Pairing: Megan Jones/Michael Corner
Prompt: scrutiny
Warning: non-descriptive torture
A few things you'll need to know before reading this. Hestia Jones – the one that was on the Advance Guard in 1995 – is Megan's older sister by seven years. Hestia was killed in the Battle of Hogwarts in 1998. Michael and Cho had already broken up by the time this fic starts. Also, this isn't completely canon compliant.
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December 1997
Michael summons all the courage he has left and leaves the safety of the D.A.'s safe room. Even though he had been tortured last time, there are still some first years being punished by the Carrows. He glances around to check which floor he's on before heading towards the lower levels.
The Carrows prefer to serve detention in the Dungeons, as it's less likely to have other students interrupt them. But it doesn't bother Michael. He just wants to get the students that were unfortunate enough to get detention out of the way. They're usually just first years, with the occasional second and third year, and they don't deserve to be punished.
He can handle himself though. And it's worth it if he saves the other students. He'll take the pain for them.
He spots the Carrows, scrutinizing the younger students under hard glares as they walk back and forth. The students shake in fear under their unforgiving stares. Every few steps, one of the Carrows would pause their pacing and trace the face of a student with their wand.
"You are pathetic excuses for Wizards," Alecto says as she does so. "With your impure blood. Such a disgrace." Without warning, the girl – a third year Gryffindor – falls to the ground, screaming in pain. "Maybe next time you will keep your mouth shut during Muggle Studies."
Michael doesn't think as he disarms her. He appears out from behind the wall he was behind. "Run!" he shouts to the six students. "Just get out of here! Go!" he yells again as the younger students are still frozen in their spots. But the third year Gryffindor girl stands and starts to usher the others out.
Alecto's brother turns around as Alecto searches for her wand. "Why you little –," he starts. But Michael silences any further words by casting a stunner towards Amycus, which he blocks easily. He knows it's a losing battle, but he's isn't going down without trying.
.
The Carrows chain him to the ceiling, with his feet off the floor. There's a twisted smile on Alecto face as she strokes his cheek with her wand. "He obviously didn't learn his lesson the last time he freed detention servers. What do you say, Amycus? Why don't we teach him another lesson?"
He knows exactly what they're going to do for him, but knowing and reacting is two completely different things. He bites the inside of his cheek as Amycus casts the Cruciatus curse on him. But it doesn't stop him from screaming out in agony. He doesn't want to because it'll only fuel their passion for it, but the pain is always just a little too much.
When they get tired of the Cruciatus curse, Amycus likes to hit and punch and kick. And when Amycus' fist collides with his already tender body, it sends waves over pain throughout. Without warning, Michael throws up his dinner because he's sick from the pain. But that only serves to make Amycus smirk.
Alecto puts a hand on her brother's arm and throws a look of pleasure at Michael. "I think he's learned his lesson. Haven't you, boy?" she asks in a sickly sweet tone. Her wand traces his cheek again, and he thinks she has an obsession with doing that.
"Go to hell," Michael replies, spitting out the blood accumulating in his mouth.
However, his answer just makes her smile again. "Let's leave him here to think it over." He watches through swollen eyes as Amycus and Alecto disappear out the door. He stretches to his toes, grunting in pain as he does, so that he can shift his body weigh from his shoulders and wrists.
"Do you need help?" a familiar voice asks.
Opening his eyes carefully, Michael sighs in relief at the sight of Neville and the new recruit. "That would fantastic, actually," he replies.
The new recruit – a seventh year Hufflepuff – pulls out her wand to cast Alohomora. The chains immediately open and Michael nearly collapses on the floor, if it isn't for Neville catching him. "Are you good to walk or do you need to be looked over now?" Neville questions again.
He pushes away from Neville's grasp and stands on shaking legs. "I'm good to walk. I'm nearly blind here, so I need you to lead me. But let's just get out of here before they decide to come back."
Neville nods and slings Michael's sore arm around his shoulder. Even though he wants to protest that he can still walk perfectly fine, Michael knows that this is the best way if they weren't going to get caught.
.
Neville sits Michael down on his bed in their safe haven. He sighs in relief and lays down. "Megan, here, is better at healing spells than I am, so I'm going to let her take care of you," Neville informs him before heading off in search of Ginny or Luna.
"You know that was very stupid of you," Megan says conversationally. "You should've known what they would do to you."
He stays silent for a while, pondering about her statements. Finally, he whispers, "I knew what they would do, but when I heard that girl scream, I knew I had to do something. I knew I had to get them out, to give the Carrows a different target."
Megan gives him a bright smile, and Michael realizes that there haven't been enough real smiles lately and he kind of likes the way she smiles. "I said it was stupid. I didn't say that it wasn't the right thing to do. I tried to attack the Carrows when Neville and I found you, but Neville wouldn't let me."
"That's the quickest way to get on their hit-list," Michael says. Then he sits up, despite her protests and looks her in the eyes. "Besides, I could handle what they gave me. There's no need to get involved with something I caused. I was the one that intervened with that detention even though Neville told me not to."
Before she can speak, he continues on. "It was stupid and reckless of me to do that. And nobody else needed to get hurt because of something I thoughtlessly did." He gives her a small smile. "But thanks anyways. It's always the thought that counts. Or that's what I was always told as a kid."
She nods. "Well, you're not too bad. The cut on your side is most likely going to scar. I tried to heal it, but it's just not something I'm familiar with. But I managed to heal everything else."
"Thanks," he says gratefully. "Don't worry about the scar. I know you're no Madam Pomfrey."
Standing, Megan brushes her hands on a towel she's conjured. "I'll bring you a pain potion, and you'll need to get some sleep."
He watches her as she heads toward their supply closet. He's had some classes with her in the past, but she's always been a rather quiet girl, mostly only talking with other girls from her House. It's strange to see her in the D.A., where there's no possibility of being reserved. It's all or nothing. But he kind of likes the fact that she is helping them.
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May 1998
As he's fighting the Death Eaters, Michael knows that everything could come crashing down at any moment. So he rushes through the crowd, throwing spells and curses and hexes at Death Eaters, helping protect the members of the D.A. When he comes across Terry Boot having a difficult time fighting a Death Eater, Michael fires a spell at him.
"Am I ever glad to see you," Terry says, in between spells.
Michael sends a stunner the same time Terry casts the full-body bind spell, and the Death Eater is unable to protect himself from both. "We should definitely tie him up. We don't need him coming back after us," Michael suggests.
Terry nods and casts the spell. The Death Eater becomes entangled in robe and Terry claps Michael on the back. "Thanks. I wasn't sure how much longer I could hold my own," he admits. As they move towards the Great Hall, Terry stops and backtracks. "Is that Megan?" he asks, pointing at the figure that's obviously outmatched.
But Michael knows Megan's dark brown hair almost anywhere. He charges down the hallway, trying to get there to help Megan. She's screaming in pain from a curse. When he's in range, he fires the first spell that comes to mind and crouches down to protect Megan.
Between Michael and Terry, the Death Eater falls rather quickly. Only then is anything said. "Thanks," Megan whispers, her voice rough from screaming.
Terry nods. "We better go see if we can help some of the others."
Offering her his hand, Michael doesn't ask if she's alright. Because he knows she isn't. He's providing as much comfort as he can in the moment. She takes his hand and he hauls her to her feet, disregarding the sounds of pain in the back of her throat. They need to continue to fight.
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He's entranced by the way the entire room stops and watches Harry and Voldemort dance around each other. He holds tightly to Megan's hand because he knows that one way or another, this war ends tonight. And he can only hope that Harry wins because the other alternative would be a living nightmare.
When Voldemort falls, Michael can feel the entire mood of the battlefield shift. The happiness of winning washes over them in silence. And before Michael can think, he presses his lips to Megan's. Because he's been waiting to do that for months now.
However, their glory is short-lived. When they part, they are brought back into reality. He notices the utter destruction of the castle for the first time that night and the number of bodies scattered on the floor, bodies of people who gave their lives for fighting for a cause they believed in.
The realization washes over him like a waterfall. Silently, he spends the next few hours keeping track of the survivors and the causalities. But one name stands out: Hestia Jones. He remembers Megan telling stories about her late at night, when she was just as sleepless as he.
He tracks her down, near the D.A.'s safe haven. She's just sitting down, holding her head in her hands.
"Hey," Michael greets her. He takes the spot next to her. He pulls her towards him, trying his best to comfort her. But he doesn't want to push her to talk if she doesn't want to.
"I didn't know she was here. We couldn't exactly talk, with her being on He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's list and the Carrows reading all incoming mail," she whispers without prompt. She pulls away and looks at him with glassy eyes. "How am I going to tell my parents?"
He shakes his head, unable to answer. "I don't know."
They sit in silence.
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September 1998
Michael lets himself into Megan's flat when she doesn't answer his knocks. He knows she's home since she didn't go into work. She's been trying so hard to lead a normal life despite how the war changed her, so he finds it unusual for her to miss work.
"Megan," he calls out, his voice echoing in a silent flat.
He finds her curled up in her bed in an almost pitch black room. Sounds of sobs are all he can hear once he pushes the door open. And that breaks his heart.
"Go away," she demands, her voice low.
But Michael refuses. Instead, he enters her bedroom and sits next to her on the bed. He's not particularly good with crying girls, but he'll try his best for her. So he rubs circles on her back, in a hopefully comforting manner. After a while, Megan's sobs subside.
She sits up and faces him. Even in the dark, he can see her puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. To him, she's never looked more beautiful. "Thank you," she murmurs, wiping her nose on her sleeve.
He nods. "That's what I'm here for," he says playfully, trying to change her mood. But when she doesn't smile, he knows that something's really bothering her. "What's wrong?"
"It's Hestia birthday," she whimpers. And a fresh round of tears starts.
He pulls her onto his lap and starts to rub circles again. "It's alright," he says, even though he doesn't believe it himself. Because he's trying to be comforting and the only way he knows how is by whispering lies.
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February 1999
Michael comes home to a nearly empty flat. In his hands are a dozen roses and the smile slides off his face. Megan is sitting at the bar, fiddling with a key. Her dark brown hair is pulled back into a ponytail and her gray eyes refuse to meet his.
"What's going on?" he demands.
Megan looks at him apologetically. "This just isn't working."
Michael shakes his head. "Don't do this, Megan. We can work whatever isn't working out. I'll fix anything. I'd do anything," he begs. Before she can speak, he holds out the flowers in his hands. "I got you these. I thought we could go on a date."
"No, Michael. This isn't anything you can fix. This just isn't working anymore," she says firmer. She takes the roses out of his hand and tosses them on the counter. "I just can't do this anymore."
"But I love you."
She smiles sadly. "I love you too. It just isn't enough anymore. I'm sorry." Wordlessly, she brushes pass him and shuts the door.
He blinks a few times, waiting for her to come back and tell him she didn't mean it. But when she doesn't, he takes out his wand and burns the roses, before he finally breaks down in tears.
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June 2000
He sits at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, eating his strawberry ice cream silently. He's been here for half an hour already, and he should've known that she wouldn't have shown. But there was a tiny part of his heart that really hoped she would.
As he goes to get up, he spots the familiar head of dark brown hair. "I'm sorry I'm late. A meeting ran over," Megan apologizes. "I hope you weren't waiting too long."
Michael shakes his head, because honestly half an hour isn't that long. "It's alright. So how are you?" he asks, since it's only polite.
"I'm good. It's just been a long day," she replies. She rests her head on her hand and peers at Michael. "Tell me how's work. You still work in Hogsmeade?"
He nods. "Yeah. I've moved there recently. It's easier than having to Apparate back and forth. Besides, that way, I'd get more hours."
"That's good, I guess," she replies. "I've been working on a few new spells. I haven't made as much progress as I'd like, but I'll get there."
He asks about her family and tells her how his mother is sick. Then the topic moves to the weather, and Michael can't help but laugh aloud. When she gives him a questioning look, he answers, "Look at us. We're talking about the weather. How ridiculous are we?"
She laughs. "Apparently very."
"Why did you really write to me? It wasn't just to catch up," Michael finally asks. He's been pondering it since he got her owl two days ago.
The smile fades from her face. "I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry for how I ended it. I really didn't mean to hurt you. I was so scared about what we were becoming and I just wasn't ready. But if I could go back and change it, I would."
"I understand," he assures her. He sees doubt written on her face, so he adds. "I really do. And I forgave you a long time ago."
"I still love you," Megan whispers softly. "I never stopped."
Michael smiles sadly. "I love you too." He stands and meets her gray eyes. "But it just isn't enough." With that, he exits the Parlour and Apparates to his house.
He wants to go back to her, and tell her that he didn't mean it, that he still wants to be with her. But he doesn't and he won't. Because he may love her, but it's not enough. They're too broken to actually make the relationship work. And it took him months to figure that out.
A/n – this was also written for the reverse perspective comp. I was given the song "Back to December" by Taylor Swift and I had to write about it from the guy's POV.
So many thanks to Budapest All Over Again for beta-ing this!