Make Believe [Claire]

[Casimir Elias Karkaroff]

November 2023

Everybody was in a celebratory mood. The Order safe house was more crowded than Cas had ever seen, with a collection of witches and wizards who – despite their common goal – would never be seen in public together. It was supposed to be a strategy meeting to discuss next steps, but Cas doubted that anyone had ever intended to follow the agenda. They were there to congratulate themselves on a win (the first in quite a while, or so it felt), open the elf-made wine, and toast the massive damage they’d just done to the Purifiers with the death of one of Elaine’s most important lieutenants. The last few meetings had been grim, tense, so the change in atmosphere had a great effect on the wizards who rarely smiled these days and the drab walls of an otherwise unremarkable safe house.

Cas was in no mood to celebrate. The death of a pureblood seemed to him a somber occasion, another indication of a slowly diminishing community that had long since lost its grandeur and brilliance. He’d chosen his side, regardless of how it might seem to everyone else, but he’d never felt the consequences so tangibly like he did tonight. Someone had shoved a goblet of wine into his hands, but he’d since sat himself in the corner while he swirled the liquid contemplatively. The shadow war was far from over, but there was a definite sense of hope in the Order of the Phoenix that things might still go their way. Cas, meanwhile, was left to consider the price of victory and what it might mean for his own family.

His eyes picked out certain people in the crowd – members he worked with more often than others, those he considered allies or rivals, but his gaze caught soon enough on Claire. The witch of honor tonight. His jaw set as he remembered their last mission together, and he looked away after a moment. She was unbearable to work with, constantly questioning his decisions and insisting she take point on anything that could vaguely resemble an Auror’s responsibilities, which made it all the more frustrating that Harry liked to pair them together. He supposed she was right pleased about being the first to kill a Purifier – it seemed to match her character. Cas had only just started to learn about the Hogwarts houses since his arrival to London, but it seemed clear enough that Slytherin wasn't the only House with ambitions for greatness. It was only a matter of definition...

Claire Evangeline Slater

[Claire Evangeline Slater]

never enough.

THE ROOM PULSED WITH PRAISE FOR CLAIRE. AN amalgamation of verbal congratulations and enough hand shakes to make her palms sweat. She felt good about it, why wouldn't she? Her name was about to be plastered across the Prophet, her skills as a 'plucky young Auror' heralded for the first time in her life. She was overjoyed, she was elated, she was on cloud nine! She felt... utterly ill from it all. Perhaps it was a case of 'too much, too soon'. Like a tummy ache from too many treacle tarts. She'd had her fill. No... no, it wasn't quite so simple.

Claire nodded as her hand was shaken from its socket, the Order Safe House so crowded they were transfiguring extra seating from old pieces of desk bric-a-brac. She hadn't had a chance to sit herself, drinks pressed into her palm whenever it wasn't being shaken. Her voice hoarse from reiterating the chain of events that led to the demise of Desiree Rousseau - Notorious for Sororicide, and Budding Terrorist. Abigail had been smarter, she'd made herself terribly scarce, but Claire had come because she'd felt too proud not to. Alas, she hadn't quite realised the gravity of her attendance. The constant reminder of exactly what she had done curdling somewhere in the bottom of her gut. She blamed the gillyweed gins they were plying her with.

By the time Claire had done the rounds, she felt wrung out. Smiling when looked at, frowning when blissfully unobserved. Her cheeks were aching, but no more than her temple. She'd stopped finishing her drinks, feeling just light-headed enough to know she'd 'had enough'. Her free hand reflexively messing with her new, shortened hair. It felt awkward, like she hadn't quite grown into the new hairstyle. Like everybody in the room knew she felt awkward about it. She blew out a gusty breath, thinking of edging her way out of the whole ordeal now that she'd played her part. Her eyes cast across the room and caught briefly with Casimir Karkaroff's. She stalled, drink flexing in her palm until her knuckles ached. He looked... irritated.

Before Claire was conscious of her choice, she'd begun to edge through the crowd toward the corner Cas had hidden himself in. He hadn't said a single word to her, which felt uniquely rude in light of current events. They had worked together before, they were at least familiar with one and other. So, if he was so irked to be at a celebration she was at the heart of, why hadn't he at least had the guts to say hello to her. Not even a 'well done'. The miserable old bat, she thought viciously.

"So..." Claire begun when she was close enough to Cas's curated hide away for him to hear her. She made a point of looking around his person, a proper Auror scan. "Where's the wand?" She asked him with a lift of her brows, the gin making her mouth just a little too loose. She gestured with her drink, clicking her tongue in amusement. "You know, the wand rammed into your person that's forcing you to be here." She pasted on a pleased smile, taking a genteel sip of her gin that whet the rogue on her mouth. "Why else would you look so bloody miserable at a... a party!" She exclaimed, throwing her arms wide, internally cringing at the suggestion that 'party' was an appropriate name for their gathering. She felt like he would know, would feel her shame for saying so. Her smile faltered, and fell. 

Casimir Elias Karkaroff

NEVERLAND at ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0!

[Casimir Elias Karkaroff]

Cas had been waiting to make himself scarce, to spend exactly as much time as was needed for his presence to be noted before he could fade away and return to the comfort of Knockturn Alley. But in all honesty, he’d been forgotten a long time ago by the witches and wizards who were mingling around the room, swapping stories at the same rate that they downed the drinks that seemed to miraculously refill at steady intervals. Nobody wanted to be reminded about purebloods at the moment – at least, not any that were still alive and breathing. He had his uses, and even the people who doubted his intentions could at least recognize that he was capable of going places and doing things that respectable mainstream wizards couldn’t. Still, this party wasn’t the place for him. By all rights, he didn’t need to have stayed longer than a few minutes and he probably could’ve slipped out easily enough by now.

And yet he was still here. It was a strange fact but unrefutably true, and Cas finally remembered the goblet in his hands as he distractedly took a long draught. He couldn’t seem to stop scanning the room, ensuring that no one was paying attention to him and noting the various moods and reactions of the people around him. Their relaxed postures, the laughter ringing through the room, the easy atmosphere of celebration. His eyes locked with Claire’s unexpectedly, the pale blue of her eyes clear even from across the room, and Cas kept a composed expression even as he resisted the urge to flinch. She had a tendency of making her presence known wherever she went, her voice always cutting through the dim noise of Order meetings and commanding attention. But it was especially true tonight that the whole room seemed bent towards her, like she existed in the center and the crowd ebbed and flowed around her according to her movements.

She began to cut a path through the room towards him, and Cas shoved down the illogical urge to turn on his heel and Disapparate (because who knew the room’s protective enchantments better than he did?). Instead he locked away the warring emotions in his chest, that Occlumency technique that had never failed him, and pointedly ignored the fact that he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to talk to her or not. Their conversations were always sharp and confrontational, but she was the only other person in the room whose energy didn’t match the atmosphere and he wanted to prod more into that. He had a keen eye for secrets and conflicts of interest – and she was undoubtedly both. It intrigued him more than it should. He raised an unimpressed eyebrow at her opening question, and if it had come from one of his siblings he wouldn’t have even dignified it with an answer.

But as it was, he was feeling combative tonight. “Is that the sort of humor they’ve mastered in the Aurors’ locker room?” She seemed to be in a better mood than he was, even if something in her eyes suggested that she wasn’t quite comfortable. Then again, her sort of people usually weren’t unless they were blasting something in the field with their wand. Claire blurted out the last few words of her sentence in a rush, and Cas’s dry expression turned cold. He supposed he’d heard others using the expression, calling this a party, but he might’ve expected different from her. She’d always been capable of surprising him, even silencing him with the occasional display of competence…but this? It was predictable and that disappointed him. “Is this a party?” he asked, his voice completely devoid of emotion even as his eyes didn’t move away from her face. “It seems more appropriate to call it a funeral.”

Claire Evangeline Slater

[Claire Evangeline Slater]

never enough.

THERE WAS NO QUESTION OF WHERE CLAIRE was heading when Cas caught her eye. Like a person seeks to poke a bruise, or pick an old scab, she couldn't help herself. They'd established a sort of equilibrium since their first disastrous mission. Though ultimately a success, it had placed the two of them on opposites of a very quiet, individual civil war. Claire thought Cas was so uptight that nobody could meet his standards, and Cas... well, Claire did not presume to know what was going on in his warded noggin.

Arm swinging as she dropped it, Claire watched with an almost laser focus as Cas measured her in a single glance. She felt itchy in her silly, sparkly top. The urge to pull at the ends of her frightfully short hair almost overwhelming her. "Not quite," She muttered back, the apples of her cheeks going a little red with embarrassment, and booze. "Learned that at home, I suppose." She gave a flashing, closed mouth smile. Thinking of all the places she would rather be, would be better off being. Cas always looked horrifically unhappy to see her, but again she pressed on the bruise.

Again, Cas took measure of her and found it wanting. At least, that was how it appeared. She licked her lips, lifting her glass to take a distracting sip. Internally, she cringed all the more, because of course he would correct her with such a searing brutality that she almost dodged it like a hex. "Right..." She breathed, flexing her jaw and letting the alcohol burn the back of her throat as she remembered all the ways she'd made the night a funeral. He was saying it without actually saying it, what he really thought of her actions.

Claire turned on her heels, a great anchor pulling down on her gut as she slumped into the seat beside Cas. She couldn't help herself, splaying out on the space so that briefly, just for the breath of a second, her knee brushed Cas's thigh as she settled into the cushion. She drew away sharply, curling into herself and the glass in her hand. "I suppose you think we should all wear black?" She turned her head slightly, just a lift of her chin to catch the very edge of Cas's sculpted peripheral. "Shall I make a toast... no, sorry... a- a eulogy?"

Claire sniffed, feeling raw from his candidness, but bitterly defensive all the same. How dare he, she thought. How dare he turn up just to make her feel so terribly small. "Here lies..." She cleared her throat and lowered her voice, feeling loose around the edges. "Here lies the... terrorist who almost killed me." She smiled thinly, meanly. Leaning closer so that he might see just what she thought of her scoring opinion of her. "May she rest in peace," Claire finished with a very deliberate lift of her glass before she downed the remnants. She took no pleasure in it. 

Casimir Elias Karkaroff

NEVERLAND at ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0!

[Casimir Elias Karkaroff]

It would be in his best interest to walk away now. The thought flashed across his mind, and Cas was usually quite receptive to his inner voice that warned him when it saw danger. After generations of Karkaroffs that had taken bold risks and walked away with nothing, the family had become a shadow of its legacy and you could see the signs everywhere you looked – in the discreet dismissals of the staff, the deteriorated state of the manor, the slowly emptying vault. The only thing that could save the family from fading into quiet oblivion was an opportunity, so Cas had been patient and cautious. Unwilling to take unnecessary risks, watching from the sidelines while he studied the shifting power dynamics of his community. The Order had seemed like a chance to finally balance old debts, set the Karkaroffs on a different path, and assure their future when the other pureblood families would inevitably be caught up on the wrong side of history.

And here was a wrecking ball that had come crashing in to threaten his life’s work. Claire Slater was bold, unapologetic, and seemingly his opposite in every thing that counted. She didn’t know how to play the game – whispers, secrets, unending patience. No, she simply grabbed what she wanted and let the consequences play out around her. And it seemed to work for her. Cas rather sourly remembered the moment in their last mission when he’d hesitated, out-of-touch with his instincts after so much time out of the field, and the way Claire had acted decisively when he couldn’t. And they were here now to celebrate those sharp instincts of hers, if you could call it that. Even if they did seem to always lead her down the most explosive path.

It was always easy to provoke her temper, but she seemed especially sensitive tonight. Her words were casual, if not defensive, but there was a conflicted look on her face like she couldn’t quite reconcile what had happened with her actions. As if there was no doubt it had happened, but missing that understanding of cause-effect. A risky mission. A hasty choice. A dead pureblood. One event following the other to an inevitable conclusion, because this shadow war had been bloody for Hogwarts and the Ministry and the Order, and it was only a matter of time until the Purifiers felt the shock too. But all those facts didn’t change that Cas was unsettled, and that Claire looked uncertain. It was an unusual expression to see on her features, since she was always so determined to push forward.

Her words mocked him, and Cas’s expression hardened even though he didn’t interrupt. Claire settled down next to him, splayed out across the chair like she was hoping to melt into the floor, and her eyes glanced across him like she couldn’t quite bear to look at him directly. Cas ignored the brief sting of rejection and turned slightly to study her better. The noise of the room was growing, so he copied her and leaned in so he could answer without attracting any more attention. He firmly lowered her nearly empty glass with one hand to push it away while the other moved to brace himself across the back of her seat so he was almost whispering in her ear.

“I had something different in mind,” he said lowly, “About a girl who was given the keys to the kingdom and was likely told to protect it at any cost. She might’ve…grown up on stories of what’d happened to her community, and the people responsible for it. She might’ve been scared of what would happen to her family if she allowed them to keep fading away into nothing. The kinds of stories that might be told about her someday.” Cas paused, echoes of his father’s curses and threats and stories ringing in his ears. It was strange to share a small window into his world with someone who could probably never understand it. He leaned back and raised his glass. “May we have an easier time escaping our own destinies than she did,” he finished, taking no pleasure from sharing the dark thoughts that haunted him every day. But even so – Cas wanted to know if there was any part of Claire that could understand. Or if she really was just like the rest of them.

Claire Evangeline Slater

[Claire Evangeline Slater]

never enough.

THE SEAT WAS SOFT AND IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN inviting, but Claire just wished she'd disappear. Let the cushions swallow her up, but at least let her keep her drink. As her eyes danced around the busy room and the merriment, she couldn't ignore the burn of Cas's stare. Felt it sear the skin on the side of her face, felt the moment the cushion behind her dipped as he carefully laid an arm there to lean in and be heard. His breath soft, ruffling the loose strands of her hair that hung down by her ear. It was almost too intimate, too much like a lover might do. She fought the urge to turn her face, just to see the look on his. Frightened that he'd be too close, that she might see something close to disappointment there- or maybe even disgust.

Claire turned the glass in her lap, around and around, as she listened unwillingly. Cas's speech sounding more and more like a chastisement. She felt shackled to his side, the warmth of him almost stifling as she realised what he was saying. She wanted to push him away, to tell him to come out and say it. To call her what he really thought she was; a murderer. For some reason, the idea of it stung all the more coming from him.

She sat with that thought for quite some time, refusing to turn her head, to dare look at him. She brought her drink up, sipped at it. Pretended like the tension wasn't suffocating them both. At the very least he had leaned away from her, she felt like getting up and simply walking away. Let him sit with his speech and stew in misery. Alas, she hadn't the strength. Instead, she turned her face to look at him finally. Forced herself to map the plains of his face, fortunately it was blank.

"Did you know her?" She asked suddenly, her brow lifting, but her mouth pursed. "Do you mourn her?" She asked, this time with a cruel little twist to her mouth. Claire lifted her glass and downed the remnants, deciding she disliked Cas's face when it was blank. She'd prefer the disappointment. She turned away quickly to discard her glass on the ground by the sofas arm, before turning back. She shifted, bringing her knee up on to the cushion between them so that she could face him full on. Filled with a tipsy determination. "Per-perhaps you'd have preferred if she'd killed me?" She wondered, the sting of it landing like a slap. "I don't understand you," Claire admitted. "You're full of riddles and traps." 

Casimir Elias Karkaroff

NEVERLAND at ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0!

[Casimir Elias Karkaroff]

It felt easier to breathe once there was a little more distance between them. When he’d leaned in, it was like the entire room had faded into background noise and the two of them had been stuck in a bubble of pressure. Where the air was heavy and charged with something. Cas leaned back in his chair and felt the electric charge in the air start to fade. Suddenly he was back in the Order safehouse, surrounded by people he didn’t want to see at a party he didn’t want to be at. Claire was staring straight ahead, lost in her thoughts while her gaze focused on something far away. Cas kept his gaze fixed on her, seemingly unable to tear it away while he watched the muscles on her face tighten. She looked torn between two opposing thoughts, although Cas couldn’t begin to guess what she might be thinking. His first impression of her had been that of a stereotype. She’d seemed to be like every other trigger-happy Ministry official he’d seen, every witch or wizard that joined the Order because they were naïve and eager to prove themselves. He was starting to realize that she was more complicated than he’d first thought. Unpredictable, too. That was the part of her that had seemed to latch onto him, kept him fixed to his seat even when his earlier thoughts had all been about leaving.

She finally turned to look at him and he forced himself to keep his face blank. To keep the same level of composure that he held in every other part of his life – serving wild tales to the clients in his store, guiding his siblings in the directions that would be most beneficial to the family, navigating the careful minefield of the pureblood community. Speaking to Claire in a quiet corner of the room didn’t feel any less dangerous than that. “I know all of them,” he finally said, arm moving to rest on the back of his chair as he tapped his fingers idly. “We might be on different sides of this fight, but does that mean they aren’t my friends anymore? My family, the people I grew up with?” He finally broke his gaze away from her so he could finish his drink and consider the empty goblet in his hand.

“Should I be happy that one more Purifier is dead?” he asked quietly, almost talking to himself, “Maybe. It’s difficult to know they can’t see what I see. We all want the survival of our families, but they’re ready to kill themselves for it. They’re not ready to see that we have to build something new. The divide between us is tearing me apart.” He had his own selfish reasons for joining the Order, because the Karkaroff family was his responsibility now and he needed to save them from the crisis his uncle and father had created. But just because he’d chosen his side – well, it didn’t mean he had to enjoy watching his community crumble. His eyes tracked the movement of Claire’s legs as she shifted her stance, turned to face him more fully. Her final comments made him pause. He studied her face and entertained the strange thought that she might be trying to understand him. “Do you want to?” he asked intently, unsure whether the question was rhetorical or not. Unsure whether he was ready to hear the answer.

Cas paused for a moment, wondered whether it was wise to continue this conversation that was veering deeply into personal territory. There was always an element of danger around Claire. Wise or not, he pushed forward anyway. His voice had gotten even quieter, like he was unsure how to proceed with such an honest statement. “No, I don’t prefer it. But I don’t think anything is capable of stopping you, anyway.”

Claire Evangeline Slater

[Claire Evangeline Slater]

never enough.

IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A CELEBRATION OF victory. A step toward ridding the magical world of cruelty and dangerous ideologies. And Claire had been celebrating, her head still spinning from the rush of it all. Cas had simultaneously wrenched Claire from that bubble of euphoria and made her question it all at once. Was it wrong?, she asked herself, feeling like a chastised child in her seat as Cas's words very softly cut her to the bone. He'd always walked that delicate line between light and dark. It made him a fantastic Order member, but a terrible party-goer.

"They're not innocent children anymore, Casimir." Claire said suddenly, feeling a rush of indignation flush her pale face as she squared her jaw and looked at him just shy of coldly. "They're not your peers, they're criminals... killers." Claire declared, trying to refrain from letting her face waver with that trill of doubt, of blood-curdling guilt. She turned her face away when she was satisfied he had heard her, his voice pitched low as he asked the crowd if he should be happy that a Purifier was dead. She wanted to take his shoulders and shake him, to scream that 'Yes! Yes you should be happy!'. To go nose-to-nose and tell him he should be happy because she was alive and the person who tried to kill her wasn't.

And then he said it, his voice cracking as he muttered under his breath how it was tearing him apart. Claire's indignation and anger washed away all at once and she felt only that cold guilt. Not for the Purifiers, but for Cas. For the line he walked, and for every time he chose to dine with them instead of the darkness. She had shifted to face him, but it made his expression no more clearer, his intentions no more succinct. He was still a mystery. "Yes." She confessed with a bitter, resentful smile. "But you already knew that." She told him, her fingers tapping rhythmless tune on the back of the sofa they shared.

Feeling almost as if she had been slapped, Claire leaned back onto the arm of the seat. Creating a small gap of space between them, as if she needed it just to breathe. She tilted her head back, shaking out her choppy blonde hair and blinking at the spinning magical globes of disco light that were bobbing against the ceiling above. Good charm work, she thought absently, before pulling herself forward again as she made a decision.

"You're right," She told him with that same bitter smile. "Nothing will stop me." She shrugged her shoulders remorselessly. Seeming to freeze in place, Claire took a sharp breath before leaning forward and wrapping her arms around Cas's shoulders in a very thoughtless, very dangerous hug. Her knee digging into his thigh, her spine twisted so that her head briefly rested on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry for your loss," She whispered into the juncture of his neck, meaning it just for a minute. Just a second of pure, untainted remorse that she could offer Cas in his mixed emotion. She pulled away just as quickly, jumping up from the chair before she did something even sillier, like cry. She pushed her hair from her face and suddenly she was once again that assured, young tenacious auror once again. "I think I'm going to get myself another drink." She declared with a stiff but certain smile. 

Casimir Elias Karkaroff

NEVERLAND at ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0!

[Casimir Elias Karkaroff]

The stark difference between this conversation and the ones he held with other Order members was Claire’s use of the word ‘they’ instead of ‘you.’ That they were criminals and killers, as if a distinction could be made between Cas and the other purebloods, between morally gray and pure evil. Others didn’t give him that benefit of the doubt, and he turned the thought over in his mind. There was a roil of emotions sparking in Claire’s eyes, but he didn’t identify the suspicion or doubt that he might’ve expected to see. It threw him off-kilter, and he didn’t know how to answer. Whether it might be better to correct her assumption – because he was a criminal, wasn’t he? There was a great deal of self-interest at play, only Cas employed his services for the angels rather than his own deepest desires.

But he didn’t rush to correct her. It was strange to entertain the fantasy that someone might trust him, even for just a night, but there was some part of him that seemed to crave it. And as long as it was left unsaid, he could still pretend it might be true. That was the most dangerous kind of trap he could fall into, but Cas had always walked a fine line. It was alright to lie to others, so long as you didn’t start to believe your own lies. He was safe for as long as he could convince others of what reality was while carefully maintaining the sharp distinction between truth and lie in his own mind. And Cas was determined to keep himself safe.

For just a moment, though, for just this conversation – he let himself entertain the danger. Claire had started to lean back and Cas followed her example, even if it warred with his instinct to stay close and keep his voice low. He didn’t want to maintain his distance, but he wasn’t ready to delve into the complication and contradiction in that thought. Instead he broke the intense eye contact between them and gazed out across the rest of the party. It was like they existed on another plane of existence, separate from the bubble of this conversation, and Cas watched detachedly like it was some strange theater piece. He didn’t want to speak to anyone else tonight. He didn’t want to remind anyone of his existence, or strange halfway role in the Order, on tonight of all nights.

Claire turned back to him and he refocused his gaze on her, waiting for the sharp bite of her next comment. He never knew what she might say to him next, and it kept him sharp while he waited for the next blow to fall. She had delicate, pretty features, but the bitterness in her smile twisted it and gave the words she spoke a menacing undertone. A promise that she wouldn’t hold back if they were ever on opposite sides. He opened his mouth, ready with one of the vast store of warnings and cryptic questions that he always had simmering in his mind, when she surprised him again.

The warmth of her hug surprised him. The feeling of an intimate and sincere gesture was so foreign to him, so out of place in his life, that he inhaled sharply. Because he could feel that she meant it. There was a spark of something, a common understanding that passed between the two of them, that lasted for the brief moment she was in his arms. He’d only barely moved – to push her away? To pull her closer? He had no idea and the thought frightened him a little – when she pulled away and jumped up from her seat. The absence of warmth where it’d been a second ago was startling, and he stayed frozen in his chair.

After a moment, he stood as well. “I-“ He didn’t know how to finish the sentence and cut off the single word hastily. After a moment, they began to flow again. “I’ll be going now.” Cas paused again, and this uncharacteristic uncertainty left him feeling off-balance. There was a thin and tenuous thread still connecting them, a current of understanding from their conversation that reflected in his eyes as a thousand unanswered questions. But that thread was still too thin and it snapped a moment later. He cleared his throat and took a step back. “Enjoy these moments of happiness where you can find them.” Cas turned and walked swiftly away, hoping it didn’t look like he was fleeing. But he couldn’t be sure. Nothing was clear with Claire, except that she was trouble. That warning sign flashed clearly, although it was the only one that he wasn’t sure he could heed.

Claire Evangeline Slater
End Cas?