Who: The siblings Carrow. Where: Alecto’s apartment. When: Backdated to May 28. What: A little heckling. Rating: …Mmm. Well incest doesn’t happen so I guess it’s safe. :]
Amycus would have easily apparated into the apartment building. Riding the lift all the way to the thirteenth floor wasn’t very appealing, considering that it was the thirteenth floor and Amycus distrusted lifts in general, thanks to a six-year-old’s first and rather unfortunate trip to the Ministry of Magic. When he had attempted to apparate, however, the resulting bang was not one that usually resounded in his ears. It was hollow and empty; his toes were in several different corners of his own apartment, and the sizzling crack in the air signaled that, perhaps, the usual apparating was out of the question. He had groaned, then, cursing Alecto’s social life—or whatever life she may lead—that made her leave her apartment food-filled and, worse, locked.
So instead, he took the forsaken floo into the reception area, took the lift like everybody else, and landed on the thirteenth floor without quite as much of the usual flair of dramatics a sudden landing from the fifth dimension had. Upon getting off the lift, he tried knocking on Alecto’s door. Tried shouting, too, but that raised eyebrows he could have seen through the neighbors’ peepholes if he cared enough to actually look. Tried pacing the length of the hallway, then tried simple unlocking spells on the stubborn knob. Nothing.
With a frown and a long-suffering sigh, Amycus then found himself in a living room nowhere as familiar as Alecto’s. It was right across the hall. He was on a good fellow’s couch, drinking a good fellow’s whiskey, waiting for Alecto just so he could fulfill the role of demanding brother. It was hard work. He frowned again, finished the whiskey, and then glanced at the clock: three hours. He has been waiting for three damn hours.
Just then, before Amycus was prepared to up, leave, and floo back home (using the man’s fireplace and floo powder) he could hear the distinct footsteps outside. A look of triumph flashed in his eyes before he rose from his lumpy seat, thanked the man for his good whiskey, and left the man’s apartment. Finally. Real food, real (and/or more comfortable) couch.
“Well thank Merlin. I thought you’d never arrive.”