WHO: Robin Burke & Richenza Selwyn WHAT: Cousins through the years~ WHEN: Through the years~ WHERE: Borgin & Burkes, Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Borgin & Burkes
Robinet was crouched underneath one of the tables in Borgin & Burkes, a long piece of furniture which had once belong to some lord (he’d not listen for the name) who was obsessed with Greek gods. Obsessed with them to the point where he’d tried to become one and unfortunately put some kind of curse on his family, apparently, though as far as Robin knew the table itself wasn’t cursed. He hoped so, anyway, because he was hugging one leg of it pretty tightly: he’d made skin contact a few times.
He should have known better, but it seemed important that he try and scare Richenza. It was only right, after she’d jumped out at him earlier when he wasn’t expecting it. Robin’s eyebrows had nearly flown out.
He saw her feet and reached out for her ankles in a quick movement, roaring as he did.
Richenza had known retaliation was forthcoming. So she’d tried to be on her guard, but she hadn’t expected a ground-level assault so when Robin’s fingers wrapped around her ankle, she sucked in a surprised breath and looked down to find the owner of the roar.
“Robinet.” She promptly tried to stomp on his fingers.
Robin wasn’t quite quick enough. Her heels landed on the fingers of his left hand just before he could move it and Robin bit out a loud “Ow!”, pulling his fingers back to him and putting them in his mouth. His laughter was loud, bouncing around the room: if there were customers, it surely would have drawn their attention (Robin had not thought to check).
He kept laughing. “Merlin, the look on your face,” he said, delighted. “It’s almost as red as your hair!”
“You are the worst,” Richenza hissed, glancing around. There were customers in the store and they did not look impressed. She flashed them an embarrassed smile and tossed her curls over her shoulders before dropping to a crouch by the table, giving Robin’s shoulder a shove.
“I’m going to sell you to Billy Babyeater!” She poked Robin in the cheek. She wouldn’t actually sell him to Billy Babyeater, but it was one of her favorite threats.
Robin let the shove take him, falling backwards so he was staring up at the bottom of the table. His legs stuck out from it and he was still laughing, a messy heap on the floor. “You can’t sell me,” he said, turning to look at her. “I’m not a baby. He won’t have any interest in me, give you a rubbish price.”
“You’re practically a baby,” Richenza said, even as she joined Robin under the table, her ‘I’m more mature than you’ face firmly in place as she sat next to him. “I’m certain he’d still eat you. You’re like beef jerky to him probably.”
Pulling a face at her, Robin said, “You could come before me. Like an appetiser for Billy Babyeater.” He reached out and poked her side. “I think he’d like you best.”
She arched away from his finger, giving him a reproachful look. “He wouldn’t like me best,” Richenza said. And then, because clearly her look hadn’t been enough, “I’m much too mature.” She pressed her fingertips to her cheeks.
“Why’ve you got little girl chipmunk cheeks then?” Robin asked, eyes lighting up. He scrambled back, as if expecting a hit.
“Ugh, I hate you!” The hit came, both of her hands landing with a smack against his shoulder as she pushed him further away from her.
Laughing, Robin clambered out from under the table, doing his best impression of a chipmunk, complete with loud noises.
When he turned, it was straight into his father’s legs. He looked up and Emory Burke had his arms folded, eyebrows raised.
“I don’t even want to know what you’re doing,” he said, “but please stop or take it into the back room.”
Robin looked over at Richenza, nose wrinkling. “Let’s go play in the back room.”
Richenza sat primly next to Robin at the Hufflepuff table and said, “I cannot believe you got yourself sorted here.” She started to load one of the plates up with Hufflepuff eggs and sausages and poured a glass of Hufflepuff pumpkin juice.
Robin was trying very hard to pretend that everything was normal and completely fine. He was very good at playing pretend, had always been: his father had once told him he had a wild imagination. As he reached for one of the goblets, he wondered if he could possibly be imagining everything that was happening. Slanting a look at Richenza, he debated asking her to pinch him but refrained. She’d do it hard enough to bruise probably.
“Everyone likes the sun. It’s yellow. Yellow’s not so bad,” Robin said, as if that was a good argument that made sense. He sighed and tried to ignore the looks from up the table. “I think I was in a good mood and the hat knew.”
“I’m sure Daddy would send a time turner if I asked him to.” Richenza reached for a slice of toast and slathered it in Hufflepuff butter and jam. “You could try again and think dour thoughts this time!” She placed the toast on Robin’s plate and reached for another to do the same.
Robin picked the toast up and took a bite. “Maybe,” he said, slowly, through a mouthful, “they think I’m not a snake and more of a badger. Because I’m always badgering people.” He smiled at her and then took another bite of toast so he didn’t start talking about how ridiculous Hufflepuff was.
He was undergoing trauma. Robin tried to combat it by taking a huge gulp of tea.
“But I don’t want you to be a badger,” Richenza said with a pout. “I want you to be a snake. With me.”
“We’re gonna be separated,” Robin said, striking a fork into some eggs. The poor eggs would have ran if they could. “I mean, I’ve gotta be in Hufflepuff.”
A boy just in front of them sighed. “Stop saying it like that. Hufflepuff’s a very noble house, with admirable traits such as —”
“Oh, shut it, four eyes,” Robin groused into his eggs. He looked at Richenza. “They’re all earnest. I’m going to die here.”
Now, Richenza sighed and rested her head on Robin’s shoulder. “I’m afraid that when you die and I wear all black in mourning they’ll think it’s because of —” She glanced at the boy who’d interrupted them and wrinkled her nose. “Hufflepuff.”
“I’m not gonna give them that victory,” Robin said. He looked at the top of Richenza’s head and didn’t sigh again, but only because he thought it would be too dramatic and Four Eyes was still looking at them. “They’re all gonna have to put up with me for the rest of their lives. You can come eat here sometimes I guess.”
“When you get tired of it here, you can come eat with me, obviously.” Richenza didn’t care about Four Eyes, so she sighed again, even louder. “We’ll hardly have any classes together. We’ll barely see each other.”
Robin frowned deeper and let his fork drop onto the table. He leaned his head against Richenza’s and said, “Well we’ve got all that time after classes and stuff. Of course we’ll see each other.”
Of course they would. Robin tried to think about how weird it would be if they didn’t — he’d spent his whole life, basically, with Richenza near him, able to see her whenever he wanted. She was closer than his actual sister, who was younger and not nearly as much fun. Robin had just assumed they’d be sorted into the same house, hadn’t ever pictured her going into Slytherin and him being shipped over to Hufflepuff. Their heads resting together for a moment, Robin said, “At the very least we gotta make Four Eyes pay for eavesdropping.”
Four Eyes started and was suddenly very interested in his eggs.
It was a weak laugh, but Richenza laughed all the same. She reached up to pat Robin’s cheek before picking her head up. “Of course we will!” She picked up her Hufflepuff fork. “We’ll have to find out his real name, of course.”
“Four Eyes, what’s your name?” Robin asked. He kept looking at him until the other boy couldn’t possibly say he didn’t know who he was talking to.
Going slightly red, he said, “It’s Calvin. Not — I’d prefer it if you called me Calvin. And didn’t do anything bad to me at all, thanks.”
“Cool.” Robin looked at Richenza. “Look, I’ve got my new buddy, Cal, already. He makes me laugh.” He bumped her elbow. “I’ll come sit with you instead of him sometimes, definitely.”
“I suppose I won’t set the Sorting Hat ablaze and frame Cal, then,” Richenza said with a sharp smile for Four Eyes’s sake. She was still very upset about this whole arrangement, though. She was never going to forgive the Sorting Hat for betraying them this way and she was going to complain to Sinistra about how terrible the Hufflepuff food was. In the meantime, though, at least she could have breakfast with Robin. “Here. You need more Hufflepuff eggs.”
It was a pain how difficult it could be to arrange trying to break into the restricted section. The first time Robin had tried (this year), he’d been by himself and Madam Pince had been lurking in it as if she somehow knew. He’d been half-convinced she had some kind of psychic abilities afterwards. The second time Jordan had come with him and thoroughly messed it up due to not taking his allergy potion and sneezing at everything.
The third time, he got in but had to leave the spoils behind before he got caught.
The fourth time, he asked Richenza.
“So,” he said, arms folded across his chest. They were standing in the corridor just round from the library and it was late enough that there was no one really around. He grinned at Richenza. “I just really really want that book on Eastern European curses, but I will take anything I can get my hands on.”
“We might as well get this over with, then,” Richenza said, her Head Girl badge gleaming on her jumper. She peered around the corner down the library’s corridor, saw that it was empty, and signalled for Robin to follow. In her opinion, he should’ve just owled home for a copy, but she understood it had more to do with the restricted part of the Restricted Section. Boys.
Robin followed behind her, looking straight ahead, watching out for anything that could even potentially be the shadow of someone’s movement. Filch was old and he could both spot and outrun him: Mrs Norris was much harder to spot. The last thing Robin wanted was to caught out by a cat.
Sticking close to Richenza, he kept his steps light, adrenaline thundering through him as they approached the library and slipped in. “I love this place at night,” Robin said and then wrinkled his nose, aware of how it sounded. He rushed to add: “I think it’d make a great nerdy night time bonfire.”
“You love the library,” Richenza quietly sing-songed as she took in their surroundings, flashing Robin a teasing smile over her shoulder.
Her shoes didn’t click against the stone floor of the library as she walked them towards the Restricted Section because anyone who’d spent as much time as she had sneaking around back home knew to silence their shoes. “Do you have any idea what’s supposed to keep people like us out of the Restricted Section? I’ve never bothered going in.”
There was silence for a moment as Robin froze, staring at the back of Richenza’s head. He frowned, his face twisting into a confused expression. “You’ve never bothered going to the Restricted Section?” he asked, with the same horror most people reserved for those who chewed with their mouth open.
“I just ask Mummy or Daddy to send me whatever I want,” Richenza said with a dismissive wave of her hand.
“It’s hardly the same,” Robin said, copying the dismissive wave. “You’re not getting the thrill of it, you’re just getting a book.” He squinted at her and sighed. “Wow. I’m with a restricted section virgin.”
Richenza pinched the bridge of her nose at Robin and sighed. Heavily. “Can you please tell me what sort of ‘protections’ it has? If I touch this —” She gestured at the rope cordoning off the Restricted Section from the rest of the library. “Will Madam Pince show up and issue a thousand galleon fine?”
“No,” Robinet said, scoffing. He reached out and touched the rope to demonstrate: nothing happened. Immediately. “I think there’s an alert on it, though, so we gotta be quick. I don’t know why I did that.”
Except he did. Throwing the rope back, he looked back at Richenza, smile sharp, and said, “Kidding. It’s for the thrill. Grab some books.”
And he started, pulling books off the shelf and into a bag.
“Robinet,” Richenza hissed. But then, her attention on the shelves, “Oh, this looks fun!” She pulled a book from the shelf and tossed it into Robin’s bag. She was not terribly interested in moving quickly.
Before either of them could delve any deeper into the Restricted Section, footsteps clicked towards them. Very abruptly, Richenza scolded, “You shouldn’t be here! I’m going to have to speak to Professor Sprout about,” she snatched the current book out of Robin’s hand as the footsteps stopped where the rope had been, “this!”
Glancing over her shoulder, she saw it was Filch. “Oh, hello, Mr Filch, I was just about to take him to his house head!”
Filch eyed them both suspiciously, Robin moreso.
Drawing his eyebrows together, Robin reached out to snatch at the book Richenza had taken from him. “Hey give it back,” he said, and he didn’t really care about their visitor. He was confused and he wanted that book and then it clicked and Robin’s fingers were still curled around the book.
Looking at Richenza and then Filch, Robin said, “I’m practising for a school play. I’m the thief in the night. I’m very method.”
“I’m sure,” Filch sneered, his cat who was also probably his lover winding around his ankles.
Richenza gave the book a hard yank in that moment, tugging it out of Robin’s grasp with a dirty look angled so Filch couldn’t see. She placed the book back on its shelf and turned to Filch with her most charming smile, tilting so that her Head Girl badge caught in the torchlight. “Don’t worry, sir. I’ll make sure justice is served. You might want to check the third floor, though. That was where I was headed. I heard some of the fourth years were going to hold a seance there tonight!”
“I wanna go to a seance,” Robinet muttered under his breath, which earned him a sharp look from Filch. Filch, whose gaze darted from one of them to the other and then down to his cat. He looked at the Head Girl badge again.
“We’ve got to stop the seance, Mrs Norris, don’t we?” he said, in a sharp, ugly voice, which completely deprived him of any of the usual softness people got when talking to their pets. He barked a few commands — “see justice is done!” nonsense — and Mrs Norris stared at them the whole time. Robin made a show of looking like he’d been thoroughly caught out and he was horrified and taking aback. He scowled and slouched, his shoulders dropping down, dejectedly looking at his hands as if he couldn’t believe his thieving hands had got him into this trouble. He even walked with his head down in a classic sad walk, letting Richenza feint as if he was being marched to his room.
It was only when Mrs Norris’ bright eyes had turned a corner did Robin pick his chin up. “I didn’t know you were gonna sell me out!”
“I was obviously going to sell you out,” Richenza said with a roll of her eyes. “I have a reputation to uphold!”
“Yeah. It’s brownnoser,” Robin said, tilting his head towards her, eyes glittering around a smirk. “Wanna go back and maybe kiss up to Filch some more?” And he puckered his mouth.
“If you aren’t nice to me, I won’t give you the book I stuffed in my jumper.”
Instantly, Robin’s hand was out. “Which one? Let me see.”
Richenza started to reach for the book, but stopped. “Say you’re sorry for implying I would ever kiss anything of Filch!”
“I apologise for the implication you’d kiss his arse,” Robin said, promptly. “Is it fun? It better be a fun one or I’ll be really upset now.”
“Don’t worry,” Richenza said, retrieving the book from the back of her jumper and holding it out to Robin. “I won’t tell the Restricted Section you think any of its books aren’t fun.”
Robin reached for it with grateful hands and touched it as if it was sacred. “Richenza, you’re a goddess amongst women. One of the best people I’ve ever known. Truly amazing.” He stroked the book cover. “I’m going to cherish it.”
“I know!” she said brightly, smiling widely at him, flipping her hair importantly over her shoulder. “But come on, let’s get the hell out of here before he finds out there’s no seance!”
The afternoon rush had dissipated and even the corners of Borgin & Burkes was empty of everything but spiders. Robin had said goodbye to the last customer ten minutes before and had considered taking inventory. It was the assigned task of the week, but he didn’t feel like it. Instead, he leaned against the cash desk, elbows back on it, looking out the dark window onto the street. The rain was torrential, keeping people inside now, and the gutters were already overflowing. It was almost soothing to watch.
“Do you think that man who kept asking about the vomiting cursed teaset was really two small children on top of each other?” Robin asked Richenza, an almost lazy smile on his face. “There’s no way a grown man sounds like that.”
Richenza glanced up from where she was filing her nails with a laugh. “If not three small children. He had a baby-face like yours, too.” She reached out and pinched one of Robin’s cheeks.
Scrunching up his nose, Robin moved back slightly, swatting lightly at Richenza’s hand. “I don’t have a baby face. It’s a me-face is all.” He tilted his head and said, “I hope he comes back so I can properly investigate. Will you be here to distract him and I’ll whip his coat off?”
“Yes,” Richenza quickly agreed. “I’ll offer him some lollies! They might walk out of the coat themselves.”
“I’d walk out of a coat for your lollies,” Robin said, and then he started to laugh, directing it into the air around them. “But, I mean, I’d expect the dear ones. You gotta make sure it works for your clientele. Top secret business info there.”
“My lollies are always the dear ones,” Richenza said with a suggestive smile before turning her attention back to her nails. “Speaking of top secret information, though!” She stopped filing to twist this way and that, checking what nooks and crannies of the store that she could from her seat. “I think I’m going to become a Death Eater.”
Robin didn’t know what had happened. One minute he was leaning against the cash desk and the next Richenza was saying things like going to become a Death Eater and his elbow slipped and the tray set by the register, a tray filled with small trinkets and pieces of jewellery with mild stinging curses on them, upended and went over the floor.
He blinked at them. “Sorry what?”
“Robinet!” Richenza quickly drew her feet up and away from the floor, one of the trinkets had bounced too close to her ankle. And then, just as exasperated, “You heard what I said, though!”
Robin reached into his pocket for his wand, tapping the counter. The tray and some of the pieces that had went flying flew back onto it: others tried to ignore it. Robin tapped his wand more sharply. “But why?” he said, his nose wrinkling. “You’re never gonna get to boss anyone about there. And all that fawning.” His tone made it sound like he was talking about something particularly dreadful but, then again, it was fawning.
“I’m an excellent fawner,” Richenza said with a shrug. But then her eyes took on the hyper-focused look of her having set her mind to something. “I want to know what they know, though. What they do with the things they buy from us. I’m so bored at St Mungo’s. I want to learn how to take people apart.”
Robin caught the glittering edge in her gaze and sucked in his bottom lip, biting down on it. “Take them apart?” he repeated slowly. “I mean, couldn’t you do that with our books. Or —” and he trailed off for a moment, knowing full well about the ease of access to specialised knowledge that proper Death Eaters would bring. He reached up to run a hand through his hair and then shrugged. “Or something.”
“It wouldn’t be the same, learning from books,” Richenza said, gently now. Her feet touched the floor again and she leaned in a little. “It could help you, too. I’d tell you about all the curses I’d learn and how to break them.” She didn’t know what she wanted to Robin to say, but she wanted someone to know what she was thinking.
It was like a siren call to him. Robin could never resist it, the tug that almost went bone-deep,the sudden need to know roaring through him. He’d always wanted to know how to break things: he was very good at that particular kind of chaos. His gaze was more alert, assessing, as he looked closely at Richenza. “Are you going to get fanatic on me?” Robin asked, with a slight curl to his mouth that he couldn’t disguise. He’d make no move to disguise it around Rich, anyway.
“Don’t be disgusting,” Richenza said without heat, the same curl to her own mouth. “I would never. I’m only fanatic about us!”
“Well, I think we’re with getting fanatical about obviously,” Robin said, with a twisted, lopsided grin. It disappeared pretty quickly as he bit his lip again, trying to piece together what he wanted to say. The Death Eaters weren’t their friends. They were customers, people whose money they took.
Richenza wanted to become one.
Richenza wanted to become one, but she’d still be the same, she’d still be her, and she’d be teaching him more things. Robin sucked on his bottom lip for a moment and lifted a shoulder. “As long as you don’t get weird about it. And I’ll instantly throw you overboard if it’ll save my ass, obviously.” He said it lightly, as if it was a joke, as if it was true. His expression was graver than he realised though, set in lines. He’d never throw Richenza overboard for anything.
Richenza only breathed out something that was almost a laugh and reached out to haul Robin in for a hug. “I won’t get weird about it. I swear.”
“You’d better not,” Robin said, into her hair, his voice muffled against it. He took a breath and then reached out, wrapping his arms around her in a hug and squeezing her slightly. He let the hug rest for a moment, trying to think of things to say about how it worried him, what she was going to do, if it would change her, but mostly about how he didn’t want her to end up dead or in Azkaban. Instead, he found himself saying, “Unless it comes with weird spells. Then it’s okay.”