entanglements | d.m.

12.interest

October '95 | H E R

Devyn didn't know when she'd have her first kiss. She wondered a lot about it. She may have pictured a certain person to have it with.

But as soon as those thoughts crept, she buried them.

Because she has other problems at hand.

She's become the outcast. Of her house, of her year, of the damn school.

She reckons Potter has it just as bad—maybe worse for claiming that Voldemort is back, but Devyn has a hard time finding sympathy when Potter was the one spilling her secret.

Now the whole school knows—speculates. Devyn never gives a confirmation, but she can also not find it in herself to deny the accusations. Deny her relation to him.

Funny, how people believe Potter one thing but not the other. Although, Devyn did vanish after the final task, and Moody did turn out to be Barty Crouch Jr.

These are irrefutable facts.

"I can see the resemblance," students like to throw at her, well and clear disdainful.

Right before her father has been given the Dementor's Kiss by the guard Fudge brought with himself, right before, he met her eyes where she was partially hiding in the shadows of the office. He looked more demented than she has ever seen. Not an ounce regretful.

That he brought back one of the darkest wizards of all time—Devyn doesn't doubt it. But also, that he gave up his family, that he gave up her, because now, he truly is dead. First a soul vacant body, which a few weeks ago gave up the fight to stay alive.

She felt it that night, like a breath has been sucked out of her. She hasn't gotten it back ever since.

Her mother, who was beside herself upon hearing the news and held Devyn for many nights as she quietly cried, said it's okay to be sad.

It's not, Devyn quickly found on. People judge you for being sad, especially for someone who they deem deserving of everything cruel in the world. Objectively, that disposition is justified.

But Devyn could not find that scorn in herself—not like the others can do so easily—and she really tried.

So Devyn learned to hide her pain.

It's a lesson Devyn doesn't recommend.
It brings more pain and shame than any kid should feel. It makes you question what may be wrong with you. Why you can't be like everyone else.

And it sticks.

This evening, Devyn hides that shameful pain behind a tapestry, her body curled on the stone bench. A tall window above offers a silvery shine from the moon that brings more shadows than light.

She needed out of the common room. Even her shared dorm room turns deathly quiet whenever she's around. The tension is suffocating. Though the girls never said a thing, they feel uneasy around her. Devyn's morose, more coarse mood doesn't help.

"You're safe now," her father's victorious last words ring in her head on a constant loop. Her gut rolls and turns like it did that day. "You're all safe, Devy darling."

That is when she knew he was down the gutter, because he tried to spare her from him before. From Voldemort. And then he thought it was her best bet, being under control of him.

One would think his mental downward spiral makes his death easier, but it doesn't. Nothing has ever been easy in Devyn's life.

She sniffs, stroking her new hamster Brutus as she holds him in her palm. He's clearly meant as an emotional support animal, a gift from her mother. He's cute, but not distracting enough from the betrayal and her stupidity and emotions too complex to name.