Amelia Bones (_lovelybones) wrote in fourteenshades, @ 2013-06-18 22:20:00 |
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Entry tags: | amelia bones, draco malfoy |
Who: Draco Malfoy and Amelia Bones
What: Amelia knows when to admit defeat
When: Backdated to last night, June 17th
Where: Mel's cottage room place thing
Rating: PG13 for language at the most
Status: COMPLETE
After work, she had made the decision to drop in on Teddy unannounced. When she entered his room and it was empty, she knew exactly what that meant and her heart seemed to stop dead. Her breathing caught in her chest, and she shook her head sadly, closing the door in defeat and walking home slowly while quiet tears leaked down her cheeks. Sitting down in front of her desk, she stared blankly at the wall which happened to be covered in multiple drawings of herself, friends, family, and Teddy. Minutes passed, maybe a full hour even before she opened her journal and began to write. It started out as an angry ink splotch, and ended with her doubled over on the floor, dry heaving as the reality of the situation finally set it. The room spun, her world cracked, and she managed to reach up and pull her ink, journal, and paper onto the floor. The ink well cracked and shattered as it landed rather violently, black liquid leaking out onto the floor. She watched it ooze for a while, and only after she noticed it beginning to dry in places, managed to dip in the tip of her quill and begin writing in return.
The words on the pages... they were mindless. It was as though she was sitting in another part of the room, watching herself write to individuals in the village. After a while, Sally, Susan, Hannah came and went. She tried to act semi-normal while her family and friends gathered around her, but she couldn't even manage that. It was hard to speak, and even when she did it was closer to a mumble than anything else. It felt like her throat was swollen and no matter how much she forced herself to drink it still felt dry and painful. But it was okay, really. She didn't want to talk anyway.
Only once individuals had left, or rather once Amelia had forced them to leave and return to their regularly scheduled friends and lives, did she sit back down in her room and continue staring at her wall. The evening started to set in, and as the sun began to creep down it felt like she was drowning in the darkening house. Though she sort of wanted to be, she knew being alone was not an option tonight. Too many dark thoughts had already came and went, and the urge to drink herself into literal oblivion was so strong that her body physically shook.
Writing to Draco, she was relieved when he said he would stay with her. Though she felt even worse about the fact she couldn't function properly to be there for Teddy's immediate family, she couldn't bring herself to do it. Because the usual mantra of making people feel better, "Don't worry, they always come back," only made her feel even sicker. Yes, he could come back, and for his family, and for his daughter, and for his wife, that would be fantastic. But she couldn't mask the sick, bitter twist of her stomach knowing she would never have that relief. Because even upon his return, he would have no memory of her or what they went through. He wouldn't remember saying he loved her. She wouldn't matter, she wouldn't be anything. And it would break her heart.
It's because you don't deserve a happy ending, Amelia Bones, a little voice chided in the back of her head. Maybe it was really true. Maybe all the happy optimism bullshit she had been spouting since day one was all poppycock, and those who came to this village weren't supposed to fall in love or find happiness, especially if they didn't get to back in their real world. Maybe this wasn't a second chance, but some big crap scheme to just get everyone's hopes up, only to horribly dash them later on and laugh at individual's painful misery. Maybe Rita Skeeter was still really in charge after all, watching them in some creepy, magical way in a secret dungeon somewhere.
Whatever it was, Amelia had finally thrown up her hands in utter defeat. Three years she was coming in on. She laughed audibly at the thought. And with what to show for it? Of course, she was berating herself internally for being so pathetic, for not remembering her dead brother and sister-in-law and friends who were all still here. But for how long? Seriously? Just long enough for everything to seem absolutely flawless, for their hopes and dreams to be at an all time high only to have them crushed again mercilessly?
Tears started to run down her cheeks again, and she got up off the floor to walk over to her wall of drawings. Staring at them quietly as darkness finally fell completely, she reached up and began to slowly tear them down. She wasn't trying to rip them into pieces, but she wasn't not trying too either. She was indifferent, she didn't care. Once she was done, she looked around at the littered floor, still covered in ink and glass and honestly some blood from where she had walked over the sharp splinters to get to her wall. But to be honest, she didn't really feel that either and barely noticed now.
Moving over to her bed, she pulled her knees up tightly to her chest and pressed her face into her legs. She was still sitting in that exact same position when she heard the front door creak some time later.