Fic: The Broken Wall, The Burning Roof and Tower (4/6)
Title: The Broken Wall, The Burning Roof and Tower (4/6)
Author dangerous_angel
Characters: Angelina Johnson, Fred Weasley, Montague.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: 15+
Summary: Angelina loses her voice.
A/N: AU
DEATH OF SEASONS
Dear You,
I’ve decided I can’t say or write your name because if I do it sets me into a fit of giggles. I think it’s because of the potion the mediwizard from St. Mungo’s prescribed for me. It’s a watered down version of the Existaz potion. A few minutes after I take it, I feel like I did when I flew, like I’m up in the sky and nothing can touch me. Everything goes away. And then I come down and it’s like I’m falling. I feel worse than I did before I took the potion. Everything just hurts. What’s worse is that I begin to see things. One night I woke up imagining that He was at my bedside. I couldn’t scream so I threw up.
I haven’t told my parents any of this, but I think they’re starting to suspect. I don’t want to burden them any more than I have. I hear them talking. Everything’s ruined. Mother is thinking of sending for a healer from the islands. She’s hesitant, though. If the new healer can’t help then there might not be any hope.
On a happier note, you may be proud to know that I actually went outside yesterday. I went off the estate and went into town. It was strange. It felt like everyone was looking at me and I think they were. They all knew. They looked at me with pity that I don’t want. I didn’t stay very long.
Mother wanted to talk after I got back, but I couldn’t. The things that I should say to her I say to you. Why is that? Is it because you know? If that’s it then I wish she could too. But how could she not? He was all I wrote about since fourth year. Sometimes, for some stupid reason, I used to think about marrying him.
When I first entered Hogwarts and saw the red and gold Gryffindor banner with the proud lion roaring, paws out, ready to defend itself, I knew exactly which House I wanted to be in. The banner reminded me of the home my parents had left, of strength, warm fires, and women singing into the darkness. Strange, but He reminded me of that in some ways.
For the last six and a half years Gryffindor was my second home. He’s destroyed it for me and I can’t go back. I think of how much I got caught up in the idea of Gryffindor, of how it defined me. Learning that there’s more to me than red and gold…that’s where part of the sickness is coming from, and knowing that isn’t helping.
I feel…I’m losing, Galen. I need…I don’t know. I need this to end.
-Angelina
Angelina,
I was very distressed by your last letter. I didn’t like the note it ended on. Johnson, if you do anything to yourself let it be known that I will never forgive you. Others might understand your need to have it all done with, but I will not. It would be making it too easy for him. He would be alive. No matter what anyone says, being alive is always the greatest thing. The present may be difficult but there is always the future, the possibility for change. Death does not bring resolve. It is the end of resolve. I believe that what occurs in life should be rectified in life. I will not wait until after my death to forgive or see to those who deserve my revenge. Death for me is a time to leave life and everything concerned with it behind. I have no interest in forcing my opinion on others, but I think you would do well to think as I do, at least for now.
-Galen
“What’s that you got there?” Calix Warrington asked, trying to sneak a look at the parchment Montague had just signed.
“None of your business,” Montague replied, folding his letter.
Suspecting that his reply would be immediate, Angelina’s horned owl, Mercury, had perched on the windowsill in the Great Hall instead of going to the Owlery. Montague signaled it over, attached the letter to his leg and gave him a few bits of toast before sending him off.
“Whose owl is that?” Calix asked. “It only started delivering to you recently.”
“It’s my lover. I’ve been carrying on a grand affair with a fair goblin maid and she demands to hear from me quite often,” Montague replied.
“Most Goblins can’t read English,” Calix said without missing a beat.
“Okay, then it’s none of your business.”
Calix was his best friend, but Montague didn’t want to talk to him about Angelina. He did not want to involve Calix in this mess of hurt, violence and eventual revenge. That night it had been him and Angelina and later on Madam Pomfrey and the professors. Calix and everyone else had heard the story, but hadn’t experienced it. Talking to him or anyone else would do nothing but feed the Hogwarts grapevine and help to make others feel included. Montague did not want them to feel included. What was between him and Angelina was their own, something he did not want to share.
“Does it have to do with--”
Montague cut his friend off with a glare. Calix raised his brow slightly but spoke no further.
When he did speak again, he nudged Montague with his elbow. “They’re looking at you again. Bloody Gryffindors.”
Montague rolled his eyes. Being stared at by the Gryffindors had become a part of his morning ritual. The harshest glares would come from Spinnet, Bell, and Jordan. They were Angelina’s closest friends. They, as well as Weasley, had become stand-ins for her, receiving pitying glances and offers of comfort.
At first Montague had ignored them, but they’d irritated him so much with their never ceasing self-righteousness that he’d begun to glare back. If they thought he’d been ignoring them out of guilt they were now sure that it was not so. He’d heard they’d received his glares as confession, as a sign that he was as evil as they believed him to be. He couldn’t win so he chose not to care about the game.
How stupid they would feel when the truth was known-and it would be known. Montague would make sure of it. What he lacked in guilt they would feel ten fold. Every day gone was a day closer to their realization. Knowing that gave him the strength to hold their gazes and to scorn at their stupidity and blindness.
Today he’d expected the same malevolent looks but was only met with confused and curious expressions. Spinnet was whispering something in Bell’s ear. Bell nodded and looked away, followed by Jordan.
Montague wanted to growl in frustration. Once again, the Gryffindors were changing the rules without consulting anyone.
--->----
They cornered him in the library after dinner in the small section devoted to non-British magic. Jordan was not with them. Montague had seen him go off with Weasley, who looked “a little suicidal” according to a fifth year Hufflepuff. Montague hoped Weasley wouldn’t jump off Gryffindor Tower anytime soon. Not before he had a chance to push him off it.
Spinnet and Bell were looking at him in the way that said they expected him to speak first. Under their façade of Gryffindor courage Montague could sense their discomfort and fear.
He ignored them for a few moments, staring intently at the old book in his hands. Spinnet let out a sigh of frustration. Bell narrowed her eyes at him.
Deciding he’d annoyed them enough, Montague snapped the book shut and gave them his best smile. “Is there something I can help you ladies with?”
Bell clenched her jaws; her fingers were curled into a fist. Montague glanced at her hand, raised his brow and gave a little snort. He moved away from them, heading towards the desk where he’d left his things. Spinnet quickly stepped in front of him.
“Are you trying to start a fight?” he asked in a low voice, sorting out which hex would best suit the girl.
“No,” she replied. “We just want to ask you something.”
“Ask me something?” he echoed. What could they want to know? They thought they knew everything already.
Bell, who was now standing beside Spinnet, nodded. “We were just wondering why Angelina’s been sending you letters.”
“What would make you think she’s been doing that?”
Spinnet rolled her eyes. “We’re not stupid. We’ve seen her owl. Mercury’s here almost every other day.”
“And the fact that she hasn’t been sending you howlers says something.”
“Oh, really,” Montague gave a short laugh. “And what could that be?”
The girls looked at each other, communicating through subtle shifts of expression.
“We don’t know yet,” Bell replied. “Why don’t you tell us?”
It was Montague’s turn to clench his jaws and curl his fingers into fists. “I don’t have to tell you anything. If you want to know what Angelina has to say to me then ask her--”
“She’s hasn’t been responding to any of our owls.”
He grinned maliciously. “Well, that’s yours to deal with. I don’t owe you anything and I certainly wouldn’t say a thing after the last few weeks.”
“Did you do it, then?” Bell asked, looking him in the eye.
“What do you think?” he asked, returning the gaze.
She didn’t answer. He saw uncertainty in her eyes. She wanted to believe it was him. She wanted it all to be wrapped up in a neat little package so as not to complicate things. Gryffindors and their simplicity. When would they learn that the world was not so easy, that the space between dark and the light was where they all were?
A/N: Title for this chapter taken from AFI’s “Death of Seasons” from their album Sing the Sorrow.
Part 5
Author dangerous_angel
Characters: Angelina Johnson, Fred Weasley, Montague.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: 15+
Summary: Angelina loses her voice.
A/N: AU
DEATH OF SEASONS
Dear You,
I’ve decided I can’t say or write your name because if I do it sets me into a fit of giggles. I think it’s because of the potion the mediwizard from St. Mungo’s prescribed for me. It’s a watered down version of the Existaz potion. A few minutes after I take it, I feel like I did when I flew, like I’m up in the sky and nothing can touch me. Everything goes away. And then I come down and it’s like I’m falling. I feel worse than I did before I took the potion. Everything just hurts. What’s worse is that I begin to see things. One night I woke up imagining that He was at my bedside. I couldn’t scream so I threw up.
I haven’t told my parents any of this, but I think they’re starting to suspect. I don’t want to burden them any more than I have. I hear them talking. Everything’s ruined. Mother is thinking of sending for a healer from the islands. She’s hesitant, though. If the new healer can’t help then there might not be any hope.
On a happier note, you may be proud to know that I actually went outside yesterday. I went off the estate and went into town. It was strange. It felt like everyone was looking at me and I think they were. They all knew. They looked at me with pity that I don’t want. I didn’t stay very long.
Mother wanted to talk after I got back, but I couldn’t. The things that I should say to her I say to you. Why is that? Is it because you know? If that’s it then I wish she could too. But how could she not? He was all I wrote about since fourth year. Sometimes, for some stupid reason, I used to think about marrying him.
When I first entered Hogwarts and saw the red and gold Gryffindor banner with the proud lion roaring, paws out, ready to defend itself, I knew exactly which House I wanted to be in. The banner reminded me of the home my parents had left, of strength, warm fires, and women singing into the darkness. Strange, but He reminded me of that in some ways.
For the last six and a half years Gryffindor was my second home. He’s destroyed it for me and I can’t go back. I think of how much I got caught up in the idea of Gryffindor, of how it defined me. Learning that there’s more to me than red and gold…that’s where part of the sickness is coming from, and knowing that isn’t helping.
I feel…I’m losing, Galen. I need…I don’t know. I need this to end.
-Angelina
Angelina,
I was very distressed by your last letter. I didn’t like the note it ended on. Johnson, if you do anything to yourself let it be known that I will never forgive you. Others might understand your need to have it all done with, but I will not. It would be making it too easy for him. He would be alive. No matter what anyone says, being alive is always the greatest thing. The present may be difficult but there is always the future, the possibility for change. Death does not bring resolve. It is the end of resolve. I believe that what occurs in life should be rectified in life. I will not wait until after my death to forgive or see to those who deserve my revenge. Death for me is a time to leave life and everything concerned with it behind. I have no interest in forcing my opinion on others, but I think you would do well to think as I do, at least for now.
-Galen
“What’s that you got there?” Calix Warrington asked, trying to sneak a look at the parchment Montague had just signed.
“None of your business,” Montague replied, folding his letter.
Suspecting that his reply would be immediate, Angelina’s horned owl, Mercury, had perched on the windowsill in the Great Hall instead of going to the Owlery. Montague signaled it over, attached the letter to his leg and gave him a few bits of toast before sending him off.
“Whose owl is that?” Calix asked. “It only started delivering to you recently.”
“It’s my lover. I’ve been carrying on a grand affair with a fair goblin maid and she demands to hear from me quite often,” Montague replied.
“Most Goblins can’t read English,” Calix said without missing a beat.
“Okay, then it’s none of your business.”
Calix was his best friend, but Montague didn’t want to talk to him about Angelina. He did not want to involve Calix in this mess of hurt, violence and eventual revenge. That night it had been him and Angelina and later on Madam Pomfrey and the professors. Calix and everyone else had heard the story, but hadn’t experienced it. Talking to him or anyone else would do nothing but feed the Hogwarts grapevine and help to make others feel included. Montague did not want them to feel included. What was between him and Angelina was their own, something he did not want to share.
“Does it have to do with--”
Montague cut his friend off with a glare. Calix raised his brow slightly but spoke no further.
When he did speak again, he nudged Montague with his elbow. “They’re looking at you again. Bloody Gryffindors.”
Montague rolled his eyes. Being stared at by the Gryffindors had become a part of his morning ritual. The harshest glares would come from Spinnet, Bell, and Jordan. They were Angelina’s closest friends. They, as well as Weasley, had become stand-ins for her, receiving pitying glances and offers of comfort.
At first Montague had ignored them, but they’d irritated him so much with their never ceasing self-righteousness that he’d begun to glare back. If they thought he’d been ignoring them out of guilt they were now sure that it was not so. He’d heard they’d received his glares as confession, as a sign that he was as evil as they believed him to be. He couldn’t win so he chose not to care about the game.
How stupid they would feel when the truth was known-and it would be known. Montague would make sure of it. What he lacked in guilt they would feel ten fold. Every day gone was a day closer to their realization. Knowing that gave him the strength to hold their gazes and to scorn at their stupidity and blindness.
Today he’d expected the same malevolent looks but was only met with confused and curious expressions. Spinnet was whispering something in Bell’s ear. Bell nodded and looked away, followed by Jordan.
Montague wanted to growl in frustration. Once again, the Gryffindors were changing the rules without consulting anyone.
--->----
They cornered him in the library after dinner in the small section devoted to non-British magic. Jordan was not with them. Montague had seen him go off with Weasley, who looked “a little suicidal” according to a fifth year Hufflepuff. Montague hoped Weasley wouldn’t jump off Gryffindor Tower anytime soon. Not before he had a chance to push him off it.
Spinnet and Bell were looking at him in the way that said they expected him to speak first. Under their façade of Gryffindor courage Montague could sense their discomfort and fear.
He ignored them for a few moments, staring intently at the old book in his hands. Spinnet let out a sigh of frustration. Bell narrowed her eyes at him.
Deciding he’d annoyed them enough, Montague snapped the book shut and gave them his best smile. “Is there something I can help you ladies with?”
Bell clenched her jaws; her fingers were curled into a fist. Montague glanced at her hand, raised his brow and gave a little snort. He moved away from them, heading towards the desk where he’d left his things. Spinnet quickly stepped in front of him.
“Are you trying to start a fight?” he asked in a low voice, sorting out which hex would best suit the girl.
“No,” she replied. “We just want to ask you something.”
“Ask me something?” he echoed. What could they want to know? They thought they knew everything already.
Bell, who was now standing beside Spinnet, nodded. “We were just wondering why Angelina’s been sending you letters.”
“What would make you think she’s been doing that?”
Spinnet rolled her eyes. “We’re not stupid. We’ve seen her owl. Mercury’s here almost every other day.”
“And the fact that she hasn’t been sending you howlers says something.”
“Oh, really,” Montague gave a short laugh. “And what could that be?”
The girls looked at each other, communicating through subtle shifts of expression.
“We don’t know yet,” Bell replied. “Why don’t you tell us?”
It was Montague’s turn to clench his jaws and curl his fingers into fists. “I don’t have to tell you anything. If you want to know what Angelina has to say to me then ask her--”
“She’s hasn’t been responding to any of our owls.”
He grinned maliciously. “Well, that’s yours to deal with. I don’t owe you anything and I certainly wouldn’t say a thing after the last few weeks.”
“Did you do it, then?” Bell asked, looking him in the eye.
“What do you think?” he asked, returning the gaze.
She didn’t answer. He saw uncertainty in her eyes. She wanted to believe it was him. She wanted it all to be wrapped up in a neat little package so as not to complicate things. Gryffindors and their simplicity. When would they learn that the world was not so easy, that the space between dark and the light was where they all were?
A/N: Title for this chapter taken from AFI’s “Death of Seasons” from their album Sing the Sorrow.
Part 5