Astoria collects smiles, files them away
mentally for the days when she cannot
summon her own, and Theodore Nott’s
smile, lovely and unexpected as it is, is
left to itself. Collecting such a thing feels
sinful.
“Wouldn’t it be easier,” she observes softly, “if
we could pretend we were doing this for noble
reasons only?” If they could make themselves
into heroes, when she knows that she, at least,
is so far from heroic that it’s near laughable.
"I am here," she answers, "because I was
a silly little girl who imagined that she’d be
looked after, and her family, too. Instead, I
am an attack dog at best. I don’t think that
what we want matters anymore, does it?”
as much as he would like to offer her as
many smiles as he could, lately there had
been little reason to, and his own had not
been so frequent in the first place. but, for
astoria, who he considered a dear friend,
he would endeavour to smile more, if only
to see one of hers.
'if it were so easy, then i would be having no
doubts as to where my allegiances lay. but
we don't live in such a world, where ease
comes with no price,' and what a sad world
it's turning out to be.
'i joined, as gryffindor as it sounds, for love.
or perhaps it was for recognition, at least.
my father is not a kind man, not even to his
own kin, and i had hoped...' he trails off for
a moment, as though to compose himself.
'as you can tell, it hasn't worked out as i had
hoped, which shouldn't be a surprise. the
only thing i continue to hope for is that we
make it through this alive.'
2087
kianamaiart
stormborns
areudirty
dededos
tangentwithtanner
romaincrisis
