Sleep was elusive and intoxication was dull, but Rookwood offered escape. 

The quickly scrawled note came as a beacon of momentary hope for Cygnus Black. Remaining alone in his darkened study had left the older man sullen and sour, his thoughts consistently returning to the blaze, his eyes bloodshot and fatigued. Had it been a year, or just a few days? He couldn’t remember. All of the passing hours became a blur of consciousness, fading out, and blinking back into reality - flames, churning, fear. Rinse and repeat. He couldn’t quell the shaking of his hands or the twitching of his legs. Couldn’t force himself to light a cigar and reach for a book, or do much of anything other than think. And, fuck, he wanted it to stop. He longed for his brain to break in two, to separate the horror of that night from his memory. But it didn’t, and it wouldn’t, and thus he began longing for Augustus instead. 

Their evenings together were electric. Cygnus didn’t need to hide the shaking or the fear, he didn’t need to speak about the events or explain his own actions. Together they became one; one horror show, one monster. Even drinking a bottle of scotch together seemed more effective than when he was alone, churning and angry in his study. He ached for the companionship, a desire he had only felt with Orion in the past - though he admitted this was different. Because Augustus had experienced it with him. They had almost died together, and somehow that created a bond that he would never allow himself to lose. They weren’t friends, no, they were something new entirely. 

It didn’t take long for him to tidy himself and appear around the familiar corner of their normal meeting spot. But seeing the other man standing there, approaching him, caused him to suck in a breath. They needed this. Cygnus would consider the meetings close to an addiction. He clapped a hand tightly over the other mans shoulder, and let the corners of his lips twitch upwards - just slightly. “When have I ever let you down?” He squeezed, let his hand drop reluctantly, and pulled his draping coat tighter against the mist. “What’s the plan tonight, my friend?”

When Cygnus’ hand dropped from his shoulder, Augustus realized just how cold he’d been. It was as if, ever since the fire, he could no longer stay properly warm. But Cygnus still felt like a furnace. One Augustus wanted close, wanted the flames to lick across his skin. To hold him and chase the chill away from his bones, and the fear from his shaking fingers. But it wasn’t a desire he allowed himself to voice. He wanted to reach out a hand and run it underneath layers of fabric. Skin on skin. Fire and ice. Close in both their shared experience and in the shadows of the alleyway. 

Daniel Sharman for Style Magazine Italia by  Massimo Pamparana - September 2018

august 17, 1979 Cassius’s townhouse @avgvstvs

            Timing had never been Cassius’s strong suit, in fact it was probably one of the things he was the worst at. So it shouldn’t have been surprising when he decided to pack a bag, grab Augustus, and leave for a spontaneous vacation as the wizarding world literally crumbled around them. Antonin’s funeral had been the last straw for him. He needed a break, needed to clear his head. It had been months since anyone had gotten a peaceful moment away from all the fighting. Normally Cassius wouldn’t bother taking a break, he’d just keep pushing through, but this wasn’t for him. This was for Augustus.

            Augustus had been through so much lately and, against all of Cassius’s normal feelings, he couldn’t stand to see the other man suffering. Both of them had been kidnapped, held captive, and tortured, and both of them had done their fair share of damage in return. Any single thing that they had been through was enough to drive anyone crazy, and yet here they still stood solid as marble. But even marble would eventually begin to crack under the pressure. Cassius hoped he could fix them. Sure, a small vacation wasn’t going to miraculously make all their problems go away but at least it would give them time to breath and the ability to think clearly.

            Cassius walked over to his desk and opened the drawer where he kept the sea shell that he used at a portkey to his family’s vacation home. He turned to Augustus with a smile on his face for the first time in a long time. “Portkey is scheduled for a minute from now,” he said as he held his hand out with the sea shell in it, signaling for Augustus to take his hand and hold the shell with him.

At first, Augustus’ entire being screamed at him to reject the idea of a vacation. No, he’d run from his problems far too often to leave yet again in the middle of such chaos. But he was suffocating in London. Fire, torture, arguments with childhood friends, and suspicion being thrown at him from all sides. A temporary respite, like those he shared with Cygnus, just weren’t enough anymore. And despite the incredibly shaky thing he now had with Cassius, Augustus still trusted him implicitly.

There was no denying how spoiled Andromeda had been for her life up until that point. The Black girls wanted for nothing, in fact more often than not their parents used their money as a substitute to them being around themselves. Andromeda herself had noticed the difference between her home life and her fellow classmates, but the older she got the more that she no longer cared. She knew that she couldn’t force them to care enough to be around, but that was on their shoulders not on her own. 

The only thing that kept Andromeda slightly sane when it came to the over the top lavish parties was August. He had truly became the only reason that she even enjoyed her time surrounded by the people she was becoming to view in a different lie. He was her breath of fresh air that no matter what she knew that she would always love. It didn’t matter to her if they found each other on the other side of the war. He would always be her Auggie and there was absolutely nothing that could change that for her.

Andromeda’s head turned to look at the tray that had caught his attention before her face scrunched up looking back at her friend. “Okay that’s actually the worst. What makes anyone think that even looks good much less the taste?” She asked him curiously before leaning in to find a snack that seemed good. “How would I survive these parties without you?” The woman asked him curiously offering him a warm smile, “Although I’m sure I’m keeping you from a book.”

“Maybe no one really enjoys it, but they all eat it to impress each other,” Knowing purebloods, that was the exact explanation, “or they’re hoping to slowly poison all of their competition.” Also just as likely. As he spoke, Augustus reached out and grabbed his friend’s hand, quickly tugging her away from the crowd and into the huge library, “You can’t keep me from the books if you’re in here with me.” 

Xen’s time at Hogwarts had largely been quiet and, at times, rather lonely. Sure, they did like their time alone, that was part of it. But it was also hard for Xenophilius to make many friends. They were, different, or so people always said, not that they saw anything wrong with it. They knew what people said behind their back–or often right to their own face. Xeno wasn’t particularly close to Augustus, but those who weren’t enemies were almost as good as friends in their mind.

They smiled gently at Augustus. It was good to see him again, it really was. Xen enjoyed his presence, always had it would be nice to just have a fun night at a pub with him and relax. But working for the Ministry, Xeno also couldn’t sleep on that opportunity. The Death Eaters had managed to take over control there. Aversio needed an in there, someone who could pull things back to their favor or at the very least report back any important information back to them that could be used to leverage the war in their favor. They weren’t sure that coming out and asking directly would go over well, but it might. Perhaps they would ask in a bit, after they had had a chance to talk some.

“I was glad to hear from you. A bit unexpected,” they said, nodding and trying not to read too much into it. It was hard to trust any one these days, even with those you had once known. Everything was on shaky ground at best. “I would certainly imagine that,” Xen nodded feeling a bit more comfortable with the conversation. As much as working at the Daily Prophet could be frustrating, he imagined working at the Ministry would be worse right now. “The Ministry has certainly taken a…less than desirable turn.” They knew ell enough to choose their words carefully. 

Xeno nodded at him, “I agree. There can never be too much comradery in the world can there? And it has been too long since we’ve seen one another.” Xen waived at the bartender for a drink. “I suppose my personal life is well enough. The Prophet certainly has…an opposing view point to my own, which makes things difficult. I suppose life is well enough given how the world is.”

Augustus had highly suspected that Xen was on the losing side, but their words all but confirmed it. “I’m glad you’re doing well, no matter how much you have to struggle for it. I guess I could say the same for myself.” Lies, really. Augustus wasn’t doing well, though the knowledge of his side’s power helped to sustain him. If he hadn’t been confident of a victory, he would have run far away years before. Run until no one knew his name or the dark thoughts he held so deep inside. 

Date: July 29th Location: Lestrange Manor, The Engagement Party Status: Open 

Aidan scanned the crowd of the engagement party, a cocktail glass dangling between thumb and forefinger. For once they actually quite liked the company of the hour. All the best–and only the best–pureblood families had gathered for the event. This was how the world ought to be really. This was the goal they were all striving for. It would be nice if it could last more than one evening, but something would probably much it all up. There were already a few non-purebloods–Aidan had noted Gilderoy Lockheart already, but supposed with someone who’d managed to make a name for themselves like that, an exception could be made. But it was nice. Not to mention Aidan knew full well that under those fancy suits and below disguise charms were plenty of tattoos on forearms that matched their own.

Everything seemed right. Settled and peaceful. Though a bit too peaceful if you asked Aidan. There ought to be some kind of show going on or at least two people getting into some drama based fight. While Aidan believed in blood purity, they did not believe in boredom, especially if things weren’t centered around them. Peace and tranquility were massively overrated ideas that Aidan just didn’t want much to do with if they were being completely honest. It was good to see no one was fucking up this day for their little Emma, but it made it none the less disappointing.

“It’s a pretty part, but a bit on the dull side,” Aidan commented to no one in particular, speaking really to anyone who would listen. “I’m really rather tempted to cook up some fun of my own. What do you say, just a little good fun?”

Augustus had nearly declined the invitation to the party multiple times before finally giving in. After all, there were several within the community that vividly remembered his contribution to the attack on St. Mungo’s, or still bore the scars he’d inflicted upon them. However, his role as a good little pureblood Ministry worker all but required him to at least show his face at these events. And it wasn’t like he didn’t care about the happy couple. He did. Sort of.

Being a part of the Black family came with certain expectations. One was expected to attend all events in the pureblood community, the only exception was if one was dead and no others. One was expected to make as many connections in their community as possible. All of the rules were a bit much for Andromeda, but as a daughter of the Black family at her age she never dared to question her parents. Instead she often put on the pretty dresses that her mom stuffed her into for every over the top party in the hopes that she would catch the eye of a suitable pureblood boy. More often than not though she often disappointed them when she hid away in a corner with the Rookwood boy as her dad often pointed out. He wanted his girls to be wooed by as many of the boys as possible so they’d have the top picks when it came to finding a husband. Something that rubbed her the wrong way even then.

August was a good ear to have around whenever she was annoyed with the way that the world seemed to work around them. They both seemed to agree on so much that it was a comfort having him there. The extravagance of most pureblood parties was completely over the top which completely made her uncomfortable even as a child. As a teen though it got more under her skin knowing now just how unfair it all was. Her education on what her family deemed “lower class” may have started with August, but once they were in school it quickly took off forcing her to see just how terrible it truly was. People were tortured or at least often bullied due to something they could not change such as their blood status or even their finances in the case of a few pureblood families even. She never understood why anyone felt that it was okay to practically brag about everything they had when so many others struggled. It was probably why Andromeda was often protective of August whenever her family brought him up.

It was only too easy to spot his ruffled up hair in the sea of faces. Even as just friends it still brought a warm smile to her face to see him. “Well there you are, Rookwood!” She chimed brightly stepping up behind him, “Have you had a chance to try any of the food? Honestly it looks about ten times more disgusting than the last party,” She admitted unable to stop herself as she eyed a passing tray in disgust. “I wonder if there’s some kind of competition on who can serve the worst food.”

Augustus’ pureblood family did fine financially, but was nothing compared to those who threw lavish parties several times a month and invited nearly everyone they’d ever met. No, the Rookwoods had enough, but very little extra. Their Welsh farmhouse and school expenses were funded by his father’s job as the Head of the Department of Magical Transportation, but the historical Rookwood gold was long gone, spent generations before on Merlin-knows-what.

    Millicent Bagnold survived. 

    Her voice was like a beacon of hope to those who had almost fallen, but remained a nagging whisper of Death Eater shortcomings to Cygnus Black. Among the top of their ranks seemed only children and puppets - eager to please yet inexperienced at best. He thought of Rodolphus residing as self-proclaimed king under the direct order of their Dark Lord, and shuddered. How he could not have been chosen above that infant, Cygnus did not understand. Sure, the Lestrange boy was from an equally decent family tree with wealth and pure lineage - but none so great as Black. The Dark Lord should have known better.

    Pausing, Cygnus mentally chided himself for allowing such thoughts to escape. It was a dangerous time to be turning against Him, even in ones own brain. And he wasn’t defecting, or even entertaining that notion. The man was just frustrated, exhausted, raging - when was the last time he had slept? - and he wanted to be among the action. But for now his shaking hands were to be kept in his pockets, his feet were to be following a straight path through the semi-deserted streets of the world they lived in now. No waves, he thought bitterly, no reaction. 

    While he was certain most people assumed his alliance, Cygnus knew there was no sustainable proof. He wouldn’t be thrown in Azkaban despite his lack of subtlety so long as someone was around to clean up the mess, and there was always someone watching his back - especially with his amount of wealth. There were times when he used destruction for attention, or to fall into a situation where he may not escape, and every time he managed to get out alive and shining. A bright, beautiful beacon. 

    A true king.

    The sun was beginning to slide out of view when he spotted someone closing the distance. He couldn’t tell their intentions, or if they had even seen him, but still he held out a hand to give them pause. Good fun could still be had, right? It was all for laughs.

    “You, there! Would you like to see a trick?”