Hey, I wrote this some time ago. I tried to change things to make it current but whatever. Enjoy.
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The blood that had fallen from the woman's once infamous lips began to coagulate on the floor. She wondered how long it would be before he came to visit. After every beating he would visit and clean her wounds as well as give her a bit of news from the day, but then again, this time she had seriously fucked up. She did the one thing that every whore shouldn't. She fell in love.
Five years ago.
Five years ago, during the time of Hogwarts she was happy or at least she would have been had Harry defeated Lord Voldemort. But he hadn't, he and the rest of the order- who weren't dead- escaped to hide and eventually fight another day. Yet with their escape they left the rest of the world to Voldemort and his minions. Muggleborns and those who sympathized were eliminated or captured or forced to go into hiding. Those who were caught were made slaves to be humiliated and abused or simply just kept. People were disappearing, homes and whole villages and towns were going up in smoke under bright morsmordres. Wizarding Families were about to be made pure again.
Angelina was one of those caught, but then again she had not run. A letter came to her London flat, informing her of her pre-evaluation to be a branch in one of the new wizard pure blooded families. But she saw the evil seal and immediately tossed the letter in the fire without so much as opening it.
Three days later a knock came to the door. No one should be visiting her, is what she thought. All her neighbors had fled and she had told her surviving friends and family the truth months ago. She didn't want to be contacted and she didn't want to be saved.
***
Montague thought smoking cigarettes an ugly muggle habit but somehow he'd taken it up. Of course he only ever smoked when he was extremely frazzled and in private. Yet here he was standing outside her door, puffing away as if his life depended on it. Last he'd heard, Angelina Johnson was severely depressed over the loss of her fiancé and…well he didn't even want to think about what else she had lost. He could not imagine the pain she was in. He didn't feel sympathy though, he was a death eater after all. He knocked once before vanishing the cigarette. He waited a breath, she had to be home.
His partner and ally, Marcus Flint stood beside him with his arms crossed waiting for Montague to get his shit together. Flint gave Montague a pointed look. What was it about this stupid twat that got Monty's knickers in such a twist? Sure Johnson was a knockout back in Hogwarts and there was even a time he had fancied her for a spin but he soon got over that when he met his future wife.
"I can't believe this shite," Flint grumbled as Montague knocked again, why was he even knocking. Times like these he just felt like Voldemort's little errand boy. He briefly wondered if Johnson was smart enough to-
"Alohomora" Flint said and walked right past him.
Inside it was dark and the air was stale. There were dirty dishes everywhere and old dead roses in vases.
"You think she's dressed," Flint asked Montague but was swiftly ignored.
Stepping back further they discovered the flat was charmed and much larger than it appeared. In the back, they came to what could only be the door of the master bedroom.
Flint sighed, "Let's get this over with, I'll wait outside for ten minutes."
Montague nodded as he turned the doorknob, Flint grabbed his shoulder firmly. "Seriously Alexander. You get ten minutes, we have a deadline. If you're not out by then I go in and grab her myself." Dressed or not.
***
She heard the knocks, the intruders in her home but it didn't matter, not much did these days. She hoped it would come quick, like it had with Fred and their baby she'd lost. The life she couldn't protect, the lives…
Her long black hair hadn't seen a brush in decades. She thought absently, that at least she was clothed. The door opened and she could faintly smell nicotine waft through the room. She laid perfectly still under her maroon comforter. A gryff through and through. She wondered when was the last time she cleaned her gold sheets, Fred had gotten them for her.
She licked her chapped lips, they tasted of old tears. When she cried, she never remembered feeling sad, she just felt empty and therefore her tear ducts moved on their own accord.
She closed her eyes. Moments later, her blanket was pulled back and a cool hand wiped her messy hair from her face.
Angelina took a breath. "Have you come to end me?"
***
Montague couldn't help but touch her. She was still so fucking gorgeous. He's almost cried out when she'd said those words. Everything that was young, and foolish back at Hogwarts was circling him, embracing him. He looked at her flawless face stained with tears. He almost wanted to whimper along with her when she took a shaky breath, making the lips that he once fantasized about, and only touched once quiver. "Have you come to end me?"
That made him slightly annoyed and once again he was Montague the Death Eater, not Montague the boy reduced to mush within a foot of the beautiful Angelina.
"Don't be so cliché Johnson."
Angelina opened her eyes. She knew that voice, it had taunted her on the Quidditch pitch, mocked her on the way to potions and one short evening it had comforted her and told her how much she was wanted and loved.
"You'd mean a lot more to everyone alive."
Angelina met those deep, midnight eyes. Like sapphires they had not lost their intensity or hypnotic shine. She was in utter shock and for a moment so was he. The eye contact they shared was opening up every wound they had ever closed. Montague found himself growing soft, "You should get up."
Angelina swallowed the utterances on her tongue. She had no idea what to do next, so she studied the man she once knew. His face was still handsome, although his features were fully matured, his jaw was smooth and his lips still like cupids bow. There was something about his voice though. Was it always so deep, so rich, so tremble inducing?
"Angelina?"
"Yes…"
"Are you going to stare at me until the next millennia or are you going take a shower and wash off your stink," Montague got up towards the door, " Today you have polite company."
