In the Storm
Quidditch League, round 5, chaser one: (quote) "No pessimist ever discovered the secrets of the stars, or sailed to an uncharted land, or opened a new heaven to the human spirit," Helen Keller, (song) If I Die Young" by the Band Perry, (quote) A man is not old until regrets take the place of dreams. John Barrymore
His mother would like this.
Usually, everything he did caused a negative reaction in her; he wasn't quite sure what exactly he had to do to please her. He had never been like his older brother, swift and cunning. He always knew what to do. Allen always knew what to do.
This was the first Hogsmeade weekend he would be participating in; usually, the Slytherin common room held much more comfort and appeal to him. He wasn't quite the type to stop in at Honeydukes for chocolate or drink Butterbeer with friends at the Three Broomsticks. Gibbon just didn't see the appeal in it...
Until he'd gotten an owl from his mother the week previous. It had been short and blunt, telling him he'd better start courting Alchiba Burke, the girl he was set to marry, sooner than later.
So he did it – he asked her to Hogsmeade.
Alchiba was supposed to be there at noon, and there she was, to the minute. He couldn't see her as the type of girl to settle, really, marry like all of the other pureblooded witches – he knew from classes that she was loud, blunt, and harsh, truthful to the point of extremity. She was also attractive, he supposed. Tall and lithe, with black hair and blue eyes. He'd never given much thought to any girl.
The first word she said upon meeting him at the back of the Three Broomsticks was his first name.
"Jacen," she said, and he was taken aback – it wasn't often he was called by his first name, only by professors and his family.
He nodded, and she sighed, although he didn't have a clue why.
"Merlin, don't look so thrilled," she snapped. "You know, you're never going to enjoy anything if you're so goddamn miserable all the time."
He didn't know what to say to that. Okay, he wasn't exactly a violence-happy Bellatrix Black or anything, but still…
They sat down and the barmaid took their order.
"Butterbeer," he said.
"Firewhisky," she said.
She noticed the look he gave her.
"I'm of age," was what she replied with, raising her eyebrows at him. "Do you ever say anything, Jacen? Or are you just going to stare at me like an inarticulate imbecile?"
Inarticulate imbecile.
Inarticulate imbecile.
Try saying that five times fast.
"I didn't really want to go on this date in the first place," he said slowly.
"Good to know," she said. "I figured, actually. You're like the rest of them. You asked me because your mother wrote you a short owl telling you you'd better court a girl they approve of, correct?"
"I don't want to get married, in general," he said. "Not for me." And it was the truth – he'd never really been attracted to anyone at all. Gibbon had always found he'd had a vague distaste for other human beings, almost to the point of repulsion occasionally.
"We're in agreement on one thing," Alchiba said, daintily sipping her Firewhisky as if it was tea.
He looked at her, once more.
"It's not as if I have a choice," she said, leaning forward. "I'm not no Gryffindor, not going to fight it. I do my duty to my family. But, really, compared to the likes of Malfoy and Crabbe, you aren't downright repulsive, Jacen. I could see myself tolerating you. Lucius Malfoy is only liked by the adults around him – and thank Merlin Narcissa Black is promised to him. Poor girl," she finished, shaking her head.
"Yeah," he said, lamely.
"On the off-chance you're alive fifty years from now, the only word in your vocabulary will continued to be yeah," she shook her head, smiling a little oddly as she took another sip of her drink.
He was inclined to agree with her on that one – he'd never been great with words. They had always managed to evade his grasp, slip through his fingers. Gibbon had never had the gift of persuasion or speaking, not like Lucius Malfoy.
"Not as though we're going to live very long, though."
"Why do you say that?" He asked.
Alchiba leaned forward. "Look, Jacen. We're in the middle of the war. My father works for the Dark Lord and mother, well, she's a victim of circumstance. I'm expected to do exactly what you are expected to do – join his following, become a Death Eater. Or perhaps I'll luck out and just marry one of them. Not the point, though – we're all going to be killed, sooner or later. When have you heard of a Death Eater dying from natural causes? Never."
She did have a point. He couldn't quite see what was wrong about joining the Dark Lord's forces, though. Mudbloods and half-breeds alike were unnatural, deserved to be eradicated and banished from the Wizarding World. It was a common pureblood truth – and a truth it was.
"I don't mind that. The Dark Lord, I mean – it stands for what our families stand for, and for what we believe." Gibbon spoke firmly. He was his father's son. Quiet, loyal. But he was also cunning, he knew that. It was the reason he was in Slytherin, after all.
"Hmm," she said. Alchiba stood up, tossing a sickle on the table. "That's interesting."
"Is this finished?" Gibbon asked, startled by her abrupt leaving.
"I would have hoped you gathered that," she replied.
Gibbon stood up, too, paying his portion.
Alchibe paused before exiting. "Ask me to Hogsmeade again, Jacen. I believe I said this before, but you're not completely repulsive."