Aloysius Nott (ex_notts553) wrote in enemies_rpg, @ 2013-01-20 01:29:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! [1943-01] january, aloysius nott, myles montgomery |
Who: Myles and Aloysius
Where: Ravenclaw Common Room
When: January 19 1943 very late in the evening after Curfew.
What: All the things.
Status: Log
Aloysius couldn't sleep. He just lay in his quiet bed in his quiet dormitory, staring up at the canopy above and trying to slow down the thoughts in his mind and the way his heart was still pounding in his chest. He didn't like these feelings, anger, resentment, bitterness, all warring inside, anger at Trudy for so many reasons. And McKinnon. And even himself, although that was harder to admit. It had been an ideal mood earlier, when Araminta had taken him at his word to go out and help him calm down. He'd tried the Cruciatus curse often before, never having gotten it right, but this one evening, she was the witness to the first time he got it right, and as the spell left his wand and the animal they had found fell screaming and twisting on the floor, he'd felt the piece of that spell clicking into place. The anger, the rage in his heart fed it, and he'd stood afterwards, just watching the trembling cat and felt like he was being torn in two. He still felt that way, and finally he sat up and pulled on his dressing gown and slippers, making his way downstairs with a book and the intent of reading in front of the fire until he felt he could fall asleep. The Common Room was largely silent this time of night, save for small groups of people, and he found a quiet corner near the massive windows that looked empty, until he rounded a large winged chair and saw the boy ensconced within. For a moment he just stopped, and stared a bit dumbly, but then he turned away and sat in a nearby chair, not looking at Myles or his book, but staring into the fire as the sparks of it flew up in a bright orange shower that bathed the ash below. At this time of night, it was almost easier to find privacy in the common room than the dorm, and that was what Myles was looking for. He paged through his brother's Robert Burns book, deciphering notes Rob had left behind, rereading underlined passages again and again. He'd made a habit of it since bringing the book back with him after Christmas and had a few of the poems down by heart. He read them anyway; Rob's notes and thoughts were too entwined in these words to take them separately. He almost didn't notice Aloysius's presence, but when the younger boy lingered just a little too long, Myles started to feel the stare. He looked up as Aloysius sat down. He was no expert on body language, but it hardly took one to notice the frustration Aloysius was practically emanating. Most nights, he would have let it go and simply gone back to reading, but something tugged at him tonight. The conversation they'd shared over journals played again in the back of his mind, and Myles felt conflicted. He'd made a point of keeping Nott at arm's length for years, but maybe it wasn't so necessary anymore. "Evening," he said simply. It opened only a small door; one that wouldn't hurt getting shut again. Aloysius looked at the fire for a moment before turning his gaze back over to Myles. "Evening," he said. He paused to regard him for a moment, the posture, the way he sat around the book in his hands. He looked relaxed and Aloysius envied that. Sometimes he envied a lot of things. "I won't bother you, will I? If I sit here?" His tone was slightly clipped and tired sounding as he spoke and indicated his own book, a text on Charms Theory. It was the sort of thing he read because it challenged him and made him think. It wasn't easy. He didn't know he had the patience for it tonight. Myles shook his head. "You're fine," he said quickly. He was vaguely curious about just what seemed to be going on with Nott, but not quite curious enough to ask and certainly not curious enough to act curious. He was about to go back to his own book when instead he asked, "What are you reading?" He didn't quite regret the question, but he wasn't thrilled at himself for asking it, either. He wasn't sure he should get himself invested back in Nott if Nott didn't reach out first, but there he was. The chair was warm and comfortable, and some of the tension eased out of Ally's body as he sat there. After a moment of hesitation, he tossed the book gently across to where Myles sat, careful not to throw it too hard lest Irma descend on him. "Charm Theory," he said. "You know, usual bedtime reading." He wished he had a blanket and pillow, he could fall asleep down here easier than in his room. He wasn't sure why Myles was speaking to him other than their recent conversations, and the fact that he was both pleased and saddened him. He rubbed his hand tiredly along his temple, closing his eyes for a moment and then looking back up. "I haven't gotten very far." Myles caught the book carefully, tucking his own between his leg and the arm of the chair. He paged through it, glancing over the text. It was some dense stuff, well above normal OWL requirements. "No wonder," he commented. "This could as well be in German." Aloysius smiled a bit at that. "I've some at home like that, but didn't think it a good idea to bring them to school." He leaned on one elbow and looked back at the fire. The logs were popping and cracking from time to time, and the heat of it matched the still cooling heat inside of him. "So you're talking to me," he said finally. Myles looked away quickly, feeling oddly self-conscious. "About books," he said, leaning over to hand back the text. "Neutral ground." "Ah yes." He reached out and took back his own book carefully. Only pulling back when Myles released it. "Wouldn't want to talk about anything else." He shoved the book next to him in the chair and folded his hands in his lap, unsure of what to do with them, long, thin fingers clenching together as he thought of McKinnon again. And Trudy. "Well what else do we have to talk about?" Myles answered, an edge to his voice. Nott didn't have the right to be bitter about what little friendship they had; it wasn't Myles's fault, after all. "I don't know. Nothing I suppose." Aloysius' own voice was bitter and he stood up to go over to the fireplace, poking at it with his wand on one end so that the logs started burning more brightly. He stood there, watching it burn for a long moment. "Why were we friends?" he said quietly. "In the first place." Why was Myles so important to him? He wondered that, often. Why he couldn't just put him in the past. At times he hated him, no, mostly he hated him. Other times he missed him and his quiet steady companionship and sense of humor. He didn't understand the way it made him feel inside, all twisted up and angry. He wished he did. Or rather, on those rare occasions when he knew exactly why, alone at night with just his thoughts, he wished he didn't. Myles considered for a moment before answering. "Does it even matter, anymore?" he asked, sadness mixing into his bitter tone. He felt resigned, he felt angry, he felt betrayed. He didn't need Aloysius anymore, not like he'd needed him when they first met. When Myles was lonely and awkward and Aloysius understood him. He'd convinced himself of this long ago, and he didn't like reopening closed doors. The answer to that question was probably no. Certainly any vestige of true friendship they'd had was long gone. He'd sold out someone who was a true friend out of fear and hatred. If he acknowledged it deep down, he always found excuses for why Myles was different than other Muggleborns. He was intelligent, incredibly so. Insightful. If there had ever been someone who should have been born a wizard it was him. And this did not reconcile with what he knew Muggleborns to be, what he had been taught, and what, largely, he saw all around him in the others in the school. It choked him with a bitter, acrid tightness in his throat, to think of Trudy throwing away everything their family had stood for and sacrificed for, for someone like McKinnon. But at the end, he knew everyone would say, at least he wasn't a Mudblood. At least he wasn't Myles. His hand tightened on the stones of the fireplace, nails digging in. Sacrifices were necessary, he knew. And if he was wise he would just end this here and now, as Myles expected him to and as he knew he should. Why did he continue to hold on? To talk to him under wards where no one could see. "You are better off without me." The words were quiet and low. Myles considered it for a moment. He also considered replying with some caustic, sarcastic remark but couldn't bring himself to do it. "Maybe," he said finally. "Now. But I wasn't then." He waited a moment before continuing. "And I should've been allowed to make that decision myself." He'd lost the bitterness momentarily, replaced almost entirely with a resigned defeat. Aloysius turned around to face him. Behind him, the fire popped up, as if feeding off his emotions, and he took a step or two closer to where Myles sat in his chair still. Why did this have to be so difficult? What was wrong with him that he would be so emotional about a Mudblood? Oh he knew. He knew deep down. And it was just another example of the deviance inside his own soul, that he had been trying so very hard for so long to stamp out. "What? What would you have said?" He felt ridiculous standing in front of Myles in his bathrobe and slippers, but there wasn't anything to be done for that. He had spoken loudly, then sputtered when he remembered where they were and possibly they were not alone. "I was twelve," he continued, his voice low. "Not even. And trying to do the right thing. My father forbid me to have any contact with you and my brother was breathing over my shoulder the entire time, looking for anything he could to bring home so my parents would think less of me than they already do." He practically spat the words. "I cared about you. You were my friend. And if I'd known … I don't know, I don't know if I would have thought about it. But the fact was I didn't know. It didn't matter as much at first. And then it did. It mattered an awful lot. And what was I supposed to do? Tell them you're different than the rest of them? Do you think they'd care. Even if it is true?" Myles was taken aback by Aloysius's sudden outburst. He'd never really allowed himself to give Nott's side of the story that much thought; it had always been easier just to blame him, to focus all that anger and bitterness in one singular direction. Without really meaning to, he'd made Aloysius a symbol of all the Pureblood prejudice and hatred he'd faced. On some level he knew it wasn't quite that simple, but he hadn't allowed himself to put together just how complicated it was. And now Aloysius was towering over him, giving him a context he'd never considered and couldn't understand and almost, well, complimenting him somewhere in the shouting. It was too much for Myles. He nervously glanced around the common room, both hoping no-one was seeing what was going on and hoping someone was, someone curious to come over and see what was going on, someone who could let him escape from this moment or postpone it at least. The common room was all but abandoned, however. The few people Myles did see either didn't notice what was going on or deliberately ignored it. Myles wanted to escape the moment, but rising would only bring him closer to Aloysius. He stayed in his chair, lost for words. "I don't know," he finally said softly. He didn't know what else to do. Aloysius deflated somewhat at that. He had wanted Myles to argue back or storm off or call him names, because it would have been easier. His shoulders dropped, and he rubbed a hand over his hair. "Me neither." He just stood there looking at the other boy for a long moment. Myles stared back, not saying anything. He didn't know what there was to say. He couldn't say he was sorry for Aloysius, not honestly. He wouldn't apologize for something that wasn't his fault. But he didn't feel angry either, not really. It was simply complicated, and Myles was never comfortable with complicated. "I need to go to bed," he said abruptly, grabbing his book and rising from the chair. He moved to leave but waited, wanting to give Aloysius a chance to say something if he wanted it. Aloysius swallowed and took a step or two back. He just knew this was more than he had ever intended to say and that probably he shouldn't have said it. It wasn't like it would make any difference. It wasn't like anything would change. "Sleep well then," He turned away, his shoulders hunched and almost angry again. Inwardly he berated himself for being weak. He had had a weak moment, and dammit, he wasn't going to let it happen again. |