Let Us All Make History

Be Cautious Of The Climax

A/N: Caution- this chapter deals with aspects of self harm

Molly POV: Whatever was going to happen, it was getting closer. There was a climax, Molly could feel its urgency stinging in the air, she could feel the crisp chill of the wind as it sent shivers down her spine, she could feel the chill even when she indoors. Something was approaching, a sort of explosion per say, an explosion of the so called powder keg. Victor had found a new Durmstrang boy, and yet contrary to Molly's hopes that this boy might satisfy whatever anger was bubbling in Victor's heart it seemed to have made matters worse. He was more and more angry, Molly often found him just staring out the window, twirling his wand in his hands and shaking his head miserably. One time she even found him crying, or at least she had found the evidence of it, his eyes red and puffy, his cheeks streaked. This happened the morning she woke him from another night spent alone on the couches, while Sherlock and John woke up together in the soft morning sunlight. There was such a drastic difference now, between the lives of the two nearly identical boys. Sherlock was becoming so happy that it was hard to handle, while Victor was becoming so miserable that Molly almost couldn't stand to be in his presence anymore. She wanted to calm him down; she wanted to take him to Hogsmeade or to the quidditch pitch or at least somewhere that might raise his spirits! And yet whenever she insisted they do something Victor ran down to the Durmstrang ship, from which he always returned from around three o'clock in the morning, sometimes with his lips puffy, sometimes with his wrists bruised, sometimes with his knuckles bleeding. She had no idea what he got up to down there, whether or not he fought that boy or the others on the ship, but each time he returned he looked a mix between angry and satisfied, often sitting down on his bed in the dark, usually alone, and staring at the bed that used to be occupied by Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock was hardly ever around anymore, except for classes and meals he now spent most all of his time at the Gryffindor tower. When he was with his friends he could only ever talk about how much he loved John, and by this time it was getting annoying even to Molly. Victor had snapped at him once or twice, telling him to shush and stop bothering them about his romantic success, however Sherlock was good at ignoring other people's annoyances, and he just kept on blabbing. Molly wondered why Victor didn't consider his own relationship to be romantic success, to be quite honest she at least thought that Victor would try to be happy now that he had someone on his arm, however he only seemed to be growing all the more miserable. Angry wasn't the word to describe it, frustrated wasn't going to cover it either. Victor was just tense, he was a volcano getting ready to erupt, and Molly was beginning to notice the signs, she was beginning to feel the tremors. Something was going to come, someone was going to erupt, and God help anyone who might be in the way when the flames began to shoot. The explosion came just two days before the third task, the day where Sherlock was absent once more, gone down to the lake with John to skip stones like the Beauxbatons always liked to do together. He was often forgetting about his friends, and while it bothered Molly it obviously bothered Victor much more. It was getting late when Molly knocked on Victor's door to hear some sort of groaning, soft little exclamations of pain before it all went silent, as he just realized that he had company.

"Don't come in." Victor's voice insisted, and Molly heard the sounds of him jumping off of his bed and the metallic clang of something...a fork maybe? A knife?
"Victor it's me, what are you doing? Are you alright?" Molly wondered carefully, trying the door to find that it had been locked.
"I'm fine, just...nothing. I'm fine." Victor growled, however by now Molly was beginning to worry about him. It sounded like he was anything but fine, and finally she grabbed her wand from her pocket and opened the lock with a quick spell. She burst into the room to find Victor standing next to the window, holding what appeared to be a blood soaked white rag against his forearm while he tried to get the window open so as to make his escape.
"Victor!" Molly exclaimed, dashing into the room and closing the door behind her, running towards the boy as he stumbled out of her way, screaming profanities in French while trying to evade her grasp.
"Victor come here, stop it, stop!" Molly demanded, grabbing the boy by his shoulders and steadying him, the rag having fallen away to reveal a couple of small gashes in his arm, cuts that seemed to have been self-inflicted. Victor started to squirm, however seeing that there was no escaping Molly's motherly wrath his tears were already beginning to fall, his stumbling feet giving way so that he could fall into the wall of the carriage behind him.
"What have you been doing to yourself? Oh Victor, Victor this is obscene!" Molly exclaimed, holding him steady while she observed the cuts all down his arm, some having already scabbed over, others fresh and bleeding profusely.
"Molly get away, don't bother me!" Victor insisted, his eyes leaking tears once more as Molly took him into her arms and hugged him powerfully, crying herself as his very thin body shook between her arms. He knew that he couldn't fight this, whatever it was, and she knew as well that he wasn't going to try anymore. He wanted help, despite his insistence to leave him alone the very act of cutting himself was a silent plea for someone to come to his rescue. He needed help, that was for sure, and Molly knew that she was going to be his savior.
"The Durmstrang boys...they say that bleeding relieves emotional pain. And it does...it distracts me from what I'm feeling inside, if my body hurts I can sometimes forget about my soul." Victor breathed, his voice rattling with tears as he compressed his sobs, trying to keep himself quiet, keep himself sane.
"That's rubbish Victor, oh don't listen to them, they're barbarians." Molly insisted, finally pulling away so that she could observe Victor's arms with more focus. He must have been up to this for days, for the scars were almost closed by now. To think that he had taken advice from those boys, boys who probably just told him that to see if he'd actually listen...oh what a tragedy!
"They were right." Victor whispered.
"But this isn't the way to go about it, if you're suffering inside, Victor you've got to open up to people! To me! Victor tell me what's wrong, what's hurting you?" Molly pleaded, trying to paw at Victor's face to which he just swatted her away, seemingly not really in the mood for motherly intimacy.
"My God, what do you think? What do you think is wrong, I've been forgotten...I've been ignored, he doesn't want anything to do with me anymore, he doesn't even...look." Victor stopped his tears for a moment, shaking his head as if he was going to try to pass this all off as just ramblings of a crazy man. Molly knew, on the contrast, that it was anything but. Finally she was able to see the pain that was festering in Victor's soul, and just as predicted it was Sherlock induced.
"He does want you, Victor he just doesn't love you in that way. You know that, I think you'd always known that." Molly insisted, patting Victor's face once more to which the boy now didn't resist. He looked almost happy to be whined over, happy to be noticed. Oh but such drastic measures, were they really necessary? Slicing open his own arm so as to seep out the pain he was feeling inside?
"But I've loved him for so long, this year...oh I thought this year as going to be my chance! But I've spoiled it...I've lost him and I'm never..." Victor silenced himself again, wiping at the tears that were now falling down his face.
"It just wasn't meant to be." Molly assured in a soft voice, to which Victor just blubbered once more, shaking his head as his tears fell even more agressivley.
"It was supposed to be just he and I. We were going to be happy." Victor breathed.
"There are other boys out there, boys who would care for you, boys who will see you for the beautiful human you are, and not treat you like this, not push you to these sort of drastic limits." Molly insisted, touching her hand against Victor's arm once more, he winced, but didn't complain.
"Just because they want me, doesn't mean that I'll want them. My heart is set on only one boy, Molly, and I can't just settle on someone else." Victor insisted in a whine.
"You'll get over him soon enough, if it's not meant to be then your soulmate will come to claim you eventually. Until then, Victor you can't be doing this to yourself. This isn't the right way to go about feeling lonely, or sad, or anything. You should've come to me, not went to those horrible boys." Molly insisted, steering Victor over to his bed so that he could sit down while she took out her wand to begin to mend him. Thankfully she had been taught spells to heal just minor cuts and wounds such as these, and it took her some thinking and a lot of concentration to finally get the cuts to begin to close. Victor was still crying all while she worked, however in the end he quieted down to silent tears streaking down his face, tears that reminded Molly of just how much he needed to cry. All of this, with Sherlock and John, well she hadn't realized how emotionally damaging it had been for the boy. Of course she knew he was frustrated; however she never understood it to this extent! And to think, all of this could have been avoided if Victor had just opened up, and allowed other people to help him. Molly had been here the whole time, and yet the boy insisted on resorting to obscene means, ignoring everyone and hurting himself in an attempt to forget the heart ache he was constantly suffering.
"I've had enough, Molly, I know that I should do something but I just don't know what. I need him, Molly, I've come to depend on him in all aspects, and his absence has left me hallow." Victor breathed.
"Then talk to him, tell him how you feel. I'm sure he thinks that you've only got a little crush, neither of us understood how deep this love went." Molly admitted truthfully, for she had always just assumed that Victor had liked Sherlock, not that he was in love with him this powerfully.
"He won't want to hear what I have to say. He'll just think it's overdramatic, he'll ignore me so that he can talk more about John." Victor groaned, shaking his head miserably. Molly thought for a moment, sitting down on the bed next to Victor and running her fingers carefully over the now closed wounds, still covered in dry and flaking blood.
"He thinks you're in love with Sebastian." Molly admitted with a sad little laugh, as if Sherlock's suspicions had always been this absurd.
"He's just an idiot." Victor breathed, sounding angry now, rather than just upset.
"Was that love potion meant for Sherlock, for after the tournament?" Molly asked, to which Victor was silent for just a moment. He seemed reluctant to admit anything, almost as if he knew how wrong his actions had been.
"It amplified the feelings that were already inside; I had meant to use it when John and I were with him, so as to see who he honestly had feelings for. Well that backfired, didn't it? All that hope, all that anticipation, and for what really?" Victor groaned, shaking his head as if he couldn't see himself as anything more than a failure.
"Well, you helped he and John..." Molly silenced herself, for she had almost forgotten that Victor viewed their new relationship as something of a sin. "Maybe you could just talk with him?"
"He won't want to talk to me." Victor growled. "I need to take things into my own hands from now on...I think I know the one thing I can do to ensure...yes that will work. It must."
"Don't do anything drastic, oh don't hurt anyone, don't hurt yourself!" Molly pleaded. Victor was quiet, and yet Molly still doubted that anything she said would help. To be quite honest she suspected that he would do just the opposite of what she begged him not to do, she suspected that violence was the only way Victor saw things could be done. It was an absurd method; however it would work, just not the way he would hope. Violence only ended one problem and created many more.
"I think I want to go to sleep now, if you'll let me be." Victor decided, getting to his feet solemnly with a newfound purpose in his posture, standing as though he had finally decided what he was going to do, almost as if Molly's consultation had helped him better understand the problem he was facing at the solution that he had deemed necessary.
"Are you alright to be alone?" Molly wondered apprehensively, getting to her feet as well but going over to Victor instead of the door. He looked upon her with an expression that was a mix of annoyance and relief, almost as if he was happy to see that she cared but annoyed with her badgering all the same.
"Molly I am fine, or at least better than I had been when you arrived." Victor admitted. Molly nodded, assaulting Victor with another hug and keeping him in her arms until finally he returned it. This gave her plenty of time to look over his shoulder, spotting his weapon of choice lying on the ground, a silver dagger that was gleaming in the moonlight that dared come through the window, speckled with blood that appeared black.
"You'll be careful, Victor? You'll be safe?" Molly wondered, feeling finally Victor's arms wrapping around her back.
"I'll be quite fine, Molly. There's no need to worry about me." Victor assured, however that was no reason for her to relax. Victor probably tried to insist the same thing before he went about cutting himself and all in all wreaking havoc on his physical and mental state. They broke apart finally, Molly trying not to cry as she tucked her brown bangs behind her ears. Victor was looking a little bit better, at least his eyes showed some sort of humanity, rather than just looking like two large pits of despair.
"I always worry about you Victor, both of you boys; you're kind of my responsibility to keep you two in line." Molly admitted with a fearful little laugh, to which Victor just rolled his eyes with something of a grin.
"You're doing a terrible job then." Victor decided, making Molly laugh a bit regretfully.
"I never said I was the best at it." Molly admitted. Victor nodded, patting her on the shoulder in a final sort of way before finally making to the door, opening it and letting Molly leave. She bid him a reluctant goodnight, wishing that she had the courage to ask for the knife, just to keep for protection. However she knew that as soon as she tried to prod even more into Victor's personal life the more offended he would become, he was just starting to smile again, there was no need to put that frown back on his face.
"Goodnight Molly." Victor said finally, sighing heavily before closing the door finally. Molly stood there I the hallway for a moment, studying the dried blood that had flaked onto her sleeve when she had handled Victor's wounded arm. She had to wonder just how much of what Trelawney had been going on about...the truthfulness of it all. Was Victor really destined to die? Right now, it almost seemed likely. Molly had to wonder what had driven Victor to such desperate measures, what sort of internal hatred and self-loathing he had bubbled up in his chest. Did he hate John, or Sherlock, or both? And what was he planning on doing about it? He claimed that he had a plan, just how far was he willing to go to ease his anger? If he could harm himself then what was stopping him from harming someone else? Was he out to hurt people, or was he just going to have a conversation, like Molly had suggested? Well it was only too obvious that he wouldn't be following much of Molly's suggestions, however she could hope, could she not? Maybe one day he would come to his senses, maybe tonight he would realize that there was method to her apparent madness. 

Molly was surprised that night to get a knock on the door, for she hadn't been expecting company at...oh what time was it? Twelve midnight! Well who could that be at this hour? Janine was sleeping undisturbed in her bed, evidently sleeping too soundly to hear the knocks that seemed to get more frequent, and more desperate. Molly groaned heavily, however the idea that maybe it was Victor come for some more mediation dragged her quickly to her feet. She threw on a robe and went to the door with heavy eyes, pulling the door open just slightly to see a white face looking back at her, the face of Sherlock, not Victor.
"Sherlock? What on earth are you doing?" Molly groaned, stepping out into the hallway and pulling the door shut behind her, just so that their hushed conversation didn't interrupt Janine as she slept.
"Where's Victor?" Sherlock asked earnestly, his eyes wide and his breaths heavy, as if he had run to Molly's room in a state of panic. His hair was disturbed and yet Molly doubted that was any sort of violence, it was probably due to John's wandering hands, if she had to guess. However Sherlock didn't look like he was coming off an emotional high, quite the contrary he looked ragged and scared, as if Victor's absence disturbed him more than he would have liked to admit.
"He should be in bed, shouldn't he?" Molly wondered nervously, starting off down the hallway and tying the cord of her robe tighter about herself in the darkness. The hallway was lit very minimally by lamps sporting mere candles, illuminating the hall enough so that they could see, just bright enough so that their shadows could be cast along the blue wallpaper.
"I went in there just now, it's empty, the window is open, I don't know if he went down to the Durmstrang ship, I don't know if he..."
"He better not have gone down to that ship." Molly growled, flinging open the door to find what she had been promised, no Victor, just an empty bed and an open window. With a shiver Molly also noticed that the dagger that had been on the ground previously was gone, as if he had moved it, or he had taken it somewhere...
"Where could he have gone?" Sherlock wondered nervously. Molly just shook her head, seeing of course why Victor's absence could be an issue. Had she not experienced what she had tonight then she would not be all that worried, however she knew that he wouldn't go down to the ship after have complained about the boys down there so profusely, unless he went down there to hurt them...was violence something she should be concerned about?
"He was saying something about a plan, we were talking tonight, he was fed up, he's reached his tipping point..." Molly muttered, running her fingers nervously through her hair, which was falling down her shoulders in large brown waves. A very faint noise came through the window, something that Molly might have mistaken for a bird had she been alone, something that sent shivers down her spine nonetheless.
"That was a scream." Sherlock said quickly, and with that he turned and ran for the carriage door, with Molly right on his heels.