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Post by ella on Aug 15, 2011 11:53:58 GMT -5
~ Baby, I have no story to be told, ~
~But I heard one of you and I'm gonna make your head burn~
James Sirius Potter, son of Harry and Ginny Potter, named after the infamous pranksters: the marauders, was wandering around on the second floor corridor. Or, more accurately, sitting on the floor behind a corner. The corridors were nearly deserted, but he needed them whole empty. Pondering if he would go to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, he’d found himself roaming the second floor. According to his father, Myrtle’s bathroom was perfect for creating mischief. In their second year, Harry, Ron and Hermione(Well, probably mostly Aunt Hermione) had gotten away with brewing a pollyjuice potion in there, even though that was a potion that took easily a month or two to create. Mildly said, the toilets didn’t get checked a lot.
Of course you had to take Myrtle with them. Myrtle with her annoying habit of asking how their father was. James pulled a face. It was bad enough having a ghost hit on their father, but the more James came in there himself, the more the ghost-girl seemed to get attached to him as well! His dad had always urged them to be nice to Myrtle, how annoying she might be. He said the trio still owed her that for her help in second year, and that without Myrtle their mum maybe wouldn’t have survived.
Okay, so maybe he owed her too, but she was just down-right annoying! Even Peeves was better company! James was actually quite fond of the poltergeist, who was always up to mischief and never hesitated helping the Gryffindor when James was up to some himself. Myrtle on the contrary…
Lately, James only came into her bathroom when he didn’t have any other choice. He didn’t need lots of alone time now. Only five minutes would do, and this seemed like the perfect time. Most of the other students were already at dinner. He could wait for some more minutes, but then he’s probably miss out on the best dishes.
Even though pranking was worth missing a meal every now and then, he still preferred not to. He was a growing boy after all, he needed his nourishment.
Carefully, James opened the bag Uncle George had sent him and peeked inside. Ahh, glorious. A whole bag of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. George had fixed its only flaws and made a timer to it, so you could choose exactly how long you wanted it to be dark. He also made sure the owner himself could still see. All you had to do was say the words In this darkness I created, my view won’t be deflated.
It was something George could test at the shop too, but knowing how much his nephew loved to try out his very newest products, George had send a bag to James. All the latter had to do was pick a time and throw the powder in the air. Simple, really. Peering around the hall, he concluded every student should be in the Great Hall for dinner by now. He could easily stretch out two minutes to test the stuff and head to dinner himself afterwards.
James dug with his hand in the bag and let the powder slide through his fingers, his mind already on what he could do with this powder in the future. He took some in his hands and dramatically readied himself say the words while throwing it. A bit drama made everything more interesting, didn’t it?
His dramatic ways occupied him that much, that he forgot to keep an eye on the rest of the corridor.
~Think of me in the depths of your despair,~
~Making a home down there as mine sure won't be shared.~
TAGS? ASPY!LYRICS? Rolling in the deep -AdeleNOTES?Drama-Queen in action…WORDS?587CREDITS? The wonderful 'Color Blender' and me!
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Post by mj on Aug 15, 2011 15:24:42 GMT -5
Albus coughed harshly and rolled over in bed. Groaning slightly, he reached for the fleece blanket on the floor that his Grandma Molly had sent him a week ago. His body ached, he was freezing, and he had a terrible migraine; it had been like this all day, and it had all come on so suddenly. Al felt horribly lethargic. He had gone through all his classes like a ghost—not remembering a single solitary thing his professors had taught him. But, being the stubborn Weasley that he was, he hadn’t accepted any help or permission to return to bed. He was fine, he insisted, but by the end of the day, he was just thankful to be done. He had skipped breakfast and lunch due to a weak stomach, and now his body was having its revenge on him.
He had been lying down for a few hours now—mostly napping. As soon as his last class ended, he had never been so thankful to have a bed. At that point, actually, he probably would have even accepted the floor; he thought he would collapse. If it wasn’t for his own perseverance and determination (and the occasional friend to lean on), he would have retired to the Slytherin common room long ago. He knew his body certainly wouldn’t have ached the way it did now if he had just slept in this morning. As for right now, he was feeling a little better. Everyone in the family knew that Al needed a nap to get through just about any day—especially when he was feeling under the weather.
Someone had mentioned dinner a while ago, he realised. Groaning, Al knew he would be in trouble if he didn’t get at least a little tea in his stomach. Ultimately, he decided he might as well make his way down to the Great Hall for a little while, and as soon as that was taken care of, he could cuddle up in his blanket and sleep the rest of the night away—hopefully feeling better when he woke up. Weakly, he grunted and pushed himself up. A half-finished letter fell onto the floor, and he rubbed his tired, green eyes thoroughly before bending over to retrieve it. It was his letter to mum and dad; he had forgotten all about it before falling asleep. Dipping his quill in ink, he decided he might as well half-ass the end and get it sent out. His parents would understand.
So halfway down the parchment, at the end of detailed letter, Al scribbled… Please tell Uncle George to stop sending packages to James. I’m getting scared. And thank Grandma for the quilt. Hear from you soon, I hope. Love, Al. He was a bit frustrated that his headache wouldn’t allow him to write much more, but he let it slide. Tucking the parchment into his coat pocket, Albus forced himself onto his feet and messily stumbled forward. He moaned, letting his vision go dark for a moment before returning to normal. Slipping his shoes on, Al mustered up all the strength he could and sauntered out of the dungeons.
But as he started towards the Great Hall, Albus suddenly realised he had left his Slytherin robes in the classroom on the second floor. He slapped his burning forehead and sighed heavily, coming to the conclusion that it was better to retrieve them now than wait until he was feeling worse. His stomach twisted as he turned on his heel and rushed up the steps of the grand staircase. It was only two flights, anyway… how hard could it be?
Fairly, apparently. By the time Al came to the second floor corridor, he was shaking and sweaty. He felt weak, and he hated that; there was nothing more aggravating to him. The thing was, Al knew he was a pretty small-statured teenager, but he hated when people assumed that meant he was little on strength. Size is no guarantee of power, Uncle George once said. You’re just like your mum, Al. Still, Albus was a short-tempered person, and when people tried to judge him based on what they assumed, it drove him crazy. It was even worse that now he actually was feeling weak.
Trying to push his nagging thoughts to the back of his mind, Al started in a fast-walk down the corridor, focused only on retrieving his robes and getting back down to the Great Hall. With green eyes set on the door down the hall, Albus never saw the person hidden around the corner. He took one more step before finally catching his foot on another. Stumbling forward and just barely catching himself, Al let out a weak cry and shot around, thoroughly bothered. This day was just getting better and better, wasn’t it?
“Hey!” he snapped, his limbs stiffening. “Watch your damn f—“
Al paused, quickly recognizing the face before him.
“James?” he cried, his sore throat causing his voice to crack embarrassingly. His green eyes widened, quickly spotting a certain something in his brother’s clenched hand. “What’re you…? Oh, no. No! Not with me here!”
TAGS?! JSPY!
CREDIT?! text credit goes to JURATE?! of caution 2.0.
LYRICS?! avenged sevenfold - betrayed
WORDS?! 854!
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Post by ella on Aug 17, 2011 14:36:32 GMT -5
~ Baby, I have no story to be told, ~
~But I heard one of you and I'm gonna make your head burn~
Entirely caught up in his thoughts, James didn’t even notice the person stumbling over him until his name was said. Confusing flooded his face when he noticed his brother standing over him, looking rather pale. What was Al doing here? The sudden appearance of his weak, trembling brother, made James completely forget what he had in his hand, and on Albus’next, panicked words, made him to raise himself suddenly. The valuable fine powder slid through his no longer tightly clenched fists and whirled to the ground, leaving James staring at it in horror. The next moment, there was no more staring to do. Everything had turned pitch black, and because he hadn’t remembered to say the contra-spell out loud, there was no way he could ever see through this.
“Err… sorry?” He uttered sheepishly, knowing this would have been what Al had meant with his “Oh no! No! Not with me here!” . Even though they had grown apart these last year, his brother still knew him better than anyone. Talking about his brother, and knowing people… James couldn’t quite shake of the trembling and croaking voice Al had used while talking to him. It sounded… off.
It actually painfully reminded James of that time when he found his little brother crashed down on the stairs in pain. It had been after he’d had that awful Quidditch-accident which damaged his leg forever. Albus had seemed to be in lots of pain, but refused to give in to it. Of course, he had never been the one to show his weaknesses, or handle according to them, but everyone of their little family had been really worried about the injured boy at that moment. They all knew he was hurting, and they were sad that he wouldn’t allow them to help him, or even confirm their suspicions about how bad he was actually hurting. One day, Al seemed to have tried to get up the stairs and failed.
James still remembered how broken his Albus had seemed. It had pained him to see his baby-brother lying on the stairs, completely helpless, and on the edge of an emotional breakdown. James had carried Albus nearly all the way to the top of the stairs, while the younger boy was sobbing. He promised to never tell anyone, and not to start about it again, but it did leave James more concerned about his brother.
He knew Al wouldn’t easily admit being ill, or let his voice or behaviour betray him. Now however, his voice had sounded ill, and that had to mean that whatever he had caught was worse than just a cold.
If he hadn’t been this worried, James would have laughed out loud with his own trail of thoughts.
He was always pestering Al, ignoring him, fighting with him, but one weak reply or a small hint that there might be something wrong with his little brother, and he went all ‘nurse-mode’. He was almost as bad as their mum!
“Albus?” he asked tentatively. He tried to aim his face at the direction he had spotted Albus in the last, hoping he wouldn’t have moved. Suddenly, the thought occurred to him that he’d not only forgot to say the spell , but that he’s also never set a time-limit on the new ‘Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder; Now with time-limit and anti-darkness spell, to surprise your enemies, or make pranking even easier, Weasley Wizarding Wheezes’
[/u][/b]. The advertisement sounded great, but no-where, there had been mentioned what to do when you simply forgot to set both? Groaning, James realised he had surely found a flaw in the powder. Great. George would be happy. Or not. [/blockquote][/size]
~Think of me in the depths of your despair,~
~Making a home down there as mine sure won't be shared.~
TAGS? ASPY!
LYRICS? Rolling in the deep -Adele
NOTES? Oh darkness… how it always seems to bring out the real ‘you’.
WORDS? 620
CREDITS? The wonderful 'Color Blender' and me!
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Post by mj on Aug 18, 2011 18:44:09 GMT -5
Al felt his heart stutter when the confusion crossed his brother's face. Before he could even consider making a run for it, his body froze. His big green eyes widened in horror as the powder seemed to slip through James's fingers in slow motion, and both brothers glanced down at the ground as if in disbelief. The next thing Albus knew, an explosion of black dust erupted around them. He took in a sharp breath, entirely caught off-guard, and stumbled backwards before collapsing. His landed hands-first, his wrists jamming painfully, and coughed harshly a few times, his chest aching. Albus winced, trying to see his way through the thick darkness, but it was to no avail.
Even with his clogged ears, he could hear his brother murmur a sheepish apology from a few feet away. Al groaned and shut his eyes, his head pounding. Just when he thought his day couldn't get any worse…! "Damn you, James!" he snarled, trying as hard as he could to force his words out. "I said no...! What part of that... didn't you get?" He stopped talking after that, rolling over and pushing himself onto his hands and knees. He couldn't see a light in any direction he looked, and part of Al worried that he or his brother would end up going down a flight of stairs.
Forcing himself onto his feet, he placed his hands out in front of him hesitantly and stumbled forward, trying to find an "exit." Al squinted his eyes, his heavy migraine weighing down on him. Why was it that James always got a hold of Uncle George's products? Albus gritted his teeth together, wishing that his beloved uncle would just keep the damn things in the shop where they belonged. It was bad enough at family reunions, when James or Fred thought it appropriate to "test drive" such things. Al couldn't help but wonder why he was always involved. He always ended up running to Teddy just to hide from them.
Merlin, he loved his brother. He really, really did. But sometimes, James pushed him too far. He was the reason Albus was initially terrified of Slytherin, but their dad had thankfully put those fears to rest. Nevertheless, as adamant as James had seemed about Al being in Slytherin, he didn't seem to like it very much when it actually happened. That was when their relationship started to get worse—when James began to hardly even acknowledge his existence. From that point on, when they weren't arguing, they were competing, and it was utterly frustrating to have to oppose your own brother twenty-four-seven. He and James had once been so close.
His brother had been his best friend, and sure, he still was… but the tension was unbearable sometimes. There were days when they could hardly look at each other across the dinner table. Whenever James or Lily would mention the house or quidditch cup to mum or dad, it became very aggravating for Al. In a family full of Gryffindors, how could James even begin to understand what it was like for him sometimes? Had he been alive back when his dad and McGonagall had taken charge in the Great Hall, he would have been part of the group that was forced into the chambers—the Slytherins. Nobody would ever get it, and maybe that was why James didn't know how badly it hurt Albus to be shunned in the hall.
Suddenly, the light flashed before his eyes and he slammed face-first into the wall. Al took in a long, quivering breath as his elder brother—still in the darkness—called out his name. Today was clearly not Al's day, and he was so tired that it hurt. He groaned again, leaning heavily on the wall, and tried to focus. His fever burned through him, scrambling his thoughts, and he could hardly even remember why he had come up here in the first place. Slowly, his body slid down until he was sitting with his back against the wall.
Everything was becoming so hazy. He shut his eyes and leaned his head back, a small whimper coming from his throat. Al wasn't sure of much in that moment, but he did know that his brother was close, and more than anything, he just wanted James at his side. Al hadn't been sick in a long, long while—not like this, anyway—and in a way, that frightened him. His brother had always been there to protect him, he realised, no matter how many fights they got into. Sometimes, they both forgot that.
"James…" he whimpered, opening his glazed, green eyes halfway. He didn't know if his voice would carry to his brother, but he could only hope. "You git… make it… go away…." Al didn't want to admit that he wasn't feeling well, but his voice was giving it away.
TAGS?! JSPY!
CREDIT?! text credit goes to JURATE?! of caution 2.0.
LYRICS?! avenged sevenfold - betrayed
WORDS?! 814! Yeeps! Sorry. x__x
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Post by ella on Sept 1, 2011 9:38:47 GMT -5
~ Baby, I have no story to be told, ~
~But I heard one of you and I'm gonna make your head burn~
Albus’ avada-kedavra green eyes, dilated in horror, were still burned upon James retina when the eruption of powder made everything go pitch-black. He heard some stumbling and crashing from the direction of where his brother stood, accompanied by a sharp gasp. James gulped. Damn, he hadn’t meant to actually drop the powder…
“Hey! I didn’t mean to drop it. If you hadn’t stumbled over me, it wouldn’t even have happened!”. Albus’ accusatorial words had made James jump into defence mode. He conveniently forgot about the fact that he didn’t drop the powder because Al hit him, but because of his own surprise at seeing his brother there. Either way, it wasn’t James’ fault that they were in this precarious position. What had his younger brother been doing in this abandoned hallway during dinner anyway? Would he have been up to something himself? Despite the situation they were in, James couldn’t help but be curious. And angry. He would have been able to test the powder properly if it weren’t for Albus. It would have been perfect, his new top-product in pranks. Which prankster wouldn’t want a timed black-out for the other people while he could still see and do whatever he’d been planning unnoticed? Albus ruined it all with his sudden, unexpected appearance. “What were you even doing here Al? Why weren’t you down with all the rest for dinner, huh?” James spit out frowning.
The darkness was making him uncomfortable, and not wanting to stumble over something, hit a wall or fall, James slowly started to slide down the wall in order to sit on the ground. Even though he hadn’t said a specific time-interval, he was sure the effect of the Peruvian powder wouldn’t last that long. It was just a matter of time and waiting. Great. Being locked up with his little Slytherin brother – who was most likely very annoyed with him this very moment – in a dark hall, while having an internal conflict about the advantages and disadvantages of being discovered by a teacher right now, was something he’d always dreamed of. In the final count, the disadvantages overruled, by the way. If they’d get discovered, some teacher might be able to get them out sooner, but he would be in trouble, and worse of all, word would spread in school that he, James Sirius Potter , son of the famous Harry Potter, grandson of the prankster James Potter I and greatest prankster Hogwarts had seen since the Weasley Twins, was trapped by his own tricks. He shook his head. There was no way in hell he was going to let this come out and damage his reputation. He’d rather be stuck with his brother in here for the whole night.
Apparently, Albus did not seem to share his thoughts, as James heard constant stumbling and moving around. When there was a smack –most likely due to Albus who walked against a wall, door or any other hard, standing object – and a groan, James couldn’t help but cringe in sympathy. He remembered how weak Al looked and hearing a small whimper coming from his brother’s throat, his angriness vanished into worries. Still, he was reluctant to go and grope around for his brother. There was a time he jumped to his little brother’s side when the latter brought out as much as a groan or sad look, but this new distance that stood between them, held him back. It really was as if Al’s coming to Hogwarts, and being sorted in the wrong house, had put a wall between the brothers. A wall made of glass. James could look, he could hear, he could sympathise, but he could not reach his brother anymore. And even though it hurt, James wasn’t sure he had what it took to bring down that wall. Partially, he was scared of what he would find behind it when he did. Would Albus still welcome him with open arms? Or had too much happened on the other side of the wall now? The side James couldn’t reach? The side he wasn’t part of?
James barely heard his name being whispered. There seemed to be so much regret in the voice that for one moment, he thought that his brother was thinking just the same as he was, and he felt connected with him. He was about to scramble his way up to where Al fell down when the Slytherin continued. – you git… make it… go away… – The warm feeling disappeared and was replaced with a sudden angriness, mixed in with regret. He would never admit this hurt him, but the sudden fast blinking of his eyes gave away his emotions. Still, there was something in Albus’ voice that made James unable to start yelling at him again, like a few seconds before. Their was weakness, which intensified James suspicions about Albus being sick. But there also seemed to be… trust? Or was he just imagining that, since he had been reliving those previous years in his head, where Albus trusted him unconditionally and always relied on his big brother to help him out and solve it.
James thoughts were whirling and he hated it. He hated it to feel weak. He hated it to feel sentimental. He just hated to feel right now. Breathing in and out deeply in order to get his thoughts under control again, he answered stiffly: “I don’t know how to make it go away Al. I didn’t plan this.”
Silently, almost too silent, probably impossible for his brother to hear if the corridor wouldn’t have been this deserted, he added: "But I’ll try. I swear I’ll try."
~Think of me in the depths of your despair,~
~Making a home down there as mine sure won't be shared.~
TAGS? ASPY!
LYRICS? Rolling in the deep -Adele
NOTES? Late, but replied! ^^
WORDS? 940!! Whoot! I'm getting the hang of this 
CREDITS? The wonderful 'Color Blender' and me! |
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Post by mj on Sept 1, 2011 11:52:20 GMT -5
Albus bristled when the accusations started flying in his direction. Oh, so it was his fault that James dropped the powder? The idiot stared right at him and let it slip through his fingers! How dare James blame it on him! It would always be this way between them—one brother blaming the other. Through Albus's bright green eyes, it would always be James's fault. His brother honestly ruined everything! He ruined Al's time at Hogwarts, he ruined their family, and he ruined their relationship and Al's own happiness. All right, so that wasn't all entirely true, but when James started to attack him, those were the thoughts that were rushing through Al's head. His infamous Weasley temper burned right through his fever—especially when his older brother began to interrogate him.
"Don't start attacking me!" he yelped angrily, his voice cracking dangerously. "I'm not the moron with the blank expression who dropped the powder! Seriously, James, you screw something up every time I'm around, and it's getting old!" Shuffling through the darkness, Al found himself getting more and more exhausted, but his frustration was far too overpowering to back down just then. "If you must know, I was getting my robes that I left behind. I'm not at dinner because I don't feel—" he stopped, recollecting his thoughts. He couldn't—wouldn't—admit weakness in front of his brother. He absolutely could not give James the advantage. "Because I don't feel like it. Happy?"
By now, Al had stumbled out of the darkness, and he was seated on the floor with his back pressed against the wall. It was getting worse. His thoughts were so horribly scattered that he could barely make sense of a thing. He didn't want to go down to dinner; he wanted to go back to bed. He wanted to go home. Home, where it would only be him and his parents—where he didn't have to worry about proving himself or being a Slytherin or arguing with his brother—who he really loved so much. His mum and dad truly and honestly knew him, and they would always accept him regardless. So in that moment, feeling weak and feverish, there was really nowhere else Al wanted to be but in their arms. Childish as it sounded.
And yes, he would have loved for James to be at his side, but he was still too worked up to admit it. He heard his brother shuffle around in the darkness, still lost. A part of Albus wanted to tell James to follow his voice, but he stopped himself. If James had wanted to be anywhere near the middle Potter, he would have done that already. The reason his brother was still in the dark was probably because he would rather do that than approach him. Albus pounded a weak fist against the ground and whimpered slightly; all his anger towards his brother diminished, leaving him feeling hopelessly guilty. If he hadn't snapped at James…! Al groaned at the thought.
He had to close his eyes. The room had begun to spin, and he could have sworn he was seeing a world tinted in green. Everything was just so blurry, and he was in a horrible, horrible haze. All he knew in that instance was that he wanted his bed so badly. He shook his head sluggishly, trying to snap himself out of the daze, but it failed to do much. It continued to worsen… especially when his elder brother explained that he hadn't planned this, and he didn't know what to do about it. The exhaustion dropped on him like a bomb at those words. James was his big brother! He was supposed to be the one with all the answers! Albus knew he couldn't do it himself. Merlin, he couldn't even get up if he tried.
Faintly, he heard his brother murmur the word "try." It was all he could ask for, he supposed.
"Please…" he croaked, his eyes burning. As sick as he was, Al knew he was beginning to become a bit delirious. A perfectly healthy Albus Potter would never beg. "Please try…." The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop himself. "This is awful…" he whispered. "I just want to go home."
He shut his eyes tighter and leaned back, only praying that this would all clear out soon.
TAGS?! JSPY!
CREDIT?! text credit goes to JURATE?! of caution 2.0.
LYRICS?! avenged sevenfold - betrayed
WORDS?! 756!
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Post by ella on Sept 5, 2011 12:53:11 GMT -5
~ Baby, I have no story to be told, ~
~But I heard one of you and I'm gonna make your head burn~
Al’s vivid response temporally threw James off guard. His brother’s anger seemed to have overruled his weak and sick feeling, and therefore, the response was more passionate then James would have expected. Even though he had always been the one of the Potter kids who had inherited the least of their mother’s infamous Weasley temper, he had always been touchy on getting blamed. He was quite proud, if not cocky, and was quick to take offence to anything he felt was unfair or wounded his self-esteem. According to the stories Hagrid and his father told him, his character was quite alike to that of his deceased grandfather and namesake; James Potter I.
He was just about to open his mouth and deny everything Albus blamed upon him, when the younger Slytherin continued his defence. “If you must know, I was getting my robes that I left behind. I’m not at dinner because I don’t feel –“
[/color]. Here he broke off suddenly. “– don’t feel like it.”[/color] Albus continued quickly, but James couldn’t suppress the feeling that he might have wanted to say something else originally. Don’t feel what? Don’t feel like facing some people? Or just don’t feel good in general? This reminded him again of the weakness and cracks his little brother’s voice betrayed a sign of illness.
“Not happy.” James replied resolute. “You don’t feel like it? Stop trying to lie to me Albus, we both know I see right through you.” he added irritated. It surprised him how worked up this thing got him. Why was he so irritated by Al’s ‘covering up’ his being ill? Was it because he hated being fooled or lied too, and didn’t like the fact that Al might be thinking that he could actually make his older brother buy his lies? Or was it because he felt hurt that Al didn’t trust him enough to come to him for help anymore? Whatever it was, James was done with the lies now. He wanted to know what was really going on here. And what better time to interrogate his brother than while they were both stuck in the dark for Goderic knows how long? Sighing, James ran his hand through his hair, making it stand up even more at the back. It was a habit he’d picked up from his father – and from his grandfather, or so had he heard – and never got rid of afterwards. “Albus –” , he started, biting his lip – another nasty habit he, for some strange reason, couldn’t get rid of – “ –what’s really going on? Are you okay?” he tried to say it indifferent, but James knew he couldn’t hide the sympathetic, concerned undertone his voice took when he worried about his baby-brother’s well-being. “Al? Albus? ALBUS?” James called out his brothers name when he did not directly got a reply. The stumbling had eased down, and all was quiet now, which made it even more eerie than before. “Did you get out?” he questioned, not able to find another reason for Albus to quit his seemingly desperate attempts to get out of the dark he had to share with his brother. Tentatively, he waited for a response. Not that it would help that much. If his sense of direction wasn’t making a fool out of him, Al had crawled in the opposite direction than the stairs. Which was good because that way, he had no chance of falling from them, but bad because this hallway had a dead end, so there was also no way Al could get out of here without having to pass trough the darkness again. Faintly, he heard his brother’s voice coming from further down the corridor. His voice had lost all of its fire now, and the younger boy seemed to be near to crying. It seemed like Al had finally broken down to the point he was nearly begging for help. Begging even to go home. It almost broke James’ heart. Al almost never really showed his emotions. And hearing him like this now… It was horrible. “I’m sorry, Al. I really am” he whispered back, not even noticing that there was a slight croak in his voice as well. [/blockquote][/size]
~Think of me in the depths of your despair,~
~Making a home down there as mine sure won't be shared.~
TAGS? ASPY!
LYRICS? Rolling in the deep -Adele
NOTES? I'm getting soft... 
WORDS? 709
CREDITS? The wonderful 'Color Blender' and me! |
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Post by mj on Sept 7, 2011 9:32:58 GMT -5
“Not happy," his brother stated, and Albus sneered. “You don’t feel like it? Stop trying to lie to me, Albus, we both know I see right through you.”
Albus slowly clenched and unclenched his fingers into shaking fists. James was right, and that irked him more than anyone could have imagined. His older brother always saw right through him—he always knew when he was lying—but that didn't stop Al from holding up a mask. The way James was talking—that pompous, manipulative, know-it-all tone in his voice—was incredibly irksome to the middle Potter. That air of arrogance his elder brother carried with him was like a bad perfume.
Al straightened his spine, pressing it against the wall. "Why do you even care?" he asked carefully, closing his eyes to keep his migraine from getting worse. "Why would you ever care what your asp of a little brother—" he hissed those words as though he had heard them too many times— "is doing with his free time? Stop trying to play me out like the bad guy all the time. You were never interested before, so why don't you continue to ignore my existence and leave me alone?"
Alone. Albus hated that word.
He didn't mean it, really. Sure, he was incredibly frustrated that James hardly spared him a glance in the hall, but to be honest, he was just worked up. He really did love his brother, and he didn't want this everlasting arguing to continue forever; Al just didn't know how to change things now. Of course James would always be there for him, and vice versa, but there was such uneasy tension between them that Albus could barely stand it. He didn't understand. He could always talk to Lily, and she would always, always say hello and listen to him if he needed her. Sure, they had their little arguments from time-to-time, but it was nothing like the burden of arguing with James.
Albus pushed the palms of his hands into the ground and slid down a little further. Faintly, he could hear his brother interrogating him again. And for just a second, Al could have sworn that he heard a tinge of concern in James's tone. He didn't bother to respond, too caught up in the haziness around him. His glazed, green eyes opened slightly, trying to pierce through the darkness. The fog seemed to be fading out about, though Al couldn't help but worry that he was the one fading out. What had he been thinking going to class today and feeling the way that he did? Of course, he thought he could handle it… but he was regretting it now.
"Al?"
I should have just stayed in bed.
"Albus?"
I am so stupid for getting up.
"ALBUS?"
Al jumped slightly, raising his head and breaking out of his train of thought. His brother was calling to him—asking him if he'd gotten out. The middle Potter didn't answer at first. In fact, he even considered telling James he was still in the dark—just to see how long the git would stumble around in his own darkness powder looking for him. Al quickly dismissed the thought. He didn't want to risk his older brother falling down the stairs, after all, and he felt especially sorry when James croaked an apology. Guilt pricked at Al's heart.
"H-here…" he croaked, shutting his eyes again. He pulled his knees close to his slender chest, trying to hug his warmth. "I'm f-fine… out." A small whimper broke through his voice, but it was barely audible. He ached so badly that even his skin burned. "James, what should I…? What can we…?" Dammit. He couldn't barely finish a thought. Al rested his head against the wall, releasing a slow, raspy, quivering breath, and trying to refocus. "It's okay, James… this was my fault.... How long did Uncle George say this would last?"
On any other occasion, Al wouldn't try to sympathize with his brother, but he felt bad for making James feel bad. It wasn't all his fault, anyway; they were both to blame.
TAGS?! JSPY!
CREDIT?! text credit goes to JURATE?! of caution 2.0.
LYRICS?! avenged sevenfold - betrayed
WORDS?! 686!
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Post by ella on Sept 12, 2011 15:05:06 GMT -5
~ Baby, I have no story to be told, ~
~But I heard one of you and I'm gonna make your head burn~
“Why do you even care?” His brother asked. James almost snapped at his brother again, spitting that of course he cared, and that the fact that Albus believed he really didn’t only proved the fact that he really was a moron. He decided against it though, because adding ‘moron’ to the already long list of insults he’d thrown to his brother’s head, probably wouldn’t make the younger boy help him to get out any sooner now… Nor would it make his brother tell him the truth about his condition.
‘…asp of a little brother…’ he heard how Albus spit out the words and cringed. Okay, so he might have pestered Al a little to much with his initials. But it was only for joke! He didn’t named the poor boy ‘Albus Severus Potter’… Albus was named after the most recent Slytherin Headmaster, and the fact that his initial formed ASP –an ASP being some kind of snake – didn’t really help his case either. His name just begged to be made fun of. And it never really was serious. Until Albus got sorted.
Really, if Al would have any idea of how much his older brother blamed himself for that. Even though James knew that the Sorting Hat didn’t care about any other things than what was in the wizard’s head, thoughts and wishes, still, he felt as if he was the one that doomed his brother to Slytherin. His theory wasn’t that bad actually. He wasn’t naïve (or stupid) enough to believe that his opinion would be able to influence the Sorting Hat in any way, but it might have had an influence on his younger brother, without them both even knowing it. Isn’t it so that, when something is told to you often enough, you start to believe it yourself? What if he was the one that made Albus believe that the house he really belonged to was Slytherin? What if it would have been whole different if he’d just supported his baby-brother more, instead of pestering him about the worse possibility? What if he’d doomed Albus to a life in the dungeons, with Malfoy and Lémieux as companions?
His thoughts occupied his mind that much, that James missed the whole rest of Albus’ sentence. The only thing he knew was that it was something about ‘caring’… ‘existence’ and ‘ ignore.
There was a silence. In the darkness of the powder –Merlin, why was that stupid thing still working? Guess he found a flaw… there was no ‘emergency button’ for if someone screwed up the guidelines – the silence sounded eerie. Finally, Al’s croaking voice replied to his earlier question. Affirmative. “Great! Where are you? Can you please keep talking? I’ll try to crawl my way to you.” James brought out, a boost of new courage going through his veins. Albus was out! Okay, he might be at the wrong side of the corridor, with no way to really get free, but at least he was out of the darkness! “Can you do that, Al? I know we’d still be at the wrong side of the corridor, but I’d rather be out of the darkness in safety, so we can think, than try to find my way to the stairs, with the risk of tumbling down them, because I have really no idea where the effects of the powder end in that direction. he admitted, pursing his lips.
“Don’t !” James warned when his brother started blaming himself. “We both know it really was my fault, and since I’m already thinking you might be coming down with an illness, there is no need to worry me even more by admitting you were wrong and I was right. You wouldn’t want me to bring you to St Mungo’s as soon as we get out of here, now would you?” he added, half in joke, half serious. It was some kind of ‘thing’ between them both, that they would never admit their wrong in a situation they had been quarrelling about for some time, unless it really was something serious (or their mother forced them to. Merlin, speaking about a Weasley Temper…)
“And to be honest, I have no idea how long it’ll last…” he admitted a bit sheepishly. “It’s not supposed to be dropped, I think…” the Gryffindor added, trying to lighten up the severity of the situation with a lame, dry joke.
~Think of me in the depths of your despair,~
~Making a home down there as mine sure won't be shared.~
TAGS? ASPY!
LYRICS? Rolling in the deep -Adele
NOTES? shortisch… but at least something starts to change in the situation! ^^
WORDS? 739
CREDITS? The wonderful 'Color Blender' and me! |
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