❝𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗺𝗼𝗻 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲?❞
❝𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦.❞
𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗥𝗬 𝗣𝗢𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗥 had a few, perhaps a little or more than a palm of qualms in his life. First up was the whole "The Boy-Who-Lived" shenanigans, then there was an ungodly am...
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XXV. THE GOLD AND THE BRONZE
━━━━━━
"Feels like we had matching wounds
But mine's still black and bruised"
EVER SINCE MARJORIE STEPPED FOOT within the sacred and secret threshold of number Twelve Grimmauld Place, she had learnt a lot.
She just wished that the things she had learnt was something she wanted to learn by will, but most of the time it wasn't.
After having become an absolute wreckage the night before, Marjorie had woken up with blood-shot eyes, but she didn't feel the heaviness that would often plague her. Rather, she felt unnecessarily — even scarily light in her chest, as if those years of frustration and anger was momentarily filtered away... That, and the fact that she had woken up to the face of sleeping Harry Potter right in front of her.
She blinked. She didn't know whether to scream out-loud or just scream internally. Sure, perhaps they had accidentally slept together when they were together, but that was in the bloody common room. This was a whole other territory that she didn't know how to approach.
However, her hands acted on their own as they reached out to his face, brushing over his unruly jet-black hair. It was soft to the touch, something that a million galleon potion could not attain. Her fingers lightly touched his eyelashes, they were longer than hers — she was jealous. He was really pretty when he was asleep, possibly the exact opposite of her, but she never cared. She wasn't going to care even now. Then she traced stars over his lightning scar. It didn't look fresh, it didn't look new, but it still looked powerful and intimidating. It covered almost all his forehead. She wondered, did it hurt?
As Marjorie drew little stars, she couldn't help but recall the night. She couldn't believe she had told him, when she knew there was a risk. She couldn't believe she had trusted him faster than she trusted Daphne — she'll surely cause a fit. Marjorie couldn't believe what she had done, yet at the same time she wanted to believe it.
Because if she didn't... if she refused to believe, then that'll mean she couldn't possibly find that happiness that Perseus so easily attained. That wouldn't be fair, would it?
But what was happiness exactly?
She thought about the definition of happiness. Was it having a loving family, a loyal friend, a caring partner? Was it having a peaceful life, a fulfilling future, a meaningful purpose? Was it having a clear mind, a healthy body, a strong spirit? Was it having fun, laughter, joy?
Well, she had partial of those. She had Daphne and friends, she guessed. But she didn't have family that would love her unconditionally., and she didn't have a partner — well, she had once, but she had ruined that. She always did know how to bolt and ruin things. She had a chaotic life, an uncertain future, a hopeless purpose. She had a troubled mind, a scarred body, a broken spirit. She had no fun, no laughter, no joy.
