❝ MERLIN'S GHOST! ❞
❝ I MEAN, YOU'RE NOT WRONG. ❞
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Albany Bronwen was no Chosen One by any means, but being haunted by the ghosts of the greatest sorcerer of all time and a former king had to count for something, right?
❃ in which a lone...
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FAITH MORAN.
Faith Moran. Faith Moran.
George Weasley was going to the ball with Faith Moran.
Albany wanted to slap him; she didn't. She also wanted the ground to swallow her whole and free her of the whirlwind of emotions that were storming inside; that didn't happen either. She felt beyond humiliated, and beyond hurt. She'd let her guard down. She'd allowed herself to be vulnerable. She'd left herself wide open to attack, and fallen right into a trap.
Oh, to be so foolish.
A stab to the gut would have been preferred to such a betrayal. That's what it was, wasn't it? A betrayal? To lead her on, give her all the right signs, entice her closer and closer, until she was standing right on the edge of a precipice, closing her eyes and feeling the wind in her hair and the freedom of living at risk, only to be kicked in the back of the knee. To fall. To hit the ground and feel everything shatter, pieces too small and too scattered to gather. To cry out in pain, the agony of it unbearable, but to wonder... is it my fault?
She'd been the one reading the signs, following his lead, letting down her walls and taking the steps towards the edge.
She'd been so happy, and so blind.
They say anger is not a true emotion, but an extension of hurt. It takes the wheel when the going gets so tough that you fall, steering you onwards again and keeping you safe. Anger is what builds the walls again, what protects you from further damage. Angry tears are more bearable than those of sorrow, because the spite in them is a reason to keep moving when everything is shattered.
Anger was what drove Albany Bronwen straight to her dormitory, every muscle in her body tensed, adrenaline pumping and fury overwhelming the hurt and humiliation. Anger told Albany Bronwen to murder Faith.
Whether Faith's absence in the dormitory was fortunate or unfortunate was up for debate. The other three girls, however, sat a little straighter on their beds as Albany raged, eyes a little wider, a little more nervous.
Was she overreacting? She didn't know. She didn't care.
All she knew was that if fury wasn't propelling her onward, she was going to crash and burn. And perhaps she would, eventually. But she would do everything in her power to put such an event off for as long as possible.
So she hunted down Faith. And never found her. Faith Moran could be considered wise for not appearing in their dorm that night.
Or the next. Or the one after that.
Faith didn't show her face for days; she was lucky that classes had come to an end, so avoiding Albany became considerably easier. Meanwhile, Albany's anger had yet to dwindle; it may have calmed from a roaring blaze to a flickering fire, but it persevered, unwilling to burn out.
