Hexes, Jinxes & Past Glimpses.

Chapter 21: Fake Masks

The silence was deafening. Fergus Nott looked at the two taken aback friends of his, staring at him with wide eyes and clenched jaws.

"This is infuriating. Have you been fucking petrified?" He seethed.

Tom reacted first. In a smoothness that was almost casual, he flicked his wrist at the door, wand dangling between his fingers. Nott ignored the door shutting and strutted towards him.

Tom spoke before he got too close. "If you heard as much as I think you did, you heard you are the next to be recruited for our team. We will seek success, I promise you that."

His nostrils only flared, though. "Nice answer. Diplomatic, yet answered nothing. True leader, you are."

"Watch your tone, Nott." Tom's voice grew icy cold, as Abraxas flinched.

But Fergus did not budge. "Answer me. Who will you kill? And why are you two doing this, I thought I was part -"

"Greyback." Tom answered nonchallantly. As if he was stating what class he was taking.

Abraxas's eyes were burning as he focused on a kettle, avoiding the stares of both of them.

"If you're such a good friend, Nott, you'll see that there is a clear motive for Malfoy. I'm helping. The least people involved in a crime, the less chance something goes wrong - statistically speaking."

Nott was not easily swayed, though. "And what do you gain from that?"

"Loyalty. Favors." He easily replied. Avoiding Fenrir Greyback to be born, revenge for touching her.

Nott's menacing dark green eyes faltered, yet hardened again as he remembered. "And what about the mudblood?"

He couldnt help the way his thumbs pressed against his own thighs at the use of the word.

It didn't define her. She was so much better - so much more than her blood.

Yet, for diplomacy's sake, he exhaled and continued.

"Warren comes with me. It's a non-negotiable term that Malfoy agrees on. This is what loyalty is, Nott."

"You fancy a mudblood bitch now?" Nott's shocked laugh vibrated against the room.

His eyes slit and he got up in an instant. Before Tom could reply as he truly desired, though, Malfoy's wild gaze found his.
"We don't choose those things, Nott. Shame you can't see that, your own mother would agree."

And it was a low blow. His mother never wanted his father, had sworn she'd flee if they married. He showered her with galleons as if that would make her happy.  Kept her as a prisoner in his Manor, till she gave him a son. She was a shell of herself - mumbling about a past love. Died in her sleep from broken heart when she saw her past lover was betrothed.

She didn't even make it to her son's second birthday.

Nott's fist found Malfoy's jaw, yet was tied back by magical strings.

"Shut the fuck up. You know Malfoy is right. You also know you agreed on this plan for your future success. Not for idealistic ideas about blood supremacy."

"That -" he sputtered. "That doesn't mean I like them! I don't want to even touch the mudblood!"

"That's good." Tom mumbled, getting right in his face, ignoring the slightly-shorter man's anger as he sneered down at him. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Fuck off, you -"

"Do you seriously believe that Greyback is a good wizard? That he is skilled? That he is going to help us rule?" Tom's eyebrow shot up questioningly.