Pairing: OC/OC, Katie/Marcus, Theo/Millicent
Chapters: 1 of ?
Summary: 19 years later not all was well.
Disclaimer: Not mine. I'm just playing in Joanne's sandbox.
Author's Notes: I've been working on this story for 2 years now, writing titbits whenever inspiration struck me. And now, with almost 30k words, I wanted to start posting. It's not complete yet, that will take another 2 to 3k words, I think (according to my outline at least). Also, this is an Lj exclusive for the time being as I consider the story to be in Beta. As I work towards an end, I reserve the right to makes changes as I see fit. Also, if anyone has the time and is willing, I really, really need a beta for SPaG and an honest and critical cheerleader to bounce ideas off.
As a final note. I've been told the themes discussed in this story deserve a warning. So, consider yourselves warned for the following;
Although nothing is discussed or described in detail, this story deals with the after-effects of war, rape, loss of control, child trafficking, child abuse, and last but not least, mental health problems.
i. March 1998
Dark, pulsating veins lay thick underneath the skin of her hand. Cursed blood coursed through them, contaminating her body, pushing the air out her lungs. It wouldn’t last too long, she knew, hoped. All she had had to do was to regain her breath and make it out the room before another curse hit her.
She was sitting on her hands and knees, harshly breathing in and out to quench her revolting stomach. The metallic taste of blood in her mouth made her gag with each cleansing breath she tried to take. Her sprained shoulder throbbed in sync with her heartbeat, which wouldn’t have been so bad if she’d have been able to stop the involuntary twitching of her limbs. It was absurd, and she was sure that she was mental for even thinking so, but aftereffects of the curse caused her more pain than the curse itself. She didn’t know what she preferred more; the burning shocks that set her body on fire as the Cruciatus Curse coursed through her, or the hours-long twitching and misery afterwards.
Coughing and gagging, she swayed back and forth in her position, trying to give herself enough leverage to stand upright. Somewhere in the background, she heard an angry discussion going on. She couldn't quite hear what was being said through the ringing in her ears. She didn’t care, either way. As long as they didn’t turn on her, whoever they were, she couldn’t afford to care for others tonight.
All she wanted was for her detention to end so she could return to her bed and get some sleep. And tomorrow, tomorrow she’d pretend this night had never happened, as she had done the last time, just before Yule. Wallowing in self-pity or consideration for others was not something she could afford, not if she wanted to survive her last year.
She pushed herself up to her knees, swallowing down groans of pain. Still, a faint gasp escaped her when something snapped in her lower back, and a warm sensation spread down her legs, feeling as if she was wetting herself.
Scared that her tormentor had noticed, she looked up, preferring to see it coming when he decided to send another curse her way. That didn’t happen. Through her blurred vision, she could make out her DADA professor, Amycus Carrow, standing in a far corner of the dimly lit classroom. He had his wand out, pointing it at another student on the floor -a boy, by the looks of it, and laughing like a lunatic.
She squinted as she tried to figure who the poor sod was who had ended up here with her. Her earlier plan not to help her schoolmates anymore was almost forgotten when Carrow started waving his wand about as the boy began cursing louder and shaking his fist. Perhaps, she ought to tell him not to argue with Carrow, not if he valued his life.
Her fingers clawed at the wall’s rough surface as she tried to stand up. Her numb legs gave out as soon as she put weight on them, and she unceremoniously fell over, banging her head on the floor.
“Ow,” she groaned softly, immediately regretting it. The last thing she needed was to draw more attention to herself by interrupting Carrow’s ‘discipline session’ with another student. That’d never end well for her. It hadn’t for Daphne when she’d tried to stand up for her sister Astoria; both still bore the angry red scars on their backs.
‘You can do this.’ All she had to do to end her detention was to get up and wobble to the door before Carrow hit her with another curse. That was the deal. Again, she swallowed her pain and got up to her hands and knees in the hopes that her second attempt would be more successful. Just as she touched the cool wall, she heard it.
She didn’t realise it then, but detention was long from over for her. And try as she might, she wouldn’t forget about it for the rest of her life.