it's hard for me to say ... you're happy without me

Molly Weasley had decided to go down to the kitchens. It was a stretch of her legs, an exercise in futility, just something to do while she sorted out the strange feelings finally making themselves known, after years of silence and denial. Molly had never left a party prematurely, unless she was on the arm of a new companion. Molly was a ride or die girl would stay to see the party to the end, to watch the full arc of hedonism resolved into mingled regret and confusion. It was sort of her thing.

But she could not stay a moment longer.

On her way down, she passed Apollo speaking to Violet, but she stopped for neither, still trying to decide how she was to handle this strange sense of disapproval brewing in her. She knew she'd have to reconcile it soon, or at least attempt to understand it, as Apollo was in her first class on Monday.

The elves were surprised to see her, as she had made the trip only once before in her time at the school, but she requested a dinner roll, needing some bread in her system to soak up at least some of the toxins she had willingly put into her body. The elves obliged and she ate it thoughtfully, preferring the solitude of the kitchen to the risks that waited in the hallway. Her eyes closed. What she would give to be in bed.

But soon she was leaving, thanking the elves, and climbing back up the staircases, the Ravenclaw tower on her mind.

And that was when Ace Longbottom came storming past.

"Ace?"

The blonde had just reached the top of the stairs and came to a complete halt, eyes lifting to meet Molly's. Molly's lips, so usually locked into that unmovable line, twitched downward, because this wasn't an Ace she recognized. There was something distressing behind the girl's eyes, almost a look of nausea. She had never seen Ace wear any sort of weakness so openly.

And, of course, the Hufflepuff's face went stony, the muscles in her cheek shimmering as she clenched her jaw, and she dropped her gaze, quickly taking to the stairs. Molly drew out of her path and turned to watch her step onto the landing, turning immediately on her heel without a second look, seemingly headed for the Hufflepuff common room.

Molly forced herself to keep going, and there was something cold and sharp building in the pit of her stomach, needling her insides, sending little shock waves up her spine. When was the last time she had felt so unsettled? When was the last time she had felt so...  so affected?

She rounded a corner and saw Christian Zabini walking her way, concern etched on his face. She faltered, almost coming to a stop, and felt that needling feeling rise to her throat. But her legs kept moving, and her face was stoic as ever, and before his lips could even form the question, she was saying, "Common room, I think."

And she wanted to say something else. That she knew about Charlotte. That she had encouraged the other Ravenclaw into something she wouldn't have if she had understood the context. That his brother was obviously not handling solitude well. That Margo was being an asshole.

But she kept walking. Thinking of her bed. Burning for a cigarette.

Ace wasn't sure she was breathing.

She had moved quickly through the castle, not running, but her feet moved like she was being pursued by some creature in the dark, that prickly feeling at the back of her legs growing, reminiscent of childhood nights spent darting from the bathroom to her bedroom late at night, quietly frightened of the shadows, her familiar home turned unfamiliar with the inclusion of fear. That's how she felt now. As though what was once familiar was not distorted and strange, bearing teeth and ill will.

Her hands fumbled as she slipped into the common room, hands shaking for some unknown reason. And then she took in a breath.

Right. She hadn't been breathing.

The common room was now completely empty. The younger students must have turned in early, and that thought was more than a little tempting for Ace. She made her way to her dorm, starting as she stepped through and saw two of her dormmates, one crying about some guy named Colin as the other rubbed her back. Ace's face clouded and she crossed to her bed, snatching up her book bag and turning back around. Right.

As she entered the common room, it felt less welcoming than it had ever felt before. She was finding that she hadn't even really wanted to be in her dorm. Ace sat at a table, taking her books and papers out with clumsy hands, eyes not quite seeing as she finally recognized the pang deep inside her.

She wished she was at home.

It was stupid, she told herself, quill waiting on parchment for her mind to command it to work. What would home do for her? Hannah would fret and fuss, Neville wouldn't know quite what to do. Frank could have probably been the most helpful, tempting her into some argument to make her feel more like herself. Because she didn't feel like herself at all. She was starting to think she might actually be ill. Her blood was cold, her limbs hollow and shaking, her throat had closed, something welled in it that she didn't quite trust herself to dislodge.

And why.

People threw parties. She didn't go to them. And, like it or not, but people kept secrets. She couldn't be bitter just because she had no secrets to keep.

Maybe she did. She didn't know. She didn't know anything anymore.

People were more trouble than they were worth. Meeting her grandparents had inspired this sense of duty that had only caused her problems. Before last year, she had been content to worry about herself. She had been a pain then, but she hadn't extended any sort of sense of responsibility towards anyone else. But now she had. Disliked as she was, annoying and ignored, she wanted to make sure her classmates were safe to pursue whatever they wanted, safe from intrusion from external, harmful forces.

A party should have been proof that she was doing well. That these kids were able to be kids. That she had kept them safe so far.

But why wasn't she allowed to be young and happy and just... just...

Normal.

Her eyes came into focus and she dropped her head, heart pounding in her throat. One hand smoothed over her parchment, while the other waited, still poised. She still hadn't written anything.

Her hand twitched on the paper, slowly curling into a helpless little fist.

* [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.]

Christian didn't expect to find Molly on the way downstairs, but when he did it threw him off completely. Why was everyone looking like someone had kicked their owl? Molly was incredibly difficult to read, even on a good day, though. Perhaps he was reading into it because of his own concerns. But he gave her a grateful nod, picking up his feet a bit higher as he moved more quickly down the stairs.

He just didn't understand why she hadn't told him. If Ace had wanted to come with him, she could have. Granted, he understood that she probably didn't want to deal with Apollo. Nobody seemed to want that anymore. And while Christian had tried to help in bringing Apollo along to the party, that had been a horrible mistake. Clearly.

Once he reached the lower levels and descended into the basement, he hesitated at the door for a moment, unsure why he was so nervous to know how Ace was doing. But when he gave the portrait their password and stepped in, he spotted her instantly. Merlin.

He strode across the room, crouching down beside her chair. One hand went to the edge of the table and the other aimed for the back of her chair and his gaze searched for any injury as he looked up at her. "Ace. Alice, what's wrong? Nicole said you were sick. I-I left as soon as I heard."

Hating how easily he'd let the whole thing out, Christian finally tried to let his shoulders relax now that he could actually see her and know that she wasn't - at least externally - hurt in some way. Plus, it actually felt great to know that despite their tenuous attempts at understanding what was going on, Charlotte hadn't even tried to stop him when he took off to help Ace. If she had done, he probably would not have handled it well.

Even so, he didn't reach for Ace directly, despite wanting to. Whatever this was seemed much worse than how he'd behaved at Christmas, much worse than how he had felt. And she so rarely showed any vulnerability that he just didn't know what to do. So he waited, hoping she wouldn't be mad at him again for asking.

He always tracked her down.

She should have risked the dorms, dealt with the sobs from her dormmate, taken a sleeping draught and left this all behind so she didn't have to stew in it. Her mind was left to chase after every thought that popped into her head, and she kept throwing up walls, refusing to pursue them because that was all just too much right now. She knew what happened when she got overemotional. It was why she had needed Christian to grab her that night behind the tree, force her to stop and think before she got herself hurt.

She had never been that close to, well, anyone. Not intentionally. Not when she wasn't threatening someone with something. She had never let someone hold her in place. Had never trusted the way she did with him.

Why was her heart beating out the word betrayal? She had just talked to him about how he had more friends than her, why that was exactly why she had recruited his help.

She remembered the library, how she had not been able to figure out what was wrong and had played ignorant, and how hurt he had been. But if she hadn't understood her feelings then, she was even farther from understanding now. Back then it had been a simple case of feeling slighted. And as much as she tried to tell herself that that's all it was now, insecurity at feeling left out, she knew that wasn't the case.

Her eyes met his, and she swallowed.

"I just... realized I wasn't in the mood for a party."

She forced her hand to at least write her name on the paper, hoping to make it look like she really had been planning on working on homework, her eyes flickering back to the paper as her insides squirmed.

She didn't look at him. And it was almost an accusation when she said it, her uncertainty scrambling to cover up her hurt. "You can tell me things, you know. Rather than hide stuff. I mean, it's your life. I don't care. But you can tell me things."

Christian firmly understood the feeling that she expressed as far as the party was concerned. In no way had he expected things to go well, and certainly hadn't anticipated the way the night ended up - this not included. Actually, even with this mixed in there. The point, really, was that he usually didn't like going, but look at what had happened because he did! He'd gotten her to say yes, when she could've said no. So now he just had to make sure not to mess it up.

He was halfway ensconced in thoughts about the next day and that weekend, once he realized she wasn't feeling quite right. But wait. Nicole had said Ace looked sick.

Opening his mouth to make sure she didn't need to go to the infirmary or anything, he stopped himself when she went on, thinking she might clarify. And boy, did she. He just didn't know why it was being brought up now. Had she seen them together at the party? Surely she knew he would've told her if he'd thought anything was going to actually happen.

Apparently not.

His arm fell from the back of her chair and he let his expression retreat back into one that was generic and bland, just like hers. She didn't care? Then what was all of that mess at Christmas? Guilt? Or- Or.. Well, he couldn't think of anything else. Pity, maybe. Which wasn't what best mates were supposed to feel. Empthay, certainly. Sympathy at the least. But.. what was this?

And his night had been going so well... Figures. Maybe this was how Apollo felt.

He ran his tongue over his top teeth, his frustration hidden behind closed lips and a glance down at the floor. He swallowed hard, physically biting his tongue to keep from responding like he wanted to. No question had been asked. He didn't have to answer. Veritaserum or not.

So he stood, stepping back and straightening up like he hadn't just been concerned out of his mind a few moments before. And then, whoops, he said it anyway.

"Then I suppose you won't care that I've asked Charlotte to go on a date with me this weekend. I wasn't hiding it from you, though. I didn't think she could ever like me," he confessed helplessly. Of course Charlotte shouldn't have. She was always distant and standoffish and different because she wanted to be. Not in a mean way, weirdly, but almost in a sad way. At least, he saw it that way.

"But hey, what does it matter? What is it you think I hid from you? That I like her? It wasn't something I actively thought about. Or do you think we've been up to something and you never knew? Because trust me, I had no idea she was interested." He shook his head, looking away before he really lost it. "You want me to tell you things, Ace? Maybe you should stop acting so bloody surprised any time someone else shows interest in hanging out with me."

This was it, though, wasn't it?

When Christian had come out of that closet (and no, she wasn't going to make things worse by imaging what had happened inside) there had been a grin on his face quite unlike anything she had ever seen on his face. She had thought the happiest she had ever seen him had been on Christmas day, but even that had been mingled with doubt and concern, and a little bit of what looked like an apology - always bloody apologizing. But she had remembered feeling an unfamiliar swell within her at having helped conjure that, glad to give her friend the Christmas he deserved.

But it was nothing like the smile on his face when he left the closet.

No, the expression Ace was best at causing him was this look of mingled hurt and concern. She had done a spectacular job of it, recently. And it all seemed the worse because she never broke her own scowl, never let him know when he had done the same to her, or when someone else had. So she was always the bad guy and she knew she could change that if she just Gryffindor-ed up.

Date.

Of course.

She felt something inside of her shutting down, and she didn't move her eyes from her paper, continuing to write out a sentence (that upon later review would make no sense) the pressure from her hand causing the ink to blot as she went. She could see him out of the corner of her eye, and she could hear the anger in his voice. And she wanted to scream at him.

He couldn't see how Charlotte could have liked him?

He really was an idiot. No, really, Reader. The term had always been levied at him with the same weight it held for everyone else, because for every Know-It-All there was a world of idiots, but Christian might have been one of the few for whom the term was sometimes fond, because she knew there were things even he was more clever at than she was. But if he really couldn't see how frustrating Waldorf was, and if he really couldn't see why Charlotte was helpless to him, that he was a goddamn idiot.

Ace wanted to freeze him out, to ignore him and not dignify anything with a response. But as his accusations built, so did her anger, and finally she turned her head to meet his gaze. "Oh, shove off. I've never been surprised, Christian. We'd never have a chance to rebuild PA without you, because everyone wants to be your friend. I'm the creep that no one tells about a party because I'm guaranteed to ruin it, and you're the one everyone wants to jump into a closet with so- I just- whatever, okay? I'm not your boss. Have fun on your date. Just don't forget we're supposed to talk to some people about joining that day."

Always so damn stoic. He had learned to expect nothing less - and nothing more, really - despite firmly believing that he'd let Ace in farther than he'd ever wanted to. What good were friends when the one person he wanted around could never not be angry at him? This whole Charlotte thing couldn't have happened at a better time, it seemed, because at least with her he could just be himself and he could rest assured, now, that she wanted to be there.

So yeah, maybe Ace had a point. But he couldn't stand the way she said it. She was angry now, he knew that. And yet she sat there like nothing in the world could make her get up, or do anything besides exactly what she wanted. Including him. Good to know he was just like everybody else. Christian figured he'd just have to work on reminding himself of the fact.

Why had he even gone with her at Christmas? Apollo and Lily could've shoved off for all he cared.

That wasn't true. But he would've been just fine at the Leaky, so she darn well should've left him there if whatever he'd done had led to whatever this was. And for once - because he actually couldn't remember ever being mean on purpose before - Christian let himself be vindictive. And maybe it was the Veritaserum or maybe he'd just been aching to feel like he was worth something to her, only to find out that his worth came into play when she needed him to get to other people.

"I sure as hell wouldn't want you as my boss. But I did think you felt I was worth more to you than membership growth in your club. And y'know what, you might just be right. Lux, of all people, practically chatted me up earlier. And-- I'm not sorry I left that party but Merlin knows what could've happened if I'd stayed. Heaven forbid I actually became friends with her. If you're so mad about me being around other people, maybe you should just go back in there and make them like you. Like, Merlin, Ace. You could, you know. You could."

He threw his hands up and turned away, only to whip back around to look at her again.

"Nobody in that f*cking room deserves you. Not one of them. And I know you know that. I just didn't realize you were grouping me in with them."

And then, because something in his chest was burning and he thought his stomach might actually turn over, Christian turned away and headed for the stairs to his dorm.

It was a night of firsts. That smiling, happy Christian, Christian with butterflies in his stomach. And this frowning, livid Christian, Christian with venom in his voice. Ace wasn't one to shirk away from a confrontation, he knew that. It was why he so often diffused her, and the fact that she spent almost every day with him without an explosion of this magnitude yet was a testament to his understanding of her. He was the exception. The person who she didn't piss off with her very existence, the person who could talk her down, the person that knew 90% of her threats were just ways of saying 'you were right.'

But maybe he didn't know that.

Had they fooled themselves? Was that possible? Had she been so foolish as to overestimate exactly what he meant to her, and what she meant to him? He wasn't just her best friend. He was her only friend. And even if she had a castle full of friends, the way he did, he'd still be her best friend. Quite by accident, she had lined up behind the person she appreciated most.

And she had trusted him to run Potter's Army.

She had thought... after Christmas... maybe he'd understand what that sacrifice, what giving him what she had always felt was rightfully hers, really meant.

There was a metallic taste in her mouth, and she realized she was biting down on the sides of her cheeks, and one of them had cracked. She released them, ignoring the taste of blood. "If you're so mad about me being around other people, maybe you should just go back in there and make them like you."

Oh, for fuck's sake.

"I can't do that!" she snapped. "You could, you know." "No, I can't, you know I-" "You could."

She clamped her mouth shut, and now there was something other than anger on her face. A note of disbelief, a fraction of hurt. And for once, Ace Longbottom looked the way she was terrified of looking. Some insecure, stupid teenager.

Because, no. She really couldn't.

But he was walking away, and probably hadn't seen it, thank god. And he turned back, looking angry, and she forced a frown on her face to banish that look of weakness, drawing her eyebrows downwards in a challenge. Because she'd much rather him see that version of her than the other. If he knew she could break down and be just like everyone else in that room - an uncertain, self-conscious teenager - he'd stop looking at her like she could save the world.

He was walking away, and his words would have meant more if she didn't know he was just saying them to placate her, to make her feel less like an outsider. She stood, and her chair fell to the ground at the sudden movement. "When have I ever grouped you in with everyone else?!" Ace all but yelled after him. "I didn't call a meeting and take a vote - I went to you! I swallowed my pride, asked Frank for a favor, and found you to ask you for help! Just- Just..." She was forgetting why they were fighting. Because what could she really say? She was mad at him because everyone else hated her? She was mad at him for... being happy with Charlotte? She was mad at him because she suddenly felt all alone?

She crossed her arms over her chest, and the tone of accusation was back in her voice, despite the reassurances her other words might have given. "Just don't let this mess up Potter's Army. I have a really bad feeling that things are going to get bad and we have to stay focused."

You say that it's hard to commit to it,
You say that it's hard standing still..


He spun around because of the sound of that chair crashing into the floor. Not because he could feel her glare on his back or anything. Definitely not that. Because that would mean that he knew just how aware of her he was, at all times. And when he actually looked at her, his mouth fell open a bit, his breath escaping him.

She was alive in a way he'd never seen before, all because they were tearing each other apart. What sort of friends did that make them?

Hurt, confusion and regret all took turns altering his features, until he had no choice but to look down at the floor. "It's fine," he told her, voice stiff and distant and nothing like it usually was around her. His hands found his waist, trying to find some sort of strength to do this. "I can turn it off, too. You want to know the truth?"

He asked, lifting his chin again and leveling her with a gaze that clearly expressed his discomfort and fear. Of what, he wasn't sure he trusted himself to say. Mainly because he didn't know what would come out.

"Truth is, I don't care about anybody the way I care about you. And I can prove it. See-- At that party, the girls got ahold of Veritaserum," he explained, nodding slowly as he spoke, as if it could convince him to get the words out, when really he had no choice. "And we all took it. None of what happened tonight would've happened if I hadn't been there. Or if you had. And, y'know... I'm not gonna let the PA die. But right now? I'm done with this, Ace. Seriously.

"I don't know what you imagined we'd get out of arguing all week, but I also can't see how any of this is my fault. Maybe it is. But I don't want to deal with it anymore."

One hand lifted in a vague attempt at a gesture, but it just turned into a disappointed, one-armed shrug. "I'm done."

Did she want to know the truth? Please. This was Ace Longbottom, the Harbinger of Justice, the Bringer of Righteousness, a Warrior for Honesty. She was the one that had uncovered the truth about Ilvermorny, had demanded transparency from their Ministry - all pleas that fell on deaf ears, but still pleas for the facts. Did Ace Longbottom want the truth?

No.

No, she didn't.

She wanted him to say that he had been forced into the closet with Charlotte Waldorf and that smile was because they had talked about how stupid it was they were even there and that was that. She wanted him to say that he had tried to go find her, just to invite her, knowing she'd say no anyway, but had been stopped every time. She wanted him to say he felt bad, that he heard she had been working in the library all day until her hands hurt and her eyes stung and he appreciated it. She wanted him to... Merlin, she wanted him to tell her to calm down and that there was nothing to be worried about.

So, no. She didn't want the truth.

But she was going to get it.

"I don't care about anybody the way I care about you."

Her eyes couldn't leave his, as much as she wanted them to. What did that even mean? Her breath had caught in her throat and she didn't know why she felt like she was in such suspense, because wasn't there just caring and not caring? That's how it had always been for her. Until him. Until he brought levels of favor and levels of frustration. Because being frustrated with him was very different from being frustrated with anyone else. And caring about him existed on a level that it didn't with anyone else. It should have been black and white, and it should have been reassuring.

"None of what happened tonight would've happened if I hadn't been there. Or if you had." And he wouldn't have wanted that, right? He was happy with the way things had turned out. She would have just gotten in the way.

Truth was. He was done.

She wasn't breathing. Really, she wasn't breathing. Because this was the worst thing. This was the worst scenario. He didn't want to deal with it. Like everyone else. And he thought she was the one putting him with everyone else?

Maybe she needed to stop looking for the acceptance she so obviously didn't deserve. It was her fault. She had fought with him. So much. And she wasn't surprised. Just disappointed.

"Okay."

She turned and picked up the chair, closing her book with a snap and shouldering the strap on her bag. She was panicking, and her brain was screaming at her, don't leave it like this, don't leave it like this. You can't lose hi-

She turned in the archway that led to the girl's dormitory. "Christian." The book hung loosely at her side, the other hand reaching up to hold onto the strap. She glanced down as she said, "Let's just pretend I never came to the party. You can tell me about it, or not, later. And..."

Please don't give up on me.

"Sorry I keep fighting with you. I'll stop." She turned on her heel and headed for her dormitory, clenching her teeth and ducking her head. Because she had to have a set jaw and dry eyes, and she had to practice an indifferent look when Charlotte sat with them at meals, and she had to keep making plans, and try to forget the look of relief on her classmates when she had left the party, and forget Christian's smile. Because he was her friend. Her only friend, and her best friend. But still just her friend. And she had to stop expecting so much.

And that was truth.