A. Yaxley (aidanyaxley) wrote in darkmarkrising, @ 2010-10-09 22:46:00 |
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Aidan Yaxley had awoken with the same gnawing, sinking feeling on this particular morning as he had for the past few days. Since receiving the letter from his father informing him of Susanna’s disappearance, he’d begun to numb himself to the unthinkable inevitable. In the times in which they lived currently, disappearances rarely led to happy endings. In order to avoid the sick feeling, he’d detached, keeping the struggle a silent one.
For all of his effort to numb himself, nothing could have prepared him for the sight that met him as he skimmed the Daily Prophet. He’d choked faintly at the sight of the picture, his heart seizing in his chest as he felt an invisible blow that knocked his breath away. The humming of the Great Hall blended into a muffled, distant blur. In spite of the sinking feeling that overcame him almost instantly, he forced himself to read the words before him. He paled, his knuckles whitening as his grip tightened. The rage was dizzying, but he forced it aside as much as possible. The ceramic cup he held in on hand gave to the grip, sharp edges cutting into his hand as it fell roughly to the table. The pain was raw and overwhelming, grating his nerves abruptly and putting him on edge.
There were truly very few people for whom Aidan truly cared. His parents and middle sister were not usually one of them, as he felt mostly disconnected from them. Aside from a certain blonde who went against everything he believed in, Susanna had been the only other person he actually loved. It seemed that his reward for having at least this one weakness was to have her taken from him.
“Fucking cowards,” escaped through his gritted teeth. He pushed the paper down, feeling an ache within that intensified as he stifled it. He didn’t glance around to confirm his suspicion that eyes had locked on him, instead pushing himself from his seat so quickly that the plate of food that had been before him fell to the stone floor with a loud sound. He grabbed his belonging, throwing his bag over his shoulder before moving quickly from the Ravenclaw table. He avoided eye-contact, putting as much of a blank expression on his face as he could muster through the rage, and ventured to find somewhere quiet in the castle.