of heroes and sacrifices
alicefrank
-0-
He'd never been one for violence, and certainly not one for malice, but seeing him standing there facing Bellatrix, shoulders squared and face hardened, for a second she believed he could be.
The first time they'd spoken was in a potions class in third year, when he'd turned and asked to borrow an ingredient from her, and she felt her heartbeat pick up a little as she looked into his face, taking in the freckles along his nose and the warmness of his smile. It was four months later when he spoke to her again, asking her if the spot next to her was taken when he meandered over to the hufflepuff table to speak with a friend one morning, to which she squeaked. And the next time was another month later, when they were assigned to be partners in potions.
"Hi, I'm Frank." He held out a hand, smiling at her from beneath a mop of russet curls. "Alice, right?"
She felt her chest tighten when he said her name, and quickly wiped her hands on her jeans before shaking his outstretched one. She smiled nervously at him, wondering why she was having this reaction to a boy she didn't even know. She stared into his eyes for a minute to long, admiring their colour and the long lashes that framed them, before remember that he'd asked her a question and muttering 'yes', feeling her cheeks turn red as he regarded her curiously.
After a while, she found it easier to speak to him, and even when they'd finished their project they kept on talking, and sitting together in the great hall, laughing as they munched away on pumpkin pasties and mashed potatoes.
It was a year and a half later, and they were walking down a cobblestone street near honeydukes when he asked her to be his girlfriend, turning to face her, his eyes shifting nervously. She smiled and leaned up to kiss him, brushing away the brown curls that fell into her face. A tiny part of her whispered that there must be something he wants, because why would a boy like him choose a girl like her, but then she remembered that this is Frank Longbottom and she's never really understood how his mind works anyway.
When their school years were over and they had ministry jobs and their own cottage in a small wizarding community, they decided to get married and have a child, and if she was being honest she'd wanted a girl, but the baby boy was beautiful and his eyes were like his fathers, and she'd never been able to resist those eyes.
And she wouldn't have thought it possible if she hadn't seen it herself, but Frank was more captivated by the baby than she was, taking him around to show him off to everyone, buying him his first broomstick and laughing as he almost knocked a vase over, and she couldn't hide back the smile that crept onto her face, because this was the life she'd always dreamed of, and what more could she possibly ask for?
She almost didn't believe it when Bellatrix burst through the front door one starlit evening, but the cruel twist of her mouth and the hard glint in her eyes wasn't something that could so realistically be recreated in a nightmare, no matter how much she wished it so.
And if she wasn't so terrified of losing her baby boy, she would have laughed because wasn't life always like this? Everything finally works out and then someone comes along and tears it to shreds, revelling in the feeling of ripping someone's heart out and stomping all over it.
And watching Frank as he stepped in front of her, facing Bellatrix with a grimness to his face and a blazing anger in his eyes, she felt like she was seeing him for the first time. Not her Frank, the kind, sweet, almost hufflepuff boy who she'd come to love, but the brave, chivalrous gryffindor who she'd always known must be there somewhere.
Even when Bellatrix lifted her wand and cast the cruciatus on Frank, even as he writhed on the ground in agony, he still refused to move away from her, away from their son, and some part of her wished he'd die right then, die a heroes death like a gryffindor should.
Occasionally she thinks that he should have died a heroes death, because this life shouldn't be thrust upon someone like him. Sometimes she thinks this and wants to cry out in anger, but then the insanity curls around her again, and maybe it's better this way, not having to face her thoughts like sane people.