A Story of a Short Ending | T.R

Chapter 42 - The Paper Crown

Why Would You Be Loved - Hozier

"Wake up!"

Travers snapped his eyes open, seeing a dishevelled Emily in front of him. She dragged the covers off his body, leaving him in the dark cotton pants he wore to sleep. Meanwhile, his shirt lay in the armchair by the bed. Sleeping in a shirt made him too hot, even in winter.

"What happened?" He sat up, moving his hair out of his eyes as he got used to the darkness of the early morning. His pulse spiked up as the woman looked panicked. Something must've happened.

"We need to go now!" She gestured at the door, her breath laboured as her look of panic instilled panic in him.

"Go where? What is happening?" He stood up when she grabbed him by the arm and dragged him to the door. She was shorter than him, but right now when her hand was wrapped around his bicep with the hold of steel, he wasn't sure who from them was stronger.

Emily didn't reply, dragging Travers out of his bedroom and downstairs. He heard the noises then. Yet, he was still confused about what was happening. Tonight, they came back from another night of evil and destruction, every single one of them was exhausted and so barely minutes after stepping into the Manor the people were back to their bedrooms, the building silent for the night.

Yet right now, there were sounds of a celebration. Music sounded from the lounge room, and the laughter and clinks of the glasses were unmistakable. Why did Emily act that something was wrong then? Nothing made sense, but if he trusted someone in this Manor it was Alden and Emily. The two people he knew he could be confident in, he knew they would have his back and he knew he could rely on them in case something happened.

"Emily, please tell me, what's going on?" He put a hand atop the woman's and tried to peer into her face. She kept her head down and stayed silent. That was unusual, but nothing about the situation they were in right now was usual.

They finally reached the lounge room and stepped in.

Evander couldn't do much more than open his mouth and gasp. Emily let go of his arm and they stepped inside.

The room was full of people, the Death Eaters, the rest of the women and so many more he didn't know. Did she drag him all the way here just to have a party? Why were they even having one this early in the morning? All of them complained about how tired they were and now mere hours later they were celebrating. That was without mentioning the fact, that there was nothing to celebrate. At all.

What they were doing to people was cruel and gruesome. It was as evil as one could get, ruining everything these people had. The excuse of getting revenge didn't sit right with him, as these people did not break into the Manor and attempt to poison them. No. Those were already dead and disposed of. The people they were hurting were simply fools who made the unfortunate choice of trusting Dumbledore.

Travers himself quite liked the Professor back in Hogwarts. He had plenty of experience and his stories during classes were always entertaining. He was a good teacher, and a good mentor and until recently Travers believed him to be a good person. Turns out, everyone can be wrong.

While he was lost in his thought, a glass of alcohol was shoved into his hand almost spilling the whiskey all over his shirtless body. He jerked back and narrowly avoided the amber liquid covering his skin. He wouldn't want to also deal with morning baths earlier than usual. If only he could quietly sneak out and catch a couple more hours of sleep, he would be glad.

Riddle was nowhere to be seen and at least that brought him peace, as he didn't need to worry about what the Dark Lord was going to think and do about his behaviour. Travers set down the glass on one of the cupboards, narrowly avoiding a couple that was shoving tongues down each other's throats. He wasn't even surprised that it was Lestrange with a dark-haired woman whose face he couldn't see but her form and clothes looked eerily familiar too.