Mischief Managed

22: Darkness Follows

Today, I was livid.

Why can't anyone else see? Why can no one see the sincerity in every word I say? Why can't they realize I'm telling the truth? Isn't that what words are for?

But now, I'm oddly calm. Calmer.

It's weird. I can curl up on the bed, I can barricade myself with pillows and blankets, and I feel like I hurt less.

Maybe that's a lie.

But it sure as hell is a comforting one.

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

Adjusting my book bag on my shoulder, I reached inside and grabbed on of the apples I'd snatched from the Gryffindor table before storming out, and I dug my nails into the apple's green skin.

I turned a corner, and, stepping into an empty courtyard, hurled the fruit onto the grey pavement.

The apple splattered; its insides were crushed upon impact, and the skin and juice flew away like the energy rushing away from a bomb after detonation.

My heart was pounding. My whole being felt livid, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to destroy more fruit or burst into tears.

Fate didn't give me the opportunity to do either.

"My brother's a git, isn't he?"

A flat voice called to be from the archway I had just passed through. The voice sounded bored, like the speaker didn't particularly care about my opinion of his brother very much at all.

"W-What?" I stammered. I clutched my bag closer to my waist as I turned my body towards the arch.

Leaning against the stones of the archway was a tall, thin boy with a lofty expression. One of side of his mouth was raised in a small, satisfied smirk, and his eyes surveyed me up and down, as if he were scrutinizing every aspect of my appearance.

I crossed my arms over my chest and narrowed my eyes at the arrogant boy. He was younger than me, definitely, with dark hair and grey eyes that were just like...Sirius's.

My body suddenly grew still, and I was overcome with a strange feeling somewhere between shock and disappointment. On countless occasions, Sirius had told me of his younger brother, Regulus, and I knew that though the two brothers looked alike, they were galaxies apart in every other way- Regulus was a Slytherin, a believer in the superiority of purebloods just like his parents.

Somehow, the half-handsome, short, and smug boy standing in front of me met none of the preexisting expectations I had built in my head, and this sudden conflict left me standing before Regulus, my limbs stiff and my expression likely beyond ridiculous.

This seemed to amuse Regulus, and he tilted his head back in an odd sort of mock-laughter.

"I said, 'my brother's a git, isn't he'?" he drawled. His tone was maddeningly superior.

I spun away from him. Nothing good could come out of this encounter, I was sure of it.

I heard him snort.

"Did he break your heart, too?" he called.

I said nothing, but stopped walking.

"Sirius is weak. He doesn't belong in Gryffindor."

Silence.

A laugh.

"I know it, you know it, why can't we just agree?"

I closed my eyes. My heartbeat, which had been beating awfully fast before talking to Regulus, had morphed into some off-beat, irregular rhythm dotted with painful thumps and strings of sharp pricks.