IMAGINING THE FUTURE IS A KIND OF NOSTALGIA. YOU SPEND YOUR WHOLE LIFE STUCK IN THE LABYRINTH, THINKING ABOUT HOW YOU'LL ESCAPE IT ONE DAY, AND HOW AWESOME IT WILL BE, AND IMAGINING THAT FUTURE KEEPS YOU GOING, BUT YOU NEVER DO IT. YOU JUST USE THE FUTURE TO ESCAPE THE PRESENT.
The trio lands with a thud, Dylan’s ankles shaky from the impact of apparating onto hard concrete.
Vivienne’s tight grip on his hand loosens, the two boys adjusting themselves when Dylan realizes they are no longer surrounded by foliage.
They are in some kind of alleyway, a quartet of music coming from somewhere nearby, decadent scents such as coffee and bread filling their nostrils, making the boys’ empty stomachs grumble. As Vivienne flies to the end of the alley and peeks out onto the street, Dylan checks his pockets for Bitsy and Puff, who chitter and coo when roused.
With a breath of relief, Dylan prepares himself to whirl back onto Vivienne, but not without an apologetic glance toward Jon beforehand. “Where are we?” [....]
Dylan almost mistakes it for one of Puff’s sneezes, but the paper that is left behind has the Gryffindor frowning.
The piece of paper lands near his sleeping cot. Jon is still sleeping next to him, the fire from last night long died out. Dylan picks it up from the soft ground, dusts the dirt and ash from the note.
His heart drops into his stomach, a panic starting to raise in him as his heart hammers in his chest. The camp isn’t safe.
( The handwriting appears familiar, the pinkish tint to the strip of note-book paper )
“Jon!” He springs to Jon’s side, shaking the boy awake, Dylan’s eyes wide with alarm. They have to warn them, they have to go back. “Jon, wake up!”
you are all grit and closed fists. you refuse to let anything in through the cracks of your armor. you would burn the world to protect those you love. the heart of a warrior burns in your chest. and it also weighs your shoulders down. what is the price for being so strong? what have you sacrificed to make yourself feel safe? when was the last time you let someone see your soul? when was the last time you let someone see you and not just the masks you hide behind? not everything must be a fight.
"Hey," he tapped Dylan on the arm. "Time would go ten times faster if you like... talked to me."
Dylan Cooper.
It’s been hours since they left the camp. Dylan has been doing his best in order to keep apparating, to keep a distance in cases they are tracked. Dylan can’t help to keep looking over his shoulders in order to spot the first signs of danger. He sighs. It comes off as cold, but Dylan understands Jonathan’s point, still the distance that’s been created by them grows larger every day, and Dylan struggles more and more with trying to bridge the gap. “You’re right,” he admits, trekking through the forest. “I…have a lot on my mind,” How long has it been since they were honest with each other? “I saw Vannah use Zach’s wand,” Dylan offers, still hurt by the sight. “Can you believe that?”
Jonathan Monroe
Jonathan wasn't sure if his little tap was going to work or if Dylan would ever say anything even if it was a warning to not trip over a log, but when he did speak there was a relief. Before Jonathan could ask what was on his mind, Dylan dropped some news he was not expecting and it showed on his face. His brows rose, his eyes widened and mouth opened. "N-no I cannot believe that. What? Literally what?! Does she know that you saw her?"
Dylan Cooper.
He's quiet for a moment, the scene replaying in his head. Vannah wasn't familiar with the practice, but Zach should know better. And of course it would be Zach, Dylan has despised him for years--and now he was a known traitor. Dylan didn't know he was clenching his fists so hard until he relaxed them. "Yeah," He attempts to release the tension in his shoulders, Vannah's pet dragon, Puff, snaking around his neck, bumping it's head under Dylan's chin as if sensing his distress. "We kind of had an argument about it before she left..." He trails off, feeling all amounts of guilty. Guilty about Vannah, Jon, Jez, Cassie--was there something he didn't feel guilty about? "I'm sorry things haven't been...good. Between any of us." Dylan stops, wiping sweat from his forehead. "I think we've all just been on edge."
Jonathan Monroe
Jonathan glances over at Dylan and sees that he’s tense. There’s a part of him that wants to offer to stop walking for a second and let them just talk, but time was of the essence and they needed to find Vannah. “Don’t apologize. It’s not just on you. I know I haven’t exactly been the best friend material and yeah…” he shrugs, looking back in front of them. “We’ve all been on edge. Maybe we can just yell at each other once this is all over?” He offers, a small chuckle escaping his lips.
Dylan Cooper.
He glances at Jonathan from the corner of his eyes, his lips turning up into a smile for the first time in what feels like years months. Dylan bumps him on the side with his elbow, shaking his head with a laugh. They've all been through so much already, and the battle between the Dark Lord and Harry Potter hasn't even happened yet. There are rumors Harry will have to come back to the castle at some point, though the real question was when. "I'm glad you're here now," Dylan admits, meeting his gaze. Guilt finds it's way to his throat just looking at his best friend. He's spent so much time being angry at Jonathan for his absence while the rest of the quad dealt with their hardships. Dylan always had a hard time looking past his own problems in order to connect with others and Jonathan was no exception. "Time's like these, I should be thankful for the things I do have."
Jonathan Monroe
Jonathan smiles slightly at the bump, feeling a bit better about where they stood. Though hearing his laugh was so much better. It was a sound he hadn't heard in a long time from anyone really, but specially him. Jonathan just wanted his friends to be happy. Perhaps the timing was the worst possible, but anything remotely happy felt like some sort of win. "Yeah, me too." He reaches to pat his back. "I'm glad we're here together too, doing this together." He wishes they had all the time in the world to sit down and have a proper chat, but he made a mental note to do it when they weren't out in the open. "I agree. We should really cherish what we have right now. We don't know when it'll be taken away and when it happens... it sucks," he trails off, thinking about his mom and how he thought he had more time until he didn't.
Dylan Cooper.
We don't know when it'll be taken away and when it happens. Jonathan couldn't have spoke truer words. Dylan has lost so much sometimes it felt like he couldn't take anymore. Everyone always left at some point or another, and then of course, Dylan almost lost himself. Dabbling in dark magic had it's repercussions and Dylan hasn't been himself ever since. The tattoo across his ribs reminded him everyday to stay strong and sometimes that in itself was difficult. It was hard to conceal his anger and resentment that Dylan harbored within him. "That's why we have to find Vannah." He winces at memory of having had their argument in front of everyone, of calling her out like that. He takes the note from his pocket and hands it to Jon, "We should try her mum's house first."
Jonathan Monroe
“We’ll find her.” They had to find her. Jonathan would do anything, even if it meant sniffing everything throughly to get the slightly clue of where she was. Jon grabs the note and takes a look. “Are you gonna do the talking? I feel like I would stammer and fuck it up.”
Dylan Cooper.
It hurt that she had left without them, but Dylan knew Vannah would want to find them alone. She wouldn’t want to risk their safety, but Dylan knew now that there were safety in numbers. He pats Jon on the shoulder, “I will do the talking. Maybe we should call it a night,” Dylan squints at the darkening sky and sets his backpack down. They haven’t made much progress, not even there not even sure where she went. They’ve never even been to her home. “We’ll rest and then try a locator spell in the morning.”
Jonathan Monroe
"Yeah we should, it's getting late and we should probably pick up early in the morning." Jonathan set his things down as well and while he began to prep their sleeping arrangements for the night, he pondered on telling Dylan the reason why he had been distant before. He needed to tell him sooner or later and perhaps later wouldn't be an option anymore if something happened to either of them. It was best to let it all out now. "So, listen..." he starts, feeling his nerves build up within him. He didn't want any pity or to be treated like he was broken. "I didn't mean to disappear on you guys just like that. A lot has happened, even before this shit storm but um... my mum, she uh, she died. Her battle with cancer was a tough one." He could fill his throat closing, the pain of the memory almost overwhelming him but he stayed strong. "Please don't say sorry or anything like that..."
Dylan Cooper.
They are quiet while setting up, Dylan's mind busy. It was bittersweet being there with Jon. Dylan was glad he was here, that they were doing this together. It felt like a long time ago they were doing anything together back when they were still students at Hogwarts. But things had changed drastically--Dylan was no longer that person anymore, still insecure, but this time with grudges that he couldn't shake. A part of him was still angry with Jon for disappearing--that is until Jon explains. The revelation takes Dylan by surprise, his lips parting. I'm sorry is already on his tongue, but he bites back the words for Jon's sake. "I understand," when his own mother died, Dylan didn't want anyone to say the same to him. "Why didn't you tell us?"
Jonathan Monroe
"It seemed easier that way." He didn't know how to handle that much emotion and just heartbreak. Every time he would try to talk about it he broke down and couldn't say one single word after that. Jon needed the time to process and just when he was ready the war had begun and all that he could think about was surviving. His friends surviving. "It wasn't that I didn't want to tell you. I was going to tell you eventually. I know you would've been there for me because that's the kind of person you are. Just wanted to say that... I don't want you to think that I can't count on you."
Dylan Cooper.
I don't want you to think that I can't count on you. The words sting, but for a different reason than Jon may have thought. Dylan had often felt he couldn't count on Jon, his absence so apparent it often made Dylan ache. As they grew up, in many ways it felt they were growing apart, a feeling Dylan also shared with Vivienne. Vannah had been the only constant, and now she was gone. Dylan could not shake the resentment that solidified within him over the years, over the heartache, and although he appreciated Jon's explanation, it felt a little too late. Tears sprung to his eyes, but Dylan quickly wiped them away, clearing his throat. "Don't worry about it," he says, the smile on his mouth wobbly. "We just...missed you, that's all."
Jonathan Monroe
Jon spent a lot of time in his head thinking about how to tell others about his mom. Initially, there were tears and all he could let out were the smallest of sounds, but eventually after much practice it had become easier which is why he wasn't breaking down right in front of Dylan even if the heartbreak was a lot to take on. "Yeah... I missed you guys too."
Dylan Cooper.
There's a moment of silence that stretches between them, Dylan's hands balled tightly into fists. Puff snakes their way around Dylan's neck and down his arm, settling at his wrist. The dragon coos, nostrils blowing out wisps of smoke. "I know what that's like," Dylan begins, swallowing hard, heart beating and aching. He never thought he would have to relive the pain again, to talk about this again. Jon had seen him at his worst when it happened and perhaps that was why Jon didn't want Dylan to see him in that same situation. "When I lost my mum--" The sight of his mother, pushed down the stairs by his drunken father--"I didn't know if I would ever come back from that," Dylan closes his eyes, but he only sees Verity's face, an old grimoire in her hands, filled with dark magic. Something still courses their way inside him. "But you're not alone," Dylan tells Jon, glancing up at him, like a reminder to even himself. You're not alone.
Jonathan Monroe
Hearing Dylan's voice again, Jon looks up at him and nods. He remembered everything from what Dylan told him. He remembers holding his friend when he needed it and being there for him as much as he could. Jon was devastated seeing his best friend be in that much pain and he never wants Dylan to feel any pain. Their current circumstances making that difficult, but there was still hope. "I know I'm not," he starts. "I have you. And Vannah. And I thought Viv but I don't know about that one anymore..." he frowns.
Dylan Cooper.
The mention of Vivienne gives Dylan whiplash. He could not even begin to explain the hurt he felt towards her. Their friendship had always been rocky and perhaps at times toxic, but there was a time where Dylan loved her. But Vivienne was a troubled girl, always afraid to get too close until she did. She fell in love with Draco Malfoy, and Dylan had to deal with that. She began to slip further and further away until she was gone completely. And Vannah--Vannah wasn't even here right now. He was angry she had left without them, regardless if she thought she needed to rescue her family alone. All Dylan had right now was Jon. He doesn't remember the last time they were together. Dylan breaks into a smile then, claps a hand over Jon's shoulder. "Yeah. I don't know either. But I guess we're gonna find out."
Jonathan Monroe
Sometimes Jon couldn't help but feel guilty about the way things hard turned out for all of them. He wondered if there was something he could've done better to maybe avoid them separating or doing things they all questioned, himself included. Jon turns his head when he feels Dylan's hand on his shoulder. "Yes we will. We should get some sleep before all that. No offense but you look like shit and I know I do too," he lets out a small laugh.
Dylan Cooper.
A laugh escapes him, though it hurts. Dylan has no doubt he looks as terrible as he feels, the events over the last year weighing heavy on him. "Yeah," he scrubs a hand over his face, Puff mewing softly as it curls down his arm around his wrist, a forked tongue licking the back of his hand. "You definitely do," Dylan teases back, clapping Jon on the shoulders. He turns away from him, the smile on his mouth quivering out as Dylan unpacks the cot to sleep on. Heart heavy, he stretches himself on the cot, looking up at the night sky. There was too much on his mind--Jon, Vannah, Vivienne, Verity, his mother. "G'night, Jon," he mutters into the darkness, "We have a long journey ahead of us." Dylan screws his eyes shut then, begging for sleep.
Dylan sat across from him, and Dylan's hands twitched where they were sitting on his knee, wand held tight in his palm. Eyes squinted in suspicion and jaw tense in anger, he sat and watched Michael a foot away, strapped to his hospital bed.
The boy that sat in front of him was not the one that Dylan remembered. He was not the boy that helped him train for the Quidditch team, or the boy Dylan was angry at for a whole three months when he found out that Michael slept with Vivienne because Jen told him. He was not the boy that stood up for him when Zach butted in the Great Hall one evening, and he was not the boy that helped Dylan get his confidence back, to channel all his negativity into something good, something that could help others along with himself. Michael Settler was the hand that rested upon Dylan’s shoulder when he couldn’t sleep at night and didn’t want to, opted for keeping watch even in the nipping cold.
But this Michael Settler was empty, a shell of the person that he used to be and the fire in his eyes and his was heart gone. And Dylan couldn’t recognize him, couldn’t fit this person to the one he was familiar with and instead, Dylan gazes back at him bitterly.
They have risked everything and more to bring him back, and now what?
“I’ll catch on fire any time now,” Michael mused, snapping Dylan out of his own thoughts. Instead of his usual playful tone, Michael came off more as cold, lips stretched into a small smile of mocking. Dylan un-clenched his fists, attempting to relax his tense bones. Lifting his chin up, Dylan let out a scoff before shaking his head. Why bother fighting with him when Michael doesn’t understand the things they did to save him and why? Averting his gaze, Dylan fixed his eyes on a cold cup of tea on Michael’s bedside table. His lips stay in a thin line.
“Don’t tell me you have feelings for me too?”
“Shut up,” Dylan snapped, feet fidgeting in his spot and he adjusted the hold of his wand in his hand. “Just shut up, you don’t understand anything.”
“Have you considered,” Michael started, laced with malice and Dylan knew he was just doing that to get the better of him, to rile Dylan up until he did something. “That maybe I’ve realized the errors of my ways? You’re fighting a war that you can’t win, so what’s the fucking point of fighting if you can surrender now? You’re not being noble, you’re being stupid.”
His resolve cracked then, jaw releasing from the tension and Dylan felt the ache shoot up into his forehead. Dropping his gaze from the cup of tea, Dylan found Michael’s eyes. He looked at the battered boy that still had fight in him, yet it was a different fight. He thought of all the people that loved Michael, that risked their lives to bring him back, to keep him. “You know, there was a time where you’d rather do the stupid thing, Michael.” There was a pause, where Michael didn’t say anything and so many words sat on Dylan’s tongue, like tasting words before he said them.
“You were my friend, Michael.”
“You know, I’ve been hearing that a lot lately, I wonder if any of it is true.”
“Cut the crap!” The chair squeaked as Dylan pushed back, standing and his stomach twisted at the sight of the corners of Michael’s lips curling into a smile.
“Go on,” he egged on, eyes wild as they flit between Dylan’s eyes and wand, and the pit of Dylan’s gut retched at the thought. “Do something.” It was almost like a desperate whisper and Dylan shook his head, disgusted. “Then you’re weak,” Michael continued, his smile fading and Dylan’s hands shook, disbelieving. “You’ve always been weak.”
A laugh fell from Dylan’s mouth. “We risked our lives to save you. Jen, Charlotte, Jeremy, Vannah. Me. You were important to all of us, you meant something to all of us. And now Adrian has got your mind all fucked up, and Cassie is missing because of you!” Licking his lips, Dylan swallowed and pushed back the roughness in his throat, the tears that started watering in his eyes. Embarrassed and angry, he sat back down into his seat, running a hand through his hair.
Silence cut between them and Dylan did not know if it was because of what he said, if Michael had nothing to say at all and if he even remembered. And he listened to the raise and fall of Michael’s breathing, muttering “We just wanted you back,” underneath his breath, quiet that perhaps Michael hadn’t heard him at all.
It didn’t matter, not when the tent flap pulled back and Jen entered, carrying something small in her hand. He gave her a small smile, pushing back the rough feeling in his chest again to make it outside. Cool air against his heated cheeks, Dylan sighed, palms sweaty. Across his mind, Vannah and Jonathan and Vivienne are painted.
It’s hard to believe that things can get better when they only get worse.
