susan đ (sadly) wrote in rewritethreads, @ 2020-12-12 18:45:00 |
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Entry tags: | character: draco malfoy, character: susan bones, player: alissa, player: sunny |
WHO: Susan Bones & Draco Malfoy.
WHAT: Field trip to retrieve a book on horcruxes.
WHEN: BACKDATED! Morning of Friday, December 4, 1980.
WHERE: Antonin Dolohov's London residence.
WARNINGS: Language, maybe?
âHomenum revelio.â Susan stood next to Draco in the doorway of her grandfatherâs house with her wand raised and ready. It had only been about fifteen minutes since theyâd met at Kensington Gardens, side-along apparated to the quiet neighborhood of Strawberry Hill, and snuck around the house to the back door. She had been able to find the house and do some reconnaissance in a matter of days, so she knew it wasnât protected by a Fidelius Charm, but she expected its security wards to involve some dark magic. It was surprising, however, how little it was protected. Complicated enough that she couldnât disarm it alone, but simple enough that Draco didnât have to try very hard. Susan guessed the London home was a second residence for her grandfather — in her time watching the house, she hadnât seen any activity and her mother had always given her the impression he primarily resided in Russia. When nothing appeared to them and her spell was met with silence, Susan let out the breath she was holding and lowered her wand. Her head throbbed and her ears were ringing a bit from being shocked by an electric-like curse and jolted backwards onto her butt outside. Draco thought heâd dismantled all the security charms and Susan volunteered to be the one to try entering the house first. She made a mental note to take a pain potion later. Or some paracetamol. âAll right. I need to find the study,â Susan said. She crossed the conservatory into the kitchen and started down the dimly-lit hall. âThank you, Draco, for your assistance in this dangerous - not to mention illegal - endeavor.â He muttered dryly. âI couldnât have done it without you. Of course, Bones, happy to help.â As Susan made her way down the hall, he reluctantly followed, paying particular attention to the art on the walls and the furniture with patches of threadbare, worn upholstery. The home felt old and not particularly well cared for, with dusty curtains drawn closed on the windows and elaborately carved wooden clocks ticking away from every corner. As they passed through the kitchen, he swung a cabinet open to peek inside - revealing rows of small glass jars full of what looked like spices. Another cabinet held a stack of cookbooks. Some appeared to be in Russian. âWhatâs in the study?â Draco asked, his tone neutral. Almost bored. But he was eyeing her curiously as she walked ahead. âThis might go faster if you tell me what youâre looking for.â âIâd tell you,â Susan replied over her shoulder as she peered into the next room. Family room. She crossed the hall and twisted the doorknob, revealing an even darker room. Her eyes, once adjusted to the dark, could make out the lines of a desk and tall bookshelves. Bingo. She turned her head to look at Malfoy. âBut then Iâd have to kill you.â She disappeared into the room, whispering a quiet lumos to light her way to the windows. She pulled back the curtains as wide as they went, allowing sunlight to flood the room. She glanced around. One wall was entirely made of bookshelves — enough books that it was unlikely sheâd find what she was looking for straight away, but not so many that it would be a daunting task. On the wall opposite was a cabinet full of artifacts, weapons, human and animal skeletal remains alike, FabergĂ© eggs, a jar of winged keys. Next to it was another curio cabinet with strange, mechanical instruments that clinked and ticked quietly in a way that reminded her of Dumbledoreâs office, the one and only time sheâd been inside. The desktop in the middle of the room was surprisingly empty but covered in a thick layer of dust. Susan ran a finger over it and rubbed it off on the side of her jeans. âDo you talk to yourself a lot, or just when youâre nervous?â she called to Malfoy. The corner of his mouth twisted upwards into something almost resembling a smile. âSuit yourself.â Draco followed her into the room, stalling in the doorframe as she opened the curtains - sunlight streaming in to light the office, reflecting against the dust particles in the air around Susanâs blonde hair like a strange aura. âOnly when Iâm bored and in the company of a terrible conversationalist.â He drawled in reply. The cabinet caught his eye and he moved towards it, hovering over the display of thin, delicate looking bones, daggers, vials full of dark, ink black liquid⊠He shot her a suspicious look, but rather than ask - yet again - whose home they were currently invading, he aimed the end of his wand at the display to check for any hidden curses. âYour friend has questionable taste. At least it doesnât look like theyâve been here in awhile.â Susan hummed in response to his last comment and focused her attention on the books. She wasnât going to talk about her grandfather with him, even if he somehow pieced together whose house this was. Part of her wondered if he already knew about that little bit of her family history. If he was acquainted — or worse, friendly with the senior Death Eater. She pushed the thought from her mind, something she was getting increasingly good at when dealing with Draco Malfoy. If she didnât dwell on any of it, he was just a boy with a sharp tongue and barbed sense of humor. And great hair. âIâm the best conversationalist youâve met, and I think you know that,â she said, unable to stop herself from smirking. Her fingertips ran over the book spines, eyes scanning the titles. Some were in English, a few in German. Most were in Russian. She pulled a couple out to examine the covers before sliding them back into place. âLetâs play a game. Of questions. This might take me a minute.â He slid his wand into his back pocket and plucked a curved knife from the display, letting the cool metal rest in his palm. Heâd never been much for knives. Seemed like a lot of hassle. Still, he curiously examined the intricate engravings along the handle and the three small stars imprinted on the blade. A makerâs mark. âNot to mention incredibly modest.â He tacked on dryly. The fact was, heâd spent a considerable amount of his time over the past couple of months conversing with Susan Bones. She was quick-witted. Clever. Surprisingly morbid, in a way that he probably shouldnât find entertaining but usually did. Honest, mostly. They both knew what to ask and what not to ask in order to keep it that way. What sort of subjects would ruin the conversation entirely. Even so, it had been nice. Having someone to talk with sometimes. âA game of questions.â He echoed. Even with his eyes on the knife in his hands, he felt himself keeping track of Susanâs movements. From the desk to the bookshelves. Did she speak Russian? Heâd never thought to ask. âOkay. What are the rules?â âThe usual. One question for another. Iâll go first,â she replied with a cheerful tone. She opened a book with a promising title to review its table of contents, checking to see if it would be something worth translating for Hermione. After a moment, she snapped it shut, a cloud of dust lingering in the air. She wrinkled her nose to stifle a sneeze. With her back still turned to Draco, she started on the next shelf up. âWhat exactly is so upsetting about the idea of one of us being your nanny?â she finally asked. Not the most neutral question, but she trusted that he would probably tell her the truth. And she expected he would be asking her equally invasive questions. Fair was fair. Draco didnât answer right away, carefully setting the knife back down where heâd found it. Why did it bother him so much? Because it was invasive. Because it felt like they were intentionally baiting him, challenging him, to see how far they could push. Because he knew how careless and clumsy theyâd all been, fumbling around in the past. Because his parents didnât know that there were people here who had jumped back through time. Because stopping those people was the only way to help them. âBecause I was happy. There was a period of time where my family was happy. And I donât want you to ruin that for me.â He moved towards the bookshelf, ignoring Susan beside him and instead reaching for one of the books on a shelf above her head. The spine was cracked leather, the binding looked hand-sewn. âBesides. Itâs my house and theyâre my parents. I doubt youâd like it if I went around chumming it up with yours.â It was his turn. He deliberately leaned back against the bookshelf, blocking her view of a section of the books, and opened up his own to peruse. German. Brilliant. âWhy did you want my help with this? Why not ask one of your friends?â Susan heaved a sigh of annoyance and tipped her head back to look at him when he blocked her access to the books. âBecause.â Because he had questionable morals and seemed more likely to commit a crime like breaking and entering. Because she didnât trust that anyone but another Death Eater could protect her from her grandfather. Because she wanted to see if she enjoyed spending time with him as much as she enjoyed writing to him. She said none of these things. âBecause only one of my friends wouldnât lecture me about how dangerous it could be, and she has a job now. And I donât know that much about security wards.â She jabbed him in the ribs to get him to move. âYou wouldnât have even remembered a nanny, by the way. You would be fine. Weâre not bad people. We wouldnât do anything to a baby.â She made a face, then grinned darkly at him. âNot most babies, anyway.â Draco winced and let out a dramatic groan for effect, then shifted slightly to the side to allow her access. That was Susan Bones for you. Poking sharp little fingers at perceived soft spots, then smiling that knowing, wicked smile that almost - not quite, but almost - made him forget that heâd been annoyed in the first place. A part of him had hoped she might have understood the value of what he was trying so desperately to protect. As someone who understood loss. His parents were still alive - or so he thought, so he hoped - but the people they were and the person that heâd been felt distanced from the person he was now. Like a different life. Like someone elseâs memories, preserved in a Pensieve. He smiled back at her, but it didnât entirely reach his eyes. âRight. For the record, ruining my life unintentionally still counts. Sorry if I donât believe youâre being careful not to interfere with things when youâve⊠literally traveled back in time to interfere with things.â He hummed dismissively at her answer, as though heâd been expecting something better. What had happened with her own job at the DMLE? He nearly opened his mouth to ask her, but quickly stopped himself. âItâs your question.â Her eyes lingered on his face longer than she intended. Something about the way he smiled was so profoundly sad. Joyless. Utterly exhausted. What had happened to him? They all went through hell their last year at school, and everyone had lost somebody, but Malfoy was different. He got lost long before the rest of them, and occasionally — like when he was faking smiles — it showed. Susan blinked, breaking eye contact, and focused again on the books. She considered her next question. All the things she wanted to ask him were uncomfortable and would upset the semi-friendly cadence between them. Some questions she wasnât entirely sure she wanted the answers to. So she went the sarcastic route. âWho would you most like to shag from our year?â As Susanâs eyes held his own, he felt oddly discomfited. Like she was looking for something, examining some part of him that Draco wasnât sure he wanted her to see. He felt a sudden urge to look down at the book still in his hands, at his shoes, at the door, out the window⊠but he held her gaze - cool gray eyes locked on hers - with stubborn determination. It felt like a dare. A game within the game. He didnât want to be the one to look away first. At her next question, he let out an amused huff in surprise, almost a laugh, breaking through the previous moment of tension. âIn our year?â He asked. âAll rightâŠâ He turned, angling his body in towards her as he considered his options. And if the thought that crept into his mind - hands on her waist, tangled in her hair, pressing her back against the bookshelves in a strangerâs home - wasnât all that unappealing, he wouldnât let himself dwell on it. Still, it took him a moment to find his answer. âPadma.â He decided. It was true enough. Theyâd been friendly once, and heâd always thought she was extraordinarily pretty. âItâs too bad I havenât seen her around. Guess she didnât make the cut?â A smile lit up Susanâs face. She was pleasantly surprised by his answer and weirdly satisfied he hadnât picked one of the Slytherin girls. Padma was undeniably beautiful and clever to boot. Susan thought Parvati was prettier, but perhaps she was biased, having always considered the Gryffindor one of her closest friends. Thinking about Parvati led to thoughts of Lavender, dead and mangled in the rubble at Hogwarts, and inwardly, Susan flinched. Her smile fell. Suddenly she grabbed the spine of a thick leather bound book. Its title, ĐĄĐ”ĐșŃĐ”ŃŃ ŃĐ°ĐŒŃŃ ŃĐ”ĐŒĐœŃŃ ĐžŃĐșŃŃŃŃĐČ, or Secrets of the Darkest Arts, was worn and nearly unreadable. The binding was barely holding it together. Susan wandered to the window with it and began thumbing through the pages. There it was — an entire chapter on horcruxes. Susan exhaled slowly. She couldnât believe she found it; it was a total shot in the dark that her grandfather would even own it in the first place and pure luck that it would be sitting so plainly on a bookshelf. She ran her fingertips over the faded text and wondered if her grandfather knew the significance of the book. Or if he even knew about the Dark Lordâs evil attempt at immortality. âIf Padma was here, sheâd be too smart to make her presence known,â she muttered distractedly after a long pause. âProbably true,â He agreed with a nonchalant shrug. He set his own book down on the desk and followed Susan toward the window, close enough to look at the pages that had pulled her attention from over her shoulder. He couldnât understand the writing, the Russian symbols foreign and unrecognizable, but there was an illustration at the corner of one yellowing page. Two images of the same man, mouth split into a rictus grin and face shadowed with thin ink lines, making him appear gaunt. They were almost identical⊠almost. One had a wand drawn and a thin line trailing down his face, his chest, his torso. The thread extended to his mirror image, connecting them. The image was deeply disturbing, but he wasnât entirely sure why. He furrowed his brow as he stared down at it, as though trying to solve an impossible puzzle. âWhat does it say?â Susan was so focused on reading that she almost didnât hear Dracoâs question. She stared at the illustration before flipping the page and began scanning through the text. She was going to have to translate it all for Hermione, so there wasnât really a point in delving into it now, but already she was engrossed. Perhaps it was just morbid curiosity. She doubted that it wouldâve ever crossed her mind to research such heavy material if she hadnât heard about horcruxes in relation to the Dark Lord. âNothing.â Susan snapped the book shut, clutching it tightly against her chest. âStuff about healing. Neville and I are researching something.â It was the first lie sheâd told Malfoy, and for some reason it felt strange to lie to him. With that thought, she suddenly became aware of his face hovering just over her shoulder. She couldnât recall a time sheâd ever stood this close to Draco Malfoy. âYouâre breathing on me.â Draco raised a curious eyebrow at her, but said nothing. Sheâd shut the book so suddenly and was holding onto it so fiercely, it seemed obvious that this wasnât something she wanted him to know about. But then⊠like heâd asked, why had she invited him to come along? With the book closed, their close proximity became suddenly obvious. He smirked slightly and brought his hands up in a mocking display of surrender, taking a step back. âAll right. So you found what you were looking for. Now what?â His smirk, that trademark Draco Malfoy smirk, elicited an eye roll from Susan. She was a little surprised at how quickly he dropped the matter, but if he decided she was up to something important and the book was worth pursuing, she knew he would find a way to get his hands on it. But as far as she knew, no one in his camp had even heard of a horcrux before, and she didnât expect that to change. She also had no intention of being the one to introduce the concept to Malfoy. âNow,â she said, pulling the curtains closed again. âWe put back all the wards.â She yanked her hood up over her blonde hair and headed for the door. |