Miles T. Bletchley (ng_miles) wrote in beyond_dark, @ 2008-03-19 20:13:00 |
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Entry tags: | * march 2006, - complete, miles bletchley |
RP: The mantle of guilt
Date: 19 March 2006
Characters: Miles Bletchley
Location: The Three Broomsticks (which is temporarily closed)
Private/Public: Private
Rating: Emo
Warnings: Emo Miles
Summary: Miles starts to see the repercussions of his actions.
Miles stared at the bottom of his glass, refilling it quickly and taking another long swig. The fire whiskey seemed just as tasteless as the previous glasses, as he sat in front of his own bar.
He'd put a 'closed' sign up on the door. No point in trying to keep the place running if there were no staff, and more importantly, no damn customers (That had to be the most piss poor turn out for a St Patrick's day in the history of the pub). They were all too sick. All too sick because of what he did.
Bellatrix's words had been playing on his mind now for a few days, and the more he tried to just forget, the more it kept playing on his mind. Daphne had nearly died. Nigel could have died. They were going to pull through. However, others were dead. Other young folk. Damn, Cho Chang. Miles knocked back another full shot at the thought of her being dead. She'd been a damn fine seeker to watch on a broom, and he always admired just how elegantly she flew. Well, he'd been admiring other things at the time as well, but she was dead because of him, and nobody would be admiring anything.
Shacklebolt. He thought again about the auror, and how he'd fought over arresting him over Romilda's death. Order member, for certain, but still, it left a vile taste in his mouth. Word had been rife on other deaths as well, and the fact that a dozen people were in comas from the disease.
If the Lestranges had wanted to decimate the wizarding population, then they were going about it beautifully. Purebloods - like Chang - were being killed along with those they obviously wanted to target. Where was the line between right and wrong? He'd heard that Cass was sick as well, and in the Shack. Damn, if he died... well... that was something he didn't want to think about.
Miles didn't know any more, but the fact that he was to blame for the actual deed of getting it out there was not lost on him. He put Chang, and Shacklebolt's deaths on his conscience, even as he raised his glass in a silent toast to their rather meaningless deaths. He was grateful at least for the selfish thought that he and his son were safe because of the vaccine. Daphne too, and his relief in that lay in the fact that she was an innocent bystander.
There was another sin on his conscience, one that was of his own making. He'd nursed her back to health - put his life on the line with Bellatrix to do so as well. He'd make it up to her, and get her out of this marriage as he'd promised. It was the only way to get her out of the Lestranges clutches.
Downing another shot, he coughed as it went down the wrong way. He coughed, feeling an ache down his throat and his shoulders. He was sweating hard, wondering why the damn heating charms in the pub were so high. He flicked his wand at the air, setting the temperature to be much cooler.
He'd drunk too much, he knew, as he was feeling his head swimming. Looking around the empty pub, he sighed.
The mantle of guilt fit his shoulders perfectly, and he wore it well.