are you deranged like me? | Augustus & Noura
a rookwood-r:
Now, conscious of himself, after verbalizing the brief events of the night, observed Nora with a slight silence. He had not liked the way she had told him about Druella. And got worst with her posture, but it was not expected. However, he could also appreciate the fact that she understood the situation. He knew too much about her to doubt of some of her thoughts and ways of acting, which attract him on great conversations in time and intensity. Unfortunately, Augustus would never allow someone inside of their house and trying to kill Noura. Even thou, he knew she would handle it - it always did - he would show one part of himself that no many people saw. He laughed for a second, thinking that it was time to take off, and take care of the wounds. That was the limit. Especially when she had offered to take him back to the hospital that came from hell. He was wide awake enough to look down, lightly wet his lower lip with a tongue and face her with the best of himself, without giving her one more chance to see the boy once more who looked tired and needed to sleep.
Augustus Rookwood would never accept that offer, and this… was enough.
It was time to show that even Noura was supposed to be at his side forever, she would not see so soon his interior. Without another word, he reached for his wand, rising his body carefully. He cramped his neck, seriously thinking about using an Obliviate in Noura, to forget the conversation. And after some quick interior debate, he realized that this was not important. She could do whatever she wanted with as much information as she had. And she was getting more and more information about how the Dark Lord if it was her desire. Rookwood preached for some things and knew his role in society very well, not needing nobody to remember him about that. He promised himself that he would go back to training and get new information about dark magic, and be a better Duelist. Rookwood would not be carried by anyone a place like a hospital if when the death meets him. And worst: it would be possible have some poison at his fingers as a pleasant gift to anyone who touched him without permission. That night he allowed himself to be slightly vulnerable and it would never happen again.
Wiping his dirty hands on torn trousers, Rookwood said: “I hope you have a good night, Noura.” He was still a man he respected as women who would join the Rookwood family and this way, would give him the right to hear his voice one more time again that night. The moment of reality, he would hold a composition once and for all, making sure that his pride was still there. And without waiting for anything else, he began to walk toward the stairs, really hoping she would not come back. Augustus appreciated a lot their friendship and knew that was the moment to just leave.
Noura didn’t like to admit it, but she was less the rose in the desert and more the scorching sun within it. Augustus had taught her to be more tactful, to gauge other’s emotions better, to not always be the dagger but the heart. She couldn’t appreciate that enough -- all those times in pureblood balls when she had stood alone holding her drink, trying to be the marble statue but failing, always failing. She wondered idly if she could ever truly repay him for that -- upon their official betrothal she had sworn she would try her best. He was one of the few people she felt anything for, and although it wasn’t exactly romance, it was t h e m, and that was all that mattered. The problem is, he kept sending her conflicting messages -- was she to be the dutiful bride-to-be, be distant, be witty -- Augustus was still a novel thing despite their years of knowing each other. Noura eagerly awaited for the time where she could at last permeate that somber surface. She prayed it would be soon, because she was tiring of these games.
“What?” She said, unable to restrain herself at his sudden goodbye. “Rookwood! Come back!” Noura shouted, thanking Merlin there was no one else in the common room, it was so late. She at once was apprehensive and embarrassed. Touching her cheeks, to her utter annoyance, she felt that they were warm. Her brow creased, she began to follow her betrothed out of the common room, anger and shame rushing through her veins. Lengthening her stride to keep up with him, at last she put a pensive hand on his arm. Her innards dueling between polite curiosity and raucous spite, spite won: “What the bloody hell are you doing?”
Noura couldn’t think of anything that could cause him to react in such a way. All she had done was relate a more gory detail, which shouldn’t have bothered such a man such as Rookwood unless he kept silly ideals of what a woman should do and say; and suggest he go to the Hospital Wing. . . ah. That was it, that sly devil. All at once she admired and thought the worst of Augustus. He was so steeped in self-sufficience that he couldn’t fathom the thought of letting someone else take care of him. Perhaps -- perhaps -- he had never needed it. Once again her insides were embroiled in conflict, infinite sympathy and infinite anger at arms.
