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+----- Thread: The Devil & The Huntsman | Dragomir (/showthread.php?tid=1259)
The Devil & The Huntsman | Dragomir - Lev Zdravkova - 08-31-2026
Monday, June 11, 1923
9:00 AM
♫
♫
"The Yorks will be here soon. Do you remember everything Father instructed?"
Lev fussed with a navy blue folder on his desk, flipping through the documents that he'd organized in preparation for this initial meeting. It was to be Drago's introduction into the business-side of Argentum Memoriae, rather than the practical. While his brother was preparing to begin training as an auror in the coming fall, their father still insisted that Drago understand the intricacies of persuasion, and how charisma and charm played a heavy hand in luring new clients into their web.
The Yorks were an old aristocratic pureblood family, run by a man older than Aleksandr and rumored to be twice as shrewd. His son had met with their father in the weeks prior, and with some effort, had been convinced to meet with Lev and Drago to discuss the various services their business could offer. There were whispers, Oleg had mentioned, that the Yorks were falling from grace, though why, the Zdravkovas hadn't yet deciphered. But as they all knew, a fall could be quickly remedied and followed by a new rise, in which case the Zdravkovas could only stand to benefit.
Relations between Oleg and his older son had tempered in the past several months as Lev found his footing in work again, and peace was settling between him and Liliya. With Drago graduated, the family was finding its forward momentum again, and their father was insistent on capitalizing on it.
This meeting had to be successful.
A knock sounded on the office door, followed by the voice of his secretary announcing the York family's arrival.
"Straighten your collar." He nodded towards his brother, giving him a quick once over to ensure the rest of him was properly put together. "Let them in, Elizabeth."
RE: The Devil & The Huntsman | Dragomir - Dragomir Zdravkova - 09-09-2026
Drago threw his brother an unimpressed, flat look.
“No,” he said drily, one brow arching. “Can you please repeat everything for me? I forgot it all.”
As much as he loved him, Lev possessed an instinctive ability to aggravate Drago to no end, particularly when work was concerned. Being Father’s favourite came with responsibility and pressure both; Drago knew that. All of them had vied for the golden spot at the top—the one that earned Father’s approval and attention, his benevolent gaze most often cast upon them and the privilege of representing the family name most effectively.
Once, Drago had hoped to be the better son.
Despite the order of their birth, he had dreamed of becoming the heir instead, of surpassing his older brother and stealing that coveted place for himself. He had abandoned that childish dream long ago, contenting himself instead with excelling in the role he did maintain.
Unfortunately, though, that meant accepting his brother’s authority.
But while he understood Lev’s micromanagement and the expectations weighing on his shoulders, that didn’t mean Drago had to like it. He wasn’t stupid, and he sure as hell didn’t need any of Father’s wrath raining down on him either. They both needed this meeting to be successful.
A knock sounded against the door, and Drago rose.
"Straighten your collar.”
He stilled for a second, brown eyes boring into Lev’s face. With deliberate patience, he obliged, raising his hands and straightening a collar that had not needed straightening.
A beat later, the office door opened.
Mr York stepped inside, and Elizabeth, the secretary, closed the door once more.
RE: The Devil & The Huntsman | Dragomir - Lev Zdravkova - 09-17-2026
"Don't be sarcastic," Lev replied, measuring his brother with an equally unimpressed look, "It means you have no wit." He returned to his paperwork, deciding everything was in order, before closing the folder and moving around the desk. Drago, as much fun as the two had together, was still immature and childish in ways that required more from him. He could no longer hide behind boarding school nine months out of the year, putting the thought of the family and business to the back of his mind.
Drago's life was no longer his own - if it had ever been - and if he were to succeed, not just in his auror career, but wherever Father required him to be, he needed to let go of the petulant attitude that so often followed him. Lev was under no impression that his demands and guidance didn't annoy Drago, but his brother often seemed to neglect the fact that his eyerolls, huffs and exasperation were equally as annoying to Lev.
Did Lev think Drago needed to be utilized within the family business? If he were honest, not in this facet. Lev was the thinker, the analyzer, the strategist. Drago was the guardian, the muscle, the blade required when strategy had met its limits. Their strengths complimented one another's, and while Lev didn't necessarily see the need for Drago to understand a part of the business he wasn't likely to ever wield, Father's word was gospel.
There was no reason for either of them to be surly about it.
To his credit, Drago fixed the collar that needed to be fixed.
When the door opened, Lev offered a polite, charming smile, stepping forward to meet Oliver York with all the warmth of a hospitable businessman. "Mr. York, welcome." He extended his hand, offering his name and then gestured to Drago. "My brother, Dragomir Zdravkova. He'll be joining us this morning."
Oliver York was around Oleg's age, polished, dressed like an aristocrat adorned with the scent of something expensive.
"Your father tells me you can explain your services more in-depth?" The man took a seat in one of the oversized armchairs while Elizabeth scurried about the room, fetching iced glasses of vodka for each of the men. "My family is floundering, I'm embarrassed to admit."
Lev gave a dismissive wave of his hand, indicating there should be none. "All families have their hard times," he said easily, taking the chair opposite him and motioning lightly for Drago to sit beside him. "The distinction is usually in how well those hard times are managed."
There was no judgment in his tone. If anything, Lev sounded almost sympathetic, though sympathy had very little to do with it. The Yorks' difficulties were unfortunate for them, certainly, but difficulty created necessity, and necessity was where families like the Zdravkovas made themselves indispensable.
He accepted the glass Elizabeth offered him with a quiet thanks, but didn't drink from it yet.
"What we provide isn't one service, exactly. It's infrastructure." Lev settled comfortably into the chair, one ankle resting over the opposite knee. "Private memory storage, protected against unauthorized retrieval or alteration. Occlumency instruction for members of the family who may find themselves exposed to questioning, coercion or Legilimency. Assessment of existing protections. Identification of vulnerabilities."
He glanced to the side, offering his brother the floor to offer up his thoughts.
RE: The Devil & The Huntsman | Dragomir - Dragomir Zdravkova - 09-23-2026
Drago offered a polite, if slightly stiff, smile as Lev introduced him to Mr York and shook the older man’s hand. “Pleasure.”
While his brother slipped into the role of the charming businessman as effortlessly as breathing, Drago suddenly felt like a fish out of water. His rigid posture and harsh expression stood in stark contrast to the light tone, hospitable demeanour, and easy flow of words Lev had assumed the instant the office door opened. It was like watching him switch into another persona.
It wasn’t new to Drago. He had seen his older brother do it at school more often than he could count. Lev could become whatever the situation required—he always knew when to smile, when to flatter, when to listen, and when to speak. Effortlessly.
Drago, meanwhile, remained trapped in the only persona he knew how to play. That of the stoic, tall, unmoved, coolly composed son—an unfeeling rock with no give. Watching his brother be anything other than that felt strangely unnatural, like witnessing an actor’s play unfold in real time. Or perhaps it felt too similar to watching Father.
The thought tightened a knot in his stomach. Drago quickly dismissed it.
He took the seat Lev indicated and focused on the conversation instead.
"All families have their hard times. The distinction is usually in how well those hard times are managed.”
Elizabeth handed him a glass of vodka, and Drago accepted it with a curt nod. He held it loosely between both hands, elbows resting against the arms of his chair as he listened to Lev outline the services Argentum Memoriae could provide. When his brother glanced toward him, silently offering him the floor, Drago cleared his throat.
He shifted slightly, smoothing the length of his tie before turning his attention to Mr York.
“My brother is right. The infrastructure Argentum Memoriae provides its clients offers security other businesses can’t, particularly to families that have spent generations accumulating information worth protecting, like your own. The vaults ensure that records of events remain accurate and intact, protecting those memories from unauthorised access and guaranteeing that they cannot be twisted by those who mean harm.”
Drago paused briefly, his tone less the cordial, almost light-hearted one his brother used, and more level and matter-of-fact instead. His expression remained unchanged as he continued.
“Families like ours often find themselves the targets of influences that can threaten a reputation, externally as well as internally. We cannot control or change those external influences beyond guaranteeing that the memories stored with us can serve as proof of actual events. But we can help with the internal.”
He let a beat pass.
“If there is information within a family that has the potential to become damaging, there are ways of ensuring it does not.”
Silence settled. Drago’s gaze remained fixed on York, waiting for his reaction.
RE: The Devil & The Huntsman | Dragomir - Lev Zdravkova - 10-03-2026
Fuck's sake.
Lev maintained his polite stoicism, his eyes traveling sideways to his brother only a moment, before flicking back to York. There was a reason he'd never suggested Dragomir's participation in the business side of things. While his brother wasn't stupid by any means, he didn't possess the finesse required for more delicate, subtle conversations.
In every aspect, Drago was a bull in a china shop. His blunt explanation of the less legal side of their family business was prime example of that.
York, to his credit didn't immediately react, only glancing back and forth between the two with what one might observe to be quiet confusion.
"We can certainly look at all aspects of what your family is facing, Mister York, and present you with several solutions that will alleviate much of your stress, if not all." He inhaled quietly, and leaned back into his seat once more.
"Tell us where you'd like to start."
Oliver York had left with a firm handshake, a signed contract and appointments for the next two months. Despite the hiccup and Lev's quick smooth over, the meeting had been successful, and Oleg would be pleased. Having another well-known old family within their grasp could only serve them and their ambitions, giving them leverage for a future that would one day come.
That was the crux of it all, wasn't it? Possessing the most dangerous types of information that could level a dynasty if and when the Zdravkovas felt necessary. Still, they could have done with a little more discretion in how they went about acquiring it.
Lev drummed his fingers on his desk as Elizabeth took the file and headed back out the office door for processing.
Blue ice settled on his brother, an air of exasperation hovering above them. "You did well," Lev offered sincerely, but it didn't mean there weren't things they'd need to discuss. Subtlety was a virtue his brother would benefit from, especially if he was going to be an auror. Even more so if their father was adamant that for some reason Drago needed to step into the sales portion of their business.
Lev saw no need. He was good at what he did, as was his father. Nadezda less so, in his opinion, but he had no say over her contributions. Left up to him, he'd remove her from the picture entirely and have her sent back to Russia where she belonged, but Aleksandr saw some benefit the rest of them did not.
“A man like York does not walk into an office like this because he wants us to explain morality to him. He knows why he came. He knows what troubles him. He knows what he hopes we might be willing to do about it.”
A faint crease appeared between his brows.
“What he does not want is to hear it spoken aloud before he has decided he is comfortable admitting it himself.” It was the part Dragomir would have to learn, should their father insist on this change.
Not the business. Lev had never questioned his brother’s intelligence, whatever their disagreements and whatever enjoyment he occasionally took in provoking him. Drago understood structures, consequences, leverage. He simply approached them like everything else in his life: directly.
Unfortunately, directness was useful until it wasn’t.
“We let them talk,” Lev continued, quieter now. “We let them tell us about the troublesome cousin, the debt no one is meant to know about, the affair, the bastard child, whatever ugly little secret has been keeping them awake at night.” People were remarkably willing to confess when they believed the person across from them was simply interested in helping.
“We do not rush to offer the solution. We let them ask for it.” Lev reached for his glass, turning it slightly between his fingers before taking a measured sip. “If York says there is information that could damage his family, we tell him there are safeguards. If he asks whether those safeguards extend beyond storage, then we tell him there are options.”
His eyes lifted to Drago again.
“We never say more than the client is prepared to say first. Because if the arrangement ever becomes inconvenient, he needs to remember that it was his idea.” Men rarely resented the hand that saved them nearly as much as they resented the hand that reminded them what they had been willing to do in order to be saved.
"Next time, leave the knife on the table and let him pick it up himself." He stood from the desk and rounded it to rest a hand on his brother's shoulder. "I'll tell Father you did well, but seeing as neither of us enjoyed this, I'll ask him to just let you focus on your training." He grinned, squeezing Drago's shoulder slightly.
"But it is good to know you can step in my place if I'm unable."
RE: The Devil & The Huntsman | Dragomir - Dragomir Zdravkova - 10-09-2026
Mr York had left, and while they waited for Elizabeth to collect the paperwork, Drago could already feel it coming—Lev’s evaluation.
The sideways glance hadn’t gone unnoticed, nor had the quiet air of exasperation that had settled between them from that point onward. Drago understood the practical side of their family’s business perfectly well—the logistics, the contracts, the various services and finances—the sales part of it all was quite beyond him. Drago was no charmer or smooth-talker.
That was his brother.
Sure enough, once the door closed behind Elizabeth, Lev’s attention settled on him. Drago sat with one ankle crossed over the opposite knee, elbows resting against the arms of his chair, fingers loosely intertwined as he waited for the inevitable.
"You did well.”
He raised a brow. Not exactly the opening he’d expected, but surely there was more to come.
And there was.
Although being lectured by his own brother felt aggravating enough, Drago knew Lev wasn’t criticising him merely for the pleasure of it. Lev had five years of experience on him, and it showed. He knew how to conduct meetings like these; he could probably do it in his sleep. Drago, on the other hand, was entirely new to this side of the business. A gap in finesse was to be expected.
So he kept his mouth shut and listened, committing Lev’s advice to memory. He did want to understand, after all. He did want to learn. Argentum Memoriae was the Zdravkova business, and he wanted to have a place in it, Auror training or not. And shouldn’t he?
Lev eventually rose and rounded his desk, one hand landing on Drago’s shoulder.
"I'll tell Father you did well, but seeing as neither of us enjoyed this, I'll ask him to just let you focus on your training. But it is good to know you can step in my place if I'm unable.”
Glancing up, Drago caught the grin on his brother’s face. For a moment, he considered arguing. That one awkward moment hardly made him useless, nor could he reasonably be expected to measure up to five years of Lev’s experience and training. If anything, that was all the more reason to keep him involved, to give him the chance to learn.
Instead, he offered a half-hearted grin of his own and nodded.
“I’ll try not to outsell you if you ever are.”
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
Friday, 10 August 1923
~ afternoon ~
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
Friday, 10 August 1923
~ afternoon ~
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
Bless Danika and her blabbering mouth. Sometimes it did come in useful.
When his older sister had sidled up to him earlier, Drago hadn’t expected her incessant appetite for gossip to make him stop and listen for once. How the fuck she’d found out Lev was meeting with Matilda—had been meeting with Matilda—when Drago himself hadn’t known a thing was a question with only one plausible answer.
He wasn’t supposed to know.
And if Father had gone to the trouble of ensuring he remained in the dark, there was probably a reason for it. Which was precisely why Drago needed to know.
After what had happened at Wiosna’s birthday party, he had no intention of leaving Matilda to deal with his brother alone, whatever the circumstances. Perhaps he was jumping to conclusions. Perhaps there were perfectly good reasons for whatever was happening. Perhaps he shouldn’t be surprised at all. It didn’t matter to him. His brain had ceased all reasonable thinking, and he would hear it from Lev himself.
When his older brother finally appeared at the end of the hallway, heading towards his rooms, Drago pushed away from the wall and stepped directly into Lev’s path. Eyes hard, he stared his brother down.
“What the fuck were you meeting with Matilda for?”
RE: The Devil & The Huntsman | Dragomir - Lev Zdravkova - 10-11-2026
It had been a short day at the office, but busy nonetheless and Lev was ready to unwind. A run around the grounds and an hour of working out would be enough to let off the steam that had accumulated throughout the day. The weekend wouldn't see him any more settled, having set up three meetings with various potential clients who hadn't been available during the week.
To say the young man worked more than anything else these days would be an understatement. Argentum Memoriae was growing quickly in Britain, having been on the steady incline for the past three years, but now seeing more momentum since the election. Uncertainty in the political theatre was certainly good for business, and Lev knew how to capitalize on it.
He figured it was good he put in the harder hours now, while he was young and able. There'd be time, later on, when his attentions would be pulled more firmly to family. For now, he could help his father grow the business until it became large enough to be mostly self-sustaining. Someday, he'd sit in boardrooms and investor meetings instead of his office.
He sighed, unknotting his tie as he rounded the corner of the hallway, leather shoes echoing against the marble floors with each step.
His mind already preparing itself for the next day, he stopped short at the darkening of his path. Icy blues raised slowly, settling on darker sepia. An eyebrow raised, Lev took a step back, placing space between himself and his seemingly agitated brother. What had he done now? It seemed a week couldn't go by now with Lev somehow finding a way to offend his dimmer younger sibling.
“What the fuck were you meeting with Matilda for?”
The second eyebrow raised to meet the first, not in alarm but with mild surprise. So he'd found out. Lev could take a wild guess on which of their eavesdropping siblings had shared the news, but that was neither here nor there. "Wouldn't you like to know?" Lev smirked, pausing a moment to let his expression fall more serious again. "If Father wanted you to know, you'd know."
There was nothing more to say, and he certainly didn't appreciate being held hostage to Drago's insecurities. He moved past his brother, ensuring the slam of his shoulder got the point across.
"Now get the fuck out of my way."
RE: The Devil & The Huntsman | Dragomir - Dragomir Zdravkova - 10-15-2026
The look on Lev’s face darkened Drago’s expression further, his jaw tightening, fists curling at his sides.
Of course he had to be smug about this. His older brother had always been a conceited little shit, taking every opportunity to flaunt his authority, finding amusement in dangling Father’s favouritism above Drago’s head.
The golden heir and the spare. The brother who got it all and the one who didn’t need to know. Like on a pedestal, they stood, Father and Lev, untouchable and unreachable. Drago below, looking up at all he had once wanted for himself, fighting longing and envy.
Fighting irritation. He knew his place. He understood hierarchy.
Usually, he kept his feelings buried beneath duty and obedience, carefully tucked away and ignored. They didn’t serve him. They changed nothing. The roles had been assigned long ago, and Drago would play his as expected.
This was different, though. This was about Matilda.
And this was Lev, not Father. Drago wasn’t going to let him get away with dismissing him so easily. He would get his answers.
Lev shoved past him, and the deliberate slam of his shoulder snapped what little restraint Drago had left. The agitation that had been simmering in his guts for hours surged into his chest, overriding the last of his patience. Before Lev could take another step, Drago caught him by the collar and drove him back against the wall with unchecked force.
The impact was hard enough to rattle the frame hanging beside them. Drago’s forearm pressed against Lev’s upper chest, just beneath his throat, pinning him in place as Drago leaned close.
“Tell me what the fuck you were doing with Matilda,” he spat, his voice dropping to a low growl, eyes mere centimetres from Lev’s.
RE: The Devil & The Huntsman | Dragomir - Lev Zdravkova - 10-15-2026
Would there ever be a day where Lev could simply enjoy peace and not be accosted by his father, or his brother, or Liliya, or fucking any Zdravkova that wanted something from him? It was never fucking ending. It didn't matter if he'd worked his brain to the edge of his sanity, or if he'd spent the day trying to decompress from an exhausting workload.
None of them seemed to understand the young man had the future of his family on his shoulders, and instead of letting him be, they found ways to exasperate and piss him off.
Matilda was a non-issue, and Lev saw no reason that Drago shouldn't have been informed, or better yet, blessed with the whole fucking assignment. It'd have saved Lev a visit that took more time out of his day than he'd have liked. But their father's word was gospel, and he hadn't felt much like suffering another beating to save Drago's delicate sensibilities.
As his back slammed into the wall, it took Lev every ounce of his control not to swing, but he gave Drago the chance, narrowing his gaze as his little brother pressed his arm across his chest and leaned in close. Lev didn't grimace at the pain that shot through his chest, nor did he move to shove his brother off of him. Drago was strong, stronger than the rest of them, physically, and Lev had fought him enough times to know his hits hurt worse than anyone else's. He never enjoyed fighting his brother, but the lovesick cub was leaving him little choice.
“Tell me what the fuck you were doing with Matilda."
"Have you forgotten, Drago?" Lev hissed, letting his wand drop from his sleeve into his waiting hand. He leaned in closer, their noses almost touching now. "I don't fucking answer to you." He jabbed his wand into Drago's ribs, a shot of purple light springing from the tip. The depulso struck his brother and sent him flying backwards into the opposite wall with a violent crash.
Lev straightened, holstering his wand quickly and cracked his knuckles. "You want to hit me?" He grinned, his eyes flashing with poorly-hidden malice. Fuck the workout. On second thought, this was exactly the unwinding he needed. He pounded his chest with his balled fist twice.
"Be a man and do it."
RE: The Devil & The Huntsman | Dragomir - Dragomir Zdravkova - 10-16-2026
He hadn’t forgotten—how could he? Lev reminded him at every fucking turn, didn’t he?
Drago didn’t care.
Right now, Lev wasn’t the heir who outranked him. He wasn’t the right hand at Father’s side, or the golden son whose authority Drago was expected to accept without question. Right now, he was just his brother. His infuriating, insufferable older brother who had met with Drago’s betrothed behind his back and refused to tell him why.
Anger flashed in Drago’s eyes, contorting his features, but before he could react, a blast of purple light sent him hurtling across the hallway and straight into the opposite wall. The impact drove the air from his lungs with a grunt. Pain shot through his ribs, where Lev’s spell had struck, radiating along his spine as he crumpled against the stone. Drago barely registered it.
Blinding rage drowned out everything else.
"You want to hit me?”
Drago shoved himself away from the wall, meeting the glee and malice on Lev’s face with cold eyes and clenched teeth. Fuck yes, he wanted to hit him. He wanted to beat the living shit out of his brother, and he knew he could. It was the one thing he had always been better at, and he was going to make good use of it.
Lev grinned like the bastard he was, pounding his chest with a balled fist. Drago didn’t wait for him to finish before launching himself at his brother.
Jaw set, he swung hard, aiming for Lev’s jaw with all the unrestrained wrath he could no longer hold back. He didn’t wait for a reaction. His fingers twisted into expensive fabric as Drago seized the front of Lev’s shirt and pushed him back against the wall once more. Chest heaving, he pinned Lev beneath his gaze.
“Be a man and tell me what the fuck you want from my betrothed.”
RE: The Devil & The Huntsman | Dragomir - Lev Zdravkova - 10-24-2026
As always, Drago was fast, his fist slamming across Lev's jaw before he could block him. His brother's hits always hurt; not as much as Father's, but all the same. He grimaced as he head flew to the side with a sickening crack, the taste of iron filling his mouth as his inner cheek crashed against his teeth.
His grin didn't drop, even when Drago shoved him back against the wall. If anything, it grew wider, his eyes darkening as he brought his gaze back to his brother's. Blood painted his teeth, and he sucked in a soft breath through them, unmoved by Drago's tantrum. Their father was right. He was too fucking smitten. Too soft and broken beneath the girl to be of any use to them in this area.
A pity. Lev had had more faith in him.
“Be a man and tell me what the fuck you want from my betrothed.”
"Absolutely nothing," he answered evenly, turning his head to spit the blood from his mouth onto the floor. Blue eyes slowly returned to his brother's brown, boring into them with the same cold intensity that radiated from Drago. It wasn't the first fight nor would it be the last. But if Drago wanted a dick-measuring contest, then Lev was game. "The gardener is all yours, soft boy."
Without warning, Lev shoved his brother off of him, his shirt tearing beneath Drago's grasp. In the same movement, he swung, throwing his fist into Drago's nose. The blow sent a sharp pain of electricity through Lev's knuckles but he ignored it. He'd been at the receiving end of enough hits to know how to throw one and Drago, for knowing better as he did, had made himself remarkably easy to provoke.
With his brother momentarily dazed, Lev grabbed him by the throat and threw him to the ground. A short, humorless laugh escaped him. He dragged the back of his hand across his bloody mouth, shaking his head. "I told Father to send you, you stupid shit," he growled, taking a step back, all amusement falling from his expression. "I thought you had enough sense left in that thick skull of yours to put aside your infatuation and do what needed to be done."
He paused, his jaw tightening. "Father said you couldn't. Said you'd gone soft. That you'd sooner disgrace yourself than risk upsetting the Nordstrom girl."
His smile returned, though there was nothing particularly pleasant about it. "And here I was, thinking he hadn't given you enough credit." He scoffed, lifting his now ruined shirt above his head and throwing it to the ground. "Ssykun."