this kind of life

[MALAKAI ISAIAH MONTAGUE]

THERE AIN’T NO REST FOR THE WICKED

It was well past midnight, surely, but one couldn’t be sure just how far. The one battered desk clock on a chair against the wall was broken, fittingly and permanently stuck on 4:20am. It probably wasn’t that late, rather somewhere between midnight and then. Normally, someone would be exhausted or even at a comfortable rest during this time, but Malakai Montague was awake and alert, eyes wide open, deep in thought as he sat on another beaten chair on the other side of the room, eyes glazed over, yet subtly transfixed on the clock opposite him. The lighting in the office was dim, only provided by a handful of candles places haphazardly around the room, but the flickering flame was reflected in Mal’s dark irises.

Typically, an office would have a nice desk and chair, a chair for the visitor, a couple filing cabinets, and stacks of folders and other paperwork- things of that nature. This office was a little different, just like the owner of it, and the business he conducted. There were filing cabinets, sure, but they were full of bags of odorous marijuana. There were papers, but they were more like post-it notes, reminding him of who had what, where, and when. There was a large leather binder sitting in the middle of the desk, which was pushed up to the wall opposite him and the clock, which housed very detailed, careful notes on every financial aspect of his business. That binder was the boss, in reality.

On the other side of the room, behind the door, there was a small filing cabinet which had a refreshingly clean and newer look to it, as opposed to all the second hand, truly unfortunate looking pieces that composed the rest of the furniture. There were a variety of expert locks in place, and it looked completely indestructible. It should, for inside were the pride and joys of Mal’s business, his experiments, his special, wizarding strains (not just of marijuana, but of other drugs- stimulants, inhalants, and especially psychoactives).

Hearing footsteps on the stairs behind the door, Mal was taken out of his trance. He stood up slowly, facing the door. He was expecting his brother. These late-night chats were some of the only times they spent together during the school year (excepting holidays and school-run Hogsmeade weekends). Zac was here to pick up a fresh supply of weed, and Mal was interested to see if he had any new clients, any suspicious hearings, or any other important things to report.

TAGS: Zac
WORDS: 421
WEARING: Click!
NOTES: I have so much muse for this.

UNTIL WE CLOSE OUR EYES FOR GOOD

template by eliza @ shadowplay

[ZACHARIAH GABRIEL MONTAGUE]

Zac stifled a yawn as he trudged through Hogsmeade, making his way towards The Hog's Head. He had found a spell in one of the books he found in the library and was using it right now. It was somewhat like the disillusion spell, except it was centered around his face. It changed the look of his face to a very average looking person, one that wouldn't be remembered. That was how Zac would need to be, considering he was still in Hogwarts and wasn't supposed to be out here after midnight in Hogsmeade. Part of him would no doubt love to be in his bed at Hogwarts, sleeping. Or even with some girl for company. But no. This came first. He grumbled to himself, yes. But Zachariah always knew his priorities when it came to this.

Once he was in The Hog's Head, Zac removed the spell he cast on himself and climbed the stairs up to the office. He swung the door open and Mal was standing there, like he was expecting him. “Some times I think you have nothing better to do but stand there and await my wonderful presence.” Zac said, grinning at Mal. He shut the door before taking a look around the office. It appeared the same as always, Zac thought to himself as he made his way to the desk. He dropped a small bag of Galleons onto the table, hearing the heavy thunk that didn't correspond with the size of the bag. “Also, one day, you should sneak into Hogwarts and meet me in the grounds or something.” Zac said, looking over to Mal.

He snuck into the school to meet Dylan, there was no reason why he couldn't come and meet Zac. Of course, Zac knew it was so much riskier for Mal to sneak into Hogwarts with a huge amount of drugs. But it didn't stop Zac from saying what he had. He sat down on a nearby chair, crossing his legs at the ankles. “Hello, brother.” The male finally greeted the older man properly. “Miss me?”

347 words, tagged for mal, wearing this

[MALAKAI ISAIAH MONTAGUE]

THERE AIN’T NO REST FOR THE WICKED

Mal, unusually stoic for any sort of person, had smiles for two people in the world: his little brother and his girlfriend. Even then, grins were rare. A small half smile perked at the left side of his lips when Zac barreled through the door and let loose one of his little quibbling one liners, followed by a particularly loud thunk from the bag he’d dropped on the desk. When Zac turned to sit down, Mal went to the desk, grabbed the bag carelessly with one hand and flipped it over. Galleons, sickles, and knuts spilled into a heaping pile.

“Well done, as usual,” Mal commented in his low growl, reaching over and pulling the nearest chair towards him, simultaneously pulling out his wand. As soon as he sat, he started flicking it with slightly disinterest, and coins started to sail about the room and into different bags on top of filing cabinets. The leather ledger on the desk flew open, and the quill inside bounced up and started scribbling happily. “Dreadfully,” Mal said, sarcastically, looking over to his brother as he continued to flick his wand with indifference, yet expert practice.

“What’s the word?” he said, asking his usual question that compromised every question one could possibly think of. What did people like best? What did they want more of? Were there any complaints? Any suspicions? Any teachers down their throats? How was Dylan, and how was her turn out this week? Basically, Mal was asking for any information that was critical to their operation, and Zac knew that. Before Zac could answer, Mal flicked his wand a final time, the last of the coins sailing into their proper places. He stood, and reached for a bag on the nearest filing cabinet, throwing it to Zac. “That’s yours.” Proof that Mal wasn’t a complete scumbag- he paid his brother generously.

TAGS: Zac
WORDS: 311
WEARING: Click!
NOTES: SO MUCH LOVE FOR THE MONTAGUES.

UNTIL WE CLOSE OUR EYES FOR GOOD

template by eliza @ shadowplay

[ZACHARIAH GABRIEL MONTAGUE]

Zac was quite different from his brother, that much any idiot should be able to tell if they saw them both together now. Although, if anyone saw them together here, Zac might curse them and make them wish they'd never set foot inside The Hog's Head in the first place. He had gotten a sort of smile from Mal, that was good enough for the Slytherin. “Why, thank you. I do my best to earn a living.” Zac said, watching the wizarding currency get spilled out of the bag. Oh, money. Seeing the money it worth his while talking to annoying people who were less than able to make some form in intelligent conversation.

“Aw, Mal. I'm not even sure you'd be upset at my funeral.” Zac said, letting out a theatrical sigh. The money started flying about into different bags all over the room and a quill recorded all the income that he'd brought in. He considered putting his legs up on the table but decided against it. This wasn't his office after all. If it was, it certainly wouldn't be like this. And he'd be able to put his legs up whenever he wanted. So he settled for watching his brother work. The man seemed indifferent to having acquired this money, but Zac didn't doubt that he would question it if Zac brought it less than what he wanted.

Zac opened his mouth to reply, but was presented with his share of the profits. “Awesome. Thanks, bro.” Zac said, tucking the bag into his pocket. “Well, there was a couple of gits who went babbling about drugs and stuff during breakfast, but I Confunded them and somehow or the other, they ended up in the Hospital Wing because they were fighting over a girl. Not that I cursed them or anything.” Zac said. “Also, can you mix something up for girls? Merlin, are they fussy. Not too strong, but not so weak. They want to get high, but they don't want to get too high. Don't ask me what that means because I have no clue.” Zac told him, tapping his fingers on the armrest of the chair.

“No complaints, which is always wonderful. Some regulars are asking for new stuff, so if you've invented something new that won't kill our customers, please give some to me.” Zac paused, looking at Mal. “There's a Gala coming up. I think Dylan might want you to go. Come on, she can't stick to me all the time at Hogwarts. People think I'm stealing her from you. If that were true, I think it would result in my death. I like to live, you know? Anyway, I think Dylan has quite an amount this week.” Zac said, nodding his head. “Now do you have something to drink? All this talking is making me thirsty.”

473 words, tagged for mal, wearing this, lurveeee.