Wormwood
by Scy

Ethan preferred places that felt no need to apologize for themselves. Catering to a certain crowd was nothing to regret. Indeed, others could profit from such a lesson.

It was a matter of honesty. Just enough to calm violent suspicions, but not so much to bare weakness.

He liked to think that after years of stepping between outright anything, he'd worn a path for himself. A way of doing things that could be mistaken for whatever eases the mind.

There were those who will not let themselves be fooled- too many games, meaning clear to only him. The 'good life' hid too many other ways.

Little of that around here. An alley narrow and stopped-up like clogged arteries with shady dealings and unpleasant wares. Exactly the sort of scenery needed on a day too hot for lounging outdoors.

So Ethan rested out of direct sunlight. Such a shame what an extended period of time in a desert did to one's feelings about midday sun, and he watched.

There were pubs gouged into the walls of Knockturn. Places where it took more than a jingle of coins to gain entrance. It took power. His seat was close to the window, allowing him a view of passersby.

A jumble of robed children skirted the mouth of Knockturn, avoiding it with the nervous laughter of well-raised youngsters.

 

How many times might a person give devotion away before it decided to look elsewhere? Being handed over to an eager-to-probe government was a sign that the relationship had reached someplace branching off. And he could take a hint. Didn't much like to. Rupert had been his before that girl and her chums scampered in the way and formed a disgustingly close-knit family.

He was Of the Past. Someone who wandered in and out, a symbol of what was to be avoided in all ways. Perhaps he was bitter- to a degree that couldn't be cast off with a nice transdimensional incident.

To put it bluntly, he didn't make Rupert come running anyone.

He grimaced, thinking rather wistfully of a nasty charm that wouldn't require him to travel within beating distance of the heroic Miss Summers. These days children were annoyingly resilient, but with power enough to make them worth a second look.

There was enough waiting magic in some of the robed babes to make him wonder about diversions. Yet picking off one of the children would mean a hurried leave-taking. Other options existed, the challenge was in finding them out.

By placing himself inside an alley infamous for its unsavory services and clientele he set boundaries effortlessly. No wizard of any decency fancied being caught passing through, let alone lingering in Knockturn.

All of that served his purposes just fine. He didn't want goodness and corruptible morals just then. Something used and weathered was more to his mood.

Anyone who'd lived long enough to know the price of surviving had a certain look about them. Ethan knew it well enough, there were mirrors everywhere particularly where unwanted. Therefore, his gaze was caught not by the prance of young aristocrats who understood nothing but their own small kingdoms, but on another figure.

This one had something To Be Done set like promises into his every step. If he had been nothing more than a task consuming him, that would have been it. The time had come to avoid Duty and those who knew nothing but how to serve it. But that was not all.

Darkness held secrets beautifully. Around the man swirled a long black cloak which gave off such an air of menace that Ethan watched a path clear for him without a spoken command.

Cold bearing, disdain possibly woven into his robes.

Ethan reached out ever so slightly. Ah, the man had been claimed by something unpleasant. Quite a while ago by the feel of the symbol. It had been something that didn't let go of its possessions, not without a heavy toll.

He knew that his search had been felt. A passable spell caster would be uneasy as chaos twisted things. Anyone skilled knew to look for the source.

As their eyes met, the wizard quirked an eyebrow in what could have been resignation or something more adventurous. Whatever it was that encouraged his approach Ethan approved.

Pausing in the entryway, the man was met with stares. Known to the patrons, if not welcomed, he was not turned away.

The unhurried approach across the room gave Ethan further insight into what he was propositioning. Magic was unconcerned with common sense, and danger headier when a stranger's hand traced old runes.

The empty seat across from him was taken with an enviable confidence and as they exchanged calculating looks Ethan motioned for drinks.

Should Ethan be obliged to guess at his companion's profession, he would lean toward something where light and fresh air are viewed as distractions to The Process.

Only certain types of people were so disdainful of the outdoors. The object of speculation didn't look particularly crazed, and as there really weren't that many scientists in this part of the universe, Ethan discarded that profession. If the man had practiced the Western Scientific Method, the acquaintance would have been extremely abbreviated. These days science put him off in another direction.

Scent told him what he wanted to know. A bit like an herb garden and an undertone of a well-handled knife with a cauldron bubbling in the background.

Ethan made no attempt to hide his assessment. That Snape openly reciprocated the evaluation signaled that he too knew the game.

Between sorcerers there were rarely the usual pleasantries. 'How do you do' was excessive when each had already taken the other's measure. Confirmation by way of an introduction however, was never without benefits.

The man looked closely at him. "Rayne, isn't it?"

Ethan nodded graciously. "Ethan Rayne. And how did you hear of me?" Despite some of Ripper's more colorful comments, his garments weren't that out of place. He fit in more or less. A little off to some eyes, but then people passed between the 'Muggle' word and that of wizardry all the time.

"News travels in London," was the the answer. "There aren't that many servants of Janus so..noted for their flamboyant devotion."

"You flatter me."

Black eyes gleamed. "Not at all."

"And you are?"

"Severus Snape."

Ethan blinked. "The Potions Master from that school?"

"Hogwarts, yes."

Of course, it was the only facility around equipped to handle such a volume of robed children as he had seen dashing about Diagon.

Resting his chin in a palm, Ethan leaned forward. "A bit unusual to find a professor wandering this place."

The answer was a twist of Snape's mouth. Clearly he had no qualms about being seen as a man of 'questionable loyalties.' His gaze over the pub had all the casual sweep of a circling eagle, and he couldn't in all sensible ways be ignored. There was speed in him, both mental and otherwise, as well as a knowing about the world.

"I suppose that an inquiry after your plans would go unsatisfied." Snape's resignation did not prevent the attempt.

"Not all satisfaction should come from the pursuit of such basic information." His smile was more charming than was explainable by standards of 'good manners.'

"There is nothing so useless that someone cannot profit from it."

"But why be the one stuck grasping for tidbits with so much weightier questions at hand?"

Yet Ethan was not a thing to be caught and rent so easily. Showing his teeth in a necessary display of awareness made that clear. Stance became ever so important when dealing with another predator.

He'd always fancied a man whose patience snapped into more than annoyance.

 

Summer had hit and even Knockturn, with all of its shadowy business wasn't able to avoid it completely.

Snape's layers of clothing raised questions about what they covered. It was an inevitable line of thinking, and one that Ethan never tired of. The man wore enough to hide all but the suggestion of his body, and whether that habit was solely habit was up to interpretation.

Ethan could ask why Snape chose to leave the relative safety of Hogwarts and spend the day in the company of people who wouldn't give him anything more than suspicious tolerance. But that was none of the more ordinary questions, and normal was not something necessary at the moment.

It was no accident of courtesy that their small window table had been glanced at, commented on, but not challenged. Frequenting such an establishment gave even the most brazen of travelers an appreciation for blissful ignorance.

No regular Potions Master got the 'steer wide and walk fast' reactions that Snape received. Knowing what a thing was only gave it shape, the power lay in its purpose.

Snape recognized what Ethan was. Could sense it as he felt Ethan's gaze on him. Yet he was undeterred, and chose instead to investigate the man interested enough in him to move from the less interesting but far safer observation to an invitation.

Ethan knew his smile was the sort that enticed those of wealth, innocence, or particularly disorderly lives to 'come just a little closer.' He leaned back in his chair, deliberately relaxing, making it clear that he wasn't about to head out just yet.

Neither of them were drinking enough to be vulnerable, but what they'd imbibed heightened the tension between them.

He, they, were so careful. Whether that was because this was something too dangerous to want, or each had endless ulterior motives he wasn't sure.

Caution hadn't ever stopped him for long and this was no different. The rune he scratched into the grimy tabletop was universally recognized. 'A bit of privacy.' The Power that reinforced the symbol was as good an agreement as any.

Years of magic use eventually sank into the skin. The type of magic as well as one's devotion to their craft were easily divined. Ethan reeked of freefall, which to him always smelled a bit like ozone and cranberries. Snape was a bit more difficult to figure out. Dark and light magic had been knotted around one another, and he was a master of both.

Taking all observations into account gave Ethan much-needed information. Intimacy wasn't easy to come by and it couldn't be forced.

Fortunately Ethan knew rather a lot about how to encourage the issue and smiled in a way that openly declared interest. There might as well not have been anything beyond the barrier for the rest of the world mattered only a little.

The distance between them vanished when Ethan extended a hand across the table. A limited truce, to soothe anyone's sense of Duty, and a gauge of how well they were communicating.

Fingers met and magic collided.

//Insight.//

Suspicion glittered in Snape. As honed as any blade tended like a lover. A cunning basic to his character was both expected and more deeply ingrained than a cursory examination would reveal.

Ethan set mental fingers in the flow of //past and information.// Partly to stem it and to better control the exchange.

'Get more out of a thing than what you put in.' One of the first lessons.

The first touch of Snape's power might have welcomed, but it was an uncontrollable descent. At the bottom waited a neatly hidden trap.

That the other wizard had his own barriers in place, impressively fortified was no shock. Indeed, that he too sought control only made Ethan press harder. Seeking limits was one of his vices, a habit that got him trouble and pleasure, sometimes at the same moment.

It was difficult to tell if the Potions Master's wardrobe guarded against dungeon chills or something more human. With some, nudity fortified defenses, Ethan wagered that Snape was not that sort.

Should he try and control the other man with an obvious grasp at dominance there would be a struggle and likely little satisfaction on either side. It would have been less complicated to find someone of age, inexperienced and eager to put in their place. Such a careful course of action suited neither Ethan nor Chaos. So a change in tactics was in order.

Clasping one hand, Ethan drew Snape's hand close enough to lay a kiss on the palm. If demanded, his only explanation that the smallest glimpse of skin was a temptation that he had no intention of resisting.

Snape didn't pull away, and Ethan smiled inwardly. Having slogged though unpleasant ways of dealing with life and its traps left stains on even the darkest robes. Provided one had an eye for that sort of thing.

Taking such history into account made it more difficult to object when a little chaos sauntered by.

Still, there was bound to be a few moments of stewing over possible dark motives and that gave him an opening to make what he wanted- for the moment, clear to all.

After all, dislike wasn't always a deterrent to an intimate arrangement. All it meant was that neither person would sleep without more weapons than normal. They trusted the other to do nothing other than look out for himself.

The hesitation on both sides spoke of the mutual confusion of who supposed to pounce on whom, or if there should be any of that. It was dangerous to be unsure in the presence of magic when emotions might get out of control and set something off.

Snape acted as though he'd dealt with a magical tease before. The learned responses were the most fascinating. Certain sighs, shakes of his head. Signals small enough to be discounted by everyone but Ethan.

He was being weighed as a threat. Against someone like the latest Dark Wizard Ethan knew his worth.

Some wizards might try and convince him to leave the field of combat. They could little afford loose cannons. But Snape was just enough of a realist that he didn't make a speech. There was no chance of Snape trying to persuade him that he had simply been 'young and foolish.' Irrevocable decisions were more than symbols with power.

If he couldn't pick up on the nuances, then Ethan deserved any consequences.

He wouldn't sink so far as to call Snape's disinterest in recruiting him a comfort. Someone more easily led to obvious conclusions would have said that he was 'tired.' It wasn't that he'd lost the capacity to find attempts at rehabilitation amusing, but that he was past indulging them.

Neither he nor Chaos appreciated the predicable turn that events took when a purely well-intentioned sort was involved.

 

To say that they sat easily together would have been untrue. Despite innumerable factors that might have made a hasty parting, or duel more appropriate, they did neither.

Ethan, unused to a simple interlude of restful observation with company, cautiously enjoyed it.

Whether Snape shared the sentiment wasn't clear, but the oh-so-precise set of his shoulders might have eased a mite. Not enough to call this encounter 'relaxing,' but definitely within range of 'something memorable.'

When they rose to leave, Ethan wished his companion a 'pleasant day,' and Snape inclined his head a jot.

Their paths diverged as each man made his own way into the crowd.

 

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