an alcoholics duality. collection

atrocious void of the apocalypse, theodore nott

❝⠀ ⠀ THEY  WERE were an apocalypse;
destruction and calamity, the inevitable end
of this wretched atrocious world — the final
culmination of all its horrors.

As he looked deep into her eyes, searching
for a trace   of light    and   finding only
emptiness, he realised it anew.

She and he belonged to one another, were
two halves of the same entity, but fate would
keep them apart for all eternity.⠀ ⠀❞

⠀

nine years after the death of harry potter

HER MEMORIES WERE FADING, with each passing day she forgot more dreams of her younger self. They slipped through her fingers like sand, and the more her emptiness unfolded, the more she forgot her desires.

She thought she had imagined her wedding the way most girls her age did. A white, floor-length gown with a long, magnificent train and white and red roses to adorn the great ballroom.

She thought she had wished for the perfect husband who would look at her as if she were his world, his only reason to keep breathing.

The name of the person who had stood up there in her imagination, next to her at the altar, had not yet slipped her mind. And her heart was so heavy because fate had placed the burden on her to never be able to forget his name.

She thought she remembered that destiny had laughed at her and revealed the true reality to her, waking her from her daydreams to face the truth.

But even when she had seen reality, her desire and longing for the name and the person had not ceased. He had been too old for her, in his last year of school when she had just started. His eyes had been fixed on only one other girl for as long as she could remember.

On a beauty not too young for him.

Clytemnestra couldn't remember if she had harboured negative feelings towards Pansy Parkinson, wishing her dragonpox and death, and she didn't think she was capable of wishing such things on anyone at the time. The pictures of her younger self always showed such a peaceful child.

She had probably closed her eyes to reality again, refusing to understand why an eighteen-year-old boy couldn't fall in love with an eleven-year-old child.

'Clytemnestra Nott' had graced the pages of her diary and she had clutched it to her chest, certainly lost in thoughts of their future together. Her infatuation had not diminished when he had left Hogwarts and bowed to the Dark Regime.

To her, he had been her true love, but to him, she was a person without a face, on the periphery of his life.

In the years of her adolescence, when she had taken the place of her dead parents for her siblings and no longer cared for her own needs, she began to forget.

The Dark Lord had won, Harry Potter had died at his hand, and it had caused her heart to break. Nestra had never tried to see the advantages of either side, had only cared for her family and made sure that none of her siblings left the grey middle ground and chose one side over the other.

Nestra did not care that the people of impure blood she had known for so long were being killed; she had long since lost all goodness in her soul. Her only will and only goal was to protect her siblings, and if that ensured their safety, the Dark Lord could make the whole world his own.

Clytemnestra cared for only three people.

Helen, Castor and Pollux.

Clytemnestra would only ever care about three people. She would do anything for them. Had done anything.