(OotP) CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: The Breakdown
"You killed me, you little bitch."
Ellie tried to close her eyes—tried to will away the image of Antonin Dolohov's empty, dead eyes staring back at her—but it didn't work.
"You took the life—the breath—the choice—right out me. What gave you the right?"
This time, she tried running away from him. That didn't work either, though. His corpse rose from the ground and floated with her as she ran.
Suddenly, his cold, empty face morphed—not into another face, but into a brown, tattered witch's hat, which then mounted itself upon her head.
Remember what I told you?
"W… what?" she stammered, shrinking beneath the weight of it, which suddenly felt oppressive.
The traits you share with your father, Ellie. His courage; his power; his passion; and…
"An anger," she whispered. "Anger which could…"
Explode. If left unchecked.
The Hat disappeared at that, and suddenly it was Fred in front of her. For an instant, she thought he had joined her here in her dream—that he hadn't taken the potion after all, and that he had chosen to come here and save her from the darkness that was starting to swallow her up.
But it wasn't the real Fred. It was a memory of him.
"It's just… it's you, El." He was laughing. "Sweet little Ellie. I can't exactly picture you trying to kill anyone—even Draco Malfoy."
"You were wrong," she whispered as tears filled her eyes.
She wasn't sweet little Ellie anymore.
Over the next few weeks, Ellie tried to take Dumbledore's advice as best she could and settle back down. She did her best to focus on her schoolwork and the upcoming O.W.L.'s, while using her weekends to perform and record new music at the studio with Noel. She hadn't come up with any particularly good ones since I Just Wanted Your Love, but her fans seemed to love anything and everything she put out.
She stopped reading the articles, though the headlines suggested to her that all the papers besides the Prophet continued supporting her and questioning the Ministry. She received countless letters from her father, whom she wrote back to just enough to keep his frantic concern for her at bay.
Umbridge left her alone, to her immense relief, and a court summons from the Ministry never came. They were both afraid, she suspected, of how much farther she could turn the people against them if she wanted to. She knew that, if Dumbledore and Sirius were right, she might not keep the upper hand forever. But she'd enjoy it while she could.
As for the B.A., she continued meeting with them. When Luna asked the group whether they thought she should continue scouring Lucius and Aleks' minds for more information, they all agreed that she should—but that they should consult Dumbledore directly if anything came up again.
She confronted Ginny, who had been glaring at her from a distance for several weeks by then. Ginny explained tersely that she didn't appreciate having been neglected in the music department when she hadn't wronged Ellie in any way.
"Oh," Ellie said when Ginny was finished. "Shit, Ginny—you're right. I'm sorry. Do you want to come and play bass at my shows?"
To which Ginny smiled sadly and said, "No—it's your thing now. I just would have appreciated being asked."
And with that, they were back to being friends again—at least, they were back to being cordial.
Ellie was starting to feel like she didn't have any friends anymore—not really. The B.A. were more like her companions—somewhere between family and business partners. Other than Neville, she barely spoke to anyone in her year anymore—including Dean, whom she had stopped kissing right about the time she started.
She was lonely. And the only one who seemed to notice or care was Liam.
"Why did you take my hand that day?" Liam asked her one Saturday at the studio after Ellie had finished recording a new and rather forgettable song. "After I told him to leave."
It was the first time he had brought it up, and it instantly made her stiffen. What answer was he looking for here? Was he hoping she would profess her love for him? Was he hoping she'd say it had been a mistake?
"I don't know what he wanted," she said, swallowing. "I don't know what he was going to say. I just know I would have ended up getting hurt again. It's how it works with him."
It was hard to gauge his reaction to that. "But why take my hand? Why suggest to him that we're something we're… not?"
She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I'm sorry, Li. I shouldn't have done that. I didn't mean to… confuse you."
"You didn't confuse me. I know where you stand with me, Ellie."
"You do?"
"You care about me, but not as much as you care about him. You want me, but not as much as you want him. You know that I would be good for you, but you also know that you would be bad for me, and for that reason, you've stayed away."
It was different from the last time they had spoken about the possibility of romance. That time, he'd told her not to worry about his feelings—to focus only on how she felt.
Maybe this was his way of saying he could tell she'd figured that out.
"I guess I thought it would hurt him enough to make him stay away," she told him. "I didn't trust myself to shut him down more than once."
"Makes sense." He sighed, coming to a stop. They had reached the Ravenclaw Tower, she realized; this was where he would leave her. "Well, I'm proud of you, anyway. Can't have been easy."
She flashed him a weak smile and said, "Nothing seems to be anymore."
In early March, Umbridge sacked Professor Trelawney.
Ellie wasn't a big fan of the woman—had particularly disliked the many times Trelawney had told her she was doomed—but the act made her so upset, she went to the B.A. for advice.
"She can't get away with this," she told them. "Trelawney's been here for years. She might be a less-than-stellar professor, but she's a good person."
"Dumbledore's letting her stay here," Katie reminded her. "So she's not really being left high and dry, at least."
"Not yet, anyway," muttered Liam darkly. "Until she posts Educational Decree Number Ten Thousand."
"I could call Emma," Ellie said, thinking of the journalist who had thus far been on her side. "I could tell her about it—see if maybe she could write a story about it. If the people got upset—"
"No," Katie said immediately. "Don't go down this rabbit hole again, Ellie."
"Katie's right," said Luna. "You can't rely on 'the people' to make things right, Ellie. Who's to say they'll even care about a Hogwarts professor most of them don't even know? They support you because you're a pretty, famous pop star, and because they find you interesting and relatable. It's different for Trelawney."
"You should save it for something bigger, anyway," added Neville. "Reporters like that, they'll only do you so many favours. No offense to Trelawney, but you're probably going to need a bigger one sooner than later."
Ellie sighed. She knew they were right—Dumbledore and Sirius would say similar things if they were here—but she hated doing nothing. She hated letting Umbridge get away with anything.
When the meeting broke up, they filed out one by one, as usual. Ellie lingered, determined to get a little more spell practice in before she headed back to the Gryffindor Tower. Just before it was Liam's turn to leave, something caught his eye, and he rushed over to her, taking her face in his hands.
It was her ear, she realized as she blinked up at him in confusion. Why was he looking at her ear?
"Ellie," he said, eyebrows furrowed in deep concern. "You're bleeding."
She was bleeding from her ear? That was certainly a first—and yet another symptom from the list of symptoms Rupert Bowman had experienced leading up to his demise.
"It's getting worse." His voice was dark, and it wasn't a question. "We need to tell someone."
"No," she said immediately. "Li, the last thing I need is more attention and more hospitals. I'm sure it's just a reaction to how hard I went at practice today. I'll tune it down, and it'll pass."
But his expression was resolute. "It won't pass. The nosebleeds didn't, either. You need help, Ellie."
"Well, help doesn't exist, Liam!" she shouted back at him, temper flaring. "They couldn't save him, and they won't be able to save me. So what's the point in putting everyone through anguish just to have the same result?"
His hands were still around her face. He seemed to be clutching her harder and harder by the second—not violently, but desperately. "You don't know that. It's been decades since he died. They could have done more research."
"On who? I'm the only one there's been!"
"It isn't fair!" he shouted. There were tears in his eyes now. "You're a good person, Ellie. You don't deserve any of this. I just want you to be happy."
In an instant, her thoughts were transported to that day at Grimmauld Place where Fred had encouraged her to look into his mind the way he so often looked into hers.
—just want her pain to go away—just want her to be happy with me again—just so happy to be with her again—
It wasn't fair of her to replace Fred with Liam; she knew that. It was why she had fought it for so long.
And yet, standing here, staring into the eyes of a boy who seemed to care almost as deeply for her as Fred once had…
It was impossible not to appreciate it—especially when she had been feeling so alone.
So she kissed him.
She wanted to love it. She ached to love it. She ached to finally be freed of the chains binding her to Fred and his memory, and to finally move on with Liam—a good, kind, caring guy who was there for her, no matter what.
He did nothing wrong. He was respectful, but passionate; he was gentle, but firm. He kissed her like a boy who had thought about kissing her for a very long time.
But she didn't love it.
It felt like a betrayal.
She knew she owed Fred nothing—knew that she had every right to hate him and every right to move on from him—but somehow, she still felt guilty.
"It's okay," Liam said softly, pulling away from her. "You don't have to say it."
She shook her head, rooting her fingertips into his hair and refusing to let him go. "No."
"I already know, Ellie. It won't work."
"No," she repeated, more firmly. "I'll find a way, Li. I can make it work."
He laughed softly at that, pressed his forehead against hers, and whispered, "I know you, Ellie. And I know you can't."
And then he pressed a kiss to her forehead, turned, and walked away.
Ellie stayed in the Room of Requirement for hours after Liam left. She was frozen—shattered—debilitated.
She had tried everything. She had tried being alone; she had tried being with Oliver; she had tried being with Liam; she had even tried kissing Dean, for crying out loud. Nothing made the pain go away. Nothing.
On top of which... she was a killer now. A monster.
And an anger that could explode, if left unchecked.
"Are you here?" she whispered. "Are you listening?"
She knew she was probably going mad—knew that there was no way in hell Fred was still listening in on her thoughts—knew that he would have blocked them out months ago, after the seventieth or eightieth time she had screamed and cursed and begged at him to come back to her.
But if there was a chance, she had to get rid of it.
She Apparated from the Room of Requirement to her suite, ignoring the screeches and angry grunts from her suitemates, who had been woken up by the pop of the magic. She rifled impatiently through her trunk, past meaningless birthday and Christmas and "get well soon" gifts, then past the locket that had once meant everything to her, until finally her fingers closed around the tiny, glass vial that he had given to her on her so-called sweet sixteen.
Potion in hand, she slinked back out of the suite and down the stairs, over to the fireplace—the place they had shared together for four and a half years.
"You want me to take it, don't you?" she whispered as she held the bright, violet concoction up to the firelight. "You're sick of working so hard to drown me out. You'd love nothing more than for me to finally close the door on us."
He didn't answer her, of course. Because he wasn't listening.
She hated him for not listening. She hated him for a million things. She wanted him out of her head—out of her life—out of her heart—for good.
And yet… she didn't.
The only thing scarier than the thought of this cold, empty, meaningless life she was living was the thought of closing the door on Fred completely—the thought that she might never see those warm, brown eyes again—the thought that she might never hear that sweet, funny voice that always made her smile.
Which, of course, made her even angrier.
She screamed out loud at that, thrusting the vial into the flames with so much force, the glass shattered upon impact. The potion burst into flames of its own, sending glass shards and great, violet flames shooting back at her, crashing her into the couch, burned and bleeding.
She wasn't sure why her shield hadn't protected her. Maybe it was because it had stopped working altogether, or maybe it was because she had actually wanted to feel a little pain.
At least now she had the inspiration for her next song.
It's out to get me, and it's all in my head; it wants to take me, time to put me to bed. Can someone wake me against my own will and get me out of here? I'm sick of walking on stilts.
I've got a weakness, so tell me, where is the bliss? Can someone shake me and get me out of this fix? All the monsters are closing in tight; don't even know if I can get through the night.
It won't let me—everybody's out to get me—
Tell me that the lines aren't what they seem. Oh, that he head scream's all a dream. Oh, will it ever let go? Oh, no, no, it's a breakdown.
Oh, no, no, it's a breakdown.
Oh, no, no, it's a breakdown.
Another Alexz Johnson/Instant Star original, "The Breakdown," which is one of my favourites! Poor Ellie... But we're inching closer toward the end of the story and toward a new direction for things, so stick with us and keep the reviews and follows coming! Thanks for reading!
