Written For:

QLFC Round 6, Chaser 2 - Write about a case of mistaken identity / prompts: (word) uncomfortable, (word) monster, (word) starlight

An Offer He Can't Refuse

Phoebe held her flat cap down over her face as she weaved through the crowd in Diagon Alley. She doubted that anyone was paying her much attention, as they were too busy hustling their children along or peering in shop windows, but she didn't want to risk it. Her dark hair and sharp, pale features were enough to make her a prime suspect of the House of Black.

It had been some years since she'd run away from home to be her true self. His true self. A jolt of happiness sparked through Phoebe as she thought about being a him. Deep down, she knew she was really a male, but it still felt odd to hear herself referred to as him or he.

Since leaving home, Phoebe had set up residence with her girlfriend, Moira. Moira had been the first person to understand Phoebe, to love Phoebe for who she was, and not treat her like some kind of monster. And now she was free to live with Moira, as a man, without the fear of persecution from her family.

"Licorus, old chap—what are you doing down here? I thought I spotted you in the Cauldron."

A burly hand clapped Phoebe on the back, almost sending her flying forward onto the cobbled pavement. She straightened up carefully and peeked under the peak of her cap at the gentleman.

It was a large fellow she didn't recognise, with a thick brown moustache and silver-grey eyes. He had the look of a Nott, but Phoebe didn't want to presume. Instead, she smiled weakly, not wanting to make the gent uncomfortable. "H-hello," she started, tipping her hat. "Yes, I was in there. Had to nip out. I'm rushing, unfortunately—have to get down to the Apothecary."

That wasn't entirely a lie. It was the reason Phoebe was in Diagon Alley in the first place—to gather a few ingredients for Moira's many potions.

"Ah, well don't let me keep you. I suppose you're shopping for the missus." Phoebe resisted the urge to smile. He was right, in a way. "How is Magenta, anyway?"

"Must dash," Phoebe spluttered, not wanting to answer any further questions and risk exposing herself. She hurried past the moustached man and carried on down the street, ducking into a narrow side alley before he could catch up with her.

A dusty window caught Phoebe's attention, her reflection peering back at her. The years living away from her family had been good to her; she had filled out a lot more. The pads she wore in her blazers gave her the illusion of broad shoulders, and she had shot up a few inches over the last few years. With her clipped, dark hair and haughty, chiseled cheekbones, it was understandable that Phoebe could be mistaken for Licorus. Her elder brother always did have a slightly effeminate look about him, too.

She looked out onto the street, down towards the back of the Leaky Cauldron, where visitors to Diagon Alley entered. Licorus. Her eldest brother, who she hadn't seen for many years, was down there in that pub.

Would he want to see her?

After some thinking, Phoebe decided she didn't care what he wanted. Curiosity got the better of her, and she headed back out into Diagon Alley.

oOo

Phoebe saw Licorus straight away, as soon as she slinked into the pub. She clung to the shadows, determined not to be seen by her brother until she was ready.

He was huddled at a table in the far corner, shrouded in darkness. It was the kind of table you picked if you didn't want people to notice you. A man with bright white hair, a dramatic clash against the sweep of black on Licorus's head, sat beside him. They had their heads close together, murmuring quietly between themselves.

Licorus looked like himself, but he was nothing like the man Phoebe had known growing up. Starlight glimmered in his charcoal eyes as he looked at the strange man beside him. Phoebe had never seen him look so happy. He never smiled like that at home, never gazed at someone the way he gazed at the white-haired man.

A thought passed over Phoebe as she watched the pair talking. If Licorus was here, hiding in a grotty pub, he certainly wasn't home at Grimmauld Place, listening to Father's teachings. Even though Licorus had long since left Hogwarts and most likely had a good job in the Ministry, Phoebe knew that their father would never allow his First-born son and heir to carry on his life without his father's instructions, at least not until the old man died. There was much more magic to learn, many more stories to be told.

Through her teenage life, Phoebe, much like her sister Hesper, had longed for even a shred of the attention that Licorus was given by their father. Yet Licorus would rather have done without it.

Perhaps this was her chance?

Clearly Licorus wanted to hide from Father as much as Phoebe had wanted to be noticed by him. Her childhood was long behind her, but moments she'd never spent with her father still clung to her. She never knew the man, other than what Licorus and Eduardus would say about him—and occasionally her mother.

Straightening herself up confidently, Phoebe made to walk towards Licorus. They could easily pass as the same person now. Phoebe looked more like Licorus than his own twin, Hesper. She was about to make him an offer he couldn't refuse.

End