Walden Macnair is too old for this shit. (truthormacnair) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2008-09-08 05:44:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! [1979-09] september, rodolphus lestrange, walden macnair |
Who: Rodolphus and Walden
When: 8 September 1979
Where: The Macnair Residence, Curtis's Office.
What: Cleaning up after Walden.
Rating: PG.
Status: Complete.
It had taken Walden a little over an hour to finally send his summon to Rodolphus. He'd known that he would need help but he tried to come up with a solution to his problem on his own. This was his mess and there was no reason that Rodolphus had to be involved. He could tell by the journal entries that the other man was not happy. Why would he be? He had to leave home in the early hours of Monday to help take care of a body. Walden's father's body.
Walden felt absolutely terrible. For all the resentment and hate he felt for Curtis he did not want to see him dead. Walden was no stranger to murder but this feeling that sat like in the rock in the pit of his stomach was different. He did not feel the familiar rush that he was used to after a kill. Tonight he just felt rotten.
Now he sat in the chair in the hallway, just outside the office. He couldn't sit in the same room as his father. It made him ill just to think about it. The corridor was dark and quiet and though it left Walden alone with his thoughts it was easier to wait in those conditions. The next unpleasant event would be enduring the words that his best friend had for him.
Rodolphus ought to have been asleep - and asleep he would have been at half past two if his colleague and long-time friend hadn't committed the most bludgeringly stupid offense of his life. With a quick word to Bellatrix, he wrapped himself in a heavy coat, pocketed his wand and a sizeable flask of cognac, and set off for Walden's home. He apparated from inside his home to the very inside of Walden's front door (who knew what kind of eyes were upon their homes these days?), upon which he knocked in mock formality. As he was already inside, he hung his coat upon the appropriate hook and made his way (in a resolute staccato of heavy footsteps) down the hallway. He had no damned idea where Walden was, and he didn't feel like poking about for him, either.
"Walden." His voice was low and sober, and it resonated through the lower areas.
"Here." His voice sounded tired and he sighed. He rose slowly from his chair, feeling very much like an old man, and he walked towards the sound of the other voice. He could hear the rain pelting against the windows and it seemed to accurately represent the mood.
It didn't take long before he was standing just feet away from Rodolphus and though he wasn't expecting any sympathy (because he really didn't deserve it), he was relieved to see him all the same. It was easier to bear if there was someone else there.
"I appreciate you coming. I couldn't ask anyone else."
"I am not going to mince words, Walden." Rodolphus was not known for his compassion, and though he cared about his friend more than he probably had feelings to define, sympathy and tenderness and gentleness were not among his better traits. "You've done something incredibly stupid. Instinct, temper, impatience - I don't care what the reason was, but you must understand how grave a matter this is."
He glanced around. "Where is your mother? Is she aware of what has happened?" Rodolphus pulled the bottle of liquor from his inner coat and pressed it into Walden's hand. "Drink, talk, and walk. Saves time."
Walden snatched the bottle and took a long series of swallows before he looked over. "Mother is in Brighton until...well until later this morning actually. She should be home at about ten o'clock I should imagine. She has no idea what's happened. No one does." The office wasn't far from where the two men had met in the hallway and Walden felt his chest clench as they drew close. He stole another drink from the cold bottle and then handed it back .
"All that you said is true and I understand. I can't even remember speaking the words but I knew in the instant that I saw his face. He was an evil man but he didn't deserve to fall at the end of a misfired spell."
"Deserve has nothing to do with it." Rodolphus refused the bottle, but followed after Walden with a look of grave contemplation. "Did anyone know you were to come to this house tonight? Have any of the servants or elves seen you?" He was thinking quickly. Curtis's body could be disposed of with reasonable haste and efficiency; but Walden had waited too long. The staff would have to be dealt with. Memories would need to be modified or servants killed. It was now officially 'sticky' - and this is not how he'd intended to spend his Monday morning.
Walden mentally winced. He hated looking incompetent to anyone but it was so much worse that it had to be Rodolphus. He couldn't even begin to imagine what sort of thoughts were going through the other man's head. He guessed that they weren't anything that he wanted to hear.
"No, no one knew I was coming. He asked for me to meet him so late that I decided it was to discuss something private. He obviously chose mother's holiday for a reason and so I respected his wish for discretion. I saw no one upon my arrival and I haven't seen anyone since I've been here. They don't keep a very large staff during the off season."
"You have been incredibly lucky, then." Rodolphus was punctual, precise, dispassionate to a fault. "We will transfigure your father's body into something you can dispose of, give away, keep. A bit of jewellery, or a quill perhaps. You will then return home and tell no one where your father is. His will be a mysterious disappearance that you will report to the authorities in due course."
Walden nodded silently. It sounded like a simple solution and he could stick to the story. He stopped walking when they reached his father's office and he felt another shiver run through him. He was still in a bit of shock, not really believing that this was all happening. He had never wanted to see his father behind the desk so bad and he knew it just wasn't going to happen.
He reached out and grabbed the doorknob, slowly opening the door so the light spilled into the hallway. "He's in here," he said, stating the very obvious.
"Do you wish me to take care of this alone?" Rodolphus said no more, but he inwardly understood the discomfort - the grief, the anger, whatever it was - that came with seeing one's father dead (even if they weren't on the best of terms). He could easily transfigure him into something that Walden would not even recognise. "I also believe it would be prudent if you were to stay the night where you can be given an alibi, in case anything goes awry." It was a subtle offer, but an offer nonetheless.
He exhaled a breath that he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. He wanted to be capable of finishing what he had started but the second that Rodolphus had offered he felt as if he would snap if he stepped back into the room. He had not called Dolph here so he could do the dirty work and yet he had offered and there seemed to be a hint of something that wasn't his friend's usual stoniness.
"Please." He was surprised because he had not expected that to fall from his mouth. "I just can't look at him again."
So, with an abrupt nod, Rodolphus disappeared into the study that once belonged to Curtis Macnair. He was laid out upon the floor, and so carelessly had he fallen, that it seemed he could merely be asleep, were it not for the strange skew of his arms and angle of his knee. How odd it was to see the father of a childhood friend, lifeless and grey and vulnerable, and Rodolphus considered him with a clinical eye.
The disposal of the wand was an easy matter; the fireplace was ablaze and quickly consumed the narrow wood.
Curtis Macnair, however, proved a more difficult matter. For thirty five minutes, Rodolphus worked to transfigure his corpse into something that satisfied Gamp's Law without looking patently obvious. When he finally emerged, the circles beneath his eyes betrayed his weariness, and he silently pressed a dark, hard, smooth ring into Walden's palm. "I would leave the wards. They will be able to detect who has raised them, and your mother will likely do so when she arrives home."
Walden resumed his spot in the uncomfortable chair outside the study door. There was a silencing charm on the room and so he could not hear Rodolphus and his efforts. Alone in the darkness he thought about his mother and sister. Would they think twice about the man's dissapearance or would they go on with life as normal? Perhaps Sophia would contact the authorities in the hopes of tracking down her rogue husband. What would happen then? They would just have to search forever.
He felt himself jump as Rodolphus stepped into the hallway and pulled him from his barage of thoughts. He closed his fingers around the piece of jewelry and he gave his friend a quick nod. "Thank you, Rodolphus. I truly couldn't ask for a better friend and I am in your debt. Someday I will come to your aid and save you as you've done for me."
"I certainly hope I will not require saving." But here Rodolphus gave a vague sort of smile, and he smacked Walden upon the back. "Come, we should make haste and enjoy the night in our own beds."
At this Walden gave a nod and returned the manly gesture. The fire in the office would burn out and there would be no trace of any foul play. It would be as if Curtis Macnair dropped off the face of the planet.
"That is a truly wonderful idea."
And so he led his best friend away from the office and toward the front of the house. There was more room there and they would be farther away from the staff quarters.
"Again, thank you. It was good to see you even during such an unfortunate event. We should go hunting soon."
"We should. I have a new steed I intend to break in before the season is too wet." Rodolphus collected his coat as they entered the main hall. "Do you still have that painfully old hound or has his joints finally caught up with him?"
Walden smiled. "I've replaced him. I don't get attached to most animals, as you know, but it was a slightly difficult thing to part with him. I sent him off to some farm or another and I think it would be safe to assume he's chasing the geese about."
He grabbed his own coat, cold from having been away from him for so long. "And now that you have a new ride you might be able to keep up with me."
"I'm not sure this steed will go quite that slow," Rodolphus said mournfully, pressing his fingers into his coat and letting them drape around his wand. "Shall we?"
"We shall." He pulled his own wand and held it at his side, preparing to Apparate. It would be easier to fall asleep knowing he wasn't all alone in a large house. Walden sighed and gave his friend a nod and then vanished with a crack that would soon be mimicked.