- - -
"Baby I've been here before
I've seen this room and I've walked this floor
I used to live alone before I knew you
I've seen your flag on the marble arch
But love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah…
Hallelujah…hallelujah…
Well there was a time when you let me know
What's really going on below
But now you never show that to me do you
But remember when I moved in you
And the holy dove was moving too
And every breath we drew was hallelujah…
Hallelujah…hallelujah…"
- - -
Chapter Thirteen: A Broken Hallelujah
- Seventh Year -
It's become spring without me even realizing it.
Trees have budded and the grass has grown. Flowers have sprouted from underneath layers of earth. The world is green instead of grey. Or at least that's how it's supposed to be.
The sun tries to shine but the clouds fill with rain; water drips from the sky as opposed to the former ice and snow.
It's funny how it all works. The more preoccupied one gets, the faster time moves.
It's funny how much this year has spun out of control. I lost my grip a long while back.
Quidditch. I always dreamed of making captain. But the position was far more glamorous in my head. That's the way most things work. In one's head, most things don't go to shit. But in reality they do. Fucked up little system. I didn't exactly plan on losing three of our most valuable players. Or that I'd end up with Beaters who club themselves more often than the bloody Bludgers.
Umbridge. Nasty little bitch. Wreaked havoc on our Hogwarts. She's done more damage in her short period here than the two of them could dream of. But they were amusing. She, not so much. High Inquisitor, my arse.
N.E.W.T.'s. They say they'll be here before I know it. I think they may be right this time. And I'm actually trying. Studying. Preparing. Plotting the points to a future I can't quite figure. The mystery of tomorrow. My weeks are numbered. And I still don't know what I want to do. With my life. For a living. That frightens me a bit. I was supposed to let McGonagall know years back what my plan was. Auror. Healer. Ministry Official. Charm Breaker. Professional Quidditch Player. They think that's what I'll do. I might not just to spite them all. Too many choices, and none of them appealing. They say I'll figure it out, that it'll all just come to me. Naturally. I think they might be wrong.
And…And there's been him. Fred. So many twists and turns. Taken at break-neck speeds. Enough to give you whiplash. And leave you a little queasy.
I loved him once. I can say that confidently now. I loved him once. I know this. I loved him. I let him consume me, take me over. I let him be that parasite that ruined me from the inside. I let him be…my everything. And a boy is not supposed to be that. I know now that it can't end well.
But I loved him. I loved the way he'd make me feel just by brushing up against me. The electricity, the magic. The odd tingle in the air. Made my hair stand on end. The way he would look at me. That knowing smile, those curious eyes. They way he'd look me over. Raking eyes over my body. Peering into my soul. The way he'd tell a story. Or craft a master plan. That frown, those wrinkles. The sign of concentration. I loved his arching eyebrows. I loved the comfort of his hands. His laugh. His freckles. His infectious disposition. Yes. I loved him.
And I watched him throw it all away.
We lost control awhile back. Drove straight off the road. Now we're lying in a ditch. The engine still sputtering on.
I'm tired of trying to unlock the doors and escape this massive wreck.
- - -
The silence between us is deafening. Screaming and shouting and yelling obscenities. He must hear this. He has to. I can. And I'm going fucking mad.
I keep on hearing his voice in my head. Looping over and over and over again. That desperate tone. Him just wanting to talk and me just walking away. He steps forward. I leap back. He opens his mouth. I shut my ears.
It's been this way for quite some time now. This odd dance we've created. This rhythm, this beat. We unconsciously move to.
I sit there. Twirling the quill between two fingers. Eyes fixated on the wall behind his shoulder. He sits there. Rubbing his head. Elbows on the table. That's supposed to be rude. But I'm not sure if that only applies at mealtime.
They left us here a half hour ago. Thirty bloody minutes. This their subtle approach to get us talking again. It's been silence since they left.
Our silent melody. That we dance to. That we've been dancing to. My feet are tired and need a rest but we just keep on twirling. And stepping in time to the beat. Not a waltz. A tango. A slow and mournful rhythm. Almost erotic. Almost too passionate. The two of us. Toying with one another. Igniting a fury smothered deep within. We'll catch fire. Put it out. And start up all over again.
That's just how it works.
We're highly flammable. We should be kept apart.
- - -
I hate the locker room.
I can hear the ghosts of our former selves echoing across the ceiling. I can see us. In the act. Hear us. Arguing with one another. Watch us. Fall apart.
We have a match today. I don't wish to think about it. My world went to pieces and so did the team. Everything just has to parallel.
I ran into him in the hall today. Literally. Smack dab. Books flying. Parchment crinkling. It was embarrassing to say the least. Especially since no words were exchanged. I hate this. I hate seeing him.
I'm over him. Yes. I am. No longer self-destructive and hysterical. No longer weeping through the night and letting my moods swing through out the day. But still. It hurts to look at him.
I convince myself that I'm okay. But then I just fall right back down.
I'm tired of this game. This song. This dance. This story.
It's hard. Trying to propel yourself forward when you're at the same time pulling yourself back. It's hard to look back at memories you wish were the present rather than the past. It's just hard. Harder than I ever thought it would be.
I miss him. And our blissfully ignorant days. Our secret trysts and that strange chemistry we shared. I've caught his eye in the hall before. Caught that earnest look that crosses his face when he realizes that it's him I'm looking at. Makes me think he misses me too.
But I apparently suck at reading signals. Could be a different emotion he's feeling altogether.
George asked me about him the other day. Asked what happened between the two of us. I told him it was none of his bloody business and I'd love it if he'd just sod off. He frowned at that. And asked me again. Because he's 'concerned.' Because Fred's not the way he used to be. And he's sick of him moping around their room. Especially with what they might have coming up.
I sighed and walked away. The twins and their pranks. It used to amuse me. Really. It did. It was a part of their personality. Now… Now it's just kind of sad. They're adults. Fucking adults. Or almost. Yet they play games that even children get bored with. They play games. With people. And those people get hurt. And it's not funny anymore. It's hard to laugh when you're in pain.
I didn't tell him this. He wouldn't understand. He's not too emotionally perceptive. Either is his mirror image.
I hear the door creaking. The sound of footsteps. Voices and laughter. Here they come.
I swing my locker door open with a satisfying bang.
- - -
Tired, I trudge off the field. Muddy. Dizzy. Sore.
I watch my feet leave marks in the dewy grass. My trail back inside.
I turn. Heading towards the arch. The giant stone arch leading back in from the Quidditch pitch.
My wet shoes slap against the stone floor. I look up. And he's there. Materialized out of thin air, most likely. He's a magician not a wizard.
I fix him with a look. A stare. A withering expression. Screaming of how sick of this I am.
I walk. Preparing to pass him and continue along my way. Continue along with my life.
He grabs my arm. I shrink away. The rhythm getting stronger. The tempo picking up. His hands feel rough against my skin. I want to pry his fingers off.
I hear him swallow. Watch him try and make eye contact with me. It seems to be quite the struggle. I understand. And hate that I know how he feels.
He loosens his grip and clears his throat. "I want to talk." He's never talked to me like this. Serious. Gravelly. Devoid of humor. I don't like it.
He wants to talk.
This can't end well.
I grit my teeth and turn away. Fully aware that he's still holding my arm.
"Please…" The desperation has returned. I wonder if he knows what that does to me. How that simple tone of his voice makes me hurt and ache and feel guilty and shameful and sad and angry and…
I wrench my arm out of his grasp. I can't do this. I promised myself. No. No. No. There is no fucking way I'm doing this again. I'm backing away…
He reaches an arm out. Then drops it. "Look. Angelina. Listen. I know…you hate me. And…I'm sure I deserve it. But, please. Give me…fuck, five minutes. Okay? Five bloody minutes? And then…then we never have to talk again."
He looks at me. Waiting for affirmation. His cue to carry on. Get the words off his chest that have apparently been weighing him down.
I nod. Wondering if I'll regret this later.
He draws in a breath. I can smell his fear. "Okay…Okay. I - - I know that I fucked up. That I was terrible. That…that I treated you like shit. I get that. And - - and that things happened that should never have happened. And…I'm sorry. Merlin, I'm sorry. I'm really and truly sorry. And – and – and I haven't been honest with you. Not at all. From… the beginning… up until…now."
He's breathing heavily now. So pale. So scared. I want to help him. No. I don't. Maybe...No.
"You scare me, Angelina. You fucking terrify me. And – and I was…scared. Of you. Of…you and me. Because…well…fuck, I can't do this. I can't…explain. It's too hard." His eyes shoot up. Meeting mine. The intensity unnerves me. "It's always been you." Stop. Stop. Please. Stop whispering. "It's always been about you. And…that scares me. A lot."
He pauses. He makes me dizzy and me makes me sick. He makes me forget today and tomorrow. And the past. But only for a little while...
And I remember. And have to ask.
"And Bridget?"
He looks confused. For a second. And sighs. Angrily. Loudly. "Bridget…" He shakes his head. Holds a hand to his forehead. "Isn't you. And never will be." I don't get it. And he knows this. "You told me you loved me. You said it, Angelina. And I freaked out. I know. I'm a stupid, useless, bloody wanker. I panicked. And pounced on the first girl I was mildly attracted to. I had to. I had to forget about you…"
I hate this. We sound like a bloody Muggle soap opera. The bad guy admitting his motive. Proving he's not that terrible after all. Then shoots the heroine through the chest. I'm waiting.
Bang. Bang.
"It didn't work," he whispers. Sending chills down my spine. I curse myself for this. "You were still there. And you hated me. And it hurt, Ange. It fucking hurt. I – I didn't mean for it to turn out like this. And I'm sorry. Ange, I'm so fucking sorry. And, well, I, well…"
And then he said them. The Words.
He said them softly; softly, the words that were to change everything. Softly, so only I could hear, so softly I felt inclined to lean my head towards his. But they echoed and bounced, resonated off stone walls, creating their own boisterous cacophony inside my already cloudy head. They were words, too loud, ruffling my hair and making my ears bleed and my heart ache.
He said them once.
Only once.
"I love you."
Whispered words, tip-toeing, trying to break down the wall with the mallet I relinquished long ago.
- - -
"Well, maybe there's a god above
But all I've ever learned from love
Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you
It's not a cry that you hear at night
It's not somebody who's seen the light
It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah…
Hallelujah…hallelujah…"
- - -
A/N: Song lyrics from Hallelujah – Jeff Buckley.
Another update! I am quite proud. Well…yes. I left you with a cliffhanger. My apologies. Three chapters left…I'm quite excited to finish this. I hope to have it completed by next Friday. I'm keeping my fingers crossed.
Thank you for the reviews. I am so amazed that you guys like this story so much. It really makes me happy. So please. Do repeat. And leave me some more stuff to read!