Toffee
Alex
He was a fucking idiot.
Alexander paced around his chambers twiddling a sickle between his thumb and forefinger, sure to wear a hole in the floor from his ministrations.
An absolute fucking idiot.
He had spoken to him. No— not just spoken, had given information on her whereabouts. He had told a boy who wished to kill him and burn Black's entire organization to the ground that their greatest asset was alive and in England. And for what? He had no reason, no desire to save her.
He didn't care.
He didn't.
It had been a week since his slip of judgement, and Black had yet to question or even acknowledge Alex's unauthorized trip back to Rome. He was sure Black was unaware of it, otherwise Alex knew he would've been questioned. There were no weak links in Black's kingdom, the man made sure of it.
Though he knew Black had more pressing concerns than Alex's day trips. The muggleborn registration in Italy, Romania, Hungary, and Bulgaria were spreading like wildfire. Albania and Greece had already instated laws requiring such. Austria had created its own task force within their ministry to search for, and wipe out, any suspected muggleborn terrorists. Rings weren't even required— no, fear was enough motivation.
Durmstrang, the wizarding college in Northern Russia, had begun removing muggleborn students from the school, with the intent to snuff out a revolution before it could begin.
England had solidified the wards around the country's borders, repelling anyone of muggleborn origin from entering the country. France was following suit, only weeks away from completing their own wards.
It was nearly a checkmate in Black's game.
Black spent most of his days at the Ministry, encouraging the minister to have a swift proactive approach lest terror reach its hands into their own country. Though he never publicized his disdain for those of muggle origin— no more so than any other pureblood heir. In fact, he had enforced a curfew at Hogwarts, in order to 'protect' muggleborn's from any outside threats. He was sympathetic, placating even. The fool no one suspected.
Alex knew by the time the British Minister realized the wards would do little except keep outside help from arriving, it would be too late.
Though Black's attention was elsewhere, it didn't stop his worrying, nor his self-flagellation for making such an idiotic error. There had been a moment when he had dropped Sebastian off on that beach, his unconscious body slumped into the sand, where he had contemplated just killing him. It would've justified his trip to Rome. In fact, killing the boy might've granted him more favor from Black.
But he couldn't do it.
No, as he'd stood above him pointing his wand at the back of his head, he just heard her screaming Sebastian's name over and over.
So he'd left him there on that beach, half-hoping the bastard would drown.
He hadn't, of course. Instead he and his blond friend had made their way back to England, back to that infernal school. The boy had left the castle three times this past week, twice to a warded area in the forbidden forest and once to St. Mungo's.
Of course, he had followed him; more unauthorized trips on Alex's behalf. Though this week had been quiet— no orders to take the wraith on another mission, nor any reconnaissance assignments. No, he was pet-sitting until further notice.
She was training at the moment, Alex knew. Blasting holes into practice dummies in a converted ballroom across the manor. He was supposed to be there, overseeing Black's pet. Instead, he had sent her alone while he paced the length of his room and back. He didn't want to see her, he saw enough of her in his nightmares lately.
A grandfather clock chimed twice and Alex stopped his pacing. Two o'clock on a Sunday. Alex glanced at the door, as if he could see all the way across the manor. She would be training for another hour or two at least, and no one would be permitted to enter the room except for himself. He hesitated only a moment more before shoving the coin in his pocket and disapparating on the spot.
___•___
Sebastian
He stalked through the woods, the late afternoon sun baking him in his grey button down. His wand swished at his side, bending stray hanging branches out of his path.
It had been a week since Rome. A week in which he had told Ominis and Anne every detail of his short kidnapping. Sebastian no longer cared to hide anything, not when fresh ears could find new meaning.
Though Alexander had revealed little, Sebastian had solidified thoughts he already had. Ash's captor was thorough, a mastermind patiently waiting for the world to fall into his hands. And with the rate of fear spreading across Europe, Sebastian didn't think he would be waiting much longer for his final blow.
She was being held in England, that he was now sure of. Meaning the person who had her was native born, someone involved in the early machinations of Ranrok and Rookwood. And Sebastian had no reservations that this was a person who had nearly grabbed power during the vacuum created after Ranrok's death. No, this person was a puppeteer, one who had been holding the strings since the beginning.
It was also someone careful enough to require an unbreakable vow with their underlings; one that silenced any attempts to reveal their identity. Which meant Harlow was useless in that regard. Sebastian would never pry the name from his lips without killing him in the process.
That didn't mean Sebastian couldn't have some fun with him.
His boots squished in the mud coating the off-beaten path, the sound filling the suddenly silent forest. Not even the birds were singing their summer songs. Sebastian gripped his wand tighter, not in the mood for disruptions by inferi or acromantula. He continued towards the cave, his feet knowing the route instinctively, allowing his eyes to flicker across the tree-covered expanse around him.
A footstep sounded behind him and Sebastian spun, an unforgivable on the top of his tongue when a blue spell smacked him right in the chest sending him flying back against a nearby tree. His back ached at the harsh contract, and he growled, heaving in a breath, "Avada—"
"Incarcerous."
Thick vines wrapped around his body, tightening across his throat and cutting off the remaining syllables of the killing curse. The vines tied him tightly to the tree at his back, growing and thickening until his attacker flicked his wand. Sebastian's own wand flew from his hand shortly after, into the waiting palm of the man stepping in front of him.
Once he was disarmed, the tightening vine at his throat loosened slightly. Sebastian forced air into his lungs as he glared at Alexander.
"We have got to stop meeting like this." Sebastian drawled, leaning his head back against the rough tree bark.
"You didn't drown." Alexander said simply, sounding almost disappointed by the news. Almost. Sebastian would've believed it, except the fact that Alexander knew exactly where he was; he had been watching him, ergo he could have killed him at any point.
"Apologies."
The two men stared at each other until Sebastian spoke, his temper rising with every passing moment, "Is there a reason you have bound me to a tree? If it's a sex-thing I'll have you know I'm not interested."
Alexander didn't respond, merely clenched his jaw as if he was the one put out by this conversation.
"I can't tell you who has her or where." He said finally.
"We've established that."
Alexander glared at him and Sebastian felt the vines tighten around his body, "That is the only information I am bound to." Sebastian read the intent in his onyx eyes. He wanted Sebastian to ask. One of the first questions that came to mind was why the fuck was he suddenly helping him, but Sebastian knew that quandary would only result in the end of this conversation.
It didn't matter if he was tied to a tree, Sebastian would not squander this opportunity.
"How do the manacles work?"
The only surprise Alexander showed at Sebastian's knowledge of the manacles was a blink. "I didn't help create them, but from my understanding their original intent was suppression of magic used by purebloods in the interest of controlling the half-blood and muggleborn populations centuries ago." Alexander ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek, his eyes boring holes into Sebastian's, "After tweaking the cuffs, they became used for control of the wearer as well. The manacles and collar contain a platinum inlet that combined with runes carved along the outside silver allows the controller full command of the wearer, including the wearer's magic."
The word collar burned in Sebastian's mind. They had put a collar on his love. This man had helped put a collar on Ash. His fingers tightened into fists at his side, his nail digging into the soft flesh of his palms.
Alexander continued, the words flowing from his mouth as if once he began there was no stopping, "Using blood magic, the wearer of a similar ring binds the user to their will. Her ancient magic cannot be passed through the manacles, therefore the binder could not manipulate the magic themselves, but the wearer is a puppet of sorts, for the binder. Because goblin silver is enhanced with whatever magic it is imbued with, the use of uses ancient magic increases the output which is focused and more powerful, as well as increases the control aspects of the cuffs themselves."
It was too much and not enough. He knew of some of this information from the tome, from the horrific experiments in which most patients died from the pain. Something inside of Sebastian shattered at the thought of her screaming for a relief that would not come. He felt blood dripping from the crescent shaped wounds pressed deep in his palms.
"Is she hurt?" Sebastian rasped.
Sebastian noticed that the left side of Alexander's mouth rose higher when he sneered, just like Ash. He noticed that his shoulders hunched forward ever so slightly when he was upset. Just like her. He wondered how many things that were hers were actually his.
Alexander hesitated, his fists clenching at his sides, "Not at the moment."
That wasn't good enough. Sebastian waited, staring down the man that yes was helping him, but also participated in her torture.
Alexander released a breath, every muscle in his body rigid like some well-trained soldier. "The platinum inlet works by first trapping the wearer's magic inside the cuffs, which ensures that any magic released is bound by the binder. When the cuffs are...attuned to the wearer, there is an adjustment process in which the body and the body's magic fights against the invasive properties. The magic trapped inside of the cuffs attempts to break free which is painful and leaves behind burn marks underneath any area of goblin silver, as well as effectively wipes the wearer's memory."
Sebastian's breathing was ragged as he listened to Alexander's words. Burned. She'd been burned and—
And she had no memory.
Sebastian had held out hope that she was in there, trapped and controlled, but still herself. Instead they had taken his love and gutted her of everything that made her Ash. Sebastian was sure that if the vines weren't trapping him to the tree he would've collapsed to the ground.
Alexander tensed before staring at his wand clasped in hand as if it had alerted him of something, "I have to go. Any prolonged absence will be noticed."
He lifted his wand, readying to knock Sebastian out as he had the last time—
"Please get her out," Sebastian croaked, not caring if he sounded weak or desperate, "Alexander, please—"
"I can't." He snapped, his dark eyes hard.
"Why?" Sebastian gritted the question out, tugging against the vines. Rage filled his veins at Alexander's adamant refusal, "Because you're a fucking coward? Because you know there is no redemption—"
"Because she is bound by blood," Alexander hissed, stepping closer until they were nearly nose to nose, "Because removal will kill her. Interference with her master will kill her. Tampering with the manacles will Kill. Her." Alexander spat the last two words out as if they burned.
Sebastian didn't know how to respond. He could scarcely breathe, let alone find words to express the devastation he felt. Alexander didn't give him a chance regardless because he snapped the vines holding Sebastian up and dropped Sebastian's wand at his feet. He nearly toppled over without the oppressive weight against his chest.
They stood there, both staring at each other, now on seemingly even footing. Sebastian summoned his wand to his palm, feeling the familiar tingle of magic dance across his metacarpals. Alexander was stock-still, steadying himself; he waited for retaliation. Waited for Sebastian to curse him where he stood. Something dark gleamed in his eyes that told Sebastian he wanted to be hurt.
But they both knew he wouldn't. Not with Ash's fate so delicately balanced. Sebastian needed Alexander. And Alexander needed—
Sebastian didn't know what Alexander needed.
When Sebastian made no move, Alexander gave him one last withering look before dropping something at his feet. He turned and stalked away, not sparing a second glance.
Sebastian summoned the object with his wand, the metal coin warm in his palm. A sickle. He turned it over in his hand, checking both sides but finding nothing unusual. Sebastian pocketed the change and the sticky mud squelched under his boots as he shifted to watch his retreating figure, "Why the games? Why leave the tome? Why trick her to that cave when clearly her captor had the power to take her from the beginning?" He called out, his voice echoing uncomfortably in the silent forest.
Alexander didn't turn around, though his footsteps halted, "Why do children smash anthills or tear wings off butterflies?" he replied, his voice carrying a cold edge. "Because they can. Because he could."
There was a moment when he wanted to curse Alexander in the back. When it would've been so easy to lift his wand and mutter a simple Imperio, and force him to bring Sebastian with him. Or a Cruciatus simply to make him pay for his role in Ash's pain. But he knew, in his efforts, he would doom her. Rashness had cost him his sister; had gotten Ash taken in the first place. He was not willing to risk her again.
And part of him knew, that despite everything, Ash would not wish Alexander harm. Not her brother. Even if Sebastian wished to rip him to pieces, wanted to tear off his wings like a squirming insect, just because he could.
A crack of apparation in the distance signaled Alexander's departure and Sebastian collapsed into the mud, an anguished sound tearing from his throat as he punched the ground until his knuckles bled.
Though one solitary thought rang through his mind. One revelation to Ash's captor. Alexander had said he.
___•___
Alex
He found her in her chambers, staring out of the window. He knew she was staring at nothing; no actual thoughts of the gardens below, of the greenery stretching miles into the distance. He wondered if she thought at all, if there was anything besides silence filling her mind. Or perhaps she was in there, locked away and screaming for him to help her, to save her.
Alex tore his eyes to the fire crackling in the hearth, bringing the room to a stifling temperature. She always hated the heat. He chanced a glance back to her.
She was wearing her training gear. Thick black leather covered her top to bottom, with dragonhide scales across her chest and abdomen.
Sweat trickled down the back of his neck, though not a drop shone on her alabaster skin. No, he knew if he crossed the room and dared a touch, he would find her frigid. She was ice and snow; the cold hand of winter that snuffed the life of any unfortunate creature in her path.
"Have you eaten?"
She turned, the motion fluid, and gave a short nod. Alex nodded back. He stepped closer, until he could see the magic shimmering in her crimson eyes. He shoved a hand into the bag he carried before presenting his fist to her.
She stared at his hand blankly, and slowly he uncurled his fist, each finger peeling away slowly from the middle like a blossoming flower. She continued to stare at what lay in his palm, and Alex knew if he asked she would stare unflinchingly for hours on end.
"It's a toffee." Like the ones we got on All Hallows Eve your eleventh year, he thought. She continued to stare, until Alex's throat grew tight.
She killed his uncle. Tortured him.
He ground his teeth, and dropped the sweet onto the ground as if it burned him, "Nevermind."
Alex turned and strode away, slamming the door behind him hard enough that the picture frames rattled on the walls.
When he returned the following day to retrieve her for training, the toffee was still discarded on the ground, smushed into the floor as if carelessly trod upon.