Breaking Point (open)

Jack's words jerked Albus out of his musings. And her words.......Albus had to keep his eyebrows from arching in surprise. Mentally he had categorized Jack as the ideal Gryffindor, which of course included the whole deal of jumping into a well without looking in, impulsive behavior, yada yada yada. Apparently, she had found a new occupation of defying every previous opinion that Albus had ever formed of her. First with the obliviation, and now with the demonstration of farsighted thinking. Enthusiastic was definitely too tame a word for her, but she wasn't getting ahead of herself. Which was something Albus hadn't expected.

"We don't necessarily have to get one of the Department Head positions.......as long as we have enough influence, particularly in the Wizengamot, it should be alright." Albus turned towards Jack, eyes momentarily darting towards the picture she had kept back on the shelf. "And yes, declared by you." He repeated dryly. Maybe Jack was capable of logical planning too, but that didn't mean he was a dunderhead. He did know what he was talking about. "I do know what your position is, you know. If it was declared by someone like me, do you think we'd get even half the attention we'd definitely garner if you did it? Good or bad, publicity is still publicity. People would listen to you, even if it is only to declare you a half-brained maniac. Not the best person for the job I admit, but....." Albus paused emphatically. "In the absence of anyone else, still our best shot."

Albus paused once more. Hell, this was even more unreal. In all of his various plots hatched at Hogwarts, he'd never ever planned with someone else. He operated alone. Always. Which was why he had the tendency a while back not even to wait for Jack's response, to ignore her, as always planning everything alone. But of course, the derisive twitch of the eyebrows, that sardonic reply, the absolutely rational reasoning of the woman opposite him dragged him back to reality. He winced inwardly. This might be a problem if the rebellion actually became reality. He had to constantly keep in mind that this time, for the first time ever, he was not alone.

And people other than him had the capacity of giving good suggestions too. As demonstrated by Jack when she mentioned Susan Bones. "Susan.....that's.....a good idea." His tone was musing. "She doesn't seem too anti-Ministry yet, so might need some convincing, but......do-able." Of course, a darker shade swept over his face on mention of Neville. A muscle twitched in his jaw imperceptibly, "I don't know about Neville Longbottom."

The reply was short, too short. And delivered too brusquely. Albus was well aware of it. If Jack wasn't completely oblivious, which Albus was almost ninety percent sure she wasn't, she would definitely notice his aversion to the idea of including the ex-war hero in the rebellion. Albus couldn't bring himself to care, much. After the fiasco at Grimmauld Place, Albus would prefer to be as far from Neville as possible. And if possible, keep away from all Order-ites too. But knowing Jack's history, that was impossible.

Jack sighed when he said the Wizengamot because that meant she really did not have an excuse now. She had been a substitute member in the Wizengamot and had been asked to stay on as a full-fledged member. She had refused because of her own fierce hatred for politics of all kinds. The squabbling, the unnecessary nitpicking, the never ending pissing contest - it aggravated Jack more than anything else in this world. Nothing irritated her more than speech without will, words without intention to act. Therefore, the most frustrating thing for her to sit through was a Wizengamot meeting. One trial had been enough to cause her to swear off them all.

So she sighed, and explained with, "I may actually have a connection to the Wizengamot. Then again, there may only be room for one of us, and I can't guarantee I could survive the meetings." A small flicker of a joke was present and yet, it really was serious. She was not sure that was a place for her. She would continually itch to be free of their political confines, she would always desire to speak her mind, she would never have any peace. Jack may have become one to find a natural place on the front lines among a crowd, but she much rather preferred work on her own.

He would be insisting that she was the loudspeaker here then. She had been hoping to finally retire from the public eye but if this was where she best served everyone, then that was the place she needed to be. She was done with thoughts and talk, she wanted to do what she could to bring about change.

She nodded. "Susan, I think, is quite disillusioned to the idealism of the Ministry. I believe she only needs to know an alternative to choose it."

But something was wrong with Neville, huh? Jack had never been close to the Longbottom man, having only vaguely known him from the Order. She had only seen his own disappointment in the way their world worked, and his connection to the Bones and others. That had been the only reason his name had sprung from her lips. She blinked, responding, "Not the response I'd expect from a family friend."

Albus could see, no feel, Jack’s resistance to the idea in every twitch of her expression, the words quickly said but hardly meant, the slight dullness of the spark in her eyes. She disliked the idea of getting involved in the Wizengamot immensely. Correction, she abhorred it. But then, with a resigned sigh, she actually agreed. She did put forward her reservations in the form of an extremely weak joke, but agreed. Albus blinked again. How the minds of people like Jack worked was utterly beyond his comprehension. How did they do it? How did they manage putting up with something they didn’t like, putting their own happiness, safety and well-being on the backseat, sacrificing a frankly ridiculous amount of their peace and joy for the sake of the ‘greater good’? Albus couldn’t even bloody imagine inconveniencing himself for the sake of anyone, anything at all. And these people just went on with their noble Gryffindork lives doing noble Gryffindork things.
But then again……Albus supposed that was what you called passion. Jack wasn’t a selfless martyr, Albus could see that clearer than anything else. She was simply willing to prioritize, give up smaller pleasures for the sake of achieving a larger goal. Maybe that’s why Albus had never achieved anything worthwhile in his life. Maybe he didn’t lack desires, or ambition. Maybe he just lacked the passion required to convert dreams to reality.

“If you don’t want to do it, that’s fine.” Albus’s tone was significantly quieter, in light of what could be called a new revelation. Of course, his voice automatically strove to lighten the situation, make it appear different from what it was, a willing consideration of Jack’s feelings; by becoming wryer, with fainter hints of humor, “Besides, I think you’d choke to death, and I’ll die out of hysterics, just by the thought of you in that starched, stiff-collared Wizengamot robe.” The thought was kind-of humorous. Albus could just imagine Jack ripping the ‘robe of death’ off, setting it on fire, stuffing it into the mouth of whichever slimy codgeball speech-ing, and stomping out.

The humor lasted for a few seconds, then tottered helplessly on its legs and died out. The mention of old ‘family friends’ had that sort of effect on Albus. He responded sharply, unthinkingly, “He’s a family friend. That’s reason enough.” Then closed his eyes and cursed himself to Jupiter and back. Merlin, couldn’t he just have dropped a nice, sweet, innocent white lie of how he was simply a little unsure, and did not have any personal grudges against Neville? Grudge was too strong a word anyway…….he and Neville just…..chafed each other, the wrong way.

But too late, the words had already been said, and no matter how much Albus wished, he couldn’t draw them back from his tongue. A strange, uneasy crawling feeling started in Albus’s chest, somewhere in between his ribs and working up slowly, torturingly, up his sternum and wrapping itself around the base of his throat. Dread. He swallowed dryly, minisculely, mind intent that he shouldn’t drop anything too implicative, and reason stating that it was impossible. “He….I….he doesn’t like some of the things I do. He….caught me doing something which had been better left undone.” There. That wasn’t too bad. ‘Something’ was sufficiently vague enough for Jack to suspect, but not to confirm. The long tentacles of dread loosened their hold over his throat, slightly, but Albus knew one false word could lead them to tighten, into a fatal, choking grip.

Jack was beginning to feel less of the exuberance from the idealistic notion of real action to spur substantial change, as her mind began to consider the weight that would fall upon her own shoulders. She had been the leader of Potter's Army, and she had known responsibility of real leadership; the stress of attempting to organize the beings most opposed to being organised, human beings; she had felt the fear of what could truly happen if she were to fail them. In moving into the ranks of the Order she had felt the frustrations of plans being only plans; she had learned the pangs it took to have proper strategy; she had felt the disappointment of having no moves left but to wait.

Considering all of this, all of this pain and stress and frustration, it was hard to believe that, just moments before, she had hungered for the return of a situation that would surely bring all of this on. When would Jack simply lay down her wand beside her spirit, step away, and step into the peace of retirement from all of this. When, in other words, would she cease to care?

And that was when it struck her. Yes, she was excited. Yes, she was eager. Yes, she was earnest. For what did she have to be excited about, eager for, earnest with anymore? Vito had vanished. Chase was dead. Nemo was gone. Jack no longer had anything to tie herself. Her ropes had been cut from port, so why not race to open water. She no longer had any complications, no greater good, no righteous cause.

Jack was rogue. She felt a tingle of desire over the word. She felt her senses sharpen, her own spirit harden, and Jack began to transform. Compassion and patience trickled from her soul as she hungered for change, for action. Yes, she would lead. She would love too. She would be pleased to vanquish, to destroy.

She had nothing to lose, nothing to gain, but everything to try.

"I can't be our ringleader and in the Wizengamot," she said thoughtfully. "I can't be speaking against the Ministry openly and working among them. I'd be kicked out the moment I got in." This was Jack accepting a public role in this. Hell, bad publicity may even help in this instance and she had more than enough of that. Albus' joke was enough to wrestle a wry grin out of her stone lips. Perhaps it was settled then. If one of them had to infiltrate, he was more even-tempered for the job.

Albus' feelings towards Neville (and all associated through the family) were becoming more and more clear. Her eyebrows raised in surprise but she said nothing, allowing them to slowly droop back to their normal position as she watched him. He was struggling with something - how easy it had become to sense these things. It was not even that though. Jack's own Empathetic abilities stirred a recognition of feelings inside her to clue her in to the feelings of those she found herself somehow connected with. And she could feel the shades of fear, shame, and resentment creeping from another source than her own heart.

He continued on, and Jack decided against pressing him. He had not pressed her, only accepted her need to speak. She nodded, before saying, "You know.. surprisingly, some people disagree with my own actions. Like protecting murderous poltergeists, and trusting werewolves, and defying orders to kidnap people you care about." She said this all dryly, mechanically. "But, you know.... F*ck caring about the things people don't like about you."

She would never again make the mistake of caring about what people thought again.

Albus had never seen someone......light up before. Like a light bulb. Yes, that was it. Light up like a Muggle light bulb.

Because that was what Jack just did. She was drooping before, at the mention of leading, stepping up, taking constructive action. Extremely unlike her. Or rather, extremely unlike the image of Jack that Albus had built up in his mind. But something seemed to have changed her mind. She was practically vibrant with energy, enthusiasm was oozing out of her pores. This seemed rather dysfunctional to Albus, considering what she was not even a minute before. In fact, her rapid mood changes seemed to hint strangely towards bipolar behavior. But Jack never had seemed like the stable kind. Like a weathercock really, turning here and there in the wind, but in the end sticking to what she willed to do. Albus was more of the ship's anchor, deeply grounded and unshakeable, but not being able to move forward either.

Inspite of the fair warning Albus had received in form of Jack's lightened behavior, his eyebrows still reached his hairline when she agreed. Without reluctance. Happily, even. She was actually agreeing to be the spokesman, agreeing without any reservations to expose herself to the dungbombs of accusations, rumours and insults that the Ministry and Prophet would surely lob her way. "Gryffindork." His lips shaped the word, barely enough breath exiting them to make it audible.

And her logic was perfectly sound. There was no possible way in which she could insult, and be part of the Ministry, all at once. Which only left.......him. To infiltrate the Ministry, speak sugar-coated words to tunnel a way in, and play the part of the perfect politic: two-faced. A Ministry supporter on the outside, and a rebel within. Without realising it, soft, smooth and languidly, what felt suspiciously like a smirk unfurled on Albus's lips. He knew it looked different on him, hell it made him feel different. He felt poised, perfect, in control. He felt worthy. Hadn't he been doing this all his life after all? Say something he didn't mean, do something he didn't want, project emotions not his own. All that was required of him now was to duplicate it in a bigger setting: the Ministry. He hardly recognized the voice that left his throat, it actually sounded confident, assured. "Leave the Wizengamot to me."

Of course, the Fates hated him too much to allow him to actually feel like a cocky Potter, just this once. Jack drew the topic back to Neville, and the dread came back with a vengeance. Tighter and tighter it wrapped around him, till Albus felt he could barely breathe. Anytime now......anytime........

She asked nothing. Nothing. Nothing at all. Albus blinked, rapidly. Again, and again, and again. She was.....supporting him. Albus released a breath so tightly ensconced in his chest, that the motion of pushing it out of his throat hurt, badly. He felt deliriously lighter. "Strangers can do the salsa with the Devil in hell, for all that I care. But when its family who don't like the things about you, it takes a hell of a lot of indifference to push it away. And when one day, their opinions stop reaching your ears, you realise that by pushing their opinions away, you've pushed them away. When people stop projecting judgments, it means they stop caring. I don't know what's worse. The opinions. Or the indifference."

A sterile pause.

"Wait..........murderous....what?"

Jack had now reconciled everything in her own mind and a relaxed expression fell onto her features. She saw Albus mouth the word Gryffindork which, if she remembered right, had always been Albus' term of endearment for her Housemates. She smirked at the word but said no more.

He had seen her side of the Wizengamot issue, it seemed. She could see him patiently thinking the matter over before responding. She felt a it of relief trickle into her simply from the five words he responded with. She felt her shoulders droop a little and she nodded. She could much easily move forward if she did not have to resign her to a life she had already forced herself to be apart of in the past. And the determination and power Albus spoke with as he said those words- it was enough to give her confidence in having a worthy partner.

Jack knew about family turning their back on you, disagreeing with your very being. Her parents had still not come to accept her differences as a witch, and her brother thought her so utterly changed as to be unable to call her sister. Lately, Jack had finally learned through the small reconciliations with her father that families could learn to exist despite disagreements of heart.

"There's ways around it." Jack sighed. "It takes... igonorance. Decide to ignore what bothers you about those you should care for, and it enables you to care for them. Some call that wrong. Others call it loyalty. I say tomato, tomato."

She shook her head at his hesitant question and sighed. "Now, I've already said way more than I wished to say today. You're not getting any more heartfelt confessions out of me tonight."

A small, almost inaudible chuckle escaped Albus's lips. Tomato. Jack was no stranger to family problems, he was well aware of the fact. He was in a ditch, draggled, exhausted, unable to move forward. And she was in an even bigger one. Could this be it? This ...rebellion, could it really be the answer to both their problems? Could it be a new purpose in life, a fresh start? Or in Albus's case, his first start to something bigger? Could change come?

His eyes flicked sideways, to the woman standing beside him. An hour previous, she was an acquaintance, a friend of his brothers. And now, a partner-in-crime in planning a revolution to obliterate the Ministry. Change. He had his answer.

Yes. Hell, yes.

Jack refused to explain her comment about murderous...whatever, and Albus felt a faint sense of relief pervade through his senses. "Thats alright. Any more secrets, and I could honestly start doubting your character." Frankly, he didn't think he could handle another confession of secrets right now either. His resolve to keep his own, held securely and tightly to his breast, might just buckle. And co-plotter or no, Albus intended to take his secrets to the grave.

But a side-effect of her refusal, was the awkward silence currently prevailing in the room after his joking comment. Albus threw his mind here and there in search for a topic of conversation, something worthwhile to say, but came up blank. Truth could not be denied. They were a Slytherin and a Gryffindor who had been thrown together by circumstances, confessions, and no doubt found themselves co-founders of a Ministry mutiny. But they were also people who had merely exchanged pleasantries in the past, and had no meaningful conversations. So in wake of one, Albus for the life of him could not figure out anything to say.

"So...I uhm...I guess I should get going." Albus scuffed the end of his shoe on the threadbare carpet, eyes avoiding Jack. "I'll....owl you to discuss the...ah, plans." He turned away awkwardly, took a step or two, then paused near the door. "Take care." And with those two murmured words, Albus Potter descended the steps of Jack Dyllan's home and walked out.

Jack smiled at Albus' words, though it was more of a small grimace than anything close to a smile. He did not want to hear it - what a welcome change from those who pried, from those who wanted to delve into her demons to try and drive them out. So many people looked at her and saw the brokenness and so desperately wanted to fix. Few people looked at her in all her broken glory and thought it best to leave her as is. It was reassuring, for once, to just be left the hell alone.

Jack did not like that she had spilled all that had plagued her, but it had been welling. Better to spout it to one, then spill it to many. She felt very strange, very empty, now that her secret had been heard. It made the whole situation seem very far away - made Nemo seem as though he were laid to rest. She didn't really like it, but that hardly seemed important now.

They slipped into awkward, strained silence. Perhaps if they had been in their school age years, it would have been better. Jack always had a joke back then at her disposal. A joke, a prank, an anecdote - she had never been known to be serious nor silent. But sixteen year old Jack and nineteen year old Jack were vastly different people. She was almost sure they were incompatible. And new Jack was much too serious to try and attempt to resuscitate a dead conversation.

Albus was the one to excuse himself. Jack had found herself staring at a corner in the wall, her mind far from here. She heard his words and nodded numbly, before saying, "Right." The word clanged loudly in her skull, seeming much closer than she was to the scene. He told her to take care and she slowly looked up, saying, "You too." But by the time she had, he had already left.

Leaving her to her broken kingdom, wondering if it was possible to rule it alone.