The Fox
Later that evening, Rodolphus Lestrange was sitting in the living room of his mansion, trying to read, though he had been staring at the same page for several minutes. He slammed the book shut. He just wanted to know for definite that Florence Parkinson had kept quiet and not mentioned their meeting in the woods. If she hadn’t, then the Aurors would probably come to question him and demand to know why he had lied. He wouldn’t feel safe until the morning. He just wanted this day to end and the sooner he went to sleep, the sooner tomorrow would begin, and he would feel safe.
She must have lied, just as he had. Neither of them wanted their spouses finding out about the affair. Whilst Florence would get beaten up by her oaf of a husband, he would be lucky not to get tortured. Bella had never tortured him before, but that was because he had never dared do anything that would upset her. He suspected his having an affair would count as upsetting her. He had been so stupid. To risk getting tortured by Bella, and for what? Florence Parkinson might have enjoyed the risk, but to him, it had just been something to do, something to alleviate the boredom.
He had watched Bella torture people. He did not want her to torture him. He would rather be bored and unfulfilled than in pain.
The doorbell rang. He heard their house-elf answer it and say she would fetch the mistress.
“No.” It was that Auror. That bloody Auror who’d been at the Malfoys. “We wish to speak to Rodolphus Lestrange.”
“I’ll fetch the mistress,” the house elf repeated.
“No, Hettie, I’ll deal with this,” Rodolphus said, standing and walking from the living room to the hall. He hoped he’d be able to deal with the Auror““Fabian Prewett, was it?““before Bella realised what was happening. He didn’t even know whether she was home or not. He hoped she wasn’t. Whether she was having an affair or killing or torturing someone, he did not particularly care.
He smiled weakly at the Auror. “How can I help you?”
Fabian looked at Rodolphus Lestrange. He was certainly afraid, but during the few times he had met the man, he had always had a general sense of paranoia about him.
“We’d like to talk to you about your whereabouts earlier this afternoon. We can do this here““”
“No,” Rodolphus said, quickly. “No, I’ll come to the Ministry.”
“Oh, well.” Fabian was surprised. Usually, people preferred to be questioned in their own homes. He shared a glance with Lauren, who just shrugged. Fabian offered him his arm to Side-Along Apparate, but before Rodolphus could take it, Bellatrix said, from the top of the staircase, “Who is it, Rodolphus?”
Fabian watched with interest as anger and panic crossed Rodolphus’ weary, prematurely lined face, before disappearing, and instead he spoke, albeit slightly hollowly, “An Auror. He wants to talk to me about Gloria Greengrass.”
“Do they want to speak to me?” Bellatrix said, and having reached her husband, affectionately touched his arm. Rodolphus winced slightly, which Fabian found strange.
“Just me, Bellatrix.”
“I’ll come with you then,” Bellatrix said, putting one arm around his neck, pressing one hand to his chest, and kissing him on the cheek before resting her head on his shoulder and glancing at Fabian. “You don’t mind, do you?” she said, speaking in a sharp tone, unlike the soft, although mildly unsettling, voice she had been using while speaking to her husband.
Fabian did not want Bellatrix at the Ministry. Even if she could not be privy to the actual questioning, he suspected Rodophus would find her proximity disconcerting, given what Fabian had to ask him and that Bellatrix, to all appearances, seemed an ignorant and affectionate wife. But Fabian had no choice, as it was a spouse’s right to be present on the scene during a partner’s formal interview.
“As long as Rodolphus doesn’t mind.”
Rodolphus smiled uneasily, as if at a private joke. “Of course I don’t mind.”
Fabian took Bella’s arm. Lauren rolled her eyes, before taking Rodolphus’, and the Aurors Disapparated.
They walked through the Ministry. It was deserted at that time of night. Fabian and Lauren walked side by side with Rodolphus and Bellatrix just in front of them. Fabian was not sure what to make of them. Bellatrix was whispering to him, apparently affectionately, clinging to him as if she needed his support but speaking consolingly to him, telling him that everything would be all right. She was being kind, and kind was an adjective Fabian had never heard associated with Bellatrix Lestrange.
When they reached the Auror Office, he left Bellatrix outside the interrogation room, with Lauren keeping an eye on her. At first he suggested that Williamson ” who was also working late, going through the witness statements from each guest at the party in case they had missed something ” keep Bellatrix company, but Lauren had given him a look of disbelief which made him laugh out loud. He knew some Aurors found laughing inappropriate. He disagreed, and was pleased when Lauren smiled rather than taking offence. He nodded and Williamson, looking only mildly disappointed, went back to his desk.
Lauren had only recently become an Auror, although she was in her thirties. Fabian knew she had been looking after an elderly aunt and had only pursued the career she wanted after her aunt’s death three years before. Prior to Auror training she had worked as a Hit Witch and from the little Fabian had seen of her, she had more common sense and intelligence than most new recruits, hence bumping her up to being on the Greengrass investigation with himself and Williamson.
Most people thought this rapid rise meant she was sleeping with Fabian, but that was just jealousy. Besides, Fabian worked too hard to have time for relationships.
Fabian closed the door, sitting opposite Rodolphus. It was a glass-walled office, protected with charms to sound proof it, and they could see the two women sitting next to each other in the corridor. They seemed to be talking, and Lauren handed Bellatrix a cigarette. Technically, they were not supposed to smoke in the office, but he knew Robert Williamson smoked as well, so he wouldn’t mind. They’d just have to remember to cast some charms to clear the air before they left.
“Are you comfortable?” he asked Rodolphus, who nodded. “Cigarette?” Fabian said, taking out his own.
“I don’t smoke,” Rodolphus said, calmly.
“Do you mind if I?” Rodolphus shook his head. “Thanks,” Fabian said, lighting it and looking at the man opposite him carefully. He’d recently met Rodolphus at some Ministry party Alice Longbottom had bullied him into attending, and had had the strong impression that he was unhappy.
When they had interviewed Florence Parkinson earlier that evening she had denied being in the woods, but her eyes had widened when they mentioned Rodolphus Lestrange. Fabian had left Lauren to interview her, in the hope that she’d feel more comfortable talking only to a woman. Lauren said that Florence was not telling the truth and that she didn’t really mind them knowing that she had lied. But Lauren and Fabian had both realised that she was terrified of something. They did not know what.
Fabian sighed loudly. “You lied to us, Rodolphus. Earlier this evening you said to Smith that you never went into the woods. We have someone who saw you there.” It was a slight lie, but one Fabian felt no tug on his conscience for telling. The expression on Rodolphus’ face when he had opened the door to his house had been enough to prove to Fabian that he had been right.
“Who?”
Rodolphus was far too calm, Fabian thought. Either he was a very cool customer, which the prematurely aged face and his anxiety earlier seemed to contradict, or he had nothing to do with the murder.
“That’s confidential. The person saw you with a woman.”
Rodolphus laughed. It was a grating, unexpected noise. “So it wasn’t her that told you?”
“She did not tell us. We found out from another source, but she confirmed it,” Fabian lied easily.
Rodolphus frowned. “Are you telling the truth? I’ve heard you’ll lie in interrogations.”
So he wasn’t as stupid as he looked. Being with his wife, regardless of the panic she seemed to inspire at the house, had calmed him down. But Fabian continued to stare at him, causing Rodolphus to shift uncomfortably. It was not a part of being an Auror which Fabian enjoyed, but he had to find out what Rodolphus had done in the woods, where he had got the Polyjuice Potion from and whether he had a motive.
Glancing through the glass to his wife, Rodolphus admitted it: “All right, I was there with Florence.”
Fabian did not reveal just how pleased he was by this, asking calmly, “So why did you lie to us?”
“Because I did not want my wife finding out, of course. Just as Florence did not want her husband knowing.”
“The person who saw you didn’t recognise you, just your voice. Were you using Polyjuice Potion, and if so, did Florence know it was you?”
Fabian had expected him to take offence at that but Rodolphus just shrugged. “Yes, she knew it was me. I forget who I pretended to be. It was purely to ensure my wife didn’t find out, as all my actions have been so far.” Fabian glanced at Bellatrix. She saw him looking and flashed him a brilliant smile. “I am sorry I lied. I didn’t see anything.”
“Florence thought she heard someone else in the bushes fairly nearby.”
“I did not,” Rodolphus said. “And if she did““it was a forest. There are animals in the woods, foxes, badgers, and the like.”
“How well did you know Gloria?”
“Not very.” Suddenly, Rodolphus laughed, the same sharp, grating laugh, the only laugh he seemed capable of. “Do you think I did it? I know it looks bad, but I just lied because I didn’t want my wife to know that I was having an affair. It’s that simple. I didn’t see anything or hear anything. She saw us. She and her boyfriend, the Flints’ boy.”
“Did you talk to them?”
“No. Gloria ran when she saw us, and Florence asked Flint to keep his mouth shut. He agreed and he left. Florence and I had sex and then we Apparated back to the party.”
“Where did you get the potion?”
“From Mundungus Fletcher. He put the hair in it too; it was some Muggle’s, I think.”
“Get anything else from him?” Fabian asked, suddenly remembering that they had arrested Mundungus and Rodolphus’ brother Rabastan for drug dealing a few years before. Again, however, Rodolphus laughed.
“You’re a few years too late. No, I didn’t.” Fabian was trying to think of a way to phrase a question about the Polyjuice Potion, which would not make it obvious that some had been stolen. Fortunately for him, Rodolphus, of his own accord, said, “Some of it was missing. After I was interviewed, I went to find my things; they were being kept in the bedroom my wife and I use when staying with Lucius. Someone had taken some of the potion.”
Fabian leant forward. “And it was all there before you were interviewed?”
“Yes. You seem to know that some would be missing.” Fabian did not like the uneasy, mocking smile on Rodolphus face. “Has someone been impersonating someone else?”
“No,” Fabian said, calmly. “But it means they could have been. Would you say Gloria was pretty?”
“Yes, I would. So would most people.”
“She was raped before she died.”
Rodolphus looked surprised. “I’m sorry to hear that. She was very young. It was probably her boyfriend.”
Rodolphus wasn’t scared, Fabian thought. Which was odd, because even the innocent were scared in a situation like this. Then he recalled one of the first things Mad-Eye had said to him, over ten years ago, when he had first qualified. Aurors were not heroes. Heroes were merely people too afraid of being cowards. Aurors had more important things to think about than how they were perceived. He suddenly remembered that he’d chosen not to reveal that someone had impersonated him, but that no longer mattered.
He saw Rodolphus glance through the glass at his wife. It was just a glance, and can’t have lasted long, but Fabian realised that Rodolphus was scared, and it wasn’t just a husband’s fear of a wife finding out her husband was having an affair. He wondered whether during those whispers into his ear on the way to the Auror Office, Bellatrix had actually imparted something of substance. She was, after all, a woman who never seemed to lose control, although Fabian did not know her well.
Rodolphus said nervously, as if the sudden silence was worrying him, “Everyone knows Winston Flint is in love with her; she’s probably been telling him ‘no’ and it got too much for him. The way he was looking at Florence and me, it was like the first time he’d ever seen two people kissing.”
Rodolphus did seem set on blaming Winston, but then he and Florence provided each other with alibis. Fabian resolved to get Florence in again and have Lauren interview her. They might be able to get more out of her. But the problem was Winston. The one motive Florence and Rodolphus shared would rely on them killing Winston as well. Maybe they had intended to but not had the chance. No, Fabian thought. Winston had been drunk, an easy victim, especially given Rodolphus had some Polyjuice Potion in his possession. But Winston was alive, so, annoyingly, Fabian thought Rodolphus and Florence were both innocent.
Fabian knew that some Aurors, like Frank Longbottom, thought some people were incapable of murder. He disagreed. He thought everyone was capable of murder given the right motive, and it was just a case of finding out what the motive was. But here, the very obviousness of the motive meant that the two adulterers could not have done it.
“Can I go home now?” Rodolphus said. Fabian had been so lost in thought that he’d forgotten he was still there.
“Yes, you may.” Fabian stood up and shook his hand. “Thank you for answering my questions truthfully.”
Rodolphus’ face remained impassive, which did not mean anything. When they stepped outside, the women were laughing.
“Care to share?” Fabian said. Bellatrix shook her head, standing and tapping Fabian’s cheek.
“Girls’ joke. Can my husband and I go home now?”
Fabian opened his mouth to say yes, but Lauren cut across him. “Rodolphus can, but Bellatrix, we’d like a formal interview with you.”
Bellatrix stared at her in shocked disbelief for a few seconds, before saying, “I thought we were getting along so well,” sounding hurt, but Fabian thought he caught a trace of irony. “Why do you want to question me?”
“Two things,” Lauren said briskly, a glint in her eye. Fabian smiled at Bella’s confusion. Lauren was a small, mousey and innocent-looking woman, but beneath that, she was as hard as nails and didn’t miss a trick. It was an appearance that fooled most people. “Firstly, you smoke, and ash was found on Gloria’s body.”
“Lots of people smoke. Yourself and your boss for one.”
“Secondly, a hair was found in her pocket. A hair which matches yours.”
Bellatrix laughed a silvery laugh. “A hair? Why, haven’t you been the good little detectives? Wouldn’t that have been a bit careless? What makes you think it matches mine?”
“I had Williamson do a Polyjuice Potion test on it, whilst we were talking. He turned into you.” Lauren smiled at Bellatrix. Fabian was glad that Lauren was there, because afterwards, he had been unsure whether he had imagined the expression on Bellatrix’s face. It was twisted in intense anger and disgust, so much so that Fabian, for the first time in a long time, was scared. Then it disappeared, as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by an elegant smile and a bemused laugh.
“I think someone is trying to implicate me. But of course, I’ll be happy to help you in any way I can.”
Unfortunately, if he had got little out of Rodolphus, he got even less out of Bellatrix. He had been talking to her for fifteen minutes, with her deflecting each question, refusing to give a straight answer, pretending ignorance and then frowning and saying, “Maybe.” It was, he and Lauren both swiftly realised, a performance, and one which she was enjoying. Every so often, she would laugh and smile. She did have a beautiful, if slightly wolfish smile and Fabian, although he knew he was sensible, was very pleased with his decision to question her jointly with Lauren.
The air was thick with their cigarette smoke when Bellatrix, with a glint in her eye, said, “I did not talk to Gloria all day. I did, however, have a lengthy conversation with Regulus Black, my cousin, in the copse. I believe he spoke to her afterwards.”
Fabian glanced at Lauren, who said, “Regulus Black said that he did not go into the woods all day.”
Bellatrix leant forward over the desk and whispered, with evident enjoyment, “He lied.” She slowly stubbed her cigarette out onto the corner of the parchment Lauren was writing on, squishing it and twisting it, slowly and very deliberately. It disconcerted Fabian, and clearly Lauren, too. She looked upset, although all Bellatrix had done was put out her cigarette. But it had been so precise, as if she would much rather be doing that to someone else, to himself or to Lauren. Bellatrix, Fabian also realised, was not looking at him, but had been staring steadily at Lauren the whole time.
He was relieved when Bellatrix leaned back, slipping another cigarette from her packet and saying lightly as she lit it, “Everybody lies.”
“So why““” Lauren’s voice was shaking, and Fabian wasn’t surprised when she hesitated in order to regain control of it before continuing, “““so why were you and Regulus in the woods?”
“I wanted to talk to my cousin. Is that a crime, now?”
“It is a crime to have lied during an investigation,” Fabian said, in a harder voice than he had intended. The blasted woman was getting to them both. “Why did you lie, and is there anything else you want to tell us the entire truth about?”
“I lied because I thought I would fall under suspicion. Regulus and I merely talked in the woods, and that’s all. I didn’t hear or notice anything suspicious. Regulus and I talked, then I Apparated to the house, whilst he remained in the woods for a little longer. Regulus has always appreciated beautiful things.”
“Like Gloria Greengrass?” Lauren asked.
Bellatrix smiled. “Perhaps.”
That was all they got from her, and they had to admit, the placing of the hair did seem too contrived to be a genuine clue. Unless it was a double bluff, but if it was Regulus, he supported her story when they called him in for questioning immediately after releasing Bellatrix.
Regulus said that they talked in the woods and then Apparated to the house. When asked if they had Apparated at the same time, he had frowned for a moment in thought, and then said that he thought Bellatrix had Apparated first. At first, Fabian thought he must be lying, because Regulus looked too young to Apparate. But then he said that he was seventeen, and had passed his test a few months beforehand.
They questioned him about his relationship with Gloria. He said he knew her slightly, but she was closer to his friend Winston Flint, who was a year younger than he was. Regulus took offence when they suggested Winston might have hurt Gloria, and even more so when they suggested that Regulus himself might have. Fabian thought it was a natural reaction, but Lauren found it too defensive, saying that it didn’t necessarily mean that he’d done it, but that he’d wanted to.
They were forced to let Regulus go just as the sun was rising.
“So what have we got?” Fabian said to Lauren. Williamson had gone home after fetching Regulus, but Fabian, despite the dawn, wanted to work. They were standing in the small kitchen area, waiting for the kettle to boil. Lauren sighed before replying.
“Florence or Rodolphus could have done it to stop their spouses finding out, but then they would have killed Winston as well. Winston could have done it. Everyone says he had a crush on her. It’s possible he was going to rape her, stopped, but then felt guilty, couldn’t bear the look in her eye, so he killed her. Stole her ring, sentimental value, and then got drunk with the guilt.” She poured. “Most Aurors would have arrested him by now. But you haven’t because you don’t think he did it.”
“Do you think he’s guilty?” Fabian asked.
“No. He might have abused her but I think he was telling the truth when he said he loved her, and he would have confessed.”
“I agree. But gut instincts can be wrong. What about Bellatrix Lestrange? After all, they say poison is a woman’s weapon.”
“That’s bollocks,” Lauren said calmly. Fabian laughed. “It’s not even a coward’s weapon; it’s the weapon of someone who doesn’t want to get caught. There’s no motive, though. Not for Bellatrix or Regulus.”
“Then we find one. They lied about being there. He’s her cousin; they could have talked in front of everyone. There has to be something! I mean, every few months, people die, killed by men in black cloaks and masks, and we can’t get any of them.” Fabian had not expected to get angry, but now he was. “We should at least be able to find out who murdered and raped a teenage girl!”
“We will.” Lauren patted his arm reassuringly. “We will. I’m going to get a few hours sleep before work starts again. You should do the same.”
“You’ve only just qualified,” Fabian said. “You shouldn’t tell the boss what to do.”
She rolled her eyes, smiled and left.
Fabian smiled back, before walking to his office and lying on the couch there. His brother and sister both said that he worked too hard, and was too much of a perfectionist for a woman to cope with him for more than a few months. They were both in happy, long-term relationships, his sister married and his brother abroad with his boyfriend. Fabian determined to buy Lauren a drink that evening in the pub after work.
But a week later when Gloria’s funeral took place, Fabian had neither asked Lauren for a drink nor come any closer to keeping his promise to Emmeline and the Greengrasses.
It was common policy for the Auror in charge of an investigation to attend a funeral, and Fabian had been attending more funerals than he had ever expected to. The amount of homicides was increasing annually, and frustratingly, the vast majority could only be put down to Death Eaters.
Apparently, Gloria had often said that she didn’t want to be buried in the cemetery. She wanted to be buried in the woods on the edges of Goldengrove, her family’s house. It struck Fabian as rather morbid, but Lauren, who attended the funeral with him, said she had known she wanted to be buried at sea since she was ten years old.
It was a simple ceremony, in the early evening. According to a rather gossipy aunt, Winston had been shouting at Julian Greengrass, Gloria’s father, earlier, as he wanted to help carry the coffin from the house““where a wake had been held the previous night““to the grave, which had been dug for her. Eventually, Julian had agreed.
Hector, Winston, Daphne and Julian all carried the coffin the short distance from the house to the woods, where a patch of earth had been dug. Slowly, they lowered the coffin into the grave, entirely without magic. The three Greengrasses and Winston had had tears running down their faces, blinding them to the others surrounding the gravestone and the coffin, now six feet below the ground. There were quite a few people there. After all, the Greengrasses were a once influential family, who, with the impending marriage to Helen Clearwater, were about to regain wealth.
Winston threw some flowers, marigolds and daisies, into the grave, whilst her family just threw some soil. Then, they levitated the mound of earth over her coffin, filling the grave. Hector knelt down beside it and poked his wand in the soil. From its tip, tendrils of green spread, criss-crossing the grave and growing quickly until the brown earth was covered in grass, a few inches tall. Hector then stood up and wiped the tears from his eyes. Winston did the same.
It was as they were walking back to the house that the fight started.
Florence Parkinson had laughed at some comment her husband had said. A few others had laughed as well, but it was Florence who got Winston’s attention. He had been walking apart from the rest of the group, staring at his feet, but at the sound of her laughter Fabian had seen him look up, anger etched onto his face. He stormed over and grabbed Florence’s arm, twisting it back and shouting in her face, “You have no right to laugh! Not in this place, not in any place where she has been! You probably killed her, you filthy bitch, just because she saw you screwing some pathetic man in the woods! You killed her!”
When Winston had first grabbed her arm, everyone, including Fabian and Lauren, had been too shocked to react. Fabian knew how to deal with magical violence, but there was something brutal about this, as well as intensely personal, which rendered him momentarily stunned. When Winston’s words changed from “Probably killed her” to “killed her”, he began to thump her. Despite Edgar Parkinson standing closer to his wife, Lauren got there first, wrestling Winston away from her and holding him back.
With an angry squeak, Florence drew her wand, shooting a spell at Winston, but Lauren pushed him out of its way. Leaping up before Lauren, and snarling like a wild animal Winston spun round to attack Florence again, but Lauren knocked him to the ground, and his wand flew from his grip and into Regulus Black’s hand. Fabian glanced at Florence, but her wand was now in her husband’s grip.
“How dare you!” Hector shouted at Winston, who was glaring at Regulus in hate and not prepared for Hector to now shove him backwards. “How dare you start a fight here? You’re just as bad as she is!”
“I’m““” Winston stuttered, looking embarrassed. Most of the other guests, including the Parkinsons, had walked on, leaving the Aurors, Winston and the Greengrasses at the edge of the lawn that led to the house. It was a small lawn, and they were all aware that the guests were on the terrace, waiting for the entertainment to continue.
“I’m sorry,” Winston managed to finish, all the while staring at his feet. Then, through gritted teeth, he said, “Can I have my wand back, Regulus?’
“Are you going to hurt Florence?” his friend asked calmly. Winston muttered something. Regulus repeated his question and Winston shook his head. Florence was walking towards the terrace already, and so Regulus handed him his wand.
“I still think she did it, though,” Winston muttered kicking the ground.
“Our investigation is ongoing““”
“Your investigation?” Hector said, turning on Fabian. Regulus put his arm round Winston companionably and they both walked to the terrace, leaving Fabian and Lauren to Hector’s anger. “So far you haven’t arrested anyone; my sister has died and you have done nothing! That boy thinks Florence did it. Why?” Hector was now shouting in Fabian’s face. When Lauren put a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him down, he just tried to tear it off, but Lauren’s grip was strong and she kept her hand there. He was breathing heavily, but it was only when Helen squeezed his hand that he stepped back and Lauren released her grip. The engaged couple walked, not to the terrace, but across the gardens.
Fabian and Lauren bade Daphne and Julian Greengrass goodbye. Fabian proffered Lauren his arm and they Apparated.
When they arrived, they were on a riverbank. The sun was beginning to fall, setting the entire hillside aflame. Behind them was a small country pub.
Lauren raised an eyebrow. Fabian blushed. “I’m sorry; it’s a while since I’ve done this.”
“What? Brought a girl to the pub?”
“I should have asked. I““” He was interrupted by Lauren kissing him quickly on the cheek, before looping her arm round his. They walked together into the pub.
Winston had dragged Regulus to the Muggle pub, down the road from Goldengrove. He ignored Regulus’ worries about them wearing their robes, walking in without hesitation, and so far, no-one had commented on it.
Then, Regulus noticed there were several other people wearing robes, but not people he recognised. The only other wizarding family in this area was the Malfoys, but they lived at the opposite side. On closer inspection he saw that the robes were not proper ones, but oddly misshapen and all were either white or made of a hessian-like cloth. This confused him, slightly, but he had bigger things to worry about. Like his friend Winston Flint.
“I’d slow down if I were you,” Regulus said, frowning in concern.
“I don’t want to slow down, I want to speed up, so that we can just know who did it and justice can be done.” He was speaking quickly, slowly thumping the bar as he did so. He hadn’t had enough to send him into this state, unless, Regulus realised, he had been drinking before the funeral.
Winston had spent the last week agonising over who could possibly have killed Gloria, and now Regulus had the gall to tell him to slow down. He’d slow down. He’d slow down once he forgot that she was dead, or once he no longer cared that he could remember. All he knew was that he did not want her to go unavenged.
He had wondered why he had not told the Aurors about Florence threatening to kill him, and the two cracks he had heard on finding the ring. He had not known why, but since, in attempting to rationalise it, had decided it was because he wanted to find her killer. The Aurors were all stupid; there was no chance of them catching whoever it was.
Thinking about it, for the past week, he had become obsessed over Florence being in the woods. She must have wanted to kill him as well, but lacked the opportunity. After all, he had believed her when she said she would kill him if he’d told a soul. And now he had told everyone, and she was evidently riled.
See how she liked that, he thought, swigging back the drink Regulus had just handed him, before spitting it out.
“That’s water!”
“You need to sober up.”
“No bloody chance,” Winston said, asking the barman for a pint of cider. The barman obeyed without a word.
Winston began to drink. He didn’t want to think. Recently when he had been thinking, they had been thoughts he did not like. Thoughts about sex. Although he knew most boys his age claimed to have already done it, since he claimed to and hadn’t yet, he assumed many of them were lying. He knew some of them definitely were. Gloria had always seemed oddly unattainable. He’d only been thinking of her that way for the past few months and always thought he would be too afraid of losing his friendship with her to think it could ever happen...Until that first kiss, and after that he hadn’t been conscious of what he’d been doing. He thought he’d be happy with just one kiss; it hadn’t been enough.
He had been horrible, but Gloria would have come round and they would have left Hogwarts and been married and happy and able to walk through the countryside every summer for the rest of their long lives. Gloria had had her life stolen from her and he’d had his future snatched away with her death.
And now, here he was, drunkenly mourning her life and his future.
“You really loved her, didn’t you?” Regulus said, gently.
Winston nodded. “How did you know?”
Winston had been slumped over the bar, staring into his drink, but now he turned to face his friend. The motion was disorientating and it took a while for Regulus’ face to come into focus. Winston was also confused. Regulus had always sounded so sure of himself, but here, he sounded uncertain.
Winston didn’t know what to say. His thoughts were unclear and hazy enough but suddenly he remembered the first time he’d held Gloria’s hand and suddenly he felt a desperate desire to tell Regulus about it.
“We were walking““Gloria and I were walking at night, in the Forbidden Forest.” He took another sip, draining the pint. He thumped the bar and asked the barman for five shots of vodka. The barman frowned, not used to giving out shots in the small country pub, but when Regulus placed some money on the bar the barman nodded, found several shot glasses somewhere and poured five of them out.
“And there was a full moon. We heard a noise.” He was not looking at Regulus anymore but at the shot glasses. He picked one up and swirled it in front of him, a slow smile spreading across his face. “So we climbed a tree. She climbed it so quickly, and I followed. There were animals““Gloria found them strange.” He drank the first shot. Although he was swaying unsteadily on his seat, his speech was becoming more coherent as he calmed down, as if he wanted to talk about Gloria in the way she deserved.
“There was a a big dog, like a wolf, running below us. And this wolf was attacking a fox, shaking it, until““it was weird. This stag and dog joined it and stopped it and they all ran off. We jumped down and the fox was dying. Its breath was rattling and belly rising and falling, so desperate. Gloria took my hand and placed it on its belly. It was so warm. Blood. Red.” Winston stopped, taking a deep breath and drinking the second shot. He thumped the empty glass down on the bar, and when he raised his hand again it was to draw a finger across his throat.
“There was blood, pouring down its throat. So soft, so warm.” He felt himself about to cry, and took the third shot. “And then it stopped. Stopped breathing, just stopped dead. I wanted to bury it but Gloria““” He was crying now; he could feel the tears falling down his cheek. He felt Regulus’ hand on his back. “Gloria said we should leave it. For something else to eat, to use, for its body and bones to be fed on by the forest. It would happen whether we buried it or not. It looked so sad but she said it was beautiful. And she just smiled and held my hand and we walked back to the castle. She saw the beauty in everything.” He took the third shot with a swipe, downing it quicker than any of the others and thumping it on the bar. “How could anyone kill her and still sleep at night?”
When Regulus replied, it was slowly and carefully.
“Maybe the murderer can’t remember killing her. Killing is a horrific act and not everyone has the stomach for it. Maybe he or she was so appalled by what they’d done that their mind could not cope, and so they forgot it.”
Winston took the two last shots in quick succession. He raised a hand to get the barman’s attention, but lost his balance, slipping from his chair and just catching himself on the bar, his body slumped forward. Regulus jumped off the stool and shook his friend’s shoulder, but Winston was unconscious.
The barman asked Regulus if he wanted a hand but Regulus shook his head, hauling Winston onto his shoulder and carrying him out of the pub. Outside there was a bench, where Regulus rested before looking around and Apparating to Goldengrove. Winston had said he wanted to stay there and Regulus thought he would be upset if he awoke somewhere else. It took a long time to persuade Hector, his parents already being in bed, to let Winston stay the night, and he only agreed when Regulus said he would sleep on the floor and keep an eye on him. He also promised they’d be gone before breakfast.
Regulus levitated Winston’s unconscious body to a spare bedroom. It was sparsely furnished, as aside from a bed and a bedside table with a lamp, the room was empty. Regulus had heard the Greengrasses had been selling off the furniture. He placed Winston on the bed and opened the window, letting the night air in.
It was a beautiful, warm evening, with grey clouds streaking across the blue sky. Between them Regulus could see a sliver of yellow moon. He sighed. He was supposed to be meeting Bella the next morning, early, and would hopefully get there and return before Winston woke up. After all, Winston had drunk a lot and should be out for a while.
He went to the bathroom, where Hector had told him the bedding would be. He also found a potion for dreamless sleep and, after making a semblance of a bed on the floor by the window, downed the potion and fell asleep. The sunlight would wake him up.
Tooth and Claw by welshdevondragon
Chapter Notes: Thank you again to Carole, particularly here for her canon and drunken dialogue help, Soraya for being so helpful with her commas and comments, and Minna for also being comma-and grammar-literate and helping me make it clearer
Chapter Endnotes: “Heroes were merely people too afraid of being cowards” is a quotation from Cracker, a nineties TV show which I’m indebted to my parents for introducing me too. Somehow I think Mad-Eye and Fitz would have respected but hated each other.
Carole pointed out the Polyjuice to reveal identity idea. Also in my head Goldengrove is near Wilton, a village near Salisbury and a few miles from Stonehenge. Hence the “Druids” in the Muggle pub.
And please review :)