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I like to sit and think about where I am, wherever I am. I'll pause, and I'll take a forced moment of my own time to look around me; I'll look at the people, the birds, if I'm outside; I'll take in the smell of the atmosphere. I'll make note of how alive it feels to be in such an environment, or I'll try and accept how small the entire aura of it all makes me quiver. This thing that I do, this dull-witted thing, is what helps me to remember that the soul which inhabits my very body, belongs to a beating heart.
It is two entirely different things to feel alive and to be alive. For feeling alive is perhaps one of the most gratifying assurances that comes with the beauty of life, and the honorability of those that have been blessed with the truest representations of themselves indulge in it. And simply are there those who wish nothing more than to crawl out of their own skin, fleeing from what they fear they are going to become, or for others, the mindless animosity of what they fear they won't.
How I miss the feeling of being alive.
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MATTHEO
"Why must it be tonight? Surely you can wait."
"No, my son, I cannot. Everything is set, what is planned to happen will happen, and it will happen tonight."
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CALANTHA
I could feel it, something was wrong. My intuition was telling me something, but I didn't know what; I couldn't put my finger on it. I got this feeling, of course this wasn't the first time, but it wasn't often. Though, when it was I made sure to be extremely careful with everything I did. Last time I got this feeling, only moments later was I being escorted home, only to be told of the loss of my mother.
Still, I hadn't gone to classes, I very rarely left my room, only because I didn't need to. Kassandra and I still weren't talking and I told myself it would have to be her that apologizes first. She was in the wrong, and I know that.
Draco, still unheard from, was keeping me looking behind my shoulder every few minutes or so, holding onto the hope that he'd walk through the door so that I could be reassured of his safety. All I wanted to do was hug him.
Mattheo was gone again. He said he'd be back later on in the night, that he needed to visit a sick family member, but I knew all too well that it was a lie. The small twitch at the corner of his mouth gave him away, perhaps, that was his only weakness.
While he was away, I took time to myself, sitting in my room, sometimes in the library.
Epiphany was almost unseen around the corridors, and I'd suspected she'd finally found some friends, or I hoped she did.
Everyone was vacant. Very rarely when I'd poke my head outside of my door and peer around the hallway would I see a busy common room--it was almost always empty now. The corridors were silent, the quietest that they had been for centuries, or so I assumed. Even my dorm, which I occupied usually alone, seeing as Kassandra was staying with Niccolo and Mattheo continuously left to visit his sick relative, was boring me.
But I'd taken the time to think, or to try and wrap my head around everything that was going on. There were so many things that I'd pushed aside, and all of them were now coming back to me. I was forcing myself to withstand the entirety of it all, no matter how much I tried to bargain with the small voice in my head, telling me to keep going, to accept it all and to learn how to deal with it, it wouldn't go away.
The acute jingling of my doorknob grazed my attention, I turned my head toward the door to see Mattheo graciously barge in, completely unfazed by my surprised reaction, and shut the door behind him, walking past me.
"Hello to you, too," I rolled my eyes, turning back around in my bed, fixing the sheets so that they covered my shoulders. I spent the entire day in bed, with nothing to do, no one to be with, nowhere to be, there was no reason for me to get up and get ready. And even so, the energy it took to do it all was slowly fading, day by day, the more I realized how much closer the dawn of my mother's death was coming, the more it took on me. The harder everything became.
"Why are you still in bed?" he opened my closet, not once looking at me, and began to rummage through shirts and pants, whispering small nuances under his breath, making irritable faces.
"Because I don't have to get up, why are you going through my things? Mind I say, it's rude." I scoffed, growing annoyed with how little attention I was getting. He hadn't even looked at me.
"I don't care. Now, get up, and don't speak to me like that." he pulled a black hoodie off of a hanger and threw it onto Kassandra's bed before turning back to my closet. My eyes drifted from his pale cheeks to his white dress shirt, which was only buttoned up to the middle of his chest. Beneath it, small cuts and faded bruises covered his soft skin.
I got up from my bed and stumbled over to him, pulling him away from my open closet with both of my hands, frowning. "Get the fuck out of my closet, what do you think you're doing?"
"I told you not to speak to me like that, and I mean it. Now," he leaned closer, grabbing my face harshly, seething through gritted teeth. "Get dressed." he nodded toward the hoodie and my eyes traveled with him. Soon after he threw a pair of black sweatpants beside me, telling me to put them on.
"Why are you being such a dog? What the hell has gotten into you? And why are you making me get dressed, we don't even have classes."
"Fuck's sake, Calantha, what are you even talking about? We've only been back on talking terms for a few days, why the hell are you getting so worked up? Stop asking questions, we need to go."
I let out a loud laugh, almost snorting. "Go? If you think I'm leaving, you must be high."
He took a step closer to me and grabbed my face again, making my smile disappear. "You are going to do as I say, do you understand me?"
I nodded. It was back to how it was before.
"Good," he pushed my face away from him, almost slapping the side of my cheek. "Hurry up, we need to go."
"Where are we going?"
"We're leaving the castle for the night. We'll be staying in Hogsmeade."
My eyes widened and my eyebrows raised. "Hogsmeade?" I repeated him. "Are you fucking crazy? We aren't allowed to leave the castle after dark, and where are we even staying? And might I ask, why?"
"There's a room above the Three Broomsticks, we'll be staying there. We'll be back tomorrow, it's no worry, now hurry up, are you ready to go?" he rushed me, opening the door, leaning against the frame as he waited for me. I nodded to him, sliding my shoes onto my feet.
I didn't know what to do or say. The reason I was listening to him, not asking questions, I didn't know. I knew if I tried, he would only ignore them, maybe discreetly answer, but I didn't even have the urge to want to know anything. But deep down, I knew I cared. The truth was, I cared about everything Mattheo did, for whatever reason, in such a short amount of time, I'd grown to be accustomed to everything he did or didn't do, everything he thought, wanted, or said, I wanted to know.
"Mattheo, when we get to the Three Broomsticks, can we talk?"
"Talk about what?" he led us down the dimly lit corridors, still alight from the shallow candles lining the walls. The smell of gingerbread wafted through the air, filling my nose, making me smile. It was almost curfew, the lights would be going out at any minute, but I believed in him enough to know his way in and out of the castle, no matter what time of day or night it was.
My eyes shifted to the familiar clock on the wall. "Mattheo, we only have four minutes left until curfew," I whispered, grabbing onto the hand he was holding out for me behind him, pulling myself closer to him, trying to take bigger steps to keep up with him.
"Calm down, we're almost there. Now be quiet." he shushed me, his voice low and angry.
"Almost where?"
He stopped, turning around. "I told you to be fucking quiet, what part of that do you not understand? Shut your mouth."
Ouch.
Turning around, he began to look all around the empty corridor, making sure we were alone. "We're here," he whispered, then grabbed ahold of both of my hands, squeezing my wrists.
"What're we--"
"Apparate."
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I opened my eyes, still feeling Mattheo's fingers curled around my wrists. The air around me was cold, blowing gusts of bone-chilling air into my lungs, making it harder to breathe. The smell of peppermint and Fire Whiskey filled my nose, my hands dropped from Mattheo's hold and my eyes averted all around to where I was standing in the middle of an empty street in Hogsmeade.
In the far distance, the castle-like school of Hogwarts was kept alive by the boisterous spell-cast candles, silhouettes of creatures in the sky, wisping in between the dark clouds. It looked so beautiful from so far away.
"Let's hurry," Mattheo distracted me from my gaze, making me turn back to him with a frown on my face; I watched as he looked around the street and the storefronts, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. "I want to make sure we get inside."
Again, my wrists were in his hands and he was pulling me behind him, forcing me to stumble in his footsteps, squeezing my wrists harder until he eventually let my hands go once we entered the Three Broomsticks.
It was almost empty, all but for an old, hunched over man behind the long counter belonging to the bar. He nodded to Mattheo, who seemed to understand what the man was saying, because he forced me in front of him, his hands steadily placed on my hips, and pushed me toward the stairs leading up to what I assumed to be the place we were staying.
Still, I had no idea why we were here, why he was in such a rush, and why he was being so harsh about everything he was doing. Although, I couldn't help but muster the fact that I missed this part of him; the rough part, the Mattheo that lashed out, got angry at me, fed off of my vulnerability. It was wrong to want him to go back to that, because I knew once he did the only thing I would want was for the nice Mattheo to come back, but I couldn't help it.
He led me down a narrow hallway, lined with moving portraits of confused faces, none of which I'd cared enough to try and recognize; eventually we came to a door belonging to an old, creaky room. The floorboards sounded with every step that was taken, the entire room shook when anyone moved. It was hard to breathe, the air was cold and dusty, the old window was boarded up, preventing anyone from looking outside.
"Why are we here, Mattheo?"
He said nothing and shut the door behind him, tilting his head high in the air as he kept his placid eyes on me, biting on his bottom lip, debating whether or not to answer my question in truth.
"You said you wanted to talk," he ignored my question, unfazed. "What did you want to talk about?"
Everything.
"Us, you. I don't know, I'm just confused about everything." I shrugged, walking over to the small bed in the corner, cautiously sitting down on it. I began to fiddle with my fingers in my lap, nervous to make eye contact with him. "I just, I want to know where we stand. Everything about whatever this is is confusing, and I don't like not knowing what to expect."
He clenched his jaw, turning to look away from me, walking around the room gregariously, licking his bottom lip before sticking his tongue in the side of his cheek. He was growing impatient, uneasy.
"Why are you so confused?"
"We've hated each other for years, all of a sudden you take an interest in me, I'm stupid enough to fall for it. We fight, like usual, then stop talking, then you come back, and I let you in again. It's unlike me, but I can't just not push you away. I'm confused because I don't know how you have such an affect on me, and I hate it." I paused, closing my eyes. A deep sense of relief washed over me, and a memory of my mother singing a bird song fluttered through my ears, making the corner of my mouth turn upward.
"And I hate not knowing why."
"Why what, Calantha?" he continued to walk around, bringing his hands up to his half-open dress shirt, beginning to fumble with the buttons. I tore my eyes away and stared straight ahead at the blank wall in front of me, gulping.
"Why you started to be nice to me. Why you are nice to me. Why you get easily mad at whatever I do, and for no reason."
"Is it wrong," he paused, unbuttoning part of his shirt, walking closer to me. I felt myself hold in a long breath, growing uneasy. "For me to like you?"
"Like me?" I repeated his words, shaking my head. His eyes drew up and down my body, and his teeth latched onto his bottom lip.
"Is it so hard for you to trust me, Calantha?" he whispered, tucking a piece of my hair behind my ear, making me shudder. His hands were so cold.
"Yes, Mattheo, it is. Surely I know you don't trust me, either."
"Why would you say that?" he took a step back, almost offended.
"You can't even tell me where you sneak off to when you leave the castle, do you really think I believe that you're visiting a sick family member? Please, you of all people should know me better than to believe something so stupid, Mattheo."
"Don't you ever question what I tell you, do you fucking understand me?" he grabbed the sides of my arms, causing me to yelp in pain as he dug his fingernails into my skin. "Do you fucking understand me, Calantha?"
I felt the tears prick at the backs of my eyes, and I whimpered from under his hold. This time, for some reason, what he was doing really hurt. All I wanted to do was talk to him.
Revelation consumed him, his eyes widened and he let go of me, turning around with a hand on his forehead. I sat further back on the bed and hugged myself, drawing my legs close to my chest.
"You ask w-why I don't trust you," my voice was shaky, unable to form any words without stuttering. "Don't you see why?" I rocked back and forth, attempting to soothe and calm myself.
"I'm sorry, I--,"
"I don't fucking accept your apology, Matteo," I cried out, angry tears pushing to be freed my my glassy eyes. "I don't accept any of your bullshit apologies, because no matter what, you're always going to do it again."
"That's not true," he sat down across from me on a trunk, pointing his finger at me, looking to the ground in dismay. "That is not true, I can change."
"Why did you bring me here, Mattheo?" I whimpered, burying my head in my knees, trembling.
He hesitated, running a hand through his messy brown curls.
"Mattheo, if you can't even b-be honest with me, than I'll just go," I got up, throwing my hair behind my shoulder. "There's no point in even trying, I don't know why--,"
"Death Eaters," he forced out, shutting his eyes.
I stopped, both out of confusion and fear. "What do you mean?"
"Death Eaters," he said again, only this time with less confidence. "There are Death Eaters in the castle."
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