layla 'double betrayla' fairbourne (boundless) wrote in disorderic, @ 2018-04-29 08:19:00 |
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Entry tags: | layla fairbourne, oliver wood |
WHO: Layla Fairbourne & Oliver Wood
WHAT: More chats, more information
WHEN: April 29th
WHERE: The Savage Murderhouse, aka Order Holding House.
“So, Keats Avery?” asked Layla, looking over at Oliver from across the small table they were seated at. The name wasn’t anything special, but it could help the Order tie up some loose ends for crimes committed. They wanted names, Layla wasn’t sure she could give them the names they wanted, but she could try to give what she knew at any rate and eliminate the question marks in people’s minds. This was so strange, Oliver thought, to be sitting across the table from someone who had once been his friend, talking about the crimes that her fellow Death Eaters had committed. It was not where he thought their lives would take them. Avery was a known Death Eater, so that wasn’t anything special - yet. He didn’t want to be hopeful that she’d give them something good, but he was. He wanted to believe she’d give them something that ties these names to specific crimes, even if the guilty party was dead and done. He hated himself a little for being hopeful. “I’m listening,” he told her, leaning forward slightly. “What did he do?” For Layla it was equally odd. Perhaps better for her than it was for Oliver, because while she didn’t precisely feel good talking about this, there was a certain degree of relief in it for her to finally talk about some of this. She set her hands on the table and began talking. This one was easier. Keats Avery wasn’t a long serving Death Eater and nor was he one of the few Layla cared for. “He joined in 2016 after his brother was arrested in the Department of Mysteries. That was before I was in so I don’t know who he killed to get in since it’s never come up for me.” Idly, Layla cracked her knuckles before beginning, the noise and motion giving her something to focus on for a split second. “Recently though? He’s the one that killed Felicity Swann. He’s just as messed up as the rest of the Averys despite how people thought he was different.” The timing - even though Layla didn’t know the details of what Keats did when he first joined - was something they could work with, because the Averys weren’t going to talk. Anything they got out of her could help narrow it down. Oliver was sure people like Maddie and Tonks could make something of it. He hoped so, at least. Oliver raised his eyebrows. “Felicity Swann? You’re sure?” He didn’t think Keats had ever been as different as some people must have thought, given how he hadn’t cut ties with his brother, but he understood the surprise. He’d been surprised by Layla, after all. “It was a good ruse, I guess. Only talk about wine so no one gets you’re actually murdering people on the sly. Do you know what he did? How he did it?” Nodding, Layla furthered her explanation. “Stabbed her in the throat, I believe. There was a lot of blood from what I understand — he was complaining about it. He didn’t like blood so why he did that, I don’t know.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust at the thought. “And then he was obviously attacking Patil that one night he died. I can guess it was over the Beacon article about Vic — Mulciber, but if someone assigned that to him I’m not sure. I surrendered the next day, so yeah.” “Ugh.” Oliver shivered. That seemed … not only excessive, but personal? But Oliver wasn’t an expert on how they worked. That much he knew for certain. How any of them could stomach it when he was probably going to be haunted by his own imagination for the rest of his life? “We can’t exactly ask him,” though Oliver was glad, honestly, that it was taken care of and that the middle Avery couldn’t hurt anyone else. “But that’s a good start. Do you know why he went after Felicity? Was that assigned, or? Is that what usually happens?” “Nope,” affirmed Layla once more. “I don’t know either way. If it was assigned by someone above it was between them. Sometimes people take initiative too, so if that was what it was for Avery for that one I don’t know either way. He didn’t share it where I could see, at any rate.” Maybe someone else could figure out that piece. He wished they could talk to someone else, though he knew the likelihood of any of the others being willing to talk was slim to none. Layla was only here because she was different. Oliver squinted at her, trying to gauge whether or not she was telling the truth. “All right.” It was hard to know anymore. He felt like it’d been years since he’d seen the Layla he thought he knew, and the one sitting across from him now seemed like a stranger. “I’ll pass it on. Thanks.” Layla was getting used to scrutinizing looks. It was difficult, because while she was being as honest as she could (if sometimes withholding of the complete truth) there was always going to be doubt in the other’s minds. “I’m trying not to speculate,” she offered after a few moments of silence. “I mean, my opinion on what things look like for why someone did something could be just as easily wrong, and I’m trying to be accurate, so. I wasn’t friends with Avery so I don’t really have accurate guesses on what made him do anything.” But Layla wasn’t done with this meeting. “Can I ask you something?” Something - the years of friendship between them? A desire to know that all the strife hadn’t been in vain? - tethered Oliver to his seat, despite everything else in him telling him to go. There was a reason he had put off visiting. He didn’t want people to think he was any more weak than they already did. He didn’t want them to worry about whether or not they could trust him. But he stayed, anyway. “Okay. I can’t promise I’ll answer.” Oblivious to Oliver’s internal struggle or difficulty, or what he’d gone through on her behalf, Layla nodded. Those were always going to be the terms — she had no right nor privilege here to ask or demand anything. “How are you? And Percy?” The questions left her, and she instantly scrambled to tack on why, because that was relevant here — everything she said and did would be scrutinized over and over. “I kind of figured I’d have seen you both before now, and he’d be giving me reading about the social contract.” She offered a little smile, trying to lighten the mood. Oliver probably should have known that was coming. He squirmed a little in his seat as he tried to figure out what to say. He didn’t want to tell her the truth, but she was asking, and it was her Death Eater colleagues who had fucked up his life. “Well, our careers are ruined and Yaxley is holding my dad over our heads and threatening us, and Graham wanted me to come in for questioning, so I’d say we’re great.” Oliver shook his head and sighed. “He’ll come when he’s ready. I wasn’t sure I wanted to see you, honestly. It’s… it’s hard.” It was difficult not feel annoyed by that response. All the conversations over the previous months, the sending of pictures of their honeymoon, and yet… apparently that didn’t match up to reality. Layla suspected that of course, but maybe she didn’t want to believe they were likely emotionally playing her just as well. And damn if that didn’t give her a flicker of anger. With a little nod, she sighed, and bit back any irritation as best she could. Oliver was right anyway. She did need to surrender regardless of what they thought of her. “Yeah, I get that. I’m sorry — I suppose I meant whether you’re physically fine and all and there was some horrible reason everyone hadn’t.” It was a war. Things happened rapidly. “And yeah, it is hard. I get it.” It didn’t mean she felt different that it’d have been nice to see them, but she understood. “Thanks for coming, then. I know you didn’t need to.” “I wanted to,” Oliver admitted, a faint blush creeping over his cheeks, “but I think… people were worried you were playing us, and I was afraid of what our friends would think if I rushed over here to see you.” He wanted them - Percy’s brothers, Angelina, Alicia - to be able to trust him. “I thought I should put some distance here first. It’s not that I didn’t want to. But,” he smiled a little, “yeah, physically, we’re good. The dogs, too. Percy’s going back to ginger. I’m proud as hell.” Layla held her hands palms up on the table in front of them both. “Sure wasn’t,” she said evenly, “but I can get the worry.” It was well deserved. “He went back ginge, did he? Good for him, honestly.” It was hard not to show the happiness that at least in this world there was a little good news -- that Oliver and Percy were whole if still having difficult things to deal with. “I won’t keep you,” joked Layla, as if she had any choice in the matter. “Good to see you anyway, even if… you know, the circumstances.” She winced heavily and looked ashamed for a few moments, vision going down to her lap. “It’s good to see you too.” When Oliver smiled then, it was brighter, warmer. It didn’t last long once he saw the look on Layla’s face, however. “I’m not here to scold you or anything, L. I figure you’ve had enough of that. I don’t need to remind you.” He really wanted to reach out and take her hand to comfort her a little, but instead he clutched his hands in his lap. “I just… I’m glad you came around. I know this is a lot, and it’s not easy for you either. But I’m really proud of you.” A little snort came from Layla as she looked back up at Oliver. “It’s fine, Oliver. You can scold me all you want. It’s not like its undeserved.” She slumped a little bit at the words, though. “No, it’s not easy, but I don’t think you should be proud. If I’d done anything to be worthy of that I wouldn’t be sitting here in the first place.” Well, marked that was. “But I appreciate it anyway,” she added after a moment. “And for helping me get out, too, that is.” “Yeah, of course.” That was what friends were for. Even when it was complicated and messy. Oliver certainly wasn’t proud of the decisions she’d made that led her to the Death Eaters in the first place, but he was proud that she’d decided to stop. He doubted few of them ever did. He stood and pulled a folded photo of the dogs out of his pocket. “I’ll come back soon,” he told her, passing the photo across the table. It wasn’t anything special - just Ghost and Magdalena sleeping - but he wanted Layla to have something. She scooped up the photo and took a look, smiling fondly at the two dogs. They were Percy and Oliver’s kids, practically, so it certainly meant a lot. “Looking as good as ever,” she commented. “Thanks.” And that was much more heartfelt of a thank you than before. How could it not be? The gift was probably (definitely) more sentimental than he should have let himself be, but Oliver had trouble letting go of the things that mattered to them, even when he knew better. His mind wasn’t always on the same page as his heart. But seeing the way Layla looked at the photo made him feel like it was the right choice. He couldn’t let her get so demoralised that she fought her way out and back to the Death Eaters. It wasn’t like him to give up. He smiled one more time. If he didn’t leave soon, he might not be able to pull himself away again, and he didn’t want to forget what she’d done. She was part the girl he’d known since he was still a boy, and part someone he didn’t even recognise. He couldn’t forget that. “I won’t wait so long to visit next time.” “Take care of yourself,” Layla said, carefully slipping the photograph into a pocket as Oliver made to leave. Once he was gone there was little to do beyond wonder who would be next, and what aspects of her previous year they’d like to focus on next. |