Devil Doesn't Bargain

The Others

Ron was having the worst day of his life. Alright, maybe not the worst, but it was up there.

It had been a stroke of luck that four days ago he'd stumbled upon the Lestranges in Knockturn Alley. He was under the cloak, of course; Remus had asked him to pick up a few books from Borgin and Burkes. By 'pick up', Remus evidently meant steal. The scholarly man surprised him more and more every day.

Leaning against a dusty wall, Ron watched dozens of suspicious characters go in and out of the wicked store. Everything in him urged him to go on the offensive, but Remus had been clear: this was a stealth mission. Get in, and get out. Only the books mattered.

Apparently, these books would help fill in the gaps in their knowledge concerning horcruxes. Harry had objected, claiming that no book could really be that helpful, but the glare Remus had fixed on the boys was enough to get Ron moving. If Remus wanted books, Ron would get Remus books. He was tired of being cooped up anyway.

Harry was probably sulking at being left behind, but even Ron had to admit that it was too dangerous for Harry to be out in the open, even under the cloak. He was too valuable.

Ron checked his watch and decided to make his move. When the next customer whisked out of the dilapidated doorway, Ron slid inside. He held his breath, but there was no one around to notice. He carefully stepped towards the sprawling bookshelves on the far wall.

Merlin, there were so many books. How were you supposed to find anything? When he looked closer, he realized they must be organized alphabetically by last name. How was that helpful? What if you didn't know that author's name? What if you wanted to search by title? He barely restrained himself from kicking the shelf. This was ridiculous.

It was when he was scanning over the titles that the Lestranges burst into the store. Bellatrix was in the lead, screeching something at the owner about murtlap and flaxweed. Rabastan followed behind sulkily. When Mr. Borgin hurried to the back for the set of potions she wanted, Rabastan whispered into Bellatrix's ear.

"Maybe if you try killing another muggle family?"

Bellatrix huffed in irritation and rapped her wand along her brother-in-law's skull. "Nothing I do impresses him anymore. I think I could murder an entire country, and he'd still believe my precious nephew was the most wonderful thing he'd ever seen."

Rabastan growled softly. "I hate that arrogant bastard."

"Hush, Rab. We'll deal with Draco later. For now, we need a plan."

Ron straightened. This ought to be good. Below, a floorboard squeaked, and he cursed lightly under his breath. With wide eyes, he watched the pair, not ten feet from the shelves. Bellatrix's eyes darted to the floor, but she evidently saw nothing and returned to her companion.

Rabastan tapped his lip thoughtfully. "Why don't you remind him of how well you've kept it?"

"Shush!" Bellatrix hissed, slapping a hand over his mouth. She looked around the darkened store hungrily, as if hoping there was someone eavesdropping that she could attack. Ron held his breath and willed his heart to slow. Her eyes drifted over the shelves, and they listened to old Borgin gathering items in the back. For a moment, she glared at the floorboards, directly where Ron's feet were perched. She turned back to her brother-in-law.

"You idiot," she whispered, "we do not speak of that, and certainly will not use it to regain our lord's favor. You're lucky there was no one to hear you."

Rabastan reddened and clamped his lips together. Puzzled, Ron watched Mr. Borgin return with a container of potions, and the Lestranges left without another word. As soon as Borgin retired to his office, Ron resumed his search, finally located the correct titles, and disapparated.