Losing Faith
Chapter Three : Yuletide Memento
"Bill!" Ginny cries hysterically, her sweat-damp hair falling before her bright brown eyes. She frantically pulls her fringe back, a few strands stick to her clammy forehead, as she's shoved inside their home by Charlie Weasley. Virginia Weasley cranks her head towards the street before the door closes, though her oldest brother's body remains obscured by the twins and Ron. But she still glimpses the small stream of blood shining around Bill's head and chest.
Earlier That Afternoon:
"What's it to you? You sodding prat. It's your kind that gives us all a bad name. You bloody wizards. That's what this is all about. You and your secret societies and wars and schools! Even a government! Of course this is all your. bloody. fault." Alden Darling presses his middle finger to Bill's chest and taps it with every syllable. His breath reeks of cheap liquor, and his eyes are glassy. He staggers to stand, and Bill must steady him by the left arm, his fingernails digging deeply into Alden's skin.
"Sit down, Alden," Bill demands, in that commanding tone he's come to favour. "This is no one's fault besides those who put us here." The evening sun glares off of his long red hair which Bill has tied back. The dragon fang earring dangles from his left ear, an annoyance which quirks Alden more.
"Those who put us here?" Alden shrieks, outraged, and his ears turn as scarlet as Bill's hair. He sobers in an miraculous instant. "You are those who put us here!"
"No, Mister Alden Darling, those who put us here are the Death Eaters, and only the Death Eaters. Me and mine will not be held responsible for the actions of a small group of wizards when most of us were the ones who fought to save this state. Now, I suggest you head back to your building. I wouldn't want to do something in front of the children when it is completely unnecessary," Bill admonishes in an icy voice although he shakes inside. A few locks of red hair fall from his ponytail and before his lagoon blue eyes, but he does not brush them away. He does not uncross his arms which are folded on his chest.
"Children, eh?" Alden cocks his head, tracing seventeen-year-old Ginny's thin figure hungrily, forbidden passion lurking in the shadows of his eyes. "She doesn't look too young to me. I might fancy taking her for a spin one night. Better tell that pure child to watch her back . . ." Alden smirks and waggles his eyebrows.
Bill stares at Alden a moment longer, his gaze burrowing through as he clenches his fists at his sides. "You." A vein pops in his neck. "Fucking." His hands pump at a steady momentum. "Muggle." And he lunges.
Bill's fist finds Alden's smirking face. Alden's head snaps back to his right. He staggers as he loses his footing, and he wipes a smear of blood from his cracked and swollen lower lip as he glares at the eldest Weasley. His attention falls to Bill's scarlet-bullion graduation ring, noting the small and opaque strip of lip tissue. Nevertheless, Alden smiles, and doesn't hesitate as he charges at Bill.
Alden wraps his hands around Bill's neck, and with a burly vigour he slams him to the ground. Straddling Bill's chest, Alden lays his right fist across Bill's face in quick succession as the nails of his left hand dig into the skin of Bill's neck. Salvia sputters from his mouth as Alden incoherently yells. Bill strongly fights from below, shocked at both the strength of this slight man and the suddenness of the attack.
From the dreary buildings nearby, people yell "Fight!" and come to watch, in hopes that some excitement might be brought into their desolate existence. Some cheer Bill on while the others support Alden. A few of the more aggressive ones, those who have buried their hostile behaviour deep within, break and start to attack each other in the heat of the moment.
"Charlie, take Ginny inside!" Ron yells as he dives at Alden, crashing his shoulder into the other man's chest and forces him and Bill apart.
Ginny protests silently as her eyes meet with Bill's. His lip is split and stinging, blood trickles down his jaw. His left eye is swollen and has turned an unsightly purple and blue. He stumbles to his feet, yanking Alden up by the hair at the base of his neck. Ron steps away, following an order from Bill, who would rather deal with this himself. He's the eldest. It's his job to protect the family; his job.
Parting through the mob, two Death Eaters hurriedly approach, momentarily ignoring the brawlers. Ron recognises the Death Eater guards as the pale-faced Draco Malfoy and the supercilious Travis Nott.
Alden's neck snaps back. His Adam's apple protrudes slightly as Bill's grip tightens. Bill mutters something. In return, Alden spits bloody saliva to the ground. Alden's hand enters his overcoat. He draws out a concealed pocket-knife. With a sharp jerk of his wrist, the blade is withdrawn.
And he thrusts.
Bill's eyes widen for a moment, and he cannot breathe.
Alden wrings free of Bill's grasp and he shoves forward, knocking Bill over with one blow to the chest. Alden doesn't take time to draw the dulled knife back; he forces it through the skin and cartilage of Bill's chest, using both hands to govern the knife across bone and into the left lung.
Bill coughs blood as he gasps for air. His hands feebly scratch at Alden's arms.
Alden stops for a moment. He stares at the blood spilling from Bill's slacked mouth before he yanks the blade from cartilage and brings the blade across Bill's throat.
With mortal crimson waters forming around Bill and staining the hands and clothes of Alden, the Death Eaters Draco and Travis approach, having offhandedly fought their way through the thick crowd. They haphazardly heave an exhausted Alden from Bill, leading him away under the Imperious Curse for Gene Avery to decide punishment.
That night, Gene Avery will execute Alden Darling with Avada Kedavra.
In the Morning:
Alden Darling is a thin, pale man of thirty years with dirty brown hair, matching eyes, and a hooked nose. His fixations include, and are sadly limited to, women and sex, but his loathing goes deeper and all are rooted in the wizarding world. No matter which alliance someone belonged to, if they were a wizard or witch, he thought them a disgrace to this Earth. His accidental transfer to the wizarding camp of Alpha placed Alden's vision of what the world should not be in his mind.
Alden never married--a woman never wanted to subject herself to his lifestyle--but he does have many relatives, all of whom are inside the city walls of London. But they never dreamt of forcing him to change his ways. Alden himself did not want to tie himself down to only one woman. Many females, or whores, as he preferred to call them, often took to his bed, but only once.
Mister Darling is also a self-centred man, looking out for only himself, without any regard for others. If he were a successful businessman, he would pride himself on ruthlessness in his field. He is, however, hardly successful, nor is he anything a businessman should be. On top of that, he is very closed-minded. Change is something to be avoided at all costs, and if someone is any different than him, they will be condemned. He keeps to himself, and not many people know of, or muddle in, his affairs.
But there is something about Alden that only the women he has shagged know.
Alden's toenails are painted black, and he wears women's lace undergarments.
From the chipped grey steps of the equally grey building, Alden watches with dreary, narrow eyes as the redheaded wizards exchange cheap handmade Yuletide gifts which have been wrapped in grey paper. Over the past three months, he has come to despise them. So cheerful, so familial, with the exception of one, the second oldest.
Alden despises anything cheery and bright. The camp has been decorated to give this dank place a Yuletide feel with old silver and red tinsel, and shape-shifting trees that house too many shiny balls and images of angelic angels. Yule logs have been lit in those buildings that are fortunate enough to have fireplaces, and those that don't have silver and white candles lit on the steps.
This is the first Yule season for everyone in the camps.
By one o'clock in the afternoon, one of the twins has fallen back asleep, and the only girl (Alden remembers the others calling her Ginny) is talking with the oldest, her scarlet hair in curls and brown eyes sparkling. She rests her elbows on her knees; her loose robes hang from her shoulders. Alden remains transfixed on her cleavage, which rises and falls with her every breath.
Alden shifts uncomfortably in his slacks that are now too tight. He stands to approach the Weasleys.
