clodfoot there would be a white thick sediment gathered at the base of his hoof. While the thestral was busy with Wendy, Antonin bent and gingerly lifted one of its’ legs in the way he had with the horses back in Russia. He was kneeling with the hoof resting in his lap the book resting on the grass beside him, he peered around the thestrals wing so he could see Wendy better. “It looks like clodfoot,” he told her. He could only hope she’d know the treatment.

-

Lucinda had taken a few blows tonight, and she could take one to her ego. Not only had they shared a house but she had played Quidditch for England. She’d brought the Falcons to victory in the league twice, and the cup once. And Antonin Dolohov didn’t know who she was. Did they not like Quidditch in whatever Eastern European country he’d called home? Small blessings, she supposed. Better to be off a death eaters radar, a complete nobody, than have their full attention. Just her luck that she’d ran into one at a muggle club. His sort were supposed to find everything Muggle beneath them.

“Don’t worry about it.” Luce rolled her eyes. “It doesn’t matter. Spar with me.” Seeing Antonin had sent a fresh rush of adrenaline through her veins. Fight or flight. Lucinda had always chosen fight, and she hadn’t been finished tonight anyway. She didn’t wait for an answer, turning to a muggle at the edge of the fight nearest them. “Us next.”

-

The fact that she didn’t speak her name only made the alarm bells in his head begin to ring louder and more incessantly. His drew his eyebrows together but nodded. He supposed that he didn’t need to know who she was in order to spar with her. She also certainly seemed as though she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. The muggle looked between the two of them and then nodded.

He allowed the final breaths of the fight before them for him to try and connect the puzzle of the woman before him. She was magical, he knew that much. He felt that he knew her especially beyond Hogwarts. She didn’t work for the ministry, he felt that he would know if she did. “We haven’t slept together ever have we?” he asked by way of breaking the silence between them.

-

At least he smiled at her, Anushka noted, and worked to suppress her disappointment as he continued to simply stand there and look at her. Maybe that wasn’t fair. The last time they had seen each other in person, he had been fifteen and she just eleven. Maybe he needed time to look at her and marvel that she hadn’t grown a single inch taller since then while he had shot up like a tree. 

Vlad was finally leaving, and would be gone by the time they reached the flat. Anushka didn’t typically mind her father’s guards, they were loyal and hardworking, but they also tended to be very serious and humorless and three days alone with him had been akin to detention at Durmstrang. 

“On the train,” Anushka was determined to speak English when he did, it was good practice anyway, “I had to check that he breathed.” 

She followed as he led the way out, trying to take it all in without falling behind. Finally, a bit afraid of losing him in the crowd, Anushka snatched his free hand and for a moment, paused to look up and meet his eye. Almost a silent dare to reject her upon her arrival, and then gave a little toss of her head to answer. “It was very pretty, but very quiet.” 

-

She wasn’t especially tall, but she certainly wasn’t eleven anymore either. Antonin laughed at her joke, his eyes falling back upon the dogs who were leading the way. “Thank you,” he began slowly, “for bringing Boris,” he said, nodding at the dog who had nearly doubled in size since he’d last seen him. 

Antonin started in surprise when something connected with his hand. He glanced down to find Anushka’s hand in his. His eyes widened slightly but he allowed his fingers to curl around hers. The gesture felt oddly familiar, it almost felt as though he were leading her to the ice rink in Moscow, or to get an ice cream in the red square. For a moment, they were children again and Antonin couldn’t help the awful wave of nostalgia and of all the memories they hadn’t been able to make from his leaving. He fixed his eyes straight ahead. He wasn’t going to allow himself to think of that kind of thing. He slowed his footing slightly, she must have been struggling to keep up with him.

“So, do you maybe want to see a bit of London before we go home? Are you hungry?” he asked.

-

Ah yes, those parties. Narcissa showed her face at nearly all of them,  but she hadn’t learned to tolerate the rowdiness until her later years. She drank to take the edge of her annoyance, but she never allowed herself to get overly carried away in such a big crowd. It’d be foolish.

“Oh! Thank you.” Narcissa offers a more genuine smile, falling into step beside Antonin. He’s a bit taller than her, but she keeps pace well enough. “So what’s your drink of choice?” She usually goes for a wine herself, but she can be talked into near anything at least once.

-

Antonin let his feet take him down the well travelled pilgrimage from his place of work to the closest pub. They’d be ministry workers to their ears there, but it was well stocked and the keep knew him well. He glanced down at the youngest Black as they walked, she was so different to Bellatrix in so many ways and it always seemed to give him pause.

“I love a good vodka, it’s true,” he said with a slow nod, “But I wont say no to a good beer, or whiskey for that matter.” It almost felt foolish to ask Narcissa the question, but he did so anyway, “Let me guess, you’re something extremely sophisticated?”

Bellatrix was nowhere to be found in the office and Antonin didn’t blame her. He wanted to strangle her however. She’d obviously redelegated herself conveniently off of the case in his hands and put Antonin on instead. He looked from his name to the name beside his then glanced up into the face of William Mulciber. He didn’t care that the little shit was an auror, that it was technically his case, he certainly wasn’t going to roll over and play along.

“Let’s get this over with, shall we? Just bloody keep your mouth shut. We go in, make the arrest, come out clean, okay?” 

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Death had not been a stranger to Wendy’s life, but she had not seen death firsthand. That was why she required another to accompany her. Usually the thestrals were left to someone in the department who could see them. However, she was there now and in the new hostile environment of the ministry, it was easier to send the halfblood on the unwanted job, even if she could not see them. Wendy observed him to see how he would react. It was not terribly surprising to see him stiffen so. Of course she expected him to take offense to her not agreeing with the “rightful” order of nature so many of his fellow Death Eaters believed in. But what did surprise her was that he did not react more than simply stiffening at her bitter words. Perhaps she had been testing him, pushing him to react in anger like was so familiar with them to change the almost civilness that now settled between them. As he spotted the young for her, Wendy dropped her hand from the adult and slowly picked through the invisible crowd to him. She didn’t know where the creatures were and didn’t want to run into them. “Do you see any obvious ailments?” Wendy inquired and realized with a frustrating pang that he probably wasn’t familiar with their normal anatomy. She had never seen one with her own eyes, but Wendy was familiar with the detailed drawings and charts of them. 

-

Very few knew that Antonin had first witnessed death long before his death eater days. He had been able to see the winged horses that pulled the carriages at Hogwarts. It was hard to avoid death growing up as the son of the Pakhan, after all. Antonin found it very hard to believe that there had been no one else in Wendy’s department who could see the thestrals, perhaps someone had taken ill or someone was just having a good laugh. Antonin figured that this could all go one of two ways. Either they could settle into the way that they always did, yelling and screaming at each other or they could get by under the pretense of civility. They were working after all. He ran his eyes over the young thestral, letting it sniff his fingers before he ran his fingers along it’s spine. It had been a while since they’d studied thestrals at school, he tried to remember what the signs of illness could be. It looked fit enough, he stepped back and it stepped towards him. No, it had limped. Antonin’s brows shot together as he crouched by it’s fore legs. “I think he’s injured his front leg,” Antonin said towards Wendy, “he’s limping.”

She gave the man a wicked smile as she heard Antonin join them. Even if she didn’t require backup, there was always something more fun about sharing the game with someone who enjoyed it as much as she did, and the night had been oh so boring until this. 

Keeping one hand pressed against the man’s shoulder, Bellatrix took his chin in her other, letting her long nails dig into his skin, turning his face to look her in the eye, ignoring when his gaze went behind her to Antonin. If he thought he’d seek help from another man he was in for a disappointment. Antonin might stop her from killing him, but if he had truly been determined to prevent this he never would have put her down in the first place. 

“He’s right,” She purred, “Stay, and we can chat.” Bellatrix released his chin, ignoring when he jerked his head away from her, hitting it back into the wall. Her hand grabbed one of his, jerking it up so he could look at it as she tilted her head at him. “You like touching women, hm?” So did she, that didn’t mean she went around grabbing whatever she could. “That’s all well and good if the lady is interested, but if not, well, it disturbs them, you see?” 

“I didn’t-” He began but Bellatrix pressed her nails into his wrist, interrupting, “Shh,” She murmured, cutting him off. Slowly, she turned back to Antonin, “Hold him still.”

He let Bellatrix have her fun as he took on a bored expression. He wouldn’t step in unless she indicated that she needed help, it was an unspoken rule amongst them. Antonin cocked his head to the side. The guy was scum, worse than scum and frankly Antonin didn’t want him anywhere near that ballroom or his sister inside it.

Antonin didn’t need to be told twice, the man actually thought that he’d be able to lie to them? His hand darted out, his fingers wrapping neatly around the man’s neck. He applied enough pressure to keep him in place but oxygen would still reach his brain. He needed to be awake for this. 

mikhavulchanov​:

…

It was interesting, really.  Antonin was frequently agitated.  It was practically his natural state, after all.  He wouldn’t pretend to know Wendy nearly as well.  He had never seen her like this, although most of the time they spent together was spent alone.  When she spoke in Russian he gave her a look – it wasn’t amused, really; nor was he particularly irritated, but he didn’t know that he liked her escalating a conflict he was trying to resolve.  

“I’m trying to help,” he told her simply, no irritation in his voice.  “that is not helping.”  He let her keep ahold of his arm as he knew how uncomfortable she felt about this entire evening, but he didn’t move away from Antonin either.  “You’re making me feel like a toy that a pair of young children are fighting over,” he laughed under his breath.

He shrugged at Antonin’s incredulous tone, figuring a distraction was as good a de-escalation strategy as any.  “Her big knife will be perfect for crushing the seedpods I need for the poison I’m working on.  The one I brought from home is far too narrow.  She said she’d help me find one like hers.”

@wendyslinkhxrd​

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

How could they know each other? Mikha had said that they were friends since childhood. Still it didn’t make sense! They were utter opposites of each other in every sense! Even childhood friends grew apart given how different they could be growing up. Wendy shook her head, more agitated than Mikha had ever seen her yet this was her natural state with Antonin. “How are you friends with him?” Wendy blurted out, hating that Antonin kept popping up in her life. It was bad enough he had tried to figure out who Mikha was to her while dancing, but now he was friends with one of the sweetest guys she knew. He was friends with someone she slept with quite regularly. It was too much for Wendy.

The two reactions to Wendy speaking Russian gave her such whiplash in her own reactions. Antonin’s made her flare in annoyance, fighting the childish reaction to stick her tongue out at him. Mikha made her blush in shame and mutter an apology to him. He was right. Mikha was trying to calm them both and she had knowingly provoked Antonin by pretending she understood him. He was asking her something about speaking Russian, she knew how to say she didn’t speak Russian. But even though she agreed with Mikha, she didn’t want to let Antonin know she hadn’t understood. So instead she acted as if she understood him. “I don’t want to talk in Russian, I want to talk in English.” She muttered to Antonin, her chin jutting out, but she tried to keep calm for Mikha’s sake.

Though she knew Antonin was friends with Bellatrix Black, she was shocked to hear Mikha speak of her so friendly! Her jaw dropped and Wendy felt the ground shake more under her. Bellatrix Black was as bad as Antonin! Worse since the eldest Black was scarier and utterly frightening to Wendy. “You can’t! She’s dangerous!” Wendy gasped, thinking of all the known blood on the woman’s hands and how dangerous she could be. Wendy was concerned for Mikha, not wanting him to go knife shopping with Bellatrix Black of all things.

Originally posted by eternamentesola

Wendy’s growing irritation helped sober Antonin slightly. Yes, that’s right, he thought, Mikhail was his before he was ever hers. Still, at her question, which he was sure was aimed at Mikha and not him, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “Merlin, Is it so surprising that I have friends?” Antonin asked her with a scowl. Wendy wouldn’t be this fired up with Mikhail if they were simple acquaintances. Antonin narrowed his eyes at the touch between them, all the signs coming together but they were only coming to a conclusion which he did not like. 

At Wendy’s reply, Antonin only grinned knowingly. He had the idea that she’d had no idea what he’d said. “Right,” he said slowly and in English, only because he didn’t want to upset Mikhail any further. The way he saw it, Mikhail was an innocent party here who really knew no better. It was in his nature to be friendly to everyone and Merlin, he’d forgotten, his oaf of a friend was always going on about Wilbert Slinkhard and his bloody ‘brilliant’ books.

Of course she was also opposed to Bellatrix, there was no surprise there. If Antonin were honest, he didn’t know how he felt about Mikhail and Bellatrix getting ‘friendly’. Antonin raised a brow of his own and angled it at Mikhail. “You do realise that she’s not using her knives for potion making, right? And please don’t tell me you’ve told her that you actually brew poisons,” he said to his friend. Bellatrix would never leave him alone if she knew just how gifted Mikhail was with a cauldron.