Molly Carmichael will feed your Barbosa fetish (thefashionclub) wrote in thispurgatory, @ 2011-01-19 23:37:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! 1997-november, ! complete, ! log, declan mclaggen, molly carmichael |
Who: Molly and Declan
Where: Some courtyard somewhere in the castle (yes, I'm specific).
When: Wednesday after this takes place.
What: Molly is upset. Declan encounters her and somehow manages to do a passable imitation of a decent human being. THIS ONE'S FOR YOU, PATTY!
Rating: PG
The only thing that was keeping Molly sane presently was the small part of her that was stubbornly insisting that no, this couldn’t be happening. However as the rest of her seemed to be sitting in a courtyard presently, sniffling and shaking without any sign of ceasing, it did appear that on some level she had resigned herself to it. Two of her best friends - one of whom she liked - with each other? It seemed unbearably cruel, and Molly was left wondering what was wrong with her. First McLaggen, then Goyle, and then now a boy who she actually did like, a boy who was also her good friend, liked...well, boys too.
On yet another level Molly recognised that what Nathan and Yue had been trying to tell her could not have been easy, even if her infatuation with Nathan wasn’t factored into it, and she had taken what faith they had shown her and thrown it back in their faces. Her friendships were important to her. No matter what casual cruelties she may show to the other students, she was steadfastly the best she could be among those she valued, always lending a sympathetic ear and (as in the case of Kevin’s death) putting her own feelings aside in order to support others. And now when two of them had badly needed her, she had withdrawn her support. But how could she do anything else, really? Just the idea of having to face them in class tomorrow, to acknowledge that a boy not only had no interest in her, but found her so abhorrent that he preferred other boys to Molly, made her start trembling all over again.
She sniffed loudly and buried her face in her hands, neither aware nor caring that since she had stumbled into this alcove, the sky had blackened and the moon had risen high.
Declan walked down the courtyard distractedly, his mind focused on one single subject: the upcoming birthday party for Andrew and Jane. He wanted desperately to attend, not only for Andrew, but also to show to the others that he was still one of them, and that things didn’t necessarily change because of the choices he had made. However, he was more than aware that the others would not be receptive to this, and this thought made him afraid to be part of the celebration. He was going to do his best to help and to prove himself to the others, but the dread of rejection would not leave his mind.
Suddenly, a sound broke his train of thought. He looked around, but saw nothing. Then, he heard the sound again, more distinctive this time. It seemed like someone crying. Declan decided to follow the sound. If anything, his duty as a Prefect forced him to assist whoever was upset, if only to lead them to their Common Room before curfew. He was well aware from recent personal experience that distress could make someone lose track of time, and the last thing this person needed was to get into trouble over something they couldn’t help.
It didn’t take long for him to find the source of the sound. As he got closer to the crying girl and realized who she was, his chest tightened. “Carmichael?”
Molly was lurched back to reality by the sound of her surname being spoken. Preparing to face her interloper, she took several calming breaths, palming her face dry as best as she could. When she turned around it was indeed to face someone who she didn’t want to see, but her emotions were so depleted by earlier events that she could only muster a slight sense of despondency. “Mc-McLaggen?” Her voice was strained and husky from crying. “Is - is it after cu-curfew already? I didn’t know.” A fresh wave of emotion threatened to overwhelm her and she turned her back to him again, digging her nails into her hand and fighting to keep her composure.
No insults? Declan raised an eyebrow. This was new. He thought better than to point this out as he’d normally do, however - if she was unable to tell him to go away or at least address him with comments about his nighttime habits, then she was upset. “Not yet,” he found himself saying with a surprisingly normal tone of voice, “but you shouldn’t stay outside for long.”
He paused. This was what he was supposed to say as a Prefect. In his eyes his duty, contrary to some of his housemates believed, was to prevent trouble rather than waiting for people to get into trouble and report them. If Carmichael was to stand up now and head to her Common Room, then he did was he had to do. But still...
“Is there anything I can do?” he suddenly found himself asking.
“No, it’s fine,” Molly started to murmur with the best she could attempt at a smile presently. “I just-” If McLaggen had arrived and been harsh with her, reminding her that she could very well be late and that she had better start walking back to Ravenclaw Tower right this instant, she would have - if not been able to respond in kind, then at least been able to manage herself. But anything approaching solicitous behaviour was the last thing she could deal with. “I’m sorry,” she broke off, and once more the sniffles were upon her. The last half hour having taught her the futility of resisting tears, she instead gave into them completely, drawing her knees up to her chest and resting her head (cupped in one hand) upon them. She could only distantly bring herself to care that McLaggen was watching.
Declan found himself sitting down next to her. He was used to look down at people, but it was harder to do so when the other person was sitting down - not to mention that something about seeing Carmichael curled up like she was now made him unable to keep on looking down on her like this. Not in a physical way, of course, but more like... well, something he just couldn’t explain. And besides, it didn’t seem like she was going back to Ravenclaw Tower anytime soon. He still kept his distance, though, knowing very well how she’d react if he got too close. “You don’t look fine,” he said, his voice betraying the concern he had been telling himself he didn’t feel after all ever since their argument over the eavesdropping incident. “What’s wrong?”
“I...I had a very b-bad day. That’s all.” It was a measure of how worn out Molly was that it did not occur to her to feel any sort of surprise at what she would normally view as uncharacteristic behaviour from the Gryffindor boy. “I’m fff-fine really.” This proved to be a somewhat unsubstantiated claim as it was soon followed by a fresh bout of tears. “I’m sorry,” she sniffed again. “I just can’t stop.”
“It’s all right,” he said, concern mixed with a feeling of uneasiness. What in Merlin’s name was he doing? This was Carmichael. The Bitch. She loved to torture him and make him feel like dirt. He should be gloating over her misery, right? Instead, he was watching her cry and feeling his guts twisting because of it. He wanted to ask who had upset her so that he could hex them, or perhaps just break their ruddy faces, but he knew better. She wouldn’t tell him anyway.
He rummaged through her pockets until he found his handkerchief. “Here,” he said, offering it to her (in a rather awkward way, he had to admit to himself). “You better dry those tears before you return to your Common Room.”
“Thanks,” she said, and took the handkerchief before the mention of her common room (and the thought of Nathan back there - how could she face him again?) started her up again. “Rowena. I...just...this has been the worst day I can remember.” And it was true. As selfish as it was, she hadn’t felt quite this same level of hopelessness and futility on the day when herself and the rest of Ravenclaw had found out that Kevin had been killed. The sounds of her crying became muffled as she hid her face behind the handkerchief.
“Bad days have been happening a lot recently,” he said. The pain of Geoff’s words still stung him deeply and, for a fraction of a second, he felt himself about to stiffen as he remembered how Carmichael had gladly rubbed that moment on his face. However, looking at her all the resentment faded away. It wasn’t fair to take it out on her, and she clearly didn’t need more aggravation right now. With a sigh, he added, “Not really much we can do to fix what they do to us, is there?” Well, he was trying to fix the effects of his bad day, anyway, but he was not very optimistic about it.
“No. No, there isn’t,” Molly agreed, taking one last deep shuddering breath and attempting to pull herself together. She knotted her fingers together beneath her denim-clad knees, focusing on small details - the patterns of the tiles below where her feet dangled, the number of eyelets in her sneakers - to take her mind off the feeling of despair that threatened to overwhelm her. Eventually she untangled her fingers to run one hand through her hair. “Thanks f-for this, yeah?” She waved the hand clutching the square of fabric briefly towards him. “I - I’ll get it washed and returned to y-you.”
“That’s all right,” Declan said, “you can keep it. I have more,” he added lamely. What else could he say? “Are you feeling ready to go?” He didn’t want to rush her, as it would do no good to have her break down again in front of her friends when she had clearly chosen that spot to be alone - but yet it was getting late, and neither of them could risk arriving after curfew. He might as well be a Prefect, but it wasn’t the day he’d be doing his round and therefore he had to comply like everybody else. And still, he couldn’t help but not want to leave right now. Even if Carmichael was upset, it felt good to be sitting next to her without the risk of getting a black eye as a result. Idiot, he berated himself.
“Ready. Yeah.” Molly smiled wryly, pushing herself to her feet. She was feeling hollow and shaken, and was still having to bite down on little gasping sobbing sounds that were trying to leap up her throat, possibly a hangover from all the crying she’d done earlier. “I think - I think maybe I need to go to the hospital wing,” she allowed quietly, taking a deep breath into the handkerchief. “To get something to calm me down.”
Declan’s eyes widened. Was it really that bad? “Hospital Wing. Right,” he said. “I’ll take you.”
“Thanks. I’m just worried that once I get back to Ravenclaw, I’ll-” and there she was again. “This is so ridiculous,” she sniffed, half with a sob and half with a bark of laugher.
At this outburst, Declan did something that, only five minutes before, he’d only think possible if he was ever to find himself Imperioused or insane: he put an arm over her shoulders. It was a comforting gesture and clearly innocent, but his mind immediately began to throw insults at him for being so forward and for subjecting himself for physical harm. “Come on,” he found himself saying. “We better get going, then.”
A more alert and self-possessed Molly would have shoved Declan away and yelled ‘GET OFF.’ However, this Molly had experienced the double anvil of Nathan not only being uninterested in her, but apparently dating one of their shared friends - shared male friends - as well, and so this Molly therefore merely nodded, some abstract part of her brain thinking how warm and solid Declan’s side felt as she allowed herself to slump again him. “You’re - you’re not going to get into trouble for this, are you?” she asked softly after a moment.
Declan had to struggle to break himself from the feel of having Carmichael - Molly - so close to him and to focus on things. He looked at his watch and said, “We’ve got plenty of time to reach the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey can back us up if we take too long there.” Mentally, he was still kicking himself. This was insane. What if their friends saw them? What if Cecilia found them? The others might feel that at least one of them was Confunded (most likely, he had to admit, that he Confunded her), but his girlfriend would probably draw a completely different conclusion.
Shaking these thoughts aside, he helped Molly up. The sooner they went to see Madam Pomfrey, the better.
Several minutes later Molly was seated on a chair next to Madam Pomfrey’s desk, a vial of calming potion beginning to take affect. While she still felt unhappy at the thought of returning to Ravenclaw (she had only taken a calming drought after all, not an euphoria elixir), it was a distant sort of unease, like the type of sympathy you’d feel if you read about a much liked literary character having a bad turn, but without feeling as though things needed to affect you. She allowed the nurse to fuss over her for a while longer, then stood. “I’m fine now,” she told the matron. “I just had a bit of a nasty surprise.”
Declan stood as Madam Pomfrey observed Molly. He could have easily left for Gryffindor Tower after this, but something made him feel like his responsibilities weren’t over yet. After Pomfrey reluctantly agreed to finally release Molly from her care, he approached them. “I’ll take her,” he told the matron. It was almost past curfew and it didn’t do for a student to be walking unattended, even if carrying a note to show to any Prefect she might stumble on. Or at least that’s what he was trying to convince himself. He was being a good Prefect and not at all using this as an excuse for a once-in-a-lifetime chance to be around Molly Carmichael without the rest of being pushed away. Right.
With the edge of her nerves been taken away, Molly was becoming progressively exhausted as they made their way towards Ravenclaw Tower, yawning several times mid-sentence. Once they reached the doorway, the knocker eyed her suspiciously - although this was something that the knocker usually did. For some reason it had never quite accepted Molly as one of its own. “Six wizards are in a room,” it said after a moment’s pause. “They shake hands with each other once. How many handshakes are there?”
“Thirty-six,” Molly said automatically, then winced. “No, wait. It’s a trick question. They don’t shake hands with themselves, of course. And there’s no repeats.” She visualised six men seated around a circular table, shaking hands one-by-one in an orderly manner, and her mind came up with a diagram. “Eighteen - no, fifteen. Fifteen handshakes take place.” The knocker gave her a resentful look, but swung open obligingly. With the effects of both the potion and the realisation that her day was minutes away from being over, Molly then quite forgot who she was supposed to be talking to. “How I managed as a first year, I’ll never understand,” she told Declan in an almost friendly manner. “If I’d known I would have to answer a riddle whenever I came back to pick something up, I would have pushed harder for Gryffindor. Still, I suppose it’s a deterrent against ever leaving anything behind when you go to class? Flitwick would probably argue towards it improving our memorization abilities that way.”
Declan had no idea of what to say to this and just smiled sadly, knowing very well that this was very likely the end of the truce between them. “Well,” he eventually said, “at least you keep on being challenged. We just have to memorize a single word on a regular basis.” He stifled a sigh. “I guess this is goodbye.”
“Yeah.” She shrugged and gave him a smile of her own, for some reason feeling a prick of self-consciousness. Declan had been a break from the craziness of the last few hours, and while she certainly wouldn’t be telling anyone what had gone on earlier, she had an idea that boarding schools being what they were, it wouldn’t take much at all for Elisabeth and the rest of her and Nathan’s Ravenclaw friends to garner that something wasn’t quite right between them. They would ask questions and try to fix things, being concerned, but the very last thing Molly (and she suspected Nathan and Yue) wanted right now was for people to take an interest, for people to pry. “Well, I’ll see you in class sometime?” she offered, holding out her hand.
Surprised (and touched) by this gesture of friendship, Declan took her hand. “Yeah, see you then.” He turned to go, but after a few steps stopped to look back at her. “I hope things will get better for you,” he said with obvious sincerity.
“Thank you,” Molly said (well, after blinking for a moment in surprise) then responded, “I hope so to.” She was under no illusions that things would get the slightest bit better, but the reply just seemed to be the appropriate one to make. That and how Declan appeared to have meant what he said. It didn’t make the situation improve, nor did it take any steps towards healing what she was beginning to view as irrevocably severed relationships with two of her best friends, but somehow - just somehow - knowing that there was someone else out there who had even an inkling of how badly she was hurting and who was concerned for her eased some of the tightness out of her chest. She gave him a shaky smile and nodded goodnight, then shut the door of the common room quietly.
Allowing himself a deep sigh, Declan buried his hands in his pockets and resumed his walk back to Gryffindor Tower. The evening, surreal as it was, was now giving him a lot to think about regarding his own problems. He had just experienced the impossible: spending time with Molly Carmichael without either of them trying to claw each other’s eyes out. If this could happen, then a reconciliation with his housemates, difficult as it was, could also happen eventually.