The sudden silence was a shocking juxtaposition against the shock of events that had passed; the quiet complaint of the steps as I climbed the staircase seemed to warn me against being too zealous, the glow of the lamps seemed to demand that I lowered my eyes as I passed. I was aware, as you sometimes aware, of myself, of myself as I flew down that narrow sparse stretch of corridor, of the hard set of my mouth, the solemnity of my eyes and the shadows beneath them, and I pictured myself in a long mirror the colour of mercury, mottled and bruised, my lips a wound, my eyes regretful.
Sad violins as I kicked open the door. The desperate wings of a pigeon as it tumbled from the window ledge and soared into the sky. The warmer saltier air as it met me on the threshold of the room. The despair in her face as she turned to look at me. The fury in her eyes as it darted through. The way she turned to face me, pushed herself back against the black writing desk, her knuckles turning as white as the insides of her eyes, her face.
"We need to have a little talk, darlin'," I said, and the calmness of my voice surprised me. It surprised her too because she seemed to think it indicated some contrariety inside me, and her wand arm flew up and a bolt of light hit me in the chest and it sent me back against the wall, breathless. But I'd been stunned before (not just in her way, either, but by real wizards, real situations) and my instinct wasn't but to shield myself but to react; and so by the time I'd disarmed her and had that quivering twig in my hand she was only just beginning to realise it was all over, and the balance shifted. I flew towards her so fast that in the time I left her to react she could only mutter one last tragic helpless refusal:
"No." I shook her so hard, slammed her with such violence against the wall that the breath tumbled out of her, and she collapsed, and her body made the motions of retching but nothing came, just her head over my arm, her chin and her teeth as they knocked pitifully together against my shoulder bone. I pushed my hand through her hair which had become knotted and tried to stop me; I seized her tightly, so tight she gasped and tears sprang to her eyes, and I forced her head back so the starkness of her lovely throat was exposed, white and obvious amongst the shadows of the room.
"Done it this time, ain't ya? Really messed things up," I hissed, my teeth bared against her ear. Her eyes strained in their sockets to look at me, I could feel the poison in her gaze. "Never trust a muggle-born, eh? Should never've listened to a word you said. You ain't half-blood, ain't half as good as that, are you? Didn't hide that very well did you. Only took your little boyfriend a bit of bleedin' and he soon came clean."
"You killed him," she said, and her voice was thick with tears.
"Nah, that was you, weren't it, darlin'? 'Cause what you did, right, it got them Snatchers on our backs. We ain't the only ones after you now, you get me? There ain't nowhere for you to go." She pushed against me but I pinned her easily in place; her body was taut, strained against mine, the feel of each bone as it moved, each part as it pressed against me, it was torture.
"Let me go," she said quietly, and then, as she tried to turn around in my arms, louder, "Let me go. Let me go, you bloody animal..." She hit me on the side of the neck but it did little to deter me; I caught her arm and twisted it above her head instead, taunted,
"That's right, fire with fire, beautiful. Like it when you get a bit lively." It took me a moment to realise what that cool white spot was on my cheek; then, when I wiped it off, when I began to shake with an anger so intense it was another emotion altogether she said, in one long rush:
"You don't know anything. You don't bloody care to ask, either. Never gave me a chance, did you? Just took me along with you like you did with all the rest of them who're dirt to you. That's all I am, right? Dirt. Dirt or money. But you don't care that I'm a damn human being, do you, you don't care that I might have a family, I might have brothers and sisters, that I might be a feeling and loving and successful person all 'cause you're not, all because you don't understand what it's like to be part of a society that isn't founded on lies and crime-"
"I understand all right," I spat, squeezed her write for good measure. "I understand what your little world is like. Didn't want to be part of it, did I? It doesn't give you shit, that's why I gave it up."
"Oh, and you'd know all about what it does or doesn't give you, wouldn't you, 'cause you try so hard to find out-"
"You don't know nothin'," I said, and my voice was rising, my heart beating faster. "You ain't seen nothin', do you get me, darlin'? 'Till you attacked that teacher I bet you ain't ever felt what it was like, ain't ya, what it's like when you do something what's against the law, what's against what people think? Bet you liked it, didn't you?"
"I'm not like you. We're not all like you. Maybe I didn't want to, maybe it was necessary-"
"Necessary for what, darlin'? Who you kiddin'? To satisfy your own desires, weren't it? To meet your own ends? What you did didn't have nothin' to do with necessity. You're just like us." She fell quiet, and then looked in my eyes and said,
"I'm nothing like you." A laugh came up my throat and out of my mouth, and as I stroked her cheek that was when I turned and noticed the half-open pocket lying on the bed, out of which spilled two, three, four gold coins, and inside the promise of more, glistening in the darkness. I turned my head back to her and she knew then her last chance was slipping away; she hit me in the chest and as she pulled away from the wall I easily caught her; but then she pulled back again, like she was trying to throw me off. And in her face was desperation and pain, and confusion and anger, and her cheeks flared red and her eyes were rich and watery, and when I slammed her down onto the floor the breath was knocked out of her once more but when she found it again it was coming in sobs, sobs which matched the fat tears that now spilled from her eyes and down her cheeks. With my weight holding her there she didn't move, just pulled a hand up to push the tears back and then turned her face away when she saw how intently I was staring, how fascinated I was by her outburst. She seemed lost to herself, then. And her pink lips quivered and quivered.