robinet burke. (robinet) wrote in disorderic, @ 2018-05-26 21:55:00 |
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Entry tags: | oliver wood, robinet burke |
WHO: Oliver Wood & Robinet Burke
WHAT: Oliver's got a secret and he can't keep it
WHERE: Borgin and Burkes
WHEN: Saturday 26th May
WARNINGS: talk of deathz
Oliver had been putting this moment off for a long time. He’d been terrified for months. Terrified to find out the identity of who he’d killed. Terrified that the Death Eaters would come after him if they found out he was involved. Then, he was terrified of what his friends would think of him once they found out. None of that had anything on how it felt to know the truth and to be keeping it from someone who loved Richenza. A friend who’d loved her. It wasn’t fair of him to keep that to himself, especially now that the Death Eaters had been defeated. He was almost certain that the new Ministry would see what he’d done as self-defense, even if Robin didn’t. And even if they didn’t, Oliver was tired of carrying the weight around with him. It might honestly be a relief if he was held accountable. Although, on second thought, it was a wee bit selfish of him to be thinking about himself while Rolf was hurt, and so many others were. But he was already there, so he might as well keep going. Robin deserved to know. He pushed open the door to the shop and called out, “Robin?” “He’s out the back,” came the reply, drifting across the shopfloor. Gertie was sitting in front of one of the bookshelves, a clipboard in her hand. Every time she touched her quill to an item it appeared listed on the paper in front of her. She turned her head towards Oliver, looking him over. “I hope you’re not here to buy anything because I’m doing inventory and I won’t sell it. ROBINET.” The shout rippled through the shop, loud and clear. There was no way Robin couldn’t have heard it and he emerged a minute later, looking a little ruffled and a lot tired. There were scorch marks on his shirt: an unfortunate development in one of the items he was working on. He glared at Gertie, a “what?” snapped off before he saw Oliver. “Oh, hello,” Robin said, surprise obvious. He nodded his head a little and then: “You better not want to buy anything or Gertie’ll bite your hand off. Like a rabid dog.” Oliver’s eyes were wide as he looked around the shop. He didn’t think he’d ever set foot in there. He would have liked for it to be under better circumstances, but… well, he couldn’t really imagine any reason why he’d need to. He looked back at Robin and tried to smile through his nerves. “No, don’t worry, I’m not here to buy anything. Tempting, though. You almost had me at Gertie’ll bite my hand.” The attempt to lighten his own mood fell a little flat, however, and Oliver smoothed his hands over his trousers, feeling antsy. “I actually wanted to talk to you.” He glanced towards where Gertie was. “Alone? It’s about, uh. Richenza.” If there was a smile lurking at the corners of Robin’s mouth it was quickly chased away by Oliver’s demeanour. Something was off and Robin looked at him for a long moment, a frown appearing between his brows. Richenza’s name made his spine stiffen, straighten. He looked at his sister over Oliver’s shoulder, who wasn’t even pretending not to eavesdrop. “Come back, if you want,” Robin said, deliberately blase, even though he could hear his own tone change slightly. He turned and walked into the back of the shop, ducking through a door. Oliver could enter, only because he came with him: the shops wards good. Robin’s specific workshop was different than the rest of the shop, but no less cluttered with things. Usually, Robinet couldn’t quite stop himself from pointing something out but his head reverberated with Oliver saying Richenza’s name. He took a breath and turned. “So you wanna talk,” he said and then, “She better not have knocked you up.” “Don’t tell Percy.” This -- standing in the middle of Robin’s workshop, in Borgin & Burke’s -- was about as vulnerable as Oliver could imagin being, if he didn’t include all the scenarios that involved Death Eaters. That was the point, however. To step into Robin’s territory. To put himself on the line for what was right. “Um. I, uh.” He’d thought a lot about what he wanted to say and how he should say it, but now that he was standing in front of Richenza’s cousin, all his thoughts were jumbled. “You wanted to know what happened to her.” “Yes,” Robin said, after a moment. His fingers curled slightly inwards and he tilted his head, staring at Oliver. “And why do you know? How do you know?” “I was there.” Oliver’s chest felt like a giant was stepping on it. “I didn’t know it was her, at least not for a while. I just thought ... ” His shoulders sagged and he shook his head. “I don’t know what I thought. That there was some other explanation for why she was there and what happened to her, and then I didn’t know what to say.” He didn’t want to have to say it. He didn’t want to have to say the words. “But I’m fairly sure that, um, she was fighting me. At the match. And I should have told you ages ago. I know it doesn’t change anything now, but you deserved to know the whole story. It wasn’t right -- to keep that from you.” Robin had been waiting so long to hear what had happened to Richenza — what had really happened, who had really done it — that the moment seemed surreal, overlaid with the heavy weight of expectation. Expectation, and surprise. He had thought — he had been sure that people he knew were aware of exactly what had happened and who had done it. Oliver’s words slammed into him, a confirmation he’d craved and one he detested at the same time. The first thing Robin was aware of was the anger that sprung to life, an explosion in his blood. “I beg your pardon but,” he said, every word clipped, every syllable sharp. “You? It was you? You killed her?” “I -” He wanted to say no, but that would’ve been a lie. He took a step back. Had this been a mistake? Oliver asked himself. Robin had been nearly begging to know, just a few weeks before. “I didn’t… want to,” Oliver said quietly, “I didn’t know it was her. She was trying to - she tried to hurt me, she did hurt me, and I thought she’d kill me, and then it was over.” There was a brief moment of silence and then Robin heard himself say, “Well, it’s a good thing you killed her first, then, isn’t it?” He took a step back and then another, an energy running through him that made him want to pace. He tried not to, but it made the edge to his tone even more apparent when he asked, “So have you just been hiding this from me since then? Laughing about it behind my back? Really enjoying it?” “No, Merlin, no, never.” He had no idea if Robin would ever believe that, but it physically hurt to think that his classmate had thought he’d ever enjoy it or that he’d have ever laughed. “I never did. Not before or after I knew who it was. It was never funny.” Any other time, Robin would have known that, believed that: it was hard to picture Oliver, smug in the knowledge that he knew something when Robin didn’t. It was hard to picture him delightedly staring down over the corpse of Richenza, crumpled on the ground far below. It was hard, but not impossible and all Robin could picture was Richenza falling over and over again and someone he knew doing it. Someone who was standing in front of him. Robin’s breathing was short and erratic and he swung into some kind of action. He could no longer resist the need to move. “But you did it and just let me not know? I was going to find out at some point. I was going to spend the rest of my life trying to find out, somehow. Is that why you’re here? To get ahead of it?” “I didn’t know it was her for a while,” Oliver reminded him, but it was true that he’d figured it out and chosen not to say. He’d been afraid and thinking about himself first and foremost. It was safer now, but that didn’t make Oliver feel any better. “I’m here because I knew you’d always be trying to figure it out, yeah. Because you deserved to know the truth, and I’m the only one who was there, besides her.” It might not help at all, but that he couldn’t control. “Yeah, well, when you kill someone it does just tend to be the two of you most times, right?” There was a savage, rough bite to Robin’s tone. He clapped a hand over his mouth, dragging it down his jaw, staring at Oliver. He couldn’t quite stop the tremor to his hand. He had really wanted it to be someone he didn’t know. “I hope that assuages your guilty conscience,” Robin said. “I assure you, I’m not gonna feel guilty at all when I poison you when you least bloody expect it.” Oliver frowned, but he didn’t say anything right away, even though he wanted to. He wanted to say it hadn’t been premeditated, or that maybe if Richenza hadn’t joined the Death Eaters at all, it wouldn’t have happened. He wanted to tell Robin to make sure he explained it to Oliver’s sisters and mother, why he was dead when they’d just lost their father and husband too. He didn’t think any of that would help, though. Robin had a right to be angry, right? But he was angry, too. The Death Eaters had caused so much pain, and maybe Robin couldn’t separate that from the Richenza he knew but Oliver was really, really angry at her for pretending to be his friend one day and trying to murder him the next. “You’re not the only one who’s lost someone, you know. The Death Eaters, Richenza’s new mates? They killed my da. Burned him ‘cause of me. So you know what, go ahead, poison me, I don’t care.” That wasn’t true. He cared a lot. “I probably deserve it.” “Oh please,” Robin scoffed, pulling a face at Oliver, mouth twisted somewhere around a snarl. “You don’t think that. I’m not going to, what, assure you?” Running a hand through his hair, Robin shook his head. The anger in his veins was still burning hot: he’d wanted to know this for so long and a part of him hated what he knew now. “You should get out.” Robin was distantly aware of his hands shaking. He balled them into fists to stop it. “Just leave.” “Didn’t think you’d reassure me,” Oliver countered with a shrug. “Just saying what you’re thinking.” His friend — no, Oliver couldn’t call Robin a friend anymore, could he? — former classmate was right about something else, too: it was time to go. “I’m sorry. For what it’s worth. I didn’t want it to be her.” That probably sounded hollow, but it was true. He would have rather it been anyone else. Malfoy, one of the Lestranges. Anyone but someone he’d cared about, someone he’d gone to school with, someone who’d lied to him. But it wasn’t someone else, and that was going to hang over him everywhere he went. Oliver stepped backwards again, towards the rest of the shop. “I’d say see you around, but.” But he wouldn’t be back. This was it, and he knew it. “Bye, Robin.” |