Greyfriar Family Home
Midday
Takes place after this letter arrives from Waker.

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For once in his young life, Devlin was lost for words. You write back and you tell me the truth, Devlin Matthews. Or you can figure out how to fix this mess on your own, her letter had insisted and he had struggled for what seemed like days to fulfill such a seemingly simple request. His unfinished replies littered the floor of his shoddy bedroom, their proximity to the overflowing trashcan a good measure of how much they ventured from the requested truth.

About halfway there was the first letter he scribbled, filled with cursewords and crossouts and thankfully scrapped before he sent it off in a red misty eyed rage that he knew he would regret. A bit farther on, teetering on the edge of the trash can, was  the second draft. In that one he tried bitterly to convince her that Fauna was insane and just trying to make Waker feel bad about her own screw up. As vindictive and butt-hurt as he was, even Devlin could see how much this claim was pathetic self-pitying bullshit, so into the can it went. From there the replies varied from single lines that just didn't sound realistic to whole paragraphs that sounded either too pathetic or not pathetic enough.

After having ripped nearly half the pages from his notebook, Devlin gingerly, as his wounds hadn't healed completely, laid back against his pillow and sighed. What the hell was he supposed to tell her? The real truth? She couldn't handle the truth! It was so convoluted and confusing that he could barely handle it. But, he reminded himself rather ruefully, she kinda deserves to know whether you think she can take it or not. After the hell he put her through... shit the hell he put everyone through.. he couldn't continue the lie. He wasn't even sure he had it in him to go on, which was saying something. He was Devlin Maverick Matthews for Merlins sake, if he didn't feel like lying then there was seriously something wrong with him.

And there was something wrong with him, a fact he had concluded since the incident on the 15th. It was simple: He was in love. Not 'Oh my god, shes hot and I wanna tap that' love or 'aww life would be so perfect and happy and filled with sunshine and flowers and puppies' love, but honest to merlin 'I wanna be with this woman the rest of my life' love. After his mothers death and his break-up with Waker, this sort of love had become some sort of myth for Devlin. He hadn't believed that it existed or that he even deserved it if it did. Naturally, when he did discover its existence, he screwed it all up by throwing his lot in with the criminals. Had he known that he would find the woman that would heal that emptiness in his heart, he might not have made the mistake of trying to fill it with money and ill-gotten gains. This thought firmly in mind, he begin to write out the actual truth, stumbling here and there as his ingrained habit of lying tried to varnish the truth into something more palatable. After several minutes of writing, erasing and rewriting, he managed to get his feelings on the paper.

Exhausted, since telling the truth was a fight for a habitual liar, Devlin folded the letter and laid it off to the side. Laying his head against the headboard, he thought about his next plan of action. Just writing a letter to Waker wasn't going to fix things. Besides, he needed to fix this mess himself if he was going to prove himself worth anyones time. But how... what could he possibly do that would show Fauna that he was a changed man? Besides something that would land him in jail or get him tortured, again, that is.

For what seemed like hours, and probably was considering his tightly closed drapes made it difficult to tell the passage of time, Devlin sat there and stared at the ceiling in thought, weighing his meager options and their pros and cons. Finally, he decided upon one option that, despite being dangerous and not having the quickest results, had the best outcome. Sucking up his pride, Devlin found his voice and called out "Kno-- Mr. Grey--" He started, pausing as each title came out sounding wrong. Perhaps that was the first change he needed to make to fix this mess. With more difficulty then it should have taken, He tried again "D..Dad? I... I need to talk to you..."

Knox Greyfriar was a wreck.  He hadn't slept properly in a week.  The edges of all his patience and temperance were frayed bare.  Every noise outside in the cold wind made him jump up, wand in hand.  Every movement or groan from Devlin upstairs, sent his heart beating wildly.  An owl had arrived a few days ago and he'd nearly killed it, mistaking its presence at the window for something more sinister.

This past week had been the most frightening thing he'd ever experienced.  Finding his boy in the streets, good as dead.  The one he was supposed to protect, and be a good father to.  The kid who'd turned to crime instead of the people he should have been able to trust.  Something horrible had happened to him, and the threat loomed even greater as the days passed.  He hadn't heard from Level Two since the 17th, when he'd fought Tamis Raynor to stay away from the house.  To not arrest Devlin for breaking his house arrest.  Knox had given them what he knew about the attack - which wasn't much.  Devlin didn't wake for whole day, and he didn't speak for another two.  And the kid refused to actually explain what had happened to him.  Not a word about it.  Only mumbled, fretful words in his sleep. 

He sat downstairs, the winter sun shining cheerfully through his windows, casting warm squares on his rugs.  A pot of soup was simmering quietly in the hearth, mostly forgotten.  Devlin was barely eating anything, so it was more... routine to make lunch more than anything else.  Tomato with garlic.  He rested in the upholstered chair, looking at the floor. 

Devlin's voice, drifting down the stairs, set the old wizard on fire though.  He wasn't even fully on his feet before he'd Apparated to the landing at the top of the narrow stairway to the lofted, attic den that had been Devlin's room for the last few months.

The door was open, and he pushed it open further and went immediately to where Devlin was in bead.  He could see that he'd been sweating, and the deep red marks around his wrists and neck were as starting to purple.  The cuts on his face were still open - not healing properly and Knox had to assume they were magically inflicted.

"What is it, are you alright?" he asked, already shaking some salve into his palm.  Knox had been able to do a great deal for Devlin, but not nearly enough.  With regret, some of Devlin's wounds were the same he'd seen on Death Eaters back in the 1980s, caused by Dark Magic.  His time as a Healer, he'd always kept secret, had always regreted.  But now, he had no choice but to follow his insticts and draw upon all his knowledge to help Devlin.

He gestured with his head.  "Here, sit up if you can," already rubbing his hands together.  "Hold out your hands."  The salve had been helping the rope burns to cool.  It didn't do much, but it kept some of the burn away, and sent away the dark humors that had gathered there deep in the skin and muscle.

"C'mon."

"What is it, are you alright?"

"Been better but...uh... yeah, I'm allright..." Devlin said quietly, not sure how to react to the concern etched on his fathers face. It had replaced the anger and disappointment that had been there the last couple of months and Devlin was finding it hard to acclimate to. He could deal with Knox being angry and bitter, since the man who raised him was stuck perpetually in that state, but he wasn't sure he could deal with him being so concerned. It was almost painful for Dev to watch him exhaust himself trying to care for a kid that, up until a week ago, couldn't look at him without snapping out something rude. It made him ashamed and he hated that feeling, especially when it was lumped on top of his guilt about Fauna and the physical agony his body was in.

"Here, sit up if you can, Hold out your hands. C'mon..."

Surprisingly obedient, Devlin re-situated himself and held out his palms, watching in silence as Knox rubbed some salve on them. One of these days he was going to get the guts up enough to ask how he knew all this healing stuff. Surely being a teacher and headmaster hadn't required him to learn how to deal with wounds from the dark arts. It was a curious secret that Devlin was eager to learn but not eager enough to reveal the fact. Wincing as the cooling salve was carefully applied to his rope burns, Devlin forced himself to focus on something other then his mangled wrists, mainly his fathers weary face. "You look like shit..." He said suddenly though there was a surprising lack of malice in his tone. Perhaps even a hint of concern "I mean, isn't the full moon coming soon?... You need to rest."

Realizing that he was sounding like he gave a shit, Devlin quickly added "... I mean, just let me go to Mungos or something... If you are worried that the aurors will come and get me there, don't..." He paused before taking a deep breath and continuing quietly, uncertain, "...I.. I think I...I am ready to talk, anyways..."

Knox stayed mostly quiet as Devlin mumbled general acquiescence and concern.  Perhaps as uncomfortable as Devlin was with Knox doing proper parenting, Devlin's wordless obedience and concerned comments were completely alien, at least to Knox - absent father, and former authoritarian.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," he muttered as he ran his large hands around Devlin's smaller wrists, trying to be gentle.  The salve let them slip around freely.  The raw, cursed wrists started, just started, to lose a touch of their crimson color.  Oh, it would come back - make no mistake.  It would take a long time for that to heal, and they very well could scar that way for the rest of Devlin's life.

"Not til March.  There's a new moon tonight," he corrected, again, in that deep quiet voice of his.  He didn't blame Devlin for not knowing - he'd been out of it for nearly a week now.  You tend to lose track of time in situations like that.  No, Knox was haggard not because of lycanthropy but from the trauma of nearly losing his son.

Done with Devlin's wrists, he released his arms and took up the bottle again.  But he paused.  Devlin's tone changed as he asked to go to St. Mungo's. As he asked to be handed over to the Aurors.  Knox hadn't told Devlin that he'd already seen the Head Auror, and tried to make all of this right.  But all he'd accomplished was to buy Devlin more time to recover at home, and not in a holding cell.

"No." He said it with finality.  "Absolutely not.  You're safer here."  Can't bear to let you out of my sight again, his private dialog added.  They hadn't had much time to talk about turning Devlin over.  Now that someone had tried to kill Devlin, part of Knox hoped that all would be forgiven.  But of course the law didn't work that way.  Injured or not, Devlin still faced serious charges.  Knox was healing him only to lose him.

He again filled his hands with the salve and made an awkward, hesitant move towards Devlin's neck.  When Devlin had been out of it, it had been easier to treat the scarlet marks around his neck.  But with the kid fully lucid, it seemed... somehow...like a violation to touch his neck, to wrap his hands around, even for Healing.  It just showed that Knox was no Healer and Devlin was no Patient.  It was more complex than that, and mired in the strangeness of their relationship. 

"Need to do your neck," he said, by way of asking permission, or warning Devlin that it was coming, or apology.  He couldn't decide which.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, Not til March.  There's a new moon tonight,"

An unfamiliar pang, like a cold blade, stabbed him somewhere in the vicinity of his heart. He recognized it as guilt, since the lack of a full moon meant that Knox's haggard appearance was his fault. This feeling of guilt had been bubbling up a lot recently with everything that had happened and Devlin remembered why he had tried to kill the emotion so long ago. It felt horrible. "Mm..." He murmured in reply, uncertain what else he could say. 'I'm sorry' seemed so contrived and insincere at that moment.

"No. Absolutely not.  You're safer here."

That bitter taste of guilt was replaced quickly by irritation when Knox turned down his offer of going to St. Mungos. He fought the urge to snap back about needing 'real' medical care in a 'clean' location, and just frowned deeply instead. This fatherly concern was alien to him and he didn't really know how to react other then being belligerent, but he knew the guilt would only bubble up more if he snapped at the older man. "It's only a matter of time before they find out about this... If they already haven't..." Devlin added slowly, his eyes boring into his father. He knew that it was Knox's job, nay, his duty as both a father and a Wizangamot member to report this incident, if he hadn't already. Devlin wasn't delusional enough to think that he would cover for him.

"Need to do your neck,"

Devlin flinched as Knoxs hands neared his neck, instinctively pulling back in fear of suffering that horrible pain once more. It didn't matter that he knew his father wouldn't hurt him, he was still scared. A baby could reach towards the general direction of his adams apple and he would have cringed. Apparently the aftermath of his torture had more lasting effects then he expected.  "Make it quick..." He muttered, a hint of pleading in his voice as he swallowed hard and worked his lip though his teeth, eyes screwed shut. The soothing salve did feel good, but the trembles the touch brought took away any euphoria it might have brought. It took a couple of minutes after it was done for Devlin to open his eyes.

Focusing back on the conversation from earlier, Devlin went on "... Anyways... um.. regardless if I go to Mungos or not, I need to talk to the aurors. I need to fix this mess..." He didn't add what he intended to do to fix it, since he didn't want to drag Knox into the fray, but he had been giving it a lot of thought and had a good idea of what he was about to do.

Knox remained silent as he worked the salve around Devlin's neck, up under his chin, down to his collar bone and around the back to his nape.  His neck was worse than his wrists, and treating the burns were just as bad.  It broke Knox's heart to see Devlin flinch, pull away from his hands, and to remain tense beneath them.  And with that heart-break was a wave of anger - who would do this to a kid.  As much as Devlin wanted to be an adult, as much as Knox expected him to behave as an adult, he was only seventeen.  Just bloody seventeen years old.  A teenager.  A kid.

When he was done, and the red streaks on his neck had dulled for the while, Knox wiped his hands on the rag and sat.  Perhaps Devlin could not see, but a rune circle surrounded Devlin's bed, and there was warding rune on the door and window frame.  The house was a magical fortress, as much of one as Knox was capable of.  The major doubt remained if Knox's magic would be any match for who'd come after Devlin and who might come after him again.

And so therein lay the question.  This was not sustainable.

As glib as Knox usually was, it was hard to speak about this to Devlin.  He sank into the chair, a big man in the small room.  He sighed before he he spoke, not sure how to proceed and answer Devlin's concerns.

"I've been to Level Two," he admitted.  "The morning after...to report this and to keep them away until you were better."  He couldn't know how to expect if this would upset Devlin or not.  Knox had interfered, and Devlin had always resented that.  He could feel that he wanted out and away even still, into the hands of some anonymous Healer at Mungo's, watched over by an Auror, not a father.

"I'm holding them off, for now, but I don't know what I can do for you once I let you go."  I can't protect you anymore. "They know you left."

"Do you think you're ready for that?"  It wasn't accusatory.  It wasn't admonishing or meant to be a test.

"I've been to Level Two, The morning after...to report this and to keep them away until you were better."

As much as he expected it to be the case, Devlin couldn't help but feel a bit put out hearing it actually come from his fathers lips. It was like having your best mate tell your parents that you were doing drugs: They do it because they care, but it still hurts knowing they go behind your back. But then, who was he kidding? Knox was hardly his best friend. The older man only took him in out of a reluctant sense of duty to his illegitimate son (or so Devlin assumed), so it shouldn't be surprising that he reported him. At least he had managed to convince them to let Dev heal before they rushed him, which was surprisingly considerate considering how much crap Devlin had put Knox through this last couple of months.

"I'm holding them off, for now, but I don't know what I can do for you once I let you go. They know you left. Do you think you're ready for that?"

"Yeah..." Devlin said lightly, his eyes staring off into the distance as he murmured more to himself then his father, "I mean... After the things I have seen... I'm not scared anymore, not of them... not of Azkaban..." the tone of his voice suggested not a lack of fear, but that his fear had been focused on something much worse then going to prison. It was true, he wasn't scared of going to Azkaban anymore. It was a much better alternative then watching his loved ones die again.

"... Besides..." He said suddenly, his gaze snapping back to reality and focusing on his father. There was something different in his eyes. Almost a sense of peace, or perhaps purpose, as though he had suddenly gained his strength of will back, "... After what I am going to offer them, I think they will find me much more useful here then locked up... And if not, ah well..." He gave a sharp insincere chuckle and shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly "... I will go to jail and serve my time. It's not like I don't deserve it."

Knox was neither calmed or reassured by Devlin's stalwart attestations.  It wasn't like Devlin to show bravado, and this certainly wan't taking that tone.  But it was just as unlikely for Devlin to show maturity and to face the realistic consequences of his actions.  Whatever he'd gone through that night, and the unknowable preceding events - Devlin had been changed.  So as caustic as he'd been before, at least there'd been some amount of predictability.  But now, Knox found he didn't know the young wizard in the bed before him.

Knox shook his head.  Maybe Devlin was ready to face the Aurors, and to face Azkaban, but did he really know what all that meant? Could Knox bear knowing?

"You don't know what you're saying," he said, immediately regretting his choice of words and tone.  But he pressed on.  "If the Wizengamot convicts you, there'll be nothing I can do.   I'm not even permitted to deliberate - I'm completely recused from anything relating to the investigation - your attack, your involvement at St. Mungo's...." He was speaking quickly, sharply, clearly worried.

"What is it you plan to do?"

"You don't know what you're saying, If the Wizengamot convicts you, there'll be nothing I can do.   I'm not even permitted to deliberate - I'm completely recused from anything relating to the investigation - your attack, your involvement at St. Mungo's...."

The worry in his fathers voice was so uncharacteristic for the gruff man, at least when it came to speaking to his screw-up of a son, that it made Dev's mouth curve up into a crooked smile. A weak smile, but a smile nonetheless. The first in weeks in fact. He almost felt bad for the man, since he had no intention of telling him what he was about to do. Sure it might alleviate some of his worry, but knowing would put him in a much greater danger. Dev understood what he was dealing with now, but he wasn't sure that, even with all of his wartime experience, Knox could. There was something about being tortured to an inch of your life that made you really understand the evils of the world.

"What is it you plan to do?"

"I'm sorry..." Devlin said slowly, not sure how to break it to Knox without infuriating the man. He needed his help afterall. The Aurors wouldn't simply listen to what he had to say because he asked, but they might if his father did. For once he was grateful that of all the fathers he could be the bastard son of, his was a well respected Wizangamot elder. ".... But I can't tell you that...It's for your own safety. I know it is hard for you to believe me, and I don't blame you, but I really... really... need you to trust me on that." He was actually begging. Devlin Matthews was begging, something he had vowed to never do. But then, he had been reduced to begging for his life not a week earlier, so it wasn't like he hadn't already broken that vow. This time, perhaps, his groveling might actually do some good. "Please... Dad..."

Knox's face felt tight and tense, all knit firmly into a deeply sad frown.  A lump in his throat prevented him from words for a spell.  He sat back and looked destitute, ruinedly sorrowful.  He looked at the young teenage boy, with his own brow, jaw, nose reflected back at him.  The dark shadow of his youthful beard, as thick as Knox's had been at that age.  He couldn't see him chained in Azkaban.  Couldn't visualize himself continuing to sit on the Wizengamot knowing where his colleagues had sent his son.  Knowing that Devlin probably deserved it.

And now Devlin was asking for his trust.  Pleading for it.  Knox couldn't look at him, so great was the pain of doubt.  How could he trust Devlin, who'd played him so many times.  Tricked and manipulated everyone with crocodile tears.  With pleases.  It wasn't the fear of being the fool, it was the conflict of looking at his kid and not believing him, after all of this. Knox knew nothing and Devlin was begging him to keep it that way.

He was quiet for a long time, just staring at the floor, when finally he took a deep breath, raised his eyebrows and relaxed.

"Alright."

"Yea.  I'll send an owl." 

"Alright. Yea.  I'll send an owl."

Devlin blinked, slightly surprised. He hadn't expected his father to actually agree to it, as much as he hoped that he did, and had prepared to fight with the older man for it. He almost felt bad... no, he actually did feel bad for putting his father through all of this. It was never his plan to pull anyone, even the man he had considered an enemy for years, into this mess. He just hoped that Knox eventually saw that this was for his own safety and not just Devlins attempt to get away with something behind his back. It would be hard to prove this to him, thanks to Dev's past, but he was determined to do it.

"Thanks dad..." He said, the word 'dad' suddenly rolling off his tongue with much more ease then before. Somehow this whole mess had brought them just a bit closer together and Dev felt a small swell of peace surround him, relaxing him for the first time in days."I think I need to sleep now... My head is killing me... Let me know when they are here..." He murmured, his eyes fluttering shut as he laid back against the pillow. In seconds he was asleep.

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((I figure it will be at least a couple of hours before the aurors get there, so the next post can either be Knox sending off the owl or we can jump further to Tamis and whomever entering...))