Chapter Twenty-Eight: Emily: The Imbalance
Ew.
Of course, this is the first thing I think when someone is kissing me.
But can you blame me? We were being surrounded my reporters and I was frozen and couldn't move and suddenly I couldn't even see and then was yanked somewhere and I could tell this wasn't Al because this person was squeezing my arm so hard and everything was a blur.
And the next thing I knew, someone was kissing me.
Someone who wasn't Al.
Bloody hell, I was not okay with that.
And the worst part was that this kiss was so familiar that it made my stomach clench in fear. He were backing me against the wall, his lips chapped and forceful. It was exactly like before: I would struggle, and he would think I was just kissing him back.
I struggled against his grip, wiggling my wrists that were trapped in his hands and trying to break free. Unfortunately, that only resulted in a groan when he thought I was reciprocating; he tightened his grasp on my wrists and slammed me against the wall. Hard. I felt a sickening sense of pain as my head made contact with the bricks.
It was deja vu. When all the memories came flooding back, when I remembered. He was the one who had hurt me. The one who had broken my skin and dug deep in my wounds. The one who had made me think I wasn't worth it - worth being myself.The one who had convinced me that I didn't deserve the company of others.
It was David. The one who taught me to hate myself.
I was unaware to when they'd started, but tears began pouring down my cheeks. He was too strong. I felt as though I was back in my fifth year, when he used to do this to me, forcefully and vigorously. Because he could. Because he wanted to. Because he wanted control. Because I let him, because I was in love with him. Because I didn't stand a chance.
I never wanted that to happen again.
My knee found its way between his legs and sprung upwards; David immediately broke the kiss and gasped, his face breaking into a twisted, ugly expression of both pain and fury. I knew where this was going: he was going to insult me and then storm away. I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the blow.
It never came; I heard a sickening crunch and a thump. My eyes snapped open to find David rolling on the ground, clutching his nose and cursing. Al was standing above him. He looked angrier than I'd ever seen him before.
"Who the fuck are you?" he spat.
David didn't answer. Al kicked him in the ribs.
"Bloody - stop," he groaned, shuffling away from Al. He was seemingly unaware of how angry Al was; it was though I could feel the heat vibrating from him, but David only moaned and infuriated Al further.
"Who -" kick "- are -" kick"- you?" He kicked him again, and David groaned.
"David," he replied through clenched teeth. "David Nott."
Al stared down at him, breathing hard and not saying a word. His green eyes were blazing, shimmering as his body shook. His fists were clenched, knuckles bruised and he was subconsciously putting his weight on his left side because he'd splinched the other side. He was sinfully attractive.
He looked in my direction for a second before his eyes fluttered back to David. For a split second, I thought he was going to say something -
Wham.
Al chose that moment to stomp exactly where I'd kneed David minutes before. When he spoke, his voice was low and murderous and sent a shiver up my spine.
"Don't touch her again."
David stood up off the floor, wincing in pain and wiping the blood off his face, only smearing it. He squeezed his eyes shut. "Potter, you bastard -"
"Shut up." My voice was trembling but the words tumbled out of their own accord. David eyes immediately pleaded mercy, stepping closer to me - but Al pushed him back.
"Em, don't you want this?" he demanded, eyeing Al apprehensively. "It's been years."
"You - you think I - don't fucking call me that!" I shouted through my tears. He backed up as I pulled out my wand. I couldn't decipher my thoughts through my fury and despair and fear. "Don't come near me. Don't you dare."
David took one last piercing glare at me before taking off, doing a sort of run-limp away from us. I watched him leave, my mind filling with questions that bounced off each other. I couldn't help it. It was all just a confusing blur of events.
Why did he save us?
Why did he kiss me?
It was weird, kissing him again. Well, not exactly; I wasn't kissing him. I was kind of just trapped in his grasp, hoping he would let go of me because it was rather disgusting. Not that he was necessarily a bad kisser, but he was so forceful that I felt uncomfortable all over. It was sort of funny, feeling his lips on mine, just because I didn't understand why I craved that when I was fifteen. It wasn't loving or soft, like how Al kissed me.
It's quite possible I should've asked this question a long time before I decided I was in love (again), but like I said, I couldn't help it.
What the bloody hell is love?
How do you know you're in love? What does it feel like? And how do we know it's love and not infatuation?
And perhaps it's a bit cliche to think I was never really in love with David - but it's just the truth. I wasn't in love with him. I was so caught up in how he made me feel that when I came down from cloud nine, I wasn't happy with where I was. Sure, there have been quite a few who have caused my heart to flutter, my palms to get sweaty, etc., but it doesn't mean I was ever in love. Why else didn't I want to put in the effort to make it work?
I have yet to understand why I thought I was in love with David. Sure, at fifteen years old I didn't exactly have the best judgement, but had I really deluded myself enough to think I was in love with him while he was beating me?
What was I thinking?
I was suddenly brought back into perspective when Al grunted loudly, breaking my thoughts. Suddenly, he whipped around violently and kicked the wall.
"What the - Al, what are you doing?" I asked in a small voice. His back was towards me, his head hung low as he tried to stop shaking. He turned around and slid down the wall, head in his hands and keeping his knees to his chest.
I moved closer and knelt down beside him. The floor was cold, but I didn't care; I leaned over and kissed the top of his head. His breath was coming out short and he was still shaking all over. I reached over and gently moved his face towards mine. He kept his eyes shut.
"Just breathe, Al," I whispered. He made a jerking motion before took a couple of deep breaths in through his nose, letting his feet slide down across the floor. The next thing I knew, he was gripping me tightly and pressing his forehead against my shoulder, his chest moving wildly against mine. I rocked him back and forth.
After a while, he spoke. "I... I don't think I've ever beat someone up before," he whispered, swallowing. "Hexing is different. I've never hurt anyone like that."
I didn't say anything. Just listened. It was as though something was clicking in my mind: Al never talked about himself. It was always about his family or his work or other people. It was always me doing the talking. I didn't know anything about his life other than what I'd observed.
How could it be love if I didn't know him?
Then again, why did I feel as though I knew him so well?
He let out another breath. "I hate him... but I still feel like shit after hurting him. I don't know how he could ever hurt you, Emily."
I shrugged. "Maybe he hated me more."
"Not possible." He shifted back and ran a hand up to the back of my head, where it had hit the wall. His fingers stopped where my head was throbbing. "Are you okay? You've got a bump."
"I'm a little dizzy," I admitted, "but I'm not sure if that's because of my head or the lack of sleep."
His hand moved out of my hair and he brushed it with his fingers to flatten it. I smiled, my skin stretching painfully due to my tears.
"Are you still mad at me?" I asked.
"Absolutely."
"Can you keep a grudge?"
"Just watch me."
I smirked. "Can you keep one against me?"
He paused, thinking before digging his wand out of his belt. "Good question."
We were supposed to get our things and pack up to move into the Potter home, but as soon as I'd plopped down onto the family room couch for a second to rest, I'd crumpled into it. The last thing I remembered was Al tossing a blanket over me, grabbing another one and curling up on the other couch.
So much for a productive day.
I was woken sometime in the afternoon by the sound of the front door slamming shut. My eyes cracked open to see James walk into kitchen, not noticing his little brother and his wife sleeping soundly. He'd evidently come back from practice; he was wearing his Quidditch robes.
Then stripping off the top.
Awkward.
I slowly sat up and rubbed my eyes. The back of my head was still throbbing. I was thinking of getting ice for it, but I still didn't really feel like getting up. I also kind of felt like an intruder; I definitely wasn't comfortable with just getting ice from the freezer. This wasn't my home.
I got up anyway, first moving towards Al and sitting beside him. He was so angry and miserable and tired at the ministry... and with David. Merlin. His eyes and his energy and the heat... even I was afraid. I'd never seen him so furious. I didn't know how I got him to calm down. Looking at him sleeping, I'd never imagine someone so peaceful could become so troubled.
And then he opened up and let me in - just for a moment.
Wow.
I really didn't know anything about him.
I kissed his forehead and stumbled into the kitchen, which was open the family room. James was making a sandwich with eggs, tomatoes, lettuce, beans, cheese and who-knows-what else. He looked up as I wrinkled my nose.
"Hungry?" I asked, looking wearily at his food.
"Don't judge," he scolded teasingly. He cut the sandwich in two and took a large bite. "I just came back from Quidditch practice," he explained after swallowing.
"I can see that," I said, glancing down at his bare torso. He smirked.
"Like what you see?"
"I've seen better."
"Al isn't better."
"He is to me."
"Wow," he contemplated, taking another bite of his sandwich and chewing thoughtfully. "You must really love him."
I blushed and glanced at Al, who was still asleep. "Don't tell him."
"And ruin all the fun? Never." He cracked an evil grin. It made me very suspicious.
"Can I get some ice for my head?" He frowned but nodded, watching as I made my way to the fridge. Halfway there, I was suddenly pulled backwards with surprising force; I lost balance and fell backwards, hitting my head again.
What the hell?
"Are you okay?" James asked, holding out a hand to pull me up. I nodded and rubbed the back of my head. Then I remembered: Al was sleeping on the couch, ten metres away. He was heavier than me, and therefore had a greater pull than I did.
Bloody hell, how was I going to go to the bathroom in the morning?
Or EVER?
"Can you get some ice for me?" I asked weakly, trying to resist from crying again. He looked very confused by this point, but reached into the freezer and wrapped an ice pack in a kitchen cloth for me. I pressed it against my head.
Ah, relief.
"Thank you so much," I told him, sitting down at the breakfast bar and sighing. "I don't suppose you know what's going on."
"Nope. I've been refraining from asking."
"Why?"
"Because you look really overwhelmed and to ask when you're not ready might set you off."
I paused, smiling admiringly at him. "You really are a therapist."
"Think of me as your older, wiser brother."
I grinned. "Will do." There was a pause as I shifted the ice against my head and he took another large bite of his sandwich. "Things at the ministry weren't exactly the best. I kind of made a huge mistake."
"How?" James asked, mouth still full.
I explained to him the whole story: how they had my father, and to get him out of Azkaban, I had to go along with what they wanted, which meant the Bond Spell. How Al and I were literally stuck together, and that's why I fell down.
"How does that work?" he questioned, now finished with his sandwich and sitting beside me. "I mean, the spell keeps you ten metres away from each other. Okay. But what happens if you force yourself apart?"
"I... well, I kind of spring back like a rubber band," I said. I tried to imagine the sensation. "I mean, the minister said he'd owl us about everything. I think it'd probably physically hurt to get away from each other."
James frowned yet again. I figured it was what he did when he was thinking. "Al must be really pissed off."
"Yeah, he is," I said mournfully. "But my dad's out of prison."
"Was it worth it?"
I thought back to the day before, when I'd visited. "Yeah. It's like... they don't take your soul away all at once, but piece by piece."
"I see."
"I'm scared of losing my dad."
"Does Al know that?"
I nodded, leaning my chin in my hands and propping my head up on the counter. "Better than anyone."
"Then just give him time," he advised soothingly. "I mean, you did both a selfish and selfless thing. Don't forget that. But eventually, he'll forgive you."
I shook my head. "I don't think so."
"Why not?"
And then even more was spilling out me. It wasn't as though no one had heard the story before - Rose knew everything - but it felt good, telling him. Especially since I knew I could trust him not to blabber to the whole world (family didn't count), or not yell at me for being stupid (like Scorpius would). It felt good to let it all out.
Besides, it's nice to have a guy's opinion.
I told him everything, really. All the details I wouldn't dare tell Mr. and Mrs. Potter, but most importantly, my discovery of how Al rarely opened up to me. How it was so strange how I was able to open up to when I didn't usually trust anyone. How I didn't know if I wanted to get over Al like he'd asked. I didn't know if I wanted to try winning him back anymore.
There was a moment of silence before James spoke.
"I'm not going to pretend like I don't know what's going on with Al and why he wants you to get over him."
"Wait, you know?" I interrupted eagerly.
"Yup." He popped the 'p'. "But I'm not going to tell you."
I leaned back, disappointed. "Damn."
He laughed. "I understand his way of going about it, but for the record, I think it's incredibly cowardly. He should bloody well tell you if he's so scared."
I straightened in my chair. Again. "Scared of what?"
He laughed, pushing back his chair and swiping his jersey from the counter, where he'd tossed it. "You're not getting that out of me, Emily."
"Please?"
"No."
"I'll do anything."
"You'll tell Al you're in love with him?"
I backtracked, narrowing my eyes at his smirking face. "Something reasonable."
He shook his head. "That's not happening."
"Then can you tell me something else?" I asked. His eyebrows furrowed in surprise. I fidgeted a little. "Does Al get angry very often?"
"Hmm. He's always grumpy and sarcastic." I snorted in agreement. James laughed again. "I guess you've never really seen how he is on a daily basis. He's lazy and tends to be over dramatic in a sarcastic way. He doesn't get mad at people, but he doesn't accept the facts. He pushes everything to the back of his mind and explodes. Usually by shouting or crying. Losing control."
"That's really unhealthy..." I trailed off, thinking of today. "Is he violent?"
"Not at all." He chuckled. "When he was little, he was always the one who would tattle on Lily and I to our parents. We wrestled a lot, but he usually lost. He hates conflict."
I stared at the granite counter. "I never realized that about him. He doesn't tell me anything about himself.
James thought about it, shrugged and put his plate away. "You know what I think?"
"What?"
"You shouldn't give up. Not without a fight, and not when my little bro is being such a twat."
"What?"
"Get him back."
I couldn't believe my ears. "Why?"
"I want you in the family. You're good for him." He winked and ruffled my hair affectionately before leaving the room. Probably to shower, which I'd delayed for about an hour. I sighed and leapt off my chair towards where Al was still sleeping.
As I neared Al, I could see that he was lying on his side that wasn't injured, mouth was slightly open. I bit my lip. What was he scared of? Was he scared of Holly? His parents? Scorpius? Me? Love?
(That last one was wishful thinking.)
I put the ice down on the coffee table and nudged him. He groaned.
"Five more minutes."
"Budge over, you lazy arse." The corners of his mouth twitched as he squinted at me.
"What do you want?" he asked, voice full of mock annoyance. I nudged him again and lifted the blanket, slipping underneath them and snuggling into him. He snorted. "Oh, I see how it is."
"Problem?" I asked, smirking.
"I am so very angry at you," he said softly, bringing his hand up to my face and tracing my cheek with his thumb. I instantly stilled, thinking of earlier.
"Are you really angry with me?" I almost felt scared. If he was really angry, I didn't want him to lose control like that. He looked questioningly at me, and I felt a sense of shame wash over me.
"I don't think I can tell you how sorry I am," I said in a small voice. "You've already done so much for me, and I just wanted my father out of jail. I didn't even think about how you'd feel about it, or how we'd live with a stupid bond for the rest of our lives."
He exhaled softly. "I'm not as angry as I'm disappointed. I just thought that after yesterday, you'd actually talk to me before you do something. Our parents knew before I could even blink."
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
"I'm the Gryffindor. It's supposed to be me who's impulsive."
I chuckled. "Maybe we've been rubbing off on each other."
"Maybe," he agreed. He pushed a strand of hair behind my ear, and my eyes followed his hand, to his knuckles. I shifted so I could take it, threading my fingers through his.
"I can't believe you hit him..." I gripped his hand and turned it so I could get a better look. They were raw and bruised. "You didn't have to do that."
"I lost it." I stayed silent. I didn't really want to tell him how much he scared me. Luckily, he must've realized it on his own, because he squeezed my hand. "I did it for you."
I pressed my lips against his knuckles. "Don't say that."
"But I did," he said, voice so honest that my heart felt tight. As though it would explode. He leaned forward to kiss my hand. "And I would. Anytime. I swear."
My face broke into a smile. "And you say you want me to get over you." Before he could protest, I leaned up and pressed my lips against his. He was surprised again, but this time, he untangled our fingers and threaded them through my hair, kissing me back. We broke apart after a few moments. "So much for that, huh?" I teased.
"I don't have the energy to argue," he said defensively, smiling anyway.
I kissed him again, gripping the back of his neck; he responded enthusiastically, moving his lips over mine as he pinned me to the sofa cushions. We would've kept doing this, but we heard someone coming down the stairs. I quickly leaned back.
"We should stop," he said, but then dipped his lips to my neck.
"Oi, stop, I already have a hickey." He shrugged and I pushed at his chest. "I'm trying to thank you."
"You were thanking me."
"Stop thinking with your - never mind," I grumbled, and he laughed. He kissed me again. I smiled. "I don't know how to repay you for everything you've done for me. Thank you so much."
He turned me around and wrapped his arms around me just as someone came into the kitchen. We heard them pouring a glass of water and then sliding the back door open and closed. A moment passed before I felt Al's lips on my neck again. I rolled my eyes.
"I'm still mad at you," he whispered in my ear.
"Uh huh," I teased. He kissed the back of my head where the bump was. "I bet when you wake up, you'll be so mad you'll kiss me again."
"Not a chance. Last time."
"That's what you said last night."
"Don't care." He pulled the blanket around us. "Sleep. It's good for you."
"I did sleep. And then talked to James."
"Did you?"
"He's on my side." Al snorted. I reached for his hand again. "He won't tell me what's going on with you, though. He just told me you're scared."
"I'm not scared."
"I don't know what you have to be scared of, honestly," I said. Al opened his mouth to speak and probably agree, but I went on. "I've told you everything about me. I don't have any secrets from you. You have nothing to be afraid of."
Al went quiet.
"You know what else he told me?" I asked softly. "That you push your feelings away."
He didn't say anything.
"You told me that you didn't want to think about what happened."
He jerked slightly, but still didn't say a word.
I turned around and buried my face in his shirt. "I'm scared to trust you so much when you don't do the same."
We stayed in silence for a long time, just listening to each other's breathing. I knew he'd gotten the message - that I couldn't deal with knowing so little about him, especially when he had my heart in his hands - but he didn't know what to say.
We had this connection. We didn't really have much in common. We weren't in the same house. I didn't even know how we managed to find things to talk about, even if they were the small and silly things. But I knew that I had completely opened up to him and trusted him with my life.
Somehow, we just clicked. Maybe that's what love really is.
But was I in love or not? Was he in love with me? Did it matter?
Still he held me, and when I peeked to check if he'd fallen asleep, he hadn't. Eventually, I was immersed in a haze of warmth and tiredness and drifted off into sleep.
I still had no idea how I was going to shower the next morning.
