Fic: Demon Days (Sat. July 15, 1995 - Fri. July 21, 1995)
Title: Demon Days (Sat. July 15, 1995 - Fri. July 21, 1995)
Author: dangerous_angel
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairngs(s): AJ/FW, AJ/OMC, AJ/M, AS/MF
Summary: During the summer of 1995, Angelina Johnson decides the world is going to end and the only course of action is to throw caution to the wind.
Rating: 16+.
Word Count: 14, 000
A/N: Takes place after GoF.
Saturday July 15, 1995
I once read a book that talked about all the layers of skin the body had. The artist at Ley Lines says that he has to get the ink deep into my skin to guarantee that it stays. I wonder what layer the ink will penetrate to.
I don’t get anything big. The tattoo is small, something only a lover will find.
I thought about getting a lion, but I’m not as attached to that symbol as I once thought I was. Instead I get the Adinkra symbol Sesa Woruban. It’s a star with a hole in the center, surrounded by what looks like limp waves. It means: “I transform my life.”
The artist likes it. He’s tired of doing Celtic designs.
“What else is popular?” I ask, flinching as the needle comes down on my skin. I refused the pain potions because I’ve taken too much this week.
“Honestly,” his voice lowers, “Some of the young ones are coming in trying to get the Dark Mark on their arms. They want to be ready to show their loyalty when He finally shows himself.”
“I thought people didn’t believe he was back. The Prophet-”
“Is run by arses,” he cuts me off. “He’s back. The young ones who come in hear their parents talking. Knockturn Alley is busier than ever. I’m thinking of making trip there myself.”
“For what?”
“I don’t care if it’s Dark Arts or not. I want to be ready if something ever happens around here. I don’t think anything they taught me at Hogwarts is going to do much good if an attack happens. Lined us up for the slaughter, that’s what I think the Ministry’s done. I can’t tell you how long people have been trying to change the curriculum at Hogwarts.”
The artist goes on ranting and I stop listening.
I don’t want to die. I don’t want to accept all this and wait for death to come. I want to fight.
Sunday July 16, 1995
I wonder if the reason the Ministry’s denying that You Know Who is back is because they’re working with him. There’s no war coming, just a huge change in the way things are done. One of my Muggle-born friends told me about the Holocaust in Germany. It wasn’t a war at first, just a change in the laws and then people began to be shipped to the death camps.
If You Know Who takes over is that what he’ll do with the Muggle-borns?
Tuesday July 18, 1995
Fred and I owl each other every other day. I don’t notice the change in the letters until today. He tells me a bit more about what he and George are working on. He says that they came into some money and are thinking about starting their own business. They’re going to be rich, according to him.
He sounds like how a strutting peacock would look. He’s trying to impress me. Why?
I’ve given up trying to understanding what goes on in Fred Weasley’s head.
Friday July 21, 1995
Marcus and Alicia are going to Paris for the weekend. Of course, I’m the only one who knows this. Mrs. Spinnet thinks Alicia is staying over at my house. God, I hope nothing happens that requires Mrs. Spinnet to owl or visit.
I’m sitting at my desk, thinking of excuses as to why Alicia wouldn’t be at the house if worse comes to worst when Tabby, Mum’s personal house elf, pops into my room. I’m supposed to make myself presentable and go to her sitting room. We have company.
Mum’s sitting in her favourite chair, looking every bit the society wife when I enter. She gives me a once over and smiles. She bought this dress for me two weeks ago. It’s a light shade of green and the corset makes sure that I’ll have many male admirers if I wear it in public. Recently, Mum has become very interested in marrying me off into a proper Wizarding family.
A woman sits across from Mum. She’s the type my mother likes to closely associate with. Her beauty matches her own and from the looks of her robes it’s clear so does her wealth. The woman sits proudly, her dark hair pulled up in a complicated style. Her olive-toned skin is flawless. Her eyes are familiar. They’re Montague’s eyes.
“Angelina, this is Maria Montague,” Mum says.
I curtsy because it’s what polite and proper pureblood girls do. Madame Montague smiles approvingly.
“She’s also brought her son, Niccolaio.”
Montague is skulking in a corner, examining the items on Mum’s corner shelf.
“He plays Quidditch at Hogwarts so I suppose you two know each other.”
“Yes. He’s tried to kill me on more than one occasion,” I reply sweetly.
Mum narrows her eyes at me, but Maria laughs.
“I can’t believe you let her play. There are so many other things she could be doing with her time. After all, Quidditch is a very dangerous sport.”
“Ms. Johnson is not as delicate as she looks,” Montague says. “I daresay she’s tried to kill me on a few occasions.”
“I’m blushing,” I reply with an edge of sarcasm. “I didn’t know you thought so well of me to call me an attempted murderer.”
“I’m sure he’ll tell you exactly what he thinks of you when you take him out to the garden,” Mum says. “Madame Montague and I have important to things to discuss.”
Tea parties or blood supremacy? People are meeting. That’s what the artist at Ley Lines told me.
My parents have never voiced any anti-Muggle sentiments, but I hardly know what food they like so I can’t be sure of anything. My parents don’t seem the Death Eater type. They’re sympathizers at most.
“Do you have anymore of those cigarettes?” I ask Montague when we get out to the garden. Our mothers won’t be able to see us from sitting room.
Montague hands me three and his matchbook. “Your mouth will get you in trouble one day, Johnson.”
I inhale deeply and smile. “Possibly. So, why is your mum here? Why are you here?”
“My mother needed to talk to yours.”
“And you?”
“I went to see Marcus this morning. He isn’t at home. He’s not at Gringotts either”
“So you think I know where he is? Why would I know something like that?”
“If I’m not mistaken, you were parading around his house naked the last time I saw you.”
“I was not naked. I bet you wish I were, though.”
Montague schools his expression blank. I laugh.
“I don’t know where Marcus is. You’ll just have to wait until he gets back to talk to him.”
“So he is coming back?”
“How should I know?”
Montague looks as if he wants to throttle me. “You tell me where’s he gone and when he’s coming back and I’ll you why my Mum’s here.”
“You’re assuming that I care or that I don’t know.”
Montague studies me. Am I bluffing or not? He takes out a cigarette for himself. “The pureblood families are meeting. It looks like what Potter and Dumbledore said is true. He’s back.”
“And your Mum wants my parents to join the cause?”
“We’re not as united as you think. Some believe in the anti-Muggle stance but hate the killing, others want to start casting Avada Kedavra as soon as possible. Some are neutral and others would follow Dumbledore to hell and back.”
“And your mother?”
“Like any good Slytherin, she wants to make sure her family survives no matter the outcome.”
“My parents didn’t go to Hogwarts, you know. My Dad was always travelling when he growing up so he was tutored. My mum was schooled in the Caribbean. They only learned about the details of the House system when they emigrated. My Mum’s family has their own symbol, kind of like a crest. It’s a snake with its tail in its mouth. No beginning and no end, just being, forever.”
“What are you saying?”
“That our mums are a lot alike. My mother will see that her line continues.”
We reach an enclosure made of hedges ten feet high. Inside it is a bench and a stone fountain.
“Marcus took Alicia to Paris for the weekend,” I say as I sit down.
“He’s coming back, then?”
“More than likely. You were worried that he wouldn’t?”
“I wouldn’t blame him if he chose to run. He probably should, in fact. I’m sure Alicia has told you what’s been going on. There are many Montagues who feel Marcus is neglecting his duty.”
“I don’t understand that. He doesn’t do what they want and they decide to kill him. It seems a bit stupid.”
“It is when you look at it like that. You don’t understand my family. My aunt went against the entire family when she married Marcus’ father. He was a poor, ugly metalworker and she married him. The family tolerated the marriage but they didn’t accept it. Marcus isn’t really a part of the family because of that. If he wants to be he has to submit wholly to the elders. I think they see it as an insult that Marcus won’t do that since we took care of him all those years. To them, it feels like an outsider’s taken an inheritance that belonged to the child my aunt should’ve had. It’s enough to make them want to kill him.”
“Why doesn’t Marcus want to submit? I don’t see him as the Muggle loving type.”
“He’s not. He doesn’t care about Muggles or the Muggle-borns. Marcus only cares about getting what he wants and living his life how he wants to. Politics is the last thing he thinks about. He doesn’t like people telling him what to do. If he submits he knows he in for a lifetime of being treated no better than he was while he lived with us.”
I can’t imagine what Marcus must be feeling right now. For him, death is closer and more certain. I might be able to survive what’s coming. I’m not sure if Marcus will.
“I can see why Alicia spends so much time with him,” I say.
Alicia floos to Marcus’ four or five days out of the week. I’m not sure what she’s telling her parents but there haven’t been any problems yet.
“Does she love him?” Montague asks.
“You’ve seen them together.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Of course she does. Alicia’s not the type to mess about. She’s all about monogamy and devotion.”
“And where do you fit in? It looked like Marcus was building a harem.”
I make a face, although the thought of having sex with Marcus doesn’t disgust me as it once did. “I just go round there sometimes. It’s free alcohol and entertainment. You should join us sometime. You’re too serious.”
“I have reason to be.”
“We all do. We’re just having a bit of fun before it’s too late.”
“What are you saying? You want us to be friends?” He sounds offended by the idea.
“At least until school starts. I don’t think either of us could afford to be friends then.”
“And anything that happens?”
“Will never be repeated as long as I live, as long as you agree to the same. Merlin’s honour.” I hold up my hand.
Montague is suspicious. “You don’t even know what my beliefs are.”
I’m getting frustrated. “I don’t care! I’m just asking you to go out with us and buy me a pint if I don’t have any money. This isn’t a marriage proposal.”
“And you won’t be making your usual stupid Gryffindor judgements about anything I say or do.”
“We’re on holiday. Gryffindor and Slytherin don’t really matter right now.”
Montague inhales deeply. It’s a long time before he speaks. “Alright, Johnson,” he murmurs.
“Call me Angelina.”
“Nicco,” he says.
TBC
Author: dangerous_angel
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairngs(s): AJ/FW, AJ/OMC, AJ/M, AS/MF
Summary: During the summer of 1995, Angelina Johnson decides the world is going to end and the only course of action is to throw caution to the wind.
Rating: 16+.
Word Count: 14, 000
A/N: Takes place after GoF.
Saturday July 15, 1995
I once read a book that talked about all the layers of skin the body had. The artist at Ley Lines says that he has to get the ink deep into my skin to guarantee that it stays. I wonder what layer the ink will penetrate to.
I don’t get anything big. The tattoo is small, something only a lover will find.
I thought about getting a lion, but I’m not as attached to that symbol as I once thought I was. Instead I get the Adinkra symbol Sesa Woruban. It’s a star with a hole in the center, surrounded by what looks like limp waves. It means: “I transform my life.”
The artist likes it. He’s tired of doing Celtic designs.
“What else is popular?” I ask, flinching as the needle comes down on my skin. I refused the pain potions because I’ve taken too much this week.
“Honestly,” his voice lowers, “Some of the young ones are coming in trying to get the Dark Mark on their arms. They want to be ready to show their loyalty when He finally shows himself.”
“I thought people didn’t believe he was back. The Prophet-”
“Is run by arses,” he cuts me off. “He’s back. The young ones who come in hear their parents talking. Knockturn Alley is busier than ever. I’m thinking of making trip there myself.”
“For what?”
“I don’t care if it’s Dark Arts or not. I want to be ready if something ever happens around here. I don’t think anything they taught me at Hogwarts is going to do much good if an attack happens. Lined us up for the slaughter, that’s what I think the Ministry’s done. I can’t tell you how long people have been trying to change the curriculum at Hogwarts.”
The artist goes on ranting and I stop listening.
I don’t want to die. I don’t want to accept all this and wait for death to come. I want to fight.
Sunday July 16, 1995
I wonder if the reason the Ministry’s denying that You Know Who is back is because they’re working with him. There’s no war coming, just a huge change in the way things are done. One of my Muggle-born friends told me about the Holocaust in Germany. It wasn’t a war at first, just a change in the laws and then people began to be shipped to the death camps.
If You Know Who takes over is that what he’ll do with the Muggle-borns?
Tuesday July 18, 1995
Fred and I owl each other every other day. I don’t notice the change in the letters until today. He tells me a bit more about what he and George are working on. He says that they came into some money and are thinking about starting their own business. They’re going to be rich, according to him.
He sounds like how a strutting peacock would look. He’s trying to impress me. Why?
I’ve given up trying to understanding what goes on in Fred Weasley’s head.
Friday July 21, 1995
Marcus and Alicia are going to Paris for the weekend. Of course, I’m the only one who knows this. Mrs. Spinnet thinks Alicia is staying over at my house. God, I hope nothing happens that requires Mrs. Spinnet to owl or visit.
I’m sitting at my desk, thinking of excuses as to why Alicia wouldn’t be at the house if worse comes to worst when Tabby, Mum’s personal house elf, pops into my room. I’m supposed to make myself presentable and go to her sitting room. We have company.
Mum’s sitting in her favourite chair, looking every bit the society wife when I enter. She gives me a once over and smiles. She bought this dress for me two weeks ago. It’s a light shade of green and the corset makes sure that I’ll have many male admirers if I wear it in public. Recently, Mum has become very interested in marrying me off into a proper Wizarding family.
A woman sits across from Mum. She’s the type my mother likes to closely associate with. Her beauty matches her own and from the looks of her robes it’s clear so does her wealth. The woman sits proudly, her dark hair pulled up in a complicated style. Her olive-toned skin is flawless. Her eyes are familiar. They’re Montague’s eyes.
“Angelina, this is Maria Montague,” Mum says.
I curtsy because it’s what polite and proper pureblood girls do. Madame Montague smiles approvingly.
“She’s also brought her son, Niccolaio.”
Montague is skulking in a corner, examining the items on Mum’s corner shelf.
“He plays Quidditch at Hogwarts so I suppose you two know each other.”
“Yes. He’s tried to kill me on more than one occasion,” I reply sweetly.
Mum narrows her eyes at me, but Maria laughs.
“I can’t believe you let her play. There are so many other things she could be doing with her time. After all, Quidditch is a very dangerous sport.”
“Ms. Johnson is not as delicate as she looks,” Montague says. “I daresay she’s tried to kill me on a few occasions.”
“I’m blushing,” I reply with an edge of sarcasm. “I didn’t know you thought so well of me to call me an attempted murderer.”
“I’m sure he’ll tell you exactly what he thinks of you when you take him out to the garden,” Mum says. “Madame Montague and I have important to things to discuss.”
Tea parties or blood supremacy? People are meeting. That’s what the artist at Ley Lines told me.
My parents have never voiced any anti-Muggle sentiments, but I hardly know what food they like so I can’t be sure of anything. My parents don’t seem the Death Eater type. They’re sympathizers at most.
“Do you have anymore of those cigarettes?” I ask Montague when we get out to the garden. Our mothers won’t be able to see us from sitting room.
Montague hands me three and his matchbook. “Your mouth will get you in trouble one day, Johnson.”
I inhale deeply and smile. “Possibly. So, why is your mum here? Why are you here?”
“My mother needed to talk to yours.”
“And you?”
“I went to see Marcus this morning. He isn’t at home. He’s not at Gringotts either”
“So you think I know where he is? Why would I know something like that?”
“If I’m not mistaken, you were parading around his house naked the last time I saw you.”
“I was not naked. I bet you wish I were, though.”
Montague schools his expression blank. I laugh.
“I don’t know where Marcus is. You’ll just have to wait until he gets back to talk to him.”
“So he is coming back?”
“How should I know?”
Montague looks as if he wants to throttle me. “You tell me where’s he gone and when he’s coming back and I’ll you why my Mum’s here.”
“You’re assuming that I care or that I don’t know.”
Montague studies me. Am I bluffing or not? He takes out a cigarette for himself. “The pureblood families are meeting. It looks like what Potter and Dumbledore said is true. He’s back.”
“And your Mum wants my parents to join the cause?”
“We’re not as united as you think. Some believe in the anti-Muggle stance but hate the killing, others want to start casting Avada Kedavra as soon as possible. Some are neutral and others would follow Dumbledore to hell and back.”
“And your mother?”
“Like any good Slytherin, she wants to make sure her family survives no matter the outcome.”
“My parents didn’t go to Hogwarts, you know. My Dad was always travelling when he growing up so he was tutored. My mum was schooled in the Caribbean. They only learned about the details of the House system when they emigrated. My Mum’s family has their own symbol, kind of like a crest. It’s a snake with its tail in its mouth. No beginning and no end, just being, forever.”
“What are you saying?”
“That our mums are a lot alike. My mother will see that her line continues.”
We reach an enclosure made of hedges ten feet high. Inside it is a bench and a stone fountain.
“Marcus took Alicia to Paris for the weekend,” I say as I sit down.
“He’s coming back, then?”
“More than likely. You were worried that he wouldn’t?”
“I wouldn’t blame him if he chose to run. He probably should, in fact. I’m sure Alicia has told you what’s been going on. There are many Montagues who feel Marcus is neglecting his duty.”
“I don’t understand that. He doesn’t do what they want and they decide to kill him. It seems a bit stupid.”
“It is when you look at it like that. You don’t understand my family. My aunt went against the entire family when she married Marcus’ father. He was a poor, ugly metalworker and she married him. The family tolerated the marriage but they didn’t accept it. Marcus isn’t really a part of the family because of that. If he wants to be he has to submit wholly to the elders. I think they see it as an insult that Marcus won’t do that since we took care of him all those years. To them, it feels like an outsider’s taken an inheritance that belonged to the child my aunt should’ve had. It’s enough to make them want to kill him.”
“Why doesn’t Marcus want to submit? I don’t see him as the Muggle loving type.”
“He’s not. He doesn’t care about Muggles or the Muggle-borns. Marcus only cares about getting what he wants and living his life how he wants to. Politics is the last thing he thinks about. He doesn’t like people telling him what to do. If he submits he knows he in for a lifetime of being treated no better than he was while he lived with us.”
I can’t imagine what Marcus must be feeling right now. For him, death is closer and more certain. I might be able to survive what’s coming. I’m not sure if Marcus will.
“I can see why Alicia spends so much time with him,” I say.
Alicia floos to Marcus’ four or five days out of the week. I’m not sure what she’s telling her parents but there haven’t been any problems yet.
“Does she love him?” Montague asks.
“You’ve seen them together.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Of course she does. Alicia’s not the type to mess about. She’s all about monogamy and devotion.”
“And where do you fit in? It looked like Marcus was building a harem.”
I make a face, although the thought of having sex with Marcus doesn’t disgust me as it once did. “I just go round there sometimes. It’s free alcohol and entertainment. You should join us sometime. You’re too serious.”
“I have reason to be.”
“We all do. We’re just having a bit of fun before it’s too late.”
“What are you saying? You want us to be friends?” He sounds offended by the idea.
“At least until school starts. I don’t think either of us could afford to be friends then.”
“And anything that happens?”
“Will never be repeated as long as I live, as long as you agree to the same. Merlin’s honour.” I hold up my hand.
Montague is suspicious. “You don’t even know what my beliefs are.”
I’m getting frustrated. “I don’t care! I’m just asking you to go out with us and buy me a pint if I don’t have any money. This isn’t a marriage proposal.”
“And you won’t be making your usual stupid Gryffindor judgements about anything I say or do.”
“We’re on holiday. Gryffindor and Slytherin don’t really matter right now.”
Montague inhales deeply. It’s a long time before he speaks. “Alright, Johnson,” he murmurs.
“Call me Angelina.”
“Nicco,” he says.
TBC