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27 - Long Before Icarus
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Every wicked plan was formulated from a heart's desire, it would seem like a flawless idea to manifest soul wishes and whispers. But heart's desire was so— egoistical, crude, oftentimes ruthless. That was how Meadowes' initial effort to win her beau's heart turned into another.
Martin Apollo McKinnon was like the sun. The infamous wooer with a brain, and glistening golden hair that brushed by the wind messily. Came a time when witches of Hogwarts knew Sirius Black's eyes gravitated on a blonde named Marlene McKinnon. Eyes went to the sweet peach blond that was Martin. Unlike Sirius who would fool around with witches, the blond had a flaw.
His heart and soul had belonged to someone else. The sun would stroll the corridor with her like a satellite, and she was a star he was revolving to. He would look at her as if she bewitched him, the way James Potter besotted to Lily Evans. To his misfortune, the star never looked at the sun.
But when Meadowes saw an opportunity to revolve around the sun, to have him for her own, have his eyes and sweet smile for her she took it. And that was how eclipses occurred, when the sun couldn't adore the girl he fancied. Wicked, but that was a heart's desire, and the once innocent plan had become foul.
On the first day, Gemma paid no mind to her as she took over her seat creating a solar eclipse, and scrutinized McKinnon's face every meal. Passing day three, she paid attention that Meadowes had been humming before bed telling the Irish how Martin McKinnon was a blessing. A smile was formed as a pretense, while discomfort clinging to her demonic blood. Gemma couldn't talk to Martin on her own, he was too occupied by Meadowes' rant. She was nothing but a tree when Meadowes had her hands on him. On day five, the Irish witch wanted nothing but to curse Meadowes into an actual meadow.
Gammaliel bloomed to Persephone. Azure eyes filled with wrath and aqua flashed her vision, but she scoffed thinking her magic would be a waste to use. Instead, she got off her seat, elbowing her goblet of steaming tea as Johanna groaned at the sudden heat on her robe.
"What the hell, Gemma?" snapped Jo.
"Oops." she peered down to the fuming girl, her hand flew to her mouth as a shocking facade and she went on, "Oh, clumsy me. Perhaps next time you shouldn't take my seat."
Persephone's eyes cold as dagger, lips pulled into a dark smile— Gammaliel didn't exist at that pretense it was the queen of hell. And she, for once, flaunting her status to put peasant back in place. By that, the demonic goddess pivoted away, leaving a trace of azure hell-fire on the way her hair swinging behind her back.
Apollo got off his seat, caught a proud smirk from the Slytherin's table. Regulus was impressed by her wicked demeanor as if encouraging her to commit further wrong-doing. But Martin chose to ignore it and sped his steps to follow the girl. In which he caught her stomping grumpily.
"Gemma!" the blond called, and she looked over her shoulder coldly. His face was innocent, and she couldn't yell at that face.
"I don't know, Marty — but I swear she pushed me to my limits. I rarely had time with you all right? And I —" Persephone huffed as she paused, twisted to face the sun properly. Ears tinged scarlet, eyes reddening stating how indignant she was at that moment. "I mean you can have your time but — Argh! Bollocks! It was annoying you wanker! Why didn't you do anything? You don't want to talk to me? You fe—"
The Irish girl never got to finish her sentence, he leaped forward and pulled her into a hug. And her unsteady breath was melted in his warmth, hands caressing her hair, "I'm so sorry."
The same evening, he sat on his four-poster bed to unbox the gift she gave for him. To his surprise, it was a pipe, a prototype of Sherlock's own gourd calabash with its deep bend, golden color with the whitish meerschaum bowl and chamber and black military stem. It was enchanted to blow ring of smokes without cigars. Along with it was a peony-scented parchment.
To my Watson,
Enjoy your birthday, sixteen is a number to start solving mysteries. With this, I, Sherlock, entrusted this pipe of mine and I wish for you to take care of it and guard it with your life.
Your Sherlock
That was when McKinnon realized the game of love had to stop. Apollo would rather have the Irish around him watching her from the safest distance than to make her jealous.
"This needs to stop." said McKinnon firmly as he stood in front of the Ravenclaw's changing room right before his match. Eyes peering down to the honey-eyed girl, her tanned skin was paler once she heard his ultimatum. "I don't want to do this— you did anything but made her even further from me. She hardly had time to talk to me because of you, she was mad at me. You are not helping me, Jo."
Meadowes' honey eyes narrowed, lips parted and she only could stare at him with defiance. She couldn't let this happen, the innocent plan of hers had evolved to a boomerang. Instead of making the boy looked at her for once, the boy's eyes had never left the Irish. A denial coursed through her and between the blond's devastated breath she tiptoed, mindlessly pressing her lips on his.
Gasping out of surprise the Ravenclaw's blond immediately pulled away with a yelp of disbelief. He stared dagger at her, unsure which to feel first. Was it surprise, anger, or disappointment. Before he could register all that, Martin caught the trace of chocolate hair swayed from the corner of his eyes.
Fuck.
"Gemma." his voice hollow as the light in his eyes vanished and burst into the burning sun that he was. His feet gravitated towards her, absentminded, every neuron in his brain was running thoughts of drifting himself even further from her, breathlessly yelling, "No . . . no . . . Gemma!"
The Ravenclaw sped his step but she vanished between the stands unsure where she might go. His fingers tracing his scalp devastatingly, feeling his skin itched and blood boiled and he stopped, tearing his face up to the sky. Fuck! The veins on his neck popped purplish-red against his skin, facing the scorching sun.
Apollo wanted nothing but yell, he bit his lips out of frustration and clenched his fists. Anger took over him and he groaned, sent his murderous gaze as he strolled closer to the flabbergasted girl, "We didn't agree to that!"
His timbre was like thunder in drought, helpless and devastated. And he felt as if his world crumbled while Johanna stood woodenly in front of him with chin lowered to the ground, honey eyes moistened. "Fuck!" he kicked the muddy ground, nose flared, "Why did you do that to me? Why?"
"McKinnon," Jo shot her eyes, color drawn out of her face as she reached his robe, "I fancy you."
Silence.
The blond boy's gaze hardened, deadpanned. It finally made sense to him when he was so focused to get Persephone. Someone did the same thing to him and used this excuse. Ares manipulated Apollo and his pale hands grabbed her tanned pair of hands with anything but gentleness, yanking it off him. She stepped back with a flinch from fright.
"You used me." stated McKinnon.
"But —" Jo stammered, "I didn't mean—"
His cyan eyes had morphed into diamond-sharp dagger, stabbing every deity that stood before him. "You do know that I fancy Gammaliel!"
Johanna's lips parted as her heart crumbled and sank and tossed as if it was nothing but a cheap fake coin. Tears fell off her eyes, watching red coloring his face down his neck. Ares smiled at Apollo's fury before the blond raised his timbre, "Everyone in this castle knew, they all knew except her!"
Long before Icarus tried to pursue Apollo, he had a feeling for Persephone. To woo the goddess, the god of archery was asked by fates to show his ability. When he shot his arrow he was blindfolded by his feelings. There were two targets: love and the deadly infatuation. A thin line separated the two.
Apollo couldn't see—
— he shot it anyway.
The arrow landed on a target yet he didn't know which one was it. Was it love that Aphrodite adored or was it infatuation that became the reason for the Trojan War. Love is a fickle thing, isn't it? Yet Apollo let himself played by it like a damn fiddle.
"She doesn't love you." stated Meadowes.
Fire blasted inside the sun and he burned from within, reflected out. His throat restrained for dear Zeus taught him to not yell at a woman. It was the truth Gemma did not love him, and as much as it twisted his being. His soul was more in vain that he didn't care if it pained him, not anymore.
The god laughed.
"I know! Hell, I know!" he said exasperatedly, and his laugh mixed with sobs to subdue the aching inside his chest. He broke his godly senses in front of her, "And I can't fucking stop my stupid feelings, because I don't want to!"
Johanna's chest heaving with a sob, unable to understand why he loved someone who wouldn't love him back. The sun burned her heart to pieces, and she blamed herself how could she fancy the god who loves to punish and destroy.
It took courage to be in love, it took even bigger courage to fall for someone and knowing they would not be there to catch you. And Martin McKinnon was standing in the first line, as the commander of battle called heart-break and he didn't fear to scar his soul from that pain. Why? He laughed, what was the purpose of existing if he had to spend it alone?
"But you can't declare your feelings and expect that I, who is still madly in love with her to jump on you and accept your feeling." he cackled, feeling his soul thrown from the sky the way Icarus pursued the sun, "I'm in love with her and let me be in love until I learn that I have to stop!" he turned away as he felt his head riled in pain, shattering his being.
Jo shook her head, "You will break your he—"
"— Let me break my heart! God! Let her break my heart I don't care anymore." He chuckled, staring at the broken-hearted girl, "If you fancy me, you stand alone in that."
There was a reason why he fell for Gammaliel, if she was demonic and a destroyer. The blond boy was wicked and overbearing, he was the god with golden bow and fiery arrows who would slander anything he did not fancy. The two deities loved destruction and chaos, destroying themselves in their twisted way.
Apollo was trapped in a destructive, and painful love for Persephone. The arrow that he shot in the dark jabbered his heart. Long before Icarus' fall, Apollo had fallen in the depth pit of infatuation.
***
The dungeon was cold in December, and Potion class was getting gloomier and gloomier waiting for the two-hour lesson to pass. It was a team of three brewing, and the grey-eyed boy caught the Irish girl's mood matched the dungeon, cold. Her eyes hadn't look at him as he, Gemma, and Evan brewed the Death-cap draught.
To be frank, it was Gemma and Regulus who did most of the brewing. Meanwhile, Evan busying himself, whispering mild innuendos to a Ravenclaw witch on the next table. However, his presence alone was not able to melt the ice that lingered like lace on the Irish witch's fawn face. Regulus tipped his head, his eyes watched how sorrow was stirring slow and still, just like the cauldron before her.
What had come to her mind that she became so noiseless, her brows knitted with puffy eyes on the cauldron — she had been crying. Slughorn's voice boomed in the class, "Be very careful with the death cap essence, it can melt woods." he beckoned to one group. "Stir thoroughly."
A blue paper landed by her hand, she shot up to tear her gaze and found Martin's face. Regulus was following her eyes, the blond's face was paler than usual it was crystal there was something between the two Ravenclaws. Gemma didn't bask, she looked down to the cauldron. Regulus's lips curled at that, unsure what pinched his insides at the sight of her devastated face.
Regulus then shook his head at that feeling of curiosity, trying to remain collected, and stopped staring. Evan elbowed him, "So, did you finally stop eye-flirting and ask?"
Black shot up, eyes narrowed, "What?"
Evan grinned, eyes motioned to the Irish, "The party, Reg." he said in a hush, "You denied Fawley's request this morning did you. And her—"
"It has nothing to do with it." stated Regulus, cutting Rosier off as he measured the amount of death-cap essence carefully on a vial, "And I beg of you, stop guessing who I want as my plus one."
"Reg." Gemma called, the two Slytherins were in a hushed conversation. "Black, the essence!"
As they were still talking she saw the vial of death cap essence on Regulus's hand. She had to add the essence to the potion, with that she sighed deeply raising her hand to Regulus's. But at that instant, Evan might have said something that Black twitched his fingers. The vial was opened, and in a swift motion, he accidentally poured the content behind him.
"Ouch!" The Irish winced, her feet drawn back as the potent liquid grazed her robe and the pain poked her skin. Regulus twisted his body and the half-filled vial dropped and broke as it hit the floor. The poison was sizzling as it touched the stone floor. Regulus's grey eyes widened and his hand flew to her back while she recoiled from pain.
"Shit! Gemma!" Evan's hazel eyes widened in terror, flabbergasted, he yelled. "Professor!"
Regulus peered down to see the venom touched her black stocking and shoes. Before it could seep to her skin he flicked his wand, "Aguamenti!"
The water washed away most of the death-cap essence before it sizzled on her skin. Gemma looked at her feet in horror, wincing in pain. Regulus' hand wrapped around her back out of panic. Slughorn was strolling towards them on Evan's cue, "Oh no, no! Quickly! Bring her to Hospital Wings!" said the Professor warily, eyes onto Regulus. "Quickly!"
Black propped her hand over his shoulder but she kept wincing in pain. Then he tore his gaze to her ignoring the pairs of eyes watching them almost as if there was nothing more important than her well-being. A voice in his head yell that it was wrong the way his heart winced, he knew he began to feel again like a weakling. But he ignored it.
"Can you walk?"
"I can—"
Before she finished her sentence, Regulus got his hands on her and carried her impulsively, almost absentminded. Azure eyes enlarged as he hoisted her body and he didn't look down at her face. Way too occupied with his brows furrowed and eyes onto the exit, ignoring pairs of curious eyes to them.
"Reg, I can walk!" Gemma protested.
"It's faster this way."
Gammaliel had never seen him so pale since she knew the Slytherin, was this the exact expression when he carried her as she passed out. She thought Hades, the portrayal of himself had no feelings, but his face said otherwise. It was written on his face that he was worried, or perhaps the death-cap made her see something unreal. The only thing she heard next was her heartbeat and his rushed footsteps.
As the two reached the Hospital Wings Madam Pomfrey quickly mended her injury. Regulus huffed trying to catch his breath from running, his back leaned against the wall as he watched the matron cleaned her scar. Her shoes were barren, and there was a large hole on her stocking streched from her knees down to the ankle. Once Madam Pomfrey finished to wrap a bandage around her foot, Black stepped closer to the Irish witch.
Gemma sat on the edge of the bed, her feet did not quite touch the floor. The Slytherin pursed his lips at the sight of a fresh bandage on her left ankle and cursed inside his mind. "How you doing?"
"Embarassed and annoyed." her eyes never left her feet, she swung them gently like a kid trying to kick beach waves. "I'm waiting."
Regulus arched an eyebrow at her. She shot her chin up and gave him a look. Of course, he thought bitterly, she was waiting for an apology. But the way she looked at him glossed his tongue with a tinge of agony. He breathed out. "I'm sorry."
"Again." she demanded.
"Don't be cocky, Zygo. This is the second time I bring you here." stated the boy, the girl shot her face up to meet him. "And hopefully the last one, you're heavy—OW!"
Gemma smacked his arm, "Bollocks!" she gritted her teeth grumpily, slamming her palm to his elbow as the boy choked back a smile. "You idiotic wanker, it was your fault that I got here in the first place!"
"Bollocks?" Regulus quirked his brows, facing the pouting Merlin heiress. "Daughter of Merlin you are one with the filthy mouth aren't you?"
"Hmph." she tore her gaze to the side. Merlin, she was so fucking childish but why did he found himself smiled at her attitude. He peered down softening his gaze to the girl, she folded her hands.
"That's better, Merlin."
"Better than what?"
"Better than your odd quietude earlier." quipped Regulus, the Irish hurriedly looked down to hide her peach face growing redder, "Although I kind of regret it, now that you're chatty again."
"Fuck off." cussed the witch. Regulus grinned while she remained silent until she shot her head up, "However, I'm indebted to you how shall I pay it Mr. Black?"
At that question, Gemma darted her eyes to meet his. Regulus's tongue froze, he could ask her to do anything. He could ask her to leave him alone, to never bother his existence again the way they used to be. But his heart thought otherwise. The idea to get rid of her from his life, to get himself together didn't seem interesting. Buried. Abandoned.
But she ruined you, Black debated inside his head. What if he liked the way she spiked up his dull life? What if he did not mind if she destroyed the walls he built so high around him? There was only one thing he wanted. There was a long silence that fell between them as he parted his lips, "I have a request."
The Irish girl hummed, "I'm listening."
Regulus tried to part his lips again, gathering his words. But when he did, his words seemed to vaporize. She waited for him to talk but when he stared at her the harder it got for him to speak. And that left him staring blankly at her.
He had become a fool.
There was a fit of anger from that realization, but his eagerness to be able to speak was sky high. Evan's word crossed his mind and it drove him mad how he wished for the girl to — Regulus didn't want to admit it, his pride was at Olympus' peak. But he knew he had to ask. Now.
"Will you go to—"
"Gemma!" the calling cut him off, it was mixed with a huff as the two tore their gaze to find Martin was standing not so far from them. His hands filled with her bag she left at the class. Regulus clenched his fists, stepping back. The blond strolled to her with wary eyes and she looked away to her knees.
There was a moment of silence that didn't click to Regulus, the girl fidgeting on the hem of her skirt. As the blond hesitated to step forward, she looked to the side and coldly spoke, "What was it, Reg?"
Regulus twitched, his silver eyes caught the sight of McKinnon, "I'm sure it can be discussed later." he cleared his throat, failed to notice the frown on her face, "At the time being, I think you two want to talk . . . in private." he paused, every muscle in his feet felt heavy as he pivoted to the side. He didn't want to leave yet he had to. "I'll see you later."
Regulus's footsteps faded, and hush fell between the Ravenclaws. Gemma's fingers fidgeting on her skirt anxiously, trying to ignore the blond's wary eyes. He stepped forward, hesitated, but he did it at last as he inquired, "Are you okay?"
"Yes." said the girl coldly, she wasn't sure what made her sick of seeing Martin. Perhaps, it was when she saw him, her brain impulsively playing how Jo snogged the boy on a loop. Every time the images came it glossed her tongue with a tang of agony, she squeezed her skirt tighter.
Martin's knees felt weak, he sighed desperately while pondering how long he hadn't talked to the girl since she saw him kissing someone. It was as if she couldn't bear to see him, and it ached, twisted his insides. More silence to come, the first time they were in a fight was in the second year, when they fought who got the better Christmas gift. But as they grew older why did problems get more and more complicated.
He pulled at his golden spike, traced the scalp sighing again and with fumbling fingers, he spoke, "Gem." she heard his steps closer and closer, "Why are you mad at me?"
Gemma looked away and she could feel her heart ache at his words. Tears threatening to burst out of her eyes she didn't even know what the blond did wrong that she got that furious. Her head was panged with a painful sensation that flicked her heart. Perhaps, it was the realization that one day — they would find someone much more important than a friend, a lover. That she was afraid it would drive them apart. And knowing him since eleven, she didn't want to feel so distant to the point they became strangers, she bit her lips at the thought.
"You should've told me if you like her." her voice icy, pushed through her nasals, "Then I don't have to walk in to you both — my, what a view."
"I don't like her." stated the blond gravelly, "All right, I didn't know she would do that."
The pain subsided, oddly.
Gammaliel swallowed thickly, "Marty." she called weakly, her polished azure eyes met his bright cyan, "Come to Slughorn's party with me."
Regulus's system froze, he didn't know why he refused to exit the Hospital Wings. His feet and heart seemed to overrule his brain and stayed to eavesdrop their conversation. He couldn't help to wonder what was going on. But now, Black hated himself as he felt a pang of pain twisted something inside. He peered down and touched the center of his chest, why does the pain didn't go away?
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Author's note
I'm sorry if it's too long. I always feel guilty
when writing long chapters.
Also thank you for 10K reads!