InsaneJournal

Who: Claire and Augustus Rookwood
What: A discussion about serious matters
When: Evening of Wednesday 11 June, 1998 BACKDATED
Where: Their home in London
Warnings: Discussions of Death Eaterly type deeds.



Augustus had put off this discussion as long as he felt that he could, but the time when he was going to have to make some sort of decision about his former colleagues was rapidly approaching. The question of the day was whether Augustus could afford to refuse or whether he could afford not to refuse. This was not, in the end, a decision he could take on his own. Too much depended on it.

He waited until after dinner--with the first rush of budget revisions around Minister Diggory's taking office over, Augustus could at least come home at a decent hour--before bringing the subject up. They were sitting in front of the fireplace, and he was nominally attempting to read, but finally he set the book aside and said what he was thinking. "They want me to come back," he told Claire.

There could be no question. To whom Augustus was referring; nor was Claire surprised by the news. Of course the Death Eaters would want their own back, and of course no Marked member could be exempt. This news was inevitable as the tides.

And as dangerous.

After a pause- as much to steady herself as for effect- Claire looked up at her husband over the top of her own book. "Yes,"she said, soft, not quite a question.

"They've been quiet since I sidestepped their last advance, but even I can only dodge them for so long." Augustus let that sit for a moment for Claire to consider what silence from that group of people might mean before he continued: "I don't know what they think is necessary about this. The truth is, that in terms of ideology, what they claim to want is mostly won. There are people who prattle on about equality, and I'm sure that offends sensibilities, but they, or people sympathetic to them, control or advise all of wizarding Britain's major institutions. And there's no Voldemort to raise the Dark Mark for, so I don't know what they expect to gain by violence. But they've chosen it nonetheless--and I doubt I'll be able to avoid my own choice much longer.

"They do not tolerate betrayal. And they don't like what they can't control."

Claire gave Augustus a look, skeptical and piercing, head tilted a bit to the side as she considered him. She could have argued that violence was its own end for many of his former compatriots, that what they truly wanted wasn’t half won and never would be.

“No,” she said instead, tone even, thoughtful. “They don’t.” A pause as she put her book aside. ‘What will you do?”

"The question is, what will we do? And whatever decision we--or I--take will also affect Lucas. If he were a driven young man, it would be simpler." If Lucas had firm plans for his life, whatever they might be, Augustus might have trusted him to be able to follow through on them. But Lucas didn't, and that meant he needed the sort of help that his father's friends could offer. Refusal would affect his chances. On the other hand, Augustus wasn't sure that they'd all survive a refusal.

At the mention of Lucas, Claire's mouth pressed into a thin line. "Our son stays out of this," she said, tone deceptively mild. "His very lack of drive makes him an unsuitable candidate for their designs. And we shan't trade on any connections to secure him a career; he must learn to make his own way if we want him to amount to anything at all."

It might have been different, if Augustus's 'connections' weren't Death Eaters; in other circumstances, setting the boy up with a job in which an eye could be kept upon him would be a boon. Now, though, it was a convenient excuse. "If worse comes to worse," she added, "we'll put him to work for Grandfather, and you may tell your...friends...that I insisted out of family loyalty. They'll appreciate that, or pretend to."

And that might free Gabe up, as well, for a job for which Augustus found him eminently likely to be suitable, assuming Gabe wanted it. "We can't arrange his life for him either way, but that's not entirely the point here. And I think you might be wrong, unfortunately--Lucas is exactly the sort of young man some of them would find useful. He's already rebelling against everything you want to set up for him, Claire. It wouldn't take much for them to make an appealing refuge from a family situation he considers difficult. At least at first. That's how they draw people in." It was, after all, how he'd ended up taking the Mark.

"But--" and here Augustus gestured to stop Claire's anticipated protest "--that's neither here nor there at the moment. I agree that, no matter what I do, we want to keep Lucas away from them. My current concern is you."

“Me?” Claire asked, lips quirking up very slightly into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “You needn’t worry about me, darling.”

She paused, letting her husband interpret that as he chose, and then stretched. “After all, I’m gloriously useless, aren’t I? Dull, even. Pureblooded, yes, but not the elite sort. No influence whatsoever. No access that you don’t have more freely. My only connection is to Grandfather, which I suppose one might consider useful if one’s never spoken to the man and therefore doesn’t know how abysmal the odds of actually getting to him are. You ought to be far more concerned with your own situation, I should think.”

Augustus was shaking his head even before Claire had finished. "It's been made very clear to me in more-or-less subtle ways that they don't trust you. More of the women are beginning to take a larger part, both in decision-making and in--" here Augustus frowned "--more vigorous activities. Nobody ever invites you, and that's a bad sign. And they trust me less because of it all. That you're a lever over me, and that Lucas is, will not escape their notice. Unless--" and Augustus trailed off, not liking the other possibility.

"Unless?" Claire prompted, eyebrow arching again. Clearly, whatever Augustus said next, she wasn't going to like it.

That was all right. She was well-used to disliking aspects of her husband's life.

"Unless you were to join in. Or," and here Augustus went with his original thought, "unless they were to decide unilaterally that I might be more reliable as a widower. Don't think they wouldn't either. Someone killed Rodolphus Lestrange." Claire was smart enough to do the arithmancy on that, no matter the image she projected to anyone else. "In fact," he continued, speculatively, "if it were mine to do, I'd frame myself for it. That way, strings could be pulled to help or, if I were deemed uncooperative, I could be disposed of." Augustus smiled thinly at the idea, a humourless expression that didn't make it to his eyes. "The worst fanatics are dead or dying; it's the dangerous ones who are left."

"Well," Claire said, excessively mild, "I certainly would not want you to be framed for a murder you didn't commit."

She shifted, sitting up straighter. "Nor do I particularly want to be murdered. So. I suppose my options are limited."

Augustus could be mild too. "I can always say no, and see what they do. It's an elegant solution, if they'll take it. The downside is that it places us outside their protection, such as it is. But it's not as though I have a lot of public excuse for associating with most of those people either. My name's not prestigious, my bloodline's not pure, and for all that I have a Ministry position, it's not as if I'm that politically useful. If they don't want the sort of work I used to do, it might work out."

"They do not seem like the sort of people to let anyone simply walk away," Claire said. She shook her head. "I don't want you murdered either, Augustus."

"So I'm to take up the mask again? And drive a wedge between us?" Augustus shook his head. "That's what they want. And when something goes wrong, as it inevitably will, you'll be to blame somehow and it'll all be for naught. The only way to win the game is not to play."

"I'm not sure you can win this game," Claire said, tone more gentle than it had been so far. "It's not that sort of game."

She sighed and stood, moving to the side of her husband's chair. "What will you say to them, to convince them to let you go?"

"That my position renders me unable to be involved. That you and Lucas--our contribution to wizardkind, the one they see us as owing--prevent my further involvement now. The thing is, Claire, the Macnair business, which I wasn't stupid enough to be involved with, and after the Knocker kidnapped Gwenog Jones, show their weakness. In the old days, Dark Lord kept the mad ones under his very powerful thumb. They're loose now. And this Lady Noir has given them all the go-ahead to proceed with every violent fantasy they've ever had. " Augustus looked up at Claire and made a noise that might have been a sigh. "That's why the ones who want to rule the world can't win either, even though they hold the high cards. I suppose I'll find a diplomatic way to say it and see what they do with that."

“And if what they do with that is to refuse the excuse?” Claire asked, that eloquent eyebrow arching again. “A backup plan should be in place, Augustus. I have little hope that they will accept it, whatever we’ve ‘contributed’ by giving the wizarding world one Hufflepuff child.” She did sigh, running a hand through her hair. “Though perhaps I’m merely a pessimist.”

"I was one of the Dark Lord's chosen, of his Inner Circle. There are things I still know, and can do, that make me equally dangerous." Augustus' smile morphed, and there was something chilling about it. "I make a bad enemy, my dear, and I think you might too, even if they underestimate you. Or," he added, letting the momentary shift in his demeanour slip, "we could always leave Britain."

That look was a reminder to Claire: the man she married had not been one she loved. She’d hated him then, and for good reason. He’d been a monster.

And perhaps part of him still was. Perhaps she could live with that being the case.

“Well, I’m all for the notion of killing the lot of them to save ourselves,” she said lightly, hinting at a smile of her own. “And my French is a tad rusty, to say nothing of my other languages.”

A shake of Augustus' head refused that last. "Further than that. Too many of them have connections in Europe. Maybe somewhere in Asia, or in America. They'd consider America too downmarket. But first we'll try the genteel 'no'. And then we see what happens--though I'll be taking certain precautions. And so should you. If we have to fight, we fight. And Lucas will have to fend for himself, which might be what he needs to grow up anyhow."

"I'll work on my accent," Claire promised; if the idea of leaving her child to fend for himself against murderers and psychopaths affected her, she kept the emotion carefully concealed behind a small, ironic smile. "I suppose it's a better plan than asking their enemies for asylum."

Augustus dismissed that offer with another shake of his head. "They can't even protect their own. Look at Prewett. And that really would provoke my old friends to move against us. We're better off on our own."

Claire nodded, conceding that point. Augustus did not know, or need to know, that she'd spoken to Minerva; and she'd heard nothing more of that anyway. Perhaps it was time to follow up; or perhaps the silence was a blessing. She'd have to think on it.

Either way, she gave her husband another small smile. "I don't doubt that."