Send My Regards

Chapter One

Angelina Johnson, great contemplator and leader sits and reflects on her day. The sun pours down and casts her lithe shadow upon the cobblestone where she sits and sips her tea in the village of Hogsmeade. The herbs swirl in the whirlpool of her stirring stick, the birds sing amongst the bustle of shoppers, the angry store merchants curse and chase after a thief who knocks objecting bystanders out of the way. She closes her eyes and inhales the fresh air, leaves her tea upon the table along with a few knuts, and calmly makes her way down the streets and into an alley. Peacefully, she inspects her nails and patiently leans her back against the brick of shop. The breeze blows through her hair, the alley cat meows innocently and continues his search for food, the thief runs right towards her alley....and snatched.

"How did I bloody know?!" Angelina shouted, slamming Marcus Flint into the wall. "Come on you stupid git!"

Marcus laughed at her, holding up his hands innocently as she grabbed onto his collar and dragged him down the alley. The angry merchants weren't far behind. Together they ran as the shouting and chaos continued behind them. Angelina absolutely fumed as she ran but Marcus thought this was all great fun. The path they took almost seemed memorized. Their turns were choreographed and sharp and it became clear why.

"Up. Go," Angelina demanded.

Marcus began to climb up a metal ladder to the roof of a pub. Angelina followed close behind. As usual, they waited on the top peering over the edge just as the merchants caught up; spinning around in confusion as they tried to figure out just where the thief ran to. This wasn't the first time the roof served as the hiding place that saved them from Azkaban. Marcus chuckled as he watched the merchants curse and Angelina slapped his arm.

"Shut up. How many times are you going to get us into trouble? Marcus, this is ridiculous. I just wanted to come to Hogsmeade for some tea. Why do you always have to cause trouble?"

"Trouble?" Marcus repeated, slightly scandalized. "That hurts, cherub. I stole this for you." He grinned and held up an emerald necklace.

Angelina gave him a wry grin. "Gee. Slytherin green. How appropriate. Marcus you shouldn't steal."

"I thought pretty girls liked presents."

"They're much more flattering when you buy them. This has got to stop. They're going to figure out where we hide eventually."

Marcus snorted. "If they haven't by now, I'm not convinced. Fucking morons."

"I'm tired of saving your ass, Marcus. Every time I hear commotion I know it's you." Marcus beamed and Angelina slapped him on the arm again. "Marcus, quit stealing things. Please. I want to be able to enjoy trips to Hogsmeade without getting chased by angry vendors every time. I'm tired of climbing this stupid ladder too."

Marcus rolled his eyes. "All right, all right, woman. Shut up already. So do you not want your necklace then?"

Angelina looked slightly hesitant. She looked at the beautiful piece of jewelry in her hand and tried to think of a good noble reason to keep the present. "Well, we can't very well go hand it back can we? There are merchants looking for you everywhere."

Marcus didn't buy into her little act. He smirked. "Uh huh. Or would it just go with the matching earrings I stole for you last week?"

Angelina scoffed. "No. Just...come on you git. Let's go home."

It had been three months since Marcus and Angelina narrowly escaped the clutches of what lay beneath the trees in the Forbidden Forest. After the debacle with Malfoy, they were escorted to the infirmary, treated for a few minor injuries, fed, and were on their way the next morning.

The duo kept their growing relationship a secret but one could tell just by listening to them that they were together; bickering like married couples. Angelina telling Marcus to quit swearing and stealing, Marcus telling Angelina to get off his back and stop being such a bitch all the time; it was a vicious cycle. But they remained together somehow, as if their opposite personalities cancelled each other out and formed a perfect harmony. The news of their journey spread like wildfire and their closest friends couldn't understand how two people could hate each other so much yet remain so close. Alicia and Katie had a hard time accepting Flint as Angelina had but the one with the hardest time of all was poor Oliver who still thought Flint was a no-good lying cheater who was corrupting his star Chaser. But after weeks of reassuring, Angelina managed to go out drinking with Marcus without Oliver having a heart attack at home. Marcus, of course, had a grand old time with this; making up stories about how incredible Angelina was in bed and other such vulgarities. He then innocently sipped his whiskey while Alicia and Katie had to hold Oliver back as he tried to kill Flint with his bare hands. Marcus loved this situation; he could freely piss off Oliver and no longer get in any trouble for it.

Angelina became his partner in crime almost, though their roles were switched from the forest. Now Marcus was the one constantly getting into trouble and Angelina was constantly getting him out of it. Despite having to watch him like a hawk, she found great comfort in his company. And despite what his fellow Slytherins said, Marcus found great comfort in her too (though he'd never admit it out loud). He treated her like a princess; keeping his arm possessively around her waist (especially in front of Wood), taking her out to eat whenever his fridge was bare (usually always), and doting her with stolen jewelry, of course.

They both never told anyone what happened in the forest. Not even their Quidditch teams when they missed the opening game of the season. They teased each other about it endlessly, though, so that anyone could figure it out. Whenever Angelina scolded Marcus, he would tell her to go eat some berries and calm down. In return, Angelina would tell him to fall in a lake. These statements usually earned a few puzzled stares but the duo only smirked and kept to themselves. Yet, even though Angelina viewed Marcus's boyish behavior as humorous at first, she really was getting tired of having to run away from angry merchants in Hogsmeade every time Marcus got bored.

They walked together, as usual, like two very odd peas in a pod; Marcus retelling the adventure of his thievery and Angelina rolling her eyes. "Marcus, for the last time: Please stop stealing," Angelina pleaded.

Flint shoved his hands in his pockets. "Johnson, you forget I'm a professional. I'm not going to get caught. Besides, that town is so fucking boring; it's about time some mayhem happened now and again. It's fun."

They reached the crossroad where they usually separate to head home. Angelina faced him and drew him close, smirking up at him. Flint casually kept his hands in his pockets. "I bet I can think of some other fun things to do," Angelina said suggestively.

"Don't tease."

She raised her eyebrows and ran her hands up his broad chest. "I thought you liked it when I tease."

Marcus finally freed his hands as if they had a mind of their own. He placed them on Angelina's waist to keep her in place. "I like when you finish what you start."

She grinned. "Hmm, maybe some other time." And backed away.

Marcus's shoulders drooped. "Come on! You do this every time! Damnit, woman!"

Angelina could only giggle as she released Marcus and watched him awkwardly attempt to hide a 'growing' problem she had caused in his trousers. She loved doing this; to have control over him. And it was so damn funny too! As Marcus continued to let out a string of curses, Angelina turned around and headed towards her flat, waving at him as she departed. "See you later!"

"Whatever," Marcus grumbled. He hated when Angelina did this. Ever since they got back from the woods, their relationship was mostly innocent. They never had sex or even fooled around but mostly limited their affections to what was deemed decent in public. This didn't really bother Marcus as he always knew she would be worth the wait, but when she acted like this he wanted to ravage her. He secretly loved her; which is why he just wished she'd make up her damn mind already.

Marcus headed home as well. He kicked the gravel on the road as he walked and thought about Angelina and where this was all going. The sun had set just below the horizon, creating a relaxing summer atmosphere. Cool air, the chorus of crickets, stars just beginning to dot the purple sky and the silence of the streets save for the occasional barking dog in the distance. Sometimes, on nights like these, he could finally get a clear mind and think about what was happening in his life. It never occurred to him that it would change so drastically so soon.

He reached his complex and climbed the stairs to his flat, refusing to apparate on this particular night. His flat was anything but prestigious. One would think a Slytherin would only inhibit the most expensive of homes: floors of marble, chairs of velvet, bed of silk. Instead, he had walls of faded brick; a webbed pattern of cracks creeping towards his ceiling. His couch: a simple black hand-me-down with the stuffing poking out of the holes he had charmed shut again and again but with no avail. His kitchen consisted of nothing but a very small fridge stocked with firewhiskey. Marcus did not own a stove for he did not cook and glasses, pots, and pans were out of the question since he usually ate out. The only dinnerware he owned was a set of shot glasses he stole from a pub. His bedroom was equally barren yet surprisingly clean. His clothes thrown in hampers instead of the floor and his bed of a few sheets made up and ready to sleep in. The bedside table hosted nothing but a lamp with no shade. Though his clothes remained in hampers, they also were piled up past the brim. Doing laundry was a 'woman's job' so he paid the landwitch to do it for him. She agreed to lovingly and thought Marcus was a 'nice good boy'. If only she knew...

Marcus smirked and closed the door of his flat behind him; the familiar and boring silence greeted him once again. He sighed and threw his wand on the couch, heading into the kitchen to grab a firewhiskey. Again, the bright light of the fridge illuminated his face but nothing more. His fridge was empty; housing only one more firewhiskey. Marcus snorted and grabbed it, straightened up and shut the door. He popped off the cap and downed the bottle with relish. It was when he lowered the drink that the light in his kitchen went out.

"The fuck?" he mumbled. The light flickered back on. "Damn flat."

He turned to head into his lounge when he dropped the bottle and it shattered on the floor. Something hard wrapped around his throat and pinned his back to the fridge. Marcus yelped and grimaced and grappled at the strong hand constricting his throat. He struggled and coughed until a rough jerk made him raise his fist to strike at whatever was attacking him. It was when a second strong hand pinned his wrist to the fridge as well that Marcus managed to open his eyes. He went several shades of white. There in front of him was the sinister face of a man; a man he recognized all too well. The man grinned and tightened his grip on Marcus's throat.

"Hello son."

Send My Regards

"Hey, Angie!" a cheerful voice shouted from the far end of Angelina's flat. Angelina nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Gosh! Katie? That you? You scared the living daylights out of me!"

Katie Bell emerged from the kitchen, licking a spoon of ice cream. "Hey, I stopped by."

Angelina snorted. "Yes, I see that. What are you doing here?"

"I got bored," Katie said and shrugged.

"Don't you usually harass Oliver when you're bored?"

"Yeah, but I thought you were feeling left out!"

Angelina chuckled. "Charmed." She headed through the kitchen and into the dining room where Katie now sat with a whole tub of ice cream. Plopping down opposite her at the table, Angelina gave an exhausted sigh.

"What's wrong?" Katie asked.

Angelina looked up. "What? Oh, nothing. Flint's just being an arse."

"Want me to beat him up?"

"Please."

"Ok."

They giggled and Angelina leaned over the table to dip her finger into the ice cream. She nursed it and sat back down.

"Hey, did you read the Prophet?" Katie asked; suddenly changing topics. She reached over to the empty seat beside her and pulled out the paper, pushing them towards Angelina who peered at them curiously.

"What should I be looking for?"

"Front page; it's crazy. All these new Death Eaters coming out of the woodworks. The Ministry is so in over their heads."

Angelina's eyes scanned the article on the front page with growing concern. They really were living in dark times. All these new Death Eaters and tragedies; she was thankful most of it remained rumors but reading about it in the Prophet was always troubling. "What are they doing about it?" she asked.

Katie sighed and stabbed the ice cream with her spoon a few times. "Probably nothing. You know how the Ministry is; pulling rabbits out of hats instead of doing their jobs."

Angelina kept reading. "Wow, a dark mark sighted over Glasgow? That's not far from here."

"I wouldn't worry. The Prophet blows everything out of proportion. Some dumb kid probably cast one as a joke and everyone went mental."

"Some joke. It's not funny. Does Oliver know?"

Katie gave Angelina a bewildered look. "Why would he care?"

"Why would he care?" Angelina repeated. "If they suspend Quidditch because of these attacks, he's going to have a heart attack. Marcus too..."

"Oh! Speaking of which, they made a list of known Death Eaters in the area," Katie said and leaned over the table. She scanned the paper with her index finger until she found the name. "William Flint. Think he's got any relation to Marcus?"

Angelina contemplated for a moment. "Hmm, no, I don't think so. Marcus has no family left."

"What about his dad?"

"Marcus said the last he heard; his father was really rich and famous. If he was a Death Eater, wouldn't he lay low?"

Katie cocked an eyebrow. "Look at Lucius Malfoy."

"Yeah....I suppose. But I'm sure Marcus would have said something if that were the case. I'm sure he's fine."

***

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. The clock on the dining room wall seemed to be the only thing that carried on without disturbance inside of Marcus's flat. Everything else was deathly silent. Even Marcus, who was too afraid to talk. He sat at the far end of the table, eyes glued to the surface as he felt a looming gaze upon him. His father, the owner, said not a word but watched his son's every move.

"Quit rubbing your wrist like it's hurt. I barely touched you," William finally said. Marcus quickly released his arm, still not daring to meet his father's eyes. Another few moments of a ticking clock.... "I read about you in Quidditch Monthly. You finally got your shit together. You always were a burden on your mother and me."

Marcus finally looked up. "A burden? What would you know? You just beat the shit out of her for eight years and then left."

William narrowed his eyes. "Are you talking back to me?"

Marcus, who forgot who he was speaking to in his bout of rage, suddenly went back into submission and darted his eyes away. "No, father."

"That's what I thought," William scowled.

There was another wave of silence until Marcus couldn't take it anymore. He rubbed the headache from his eyes and met his father's gaze for the first time in fifteen years. "What are you doing here?"

"Aren't you happy to see your old man?"

"Not really."

To Marcus's surprise, William let out a hearty laugh. "You haven't changed much. Still ungrateful as ever."

Marcus shook his head and slumped. "Whatever."

"I've just come back to check on my son!"

Looking up, Marcus glared skeptically at his father. "Why is it that I find that highly unlikely?"

William leaned forward and folded his hands. "Now, I know I haven't always been there for you," he said and Marcus snorted, "but I've come back to make it up to you. I'm offering you a great opportunity."

Marcus couldn't believe this bullshit. "Oh, yeah? What's that? A DNA test?" Luckily, William didn't catch onto the reference. He only grinned excitedly. "The wizarding world as we know it is on the brink of a major evolution. And it's for the better. Together we can preserve its purity."

"What are you shitting on about?"

"There's a war going on, Marcus. Our ranks grow stronger but the Dark Lord is always searching for allies; allies who perhaps do not know their potential."

Marcus was beginning to get a little nervous. "What?"

William stared for a moment; his grin fading ever so slightly. Then, suddenly, he rolled up his sleeve and revealed his inner forearm. Marcus shot up from his seat. "Fuck! You're a Death Eater?!"

His father stood calmly. "For the greater good, there has to be sacrifices. 'Death Eater' is such a strong word, Marcus. We aren't killers. We are merely weeding out the weak foundation of our societies to make way for the future. Think of us more as conservationalists."

The whole while, Marcus was unimpressed. He backed against the wall and buried his face in his hands; attempting to maybe squish out his brain and die. With a sharp move, he let his arms fall. "I don't care what the fuck you call it! How much more are you trying to ruin my life?!"

William shook his head in pity. "Marcus, this is your calling. Your future! I've found you to offer you what has been offered to me!"

"What's that, now!? A prison sentence?!"

"A chance to join the elite! Death Eaters are paving the way for wizard kind! Together we'll flush out the mudblood parasites and finally reclaim our blood!"

"You are absolutely mental!"

"The Dark Lord has promised us great prosperity. You find that mad?"

Marcus snorted. "Oh, yeah; the Dark Lord. Some 'Lord'. Couldn't even kill a baby. You-Know-Who is a joke and so are you."

William narrowed his eyes and approached his son. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me! Do you think you can just pop back into my fucking life and take away everything I've earned?! Do you know what will happen to me if my Quidditch team found out about this?! My career would be ruined!"

"It's a far cry easier a sacrifice than what would happen if you didn't join."

Marcus was unfazed. "Whatever. The answer is no. Now get out."

William was now directly in front of his son; looming over him. It wasn't that Marcus was small; his dad was just built like a machine. He had always been big; expansive chest, burly arms, and a grip that could crush a bowling ball. Being 6'3", that also didn't help to make him look less dangerous. Though Marcus wasn't a little boy anymore, he still trembled slightly before his father out of respect. This was a mental war, really, and Marcus's father was testing his limit. How far could he push his son and if Marcus decided to push back, could he?

"I don't think you understand me very clearly," William growled. "You don't have a choice. Because if you don't join, I'll see to it that not only is Quidditch cancelled, but that each and every one of your team mates' intestines are strung up across town for the ravens to pick at. And when the big reveal comes, everyone will know it's your fault."

"They wouldn't buy it."

"Oh? Not even with your father's name on the front page of the Daily Prophet? The Ministry will be knocking at your door any day now. What are you going to tell them, Marcus?"

"That you're nothing more than a bluffer."

William raised his eyebrows. "A bluffer, am I? Maybe if they saw what I intended to do to your team, they'd be a little less inclined to believe your statement."

There was a moment of silence as Marcus stared at his father, trying his best to be brave. He didn't want to do this; eyes inconspicuously darting around the room to spot an escape route; and knew he had to get out of this situation fast. It was impossible, though. His father would catch him before he got to his wand on the sofa. Marcus would just have to face the consequences of his decision like a man. "The answer is still no," he said.

Another tense silence as he watched his father's face slowly contort into rage. His very veins constricted and in a half second, he slammed his fist into the wall right where Marcus's head once was. Marcus, however, managed to duck just in time and felt pieces of his wall crumble on his head. He looked up and saw a huge gaping hole and knew immediately that he was in a bad position. William went to grab for him but Marcus stumbled out of the way and began an all out run towards his door. He didn't get far. William snatched the back of his shirt and violently whipped him around, slamming him into the table. Immediately, his hand gripped Marcus's throat.

"I gave you enough chances, Marcus," William said as his son tried to pry his fingers off his throat. "But you have to be so fucking stubborn! Why do you always have to disobey me!? Didn't I tell you what would happen if you didn't give this opportunity a chance?!" Marcus stared at his father in fear as he struggled and tried to pry the grip from his throat. "You're going to join me whether you like it or not! But first, I see I have to teach you a bit of discipline again! I'd really hate to do this, Marcus, but you leave me absolutely no choice."