Duplicitous | T.N.

LII • Nott acceptable

Two dark figures walked with purpose. Riddled with determination, the stoic duo staunched through the lively crowd that was London station. Strangers never looked twice, yet as these two passed them, their heads bowed down, hopeful that they wouldn't steal any attention from those who passed them, it was all done in vein, for as the two men walked in a synchronised movement, they turned a series of curious heads.

Astonished gazes followed them as they walked. Eager to glue the flawless image to pitch black of inner eyelids. To savour the beauty, the power, the intimidation. Women of all ages fawned and swooned, desperate to steal a second glance. Yet no matter the amount of batted lashes and wryly grins, each gesture went simply unnoticed.

Dressed head to toe in matching jet black, their feet moved in a synchronous movement. Almost practiced, they did not halt in their walk.

Weaving past the adoring eyes, their jaws and fists remained clenched, occasionally brushing over the contents of their pockets where wands laid waiting for them at the sight of trouble. Not once did they uncurl their furrowed brows, or twist their sunken frowns upwards.

As much as they allured amorous attention, no one attempted to interact with the two, for they each reeked a rivers worth of dangerous warning. Alarming the passer-by's that they were not up for a friendly chat. So no matter how their admirers would wish, none attempted any form of conversation. For as many dreams their gorgeous faces would emit, threats would too.

Side by side, neither flinched as they glided through the famous brick wall. Platform 9 and 3/4, was a journey towards an old home. And despite the unwavering glares, they both felt a layer of nostalgia welcome them comfortingly.

Two sets of chocolate coloured eyes rimmed over the passing faces. Hands stuffed tightly into the pockets of their navy black coats, they shivered at the similarities. Eloped with distant memories, they struggled to neglect them as they searched.

Finally, at exactly an hour before the train would depart and begin its lengthy journey to Hogwarts school of Witch Craft and Wizardry, they spotted the notorious Weasley family.

Eye capturing heads of sweet ginger, flaunted past them, but it was not the redheads they sought, no, but rather the youthful brunette who followed them, grasping tightly onto the rusty handles of her trolly, the ghost of a smile teasing her glossed lips, and a particular dead glint in her eye, one that both the older men shared. For as they observed the way Rory held herself they could only find the similarities between her and themselves.

Their little sister.

• • •

"Oh Merlin!" Pansy pounced from her dibbed seat on the train and towards the clear framed window. The pads of her fingers pressed flat against the transparent panels. Her nose too, pressing against it. She smiled endearingly into the sea of busy faces that awaited outside the train of which was set to leave in just over an hour.

"What?" Blaise too stirred from the book that say securely between his dark rimmed fingers. "What is it?" With care, he placed his book down beside him before he too pressed himself against the window. "Holy mama." He sung, an equally adoring smile carving handsome valleys into each cheek, forming what was called dimples. "Who are they?" He sighed dreamily.

"They're gorgeous!" Daphne leaned over her seat to steal a peak through the window. Soon she also found herself with her face compressed into the glass. "I recognise their faces." She noted.