"Marcus!" Cundrie ran up as she saw Marcus, but stopped as soon as she sees what he was wearing, which is a white thong, white wristbands, a white-collar with a black bowtie, a pair of black shoes and a sailor hat, showing his flat stomach with his dick jiggling. Cundrie backed away.

"Let's go home." Cundrie nodded as they held Marcus' arm, leaving the Antaburgh precinct. As soon as they left, Marcus and Cundrie immediately apparated away to the pavement before Amber Cottage.

"You go shower first, we'll talk," Cundrie said to Marcus, nudging her head to the direction of the bathroom. Marcus nodded as he left Cundrie alone to his room, then stepping out with a towel and some clothes in his hands, entering the bathroom.

Cundrie takes a seat on the sofa, not knowing what to say. Why didn't Cundrie realise that Marcus is a sex worker earlier? They live with him, they should've realised. Were they that terrible of a sibling to never realise anything? To never realise that Marcus is a sex worker, to never realise that Ginny was possessed by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, to never realise that Ron was almost getting himself killed every fucking year since he's in Hogwarts (is he still doing that- Cundrie prays not)?

How about as a person, was she that clueless as to never realise that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is rising and the Order had been right in that sector, to never realise that her former boss was dead and replaced by a death eater, to never realise her father's laziness, to blame her family's poverty on anything else but her father's incompetency and the fact that he cared more about himself than his children?

"What do you want to talk about?" Marcus asked, having changed to navy blue short-sleeved t-shirt and dark green khaki knee-length trousers, sitting next to Cundrie on the sofa. "Is it about my arrest or my job?"

"I just want you to know that whatever you do, as long as you're safe and you're happy doing it, I will NEVER judge you for it," Cundrie said, folding their arms whilst looking down. "Are you safe?"

"Yes. The manager, Paige, drills every worker with various methods of safe sex and we have tests for various STDs at least once every two weeks," Marcus answered. "You remember my fight a few months ago?" Cundrie nodded, it was also when she met Bill and Charlie. "I wasn't in a fight just because. The man assaulted a fellow sex worker when she's off-duty and I defended her."

"I'm proud you defended someone from being assaulted-" Cundrie kissed Marcus' forehead.

"I admit I often get ideas for my novellas after my sessions-" Marcus shrugged. "That's a plus."

"How?"

"Sometimes our customers come with broken hearts. Sometimes they vent to me and I listen, sometimes I offer advises-" Marcus cocked his head to the side- "and twist their stories in my novellas." Cundrie blinked in shock, is that even legal? "

"I don't want to think if that's legal or not-" Cundrie shook her head. "Do they even notice?"

"So far I've received no complaints, I use a stage name in my club," Marcus shrugged. "I love the fact that most people are so biased towards sex workers that they think we are just depressed unsuccessful motherfuckers that they don't even think the possibility of situations like this."

"Marcus-"

"I mean, look at me." Marcus chuckled as he clapped. Cundrie snapped and turned her gaze at Marcus. "I have a cottage as a house only because I don't need anything bigger, but I can get a bigger house if I want to. But I don't need a bigger house, so why do I even bother? You'd think I'm a lazy arse who can only get a cottage, but damn I'm one successful writer with so many novellas already and I'm the president of a successful publishing company. Most people wouldn't think of that when they're thinking of sex workers!"

"Marcus!" Cundrie yelled. Marcus snapped his head at them. "I don't know if what you do is illegal, but it is evil. Those people trusted you not to tell."

"It's not like I say their names, I twist the stories-" Marcus shrugged coldly. "I was just... inspired... with their stories. A lot of writers do that too."

"With the consent of the storyteller!" Cundrie stood up, rage building up in them.

"Nobody sued me yet, nobody even realised!" Marcus exclaimed, standing up also. "You're not me, Cundrie! You don't know how stressful it is to write, how stressful it is when you reach writer's block, how happy you get when you get ideas for scenes, how excited you feel when you finished a manuscript and start turning it to a novella, how to market them and to get them interestingly different for readers! You're basically a paid slave, you don't have an independent business!"

"I may not have an independent business, but at least I still have my ethics and never lied to anyone for my own gain!" Cundrie shot back, anger bubbling inside them. "I may not know all of those, but I also never know what's it like to lie for my own gain. I act caring because I actually do care and not for a stupid damn book! I don't have my own house but it doesn't mean I can't get a house!"

"No, you don't have to go," Marcus shook his head, his facial expression softening. Cundrie's facial expression softened also. Marcus left the living room and head for his room, leaving Cundrie alone.

Cundrie sat on the sofa, unable to produce a thought. Cundrie played with her fingers on her thighs, biting her lips. It's not like what she said was really wrong, he can get sued if anyone noticed. He's lucky no one noticed yet, but someone's bound to notice someday.

What should they do?