@aefintyr | things you said with clenched fists
It comes easily, instinctively. She doesn’t even have to think about it, she just says it, and the truth of it echoes through the room. She hates him and she will always hate him. Hates him with a ferocity that leaves her breathless, hates him so much that it hurts to even look at him right now.
Her nails dig into her palms, hard enough and sharp enough to draw blood.
She wants to set this room on fire.
The urge is so intense that it threatens to swallow her whole, to chew her up and spit her out, to burn her down and turn her into dust. Because she doesn’t have any goodness left inside her. Because the war has eaten everything good in her life. It ate, and ate, and ate; and now, there’s nothing left. Nothing except her.
She hates how weak she sounds, how her voice trembles, caught between grief and rage. It’s unfair. It’s unfair that Lily and James are dead, and she’s still here. It’s unfair that Sirius is going to Azkaban, and he’s still here. It’s unfair that Dumbledore asked so much of them, too much, and he can’t do anything to fix this.
They fought for him. They died for him. They won the damn war for him and what do they have to show for it?
He owes them this, at the very least. He owes her this.
She stares at him, at his figure lingering in the doorway. This is his house, not hers. She shouldn’t even be here. She should’ve never been here in the first place. She should’ve never agreed to his deal in the alleyway, never should’ve fucked him the first time or the numerous times after that. He’s here and the people she loves - loved - aren’t.
AT LEAST HE HAS THE SENSE TO LOOK ASHAMED. it might be the first time in his life he’s chosen to remain silent in the face of admonishment. not so much because mary had rendered him speechless , but more so because he understood that to say anything was to crush what semblance of peace remained. her voice , callous as it is , has not risen above a reasonable volume. part of him wished it would. it would be easier to sit here having her yell and scream and curse him , literally , than it is to sit here like a dog who’s pissed in the house. and hasn’t he ? he had soiled what little hope he had for redemption in her eyes , if there had ever been at all. because fucking him is different from loving him. living with him was different than accepting him.
letting him lay his head upon her pillow is different from forgiving him.
he can’t take it back. even if he had no direct involvement with the attack , he had always known it would cost her more than he would ever be able to pay back . . . he just never expected this. every time he had ever been able to make out lily in the field —he’d learned , early on in the agreement , how to pick her out— he had avoided her , left her to her own devices but never cut her down by his own hand. and . . . he may have stepped between her and dolohov or barty every now and again. the point is that he’d tried.
but mary won’t care. her best friend is gone , and his efforts were in vain.
what he does know right now is that she means it. she means every syllable , and each one of them cuts through him like the sharpest blade , ice cold and yet white hot. he won’t admit it , won’t let it show on his features. he’s SEETHING , though not at her. none of them had known. none of them , save perhaps the lestranges who always knew everything all the time. but the rest of them , they thought they were keeping watch on the longbottom house based on some information from within the ministry. they thought they were doing the most important work to date. and they were wrong.
and had he known , had he applied himself to reach that inner circle of hell , he could have warned her , mary. he could have helped. for once in his godforsaken life , he could have been better than what he was.
but that moment has passed , and all that’s left is the monster. that’s all that can be left. because if he becomes something else now , it won’t mean anything. it’s too late. she’d been right in the beginning. there is no saving him.
he stands with a heavy sigh , but he doesn’t look at her , half because he fears retaliation. and half because he fears having to watch her leave.
but it’s over now , isn’t it ? they have nothing left. the deal is dead in the water , and she has no use for him anymore. in fact , there is only one reason she would stay at all , and on impulse , he throws it at her like an ax.
❛ either leave or remember we were just at war. because no matter who hates who , i’m all you got left. ❜
