Who: Katie Bell When: November 27, Afternoon Where: Her and Dean's flat, muggle York Why: Katie angsts. Seriously. It's angsty. Reality is setting in and Katie's realizing just how rash she'd been. Rating: Low (Language)
Katie stared out of the window of her and Dean's echoing flat, watching the grey and cold world outside pass by. A couple pushed their child in a buggy; an older woman walked her dog. She turned away and looked back at the white walls, sighing as she combed a hand through her hair. She and Dean slept on beds she'd transfigured for them, but still. Every moment she spent in a room alone was a moment she dreaded. She'd think and thinking was not something she needed to be doing. A spiral of self-loathing and accusation often gripped her, making her thoughts turn ugly, painful.
She'd taken it for granted, having friends. People she could turn to. Now, all she had were the few scattered friends who'd decided that following your heart wasn't a crime worth prosecuting. Dean. Dean was precious to her, since he was one of the few people that hadn't been swayed by this whole mess. Fuck, Katie hadn't given up on the Order, they'd given up on themselves. The details were fuzzy, like whenever she tried to think about the Order, but she could recall bits and pieces. No faces. Nothing important. She'd knew that she'd lost her career for them, because they stood for what she believed in. Anger filled her, sudden and hot, and she pushed it back down. She didn't even understand why she was so angry. She'd left them.
Again, she'd given up everything, and for what? A stolen relationship with a man she loved but who lived a completely separate life? One that painfully couldn't (and wouldn't ever) involve her, not the least of which was the reason that she was technically the enemy. It was stupid, by far the stupidest thing she'd done. She was given to dwell on things like this, since she was alone, and she curled up on herself, drawing her knees to her chest as she rested her chin atop them. What kind of a life was she going to have, being the mistress of a Death Eater? Why hadn't she thought about this before she'd gone off her head and done what she had.
Love was a twat. If it had a face, Katie might have kicked it in at that moment.
So she was in love and alone. She'd isolated herself in the hopes of having something worth fighting for, something worth keeping, and now she was fighting for even that. With a disgusted noise, Katie pushed up off of the floor and grabbed her coat and wand. She needed to get out of here. Do something active before she gnawed off her own head from worry.