Arcturus Black (arcturusfirst) wrote in wtnvgame, @ 2021-08-05 22:48:00 |
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Entry tags: | !action/thread/log, ₴inactive player: aika, ₴inactive: arcturus black, ₴inactive: draco malfoy (au) |
Who: Arcturus Black and Draco Malfoy
What: A first meeting
Where: Draco's apartment
When: Arcturus' first day
Notes: Mention of magical violence and conflict, more tbd
Arcturus Black felt alone, despite all the encouraging words that had been written to him. He was among strangers, yet again. It seemed a cruel irony that he had finally gotten used to Irikanna and Crystal Lake, only to be transported to yet another strange realm. Had he been just a little younger, Arcturus might have railed against it, attacked any muggle that tried to speak to him, demanded to see whatever passed for the leadership of the magical community. He did none of these things. He was weary, and they were childish things to do, and Arcturus thought now that perhaps he would never be a child again. Instead, he accepted the situation, and if it grieved him, he was doing his level best to keep that to himself. People said that Gryffindors were brave, and they certainly seemed to have the monopoly on reckless acts, but there were other sorts of courage. Keeping your head up and getting on with things when you wanted to give up and mourn for all that you had lost had to count, didn't it?
His father would have known the answer, but he was far beyond Arcturus' reach now, both literally and in the sense that the young wizard wouldn't have burdened him with knowledge of a distant future he was powerless to do anything about. Another odd reversal.
Perhaps Draco Malfoy would be as decent as he first appeared. Even if he wasn't, visiting him seemed a better idea than sitting alone all afternoon. Arcturus had figured out that he hadn't been taken to a hotel after all, but to some sort of tenement building. The protective spells he'd worked around his room were strong, and it looked less offensive now that he was rid of all the muggle clutter, even if a trifle bare. Naturally it didn't compare to his grand family estate, but Arcturus had once shared a dormitory with eleven other boys at Hogwarts. He wasn't inclined towards fussiness; he'd manage this if he had to.
There were five flights of stairs between him and Malfoy. Being on the seventh floor was going to become bothersome eventually, he thought. Unless he managed to maneuver his broom around those tight corners on the way up. A challenge for another day, perhaps? For now, he walked. He still wore the clothes that he had arrived in: bright white shirt with a starched stand-up collar and fancy green cravat, silver-grey waistcoat and trousers, and a lightweight, Slytherin-green summer robe atop it all. In the last place he'd been, the other young people had found the formality of his wardrobe odd, which only spurred Arcturus on in maintaining it. Why would he want to look like a modern muggle? His face was pale, and three light pink marks ran in parallel across one cheek and down his neck – the reminders of a curse, still visible, although far from the livid wounds they had once been. Someone who knew him well, or perhaps a gifted healer, might have sensed the residual spell damage that wasn't visible, but which clung heavily to the aura of his magic. Exposure to the Cruciatus curse, not terribly long ago. He was healing, but these things took time.
Reaching Draco Malfoy's home, Arcturus rapped sharply on the door. He wasn't sure what to make of the other wizard. Clearly some tragedy had befallen the family – although he intended to keep to his promise not to pry. Malfoy seemed kind, but so had Mr Rosier and Mr Mulciber, at first. His father said that young people couldn't help making mistakes, but only a fool made the same one twice. He'd be wary – but not to the point of judging unfairly. As he caught sight of Malfoy, Arcturus gave him an amiable nod, and extended his wand-hand to shake. 'Mr Malfoy! How do you do?' he said pleasantly.