how the mighty fall // edgar & amelia
Amelia wasnât quite sure how it had happened so suddenly. In fact, Amelia wasnât quite sure how it had happened at all. She must certainly be dreaming, because how was it possible that what started as one of the most friendly conversations sheâd ever had with her half brother had escalated to trembling fingers and laboured breathing within minutes? The redhead knew better than anyone that she shouldnât be getting flustered over this, that it was bound to happen sooner or later, but Amelia couldnât help feel a bit hurt by Edgarâs accusations. She wanted to grip him by the shoulders and shake him, wanted to shout at him that she was only trying to protect the both of them, but she knew it would be pointless even if she did. Even now, as Amelia sat with her head in her hands at the library, nearly hours later, she noticed how her shoulders were still tense with frustration, her breathing still erratic as she tried to pinpoint the exact place where everything had gone wrong.
Upon coming to the realization that everything had always been wrong when it came to the Bones family, the Hufflepuff released a long sigh, dragging a hand through her long locks in exasperation. She wished she could make him see why she pushed him away. She wished she could just explain to him why she was so icy towards him, but there werenât enough words in the dictionary to tell him how she felt, and why she chose to act like she did. Amelia was just so frightened. She was so afraid of the possibility of Edgar rejecting her, that she wouldnât let him in. She couldnât confide in him and trust him, not after the exclusion both of their parents had already rewarded her with. Although sheâd never admit it, Ameliaâs brother meant so damn much to her that she was convinced not knowing him at all was much better than taking the chance of dismissal and letting down the frigid wall that protected her heart. Sheâd rather argue with him every day for the rest of her life than risk losing him. The truth was: Amelia was petrified by the thought of losing her brother.
Amusingly enough, Amelia was petrified by the thought of nearly everything these days. After the incident during the ball, the seventh year couldnât find comfort in anything, she couldnât sit still. Her eyes and ears were always alert, positive that someone was going to creep up on Amelia at any moment and bring her to her tragic end. What worried her even more than the prospect of her own death was the idea that the people she cared about could be hurt just as much as she could. Amelia would rather die a thousand painful deaths before watching anybody she cared about get harmed, but unfortunately, life didnât work that way. As the girl sat at her usual table, eyes unfocused as she recapped the night of the ball over and over again, the essay she was in the midst of writing became irrelevant, the quill in her fingers shaking so vigorously at her grim thoughts that ink was beginning to sprinkle the parchment in front of her. Amelia was so lost in the empty compartment that was her head that the sound of footsteps approaching her went in one ear and out the other, her mind not processing what that meant until the person was standing directly in front of her, calling her name. She had to summon all of her strength to steady the violent quivering of her quill and focus her sight on the person before her, a rosy hue immediately rising to her cheeks as she set her quill down and attempted to calm her pounding heartbeat, gazing up into the face of her brother. âEdgar,â She greeted, her face and voice devoid of any emotion.
There had been only one thing Edgar had wanted to do after the body had appeared those few days ago. Only one main person he'd been desperate to find through the madness of it all. In the end the disappearance of red hair at the far side of a corridor in the distance had been all he'd settled himself with. It was enough for him to know she was alright, to know she was there and that she had others from her house to keep her safe where he clearly couldn't. The few days that had followed since the murder had seemingly merged into one, a singular desire to check she was okay mixed with the pride that stopped him. It was true when Edgar said to people he didn't understand his sister. He tried, at least in his mind, so hard to show her that he wanted her around and yet somehow she seemed so insistent that he didn't, that none of them did and Ed wished he could say he'd give up both his parents in a heartbeat to keep her safe. Unfortunately, those weren't exactly the words someone uses when they're trying to show they're a good person, so he's never really pointed it out. In the few days that came after the incident Edgar has asked several of the other Hufflepuff's how Amelia was and while most answers had been inconclusive, he figured that had to mean she was at least partly alright. If anyone were to ask him, the reason he was avoiding her was because he didn't think Amelia wanted to see him. Mostly true, although it wouldn't have been a lie to guess at the fact he was also a little worried that she would say something if he did try to talk to her again. While their relationship had always been seemingly one sided, he had often liked to hope that Amelia was at least slightly invested. Instead of thinking about it, the Gryffindor had spent a lot of his time walking around the school with his hands in his pockets, wondering just what he was meant to be doing. Alternating between that and actually focusing on his school work Edgar wasn't sure he'd ever gotten so much work done in advance before. A girl had been killed and more then anything it had served as a reminder of just how much he needed to be part of the war and fight for what was right, but also just how much more he had left to learn. For someone to get the body into the great hall it had to be students and students who at the very least where his age, possibly younger. If they could do that he knew he had to be aware of everything he could. No matter how much of a distraction school work had proved itself to be, Edgar did only have so much self restraint. While everyone else was picturing the appearance of the girl that night, he still kept picturing his sister turning away. The only difference was, he could make up for his actions. Eventually he had found himself wondering to the library, spotting the familiar flaming red hair over at the far side. "I'm so sorry, 'Lia." The words were out his mouth before he'd even had chance to consider them, a look of despair resting on the brink of his expression. "I didn't mean anything I said and I'll go if you want me to- I just need to know you're alright after everything that happened? I should have come to find you sooner." He trailed off as he realised he had no idea what to say to his sister, no idea what she wanted him to say or how to make everything right. Instead he pulled out the chair and sat down opposite her as he waited for at least some confirmation that she was fine.
