Author's note: I'll have to skip next week's update because I'll be away... But I'll post as soon as I'm back! Wish you all a wonderful week!
April 1944 - All The Things I Would Have Liked to Say
Annabel headed to the library, her suitcase in hand. She rushed through the corridor, hastened footsteps that betrayed her hurry.
The temperature of the castle's corridors had dropped after the sky covered in dark clouds, and such dreadful weather only reflected the girl's misery.
She walked past the stained glass wall that separated the athenaeum from the rest of the first floor and she crossed the threshold when fresh hints of pine cone and bergamot suddenly filled the air.
Tom was there, near the front desk.
Alone, for once.
He, who was always surrounded by so many people lately…
Annabel darted him a long stare, amazed as always by the quiet confidence that oozed out of his entire being, how he stood there casually chatting with the librarian, just like if he owned the place.
She secretly hoped that he would acknowledge her, that he would turn around and meet her gaze, cease the silent treatment he was inflecting her. Because ever since their encounter in February, the prefect was firmly ignoring her.
Annabel heard his deep voice fill the room as she walked towards the reception desk. And in the undulation of each word he uttered, she recalled how she had last spoken to him, how he had last spoken to her.
"I'm no whore you can take against the wall"
The words resurfaced, and so did memories.
She had woken up on the next morning after the duel, groggy from too little sleep, her body aching like if she had been run over by the Hogwarts Express. In the cool morning light, Annabel had recalled her evening and buried her face in her pillow.
Oh how much she had hoped her disgrace would have the upper hand, that her shame would have consumed her overnight. Yet, no one ever died of embarrassment…
She had decided to make amends, back then in February. Promised herself that she would go to Tom and apologise. Share the reasons for her torment.
Yet fate was cruel, and every time she had believed she had found the perfect time to talk to him, something had stood in her way.
Girls, of course. Those who liked him, whom he liked in return.
But also the First Years, Slughorn, Alastair.
Elena or Margareth.
Her friends.
His.
Life…
Life was what had stood in her way.
And in the blink of an eye, days had turned into weeks and weeks had turned into months. And Annabel had still not apologised.
But between each unspoken words grew shyness and the more time stretched, the less audacious she felt.
Was it too late, now?
Annabel glanced at the young man and her heart skipped a beat. She could go to him in that very instant. She could walk towards him, pull on his sleeve. "We need to talk" she could say, in that demanding voice she once mastered, when she was still bold and self-assured.
"I'm sorry for being inadequate" she could say, as if that explained it all, her inability to be all right, her incapacity to cope.
She took a step in Tom's direction, dizzy from all the possibilities that now made her head spin. Until the voice of her Head of House suddenly interrupted her.
"Miss Selwyn, if you're leaving for the Easter holidays, I suggest you hurry up"
—
Tom exhaled the smoke of his cigarette, the pale mist that escaped his lips looking just like steam. His back against the damp stone wall, he observed the graceful silhouette that drew away from the castle.
Annabel's.
Suitcase in hand.
Her delicate shade against the darkened sky.
She was at the library a few minutes ago, her presence suddenly filling the room. He had instantly known it was her, from her smell, and from her piercing stare that he had felt on his back.
Yet, he had given her the cold shoulder…
As always since their last meeting in February.
He had stayed awake that night after the duel. Unable to find sleep, Tom had sat in his bedroom even after the ambers inside the hearth had turned cold. Endlessly, he had opened and closed his fist, pinched every knuckle, inspected each vein that showed on his pale skin. Scrupulously, he had scoured each plausible explanation for his inability to hex her, anything that might explain the sudden cramp in his digits.
And just as he had looked at his own hand a little longer, Annabel's skin, so smooth under his fingers, had hit him. Oh, he had loved the way she had craned her neck, only so he could probe her flesh further. How alluring she had been with her eyes closed, surrendering to his touch, as if she enjoyed the feeling of his hand against her throat. How enticing had been her parted lips, the feeling of her small breasts against his chest, the way her breathing had quickened when he had removed her jacket. The thought of kissing her had crossed his mind, but what kind of animal would that make him if he had taken advantage of her? And instead, he had turned her beautiful face away from him, to check whether he should bring her to the infirmary.
"I'm no whore you can take against the wall"
He had not meant to scare her.
And deep inside, despite his reluctance to admit it, Tom was hurt.
The young man closed his fist as his cold anger resurfaced, growing inside him like the tide.
Oh, how resentful he still felt…
After weeks of having cautiously kept an eye on that girl, of trying to prevent her to succumb to whatever demons were haunting her, was it how she was thanking him?
Did she not trust him, even after everything he had done for her?
Had he not paid attention to her safety, protecting her from whatever sick tendency she had to endanger herself? Had he not offered her a safe space where she could let out her anger, expiate whatever was on her mind? Had he not asked her to fight him, even though his people thought he was playing favourites, only for her well-being?
Had he not helped her to hide, risking himself to get caught red-handed?
Had he not concealed her from the janitor while his friends were escaping, having them believe he might be all besotted in her? Had he not made sure to see her back to her dorm safe and sound, checked whether she needed any immediate care?
How could she think that he would have scored her in the middle of the corridor? Did she think he had so little self-control over his own instincts? Did she think that he would have disregarded her will, despite all he knew about her, that she had never been touched, and feared to be?
Tom closed his eyes in grief as he remembered Annabel's frightened look when he had pressed her chest against the wall. She had never been scared of him before. Even when the two of them had been alone in the woods, even when they had shared a bed, despite the way he had manhandled her, back in February, made her crawl like cattle in front of a complete crowd, even then, she had not feared him.
Did she, now?
Did she fear him?
The young man ran a hand through his dark hair, his stomach uneasy. With a flick, he threw his cigarette butt in the ashtray made of stone and headed to the Great Hall through the entrance door.
—
"Miss, you are expected downstairs" announced the house elf who suddenly appeared in the door left ajar.
Annabel was sitting on the window bench of her room, her eyes lost on the park that surrounded her parents' house. She was home for a week now, coming back from school to a nearly empty house. She wondered why her parents had insisted so much for her to come back for Easter if it meant that she barely got to see them… And that day, just like every other day, Annabel had no liking for anything.
She discarded her herbal tea on the seat next to her and dragged herself downstairs where she found her parents with grave faces.
"Darling, please sit down"
Her father sternly gestured to the leather sofa.
In different times, Annabel would have certainly extrapolated on the reasons for such solemn looks. Now, her legs simply carried her towards the furniture on which she let herself fall absent-mindedly.
She waited, her brain foggy as she inspected the burn mark that had formed inside her palm from having held her tea cup for too long. She pressed on the reddened flesh with the hope to trigger some kind of emotional reaction, to no avail.
"We-" started her father before he cleared his throat and exchanged a cautious glance with his wife.
"We have some news to share with you"
"It concerns your marriage" interjected Zeena Selwyn firmly, as if she meant to get straight to the point.
Annabel peeked at her parents with a frown. So far, everything that was related to her engagement had filled her mother with joy, as if marrying her only daughter was all she could ever wish for. Surely, such an austere look on the woman's face could only mean that something with the betrothment went wrong.
A ray of hope suddenly bloomed in Annabel's chest. For a very brief second, the girl entertained the idea of the annulment of her obligation. Perhaps some teacher informed her parents of their daughter's incredible skills, persuaded them to let her pursue a career. Maybe her betrothed withdrew after he found a better fitting fiancée, a proper and kind one, who had fallen in love with him. Or maybe Alastair had finally accepted the offer she had once made, stating their true happiness could only be found in a marriage of convenience.
"I'd let you flirt with any pretty guy you lie your eyes on and you'd let me work and provide for our needs" she had half-jokingly suggested with a glass in hand, her tongue heavy from too much gin.
Oh, how delightful it would sound to be liberated from her dire fate. Annabel would have agreed to a life lacking of love, money or even magic if it meant for her to be free.
She raised her eyebrows, hoping for some comforting disclosure, a small smile even showing on her lips for the first time in weeks. Sadly for Annabel, such impromptu happiness was short-lived, and soon enough the news hit the girl like a ton of bricks.
"You will be leaving Hogwarts this summer"
If she would not have been seated, she would have fallen on the floor. With wide eyes, the girl glanced at her parents, the news slowly sinking in.
"Your suitor was called to New York, to work for the Magical Congress. We hoped to keep him in London, for part of the prenuptial agreement meant that he was to work for your father but there is little we can do now that the engagement has been announced"
"Since he will remain in the United-States for a couple of years, and because obtaining a spousal visa became so arduous lately, we decided it would be best for you to finish your last year of school at Ilvermorny"
Annabel opened and closed her mouth repeatedly, like a fish that lacked water.
"This is a joke, right?" she finally found the strength to say after a while, her voice hurtfully plaintive.
She shot an alarmed glance at her father, the person she always turned to as a last resort.
"Papa-"
The latter only forced a smile, his voice strangled.
"You will like it there, darling. It's not so far. With the improvement of the Floo Network it will soon take no more than a few hours to get to the-"
She stared at her parents, shock contorting her features.
"You promised me I could stay in Hogwarts. When the school reopened last summer, you said I could finish school. That the wedding would not take place before I turn eighteen"
"We agreed that you finish your education. We never said anything about Hogwarts"
"But my life is here. My friends are here, you are here…"
She observed her parents' face to find no reaction.
All at once, the girl stood up and shook her head in disbelief.
"No… I'm not leaving" she scoffed, before a mirthless laugh escaped her throat.
"I AM NOT LEAVING" she stated, louder.
"I'm sorry darling but our decision is final" answered her mother with a heartless tone.
Annabel's eyes pricked with tears. She could not believe it. How could such woman have carried her in her womb yet appear so unfazed about her child's sorrow?
Oh, there they came back, her feelings, her listlessness of the past few months suddenly turning into rage.
She wished she had something to throw to her genitors, something that would make them feel dreadfully guilty. For a second, Annabel considered climbing the staircase to the highest storey, throw herself out of the window. Surely that would solve all her problems, have her parents mourn their only daughter, but sadly for her, defenestration worked better in Muggles' stories. In which no adults had the power to levitate bodies and prevent suicidal girls to smash their heads on the floor just like pumpkins.
Oh, she would make them pay, she thought as she pushed away her father who was trying to hold her back before she ran back to her bedroom.
She was not angry.
She was enraged.