been there, done that

[Deleted]

860| will | boom.

I ain't, I ain't coming back, I've already been there done that. And I'm done with you messing with my mind; the last time's the last time baby. I can only change who I am so much, and all I can give is all my love, and my love ain't never been enough. So I ain't coming back, I've been there done that.

It was cold. Even for February, it was cold. The snow fell by the foot and the winds whistled and kicked up bits of ice, chilling anyone who dared to set foot outside straight to the bone. Carrera wouldn't be surprised if she exhaled and the entire cloud turned to a thousand shards of ice and tumbled to the ground with a festive twinkling sound. However, none of these things stopped Carrera from venturing outside into the evening. On the contrary, the temperature was almost encouraging: the cold was the only thing that seemed to soothe her scars when they began to burn.

It had been long enough now that Carrera had gotten used to at least the look of them. There were several on her back, a long set trailing over her left shoulder, but they no longer ached, and they were no longer an angry red. They were a shadow of what they had been, now silvery white even against her pale skin, and the only time she really noticed them was when they began to burn ever so slightly at the coming of the new moon. Much to her pleasure, the cold seemed to take away the sting. Past that, the only mark of the attack that she bore was the fact that she now preferred her steaks a rare blue, and that was manageable after a few tries.

Carrera wound her scarf around her neck to protect the delicate skin from the bitter air. It was warm and soft, but she shivered at the thought of the attack nonetheless. It was not so much what had happened to her that lingered with her, nor the wounds she had sustained. Those had been quick heals. No, what bothered her the most was the reason that she was alive rather than a werewolf or dead. That reason was named William O'Neill, and the only reason she was standing here as she was was because he had been present as an agent of the Dark Lord. That did not sit well in the deepest parts of her.

She nearly sighed with instant relief as she stepped outside. This was exactly what she needed. Perhaps the cold evening air would even clear her head.

It would have been a lie if she said that she wasn't grateful for what he had done. Hell, in the moment, her heart had damn near stopped in its tracks: her first love come to save her, the stuff you only saw in fairy tales. Some people might say that it was the most romantic thing they'd ever heard, so sickly sweet that it could nauseate you if you thought about it too long. On the other hand, he had not been there by chance, and Merlin only knew what he had done that night, who he had hurt while he was there. That thought alone was enough to turn her stomach. So even though she knew she owed him for the fact that she was still breathing, she couldn't forgive the other cards in the hand that had been dealt.

How different would things be if Will had never brought up joining the Death Eaters, if he'd never disappeared that night? It was the question that seemed to haunt her more often as of late than she would like to admit. She had been in love with him, certainly. And when he left, her heart had been broken. The hurt healed with time, only for him to pop back into her life and make her heart soar and feel the cold stabs of jealousy, both feelings completely unbidden and unwanted. As much as she hated to admit it, there was a piece of her that he would always possess. Was that love? She was inclined to say no, not when other parts of her felt so angry and frustrated and hateful. But the feelings that she had recently been experiencing at his hands were far too strong to ignore, to simply push under the rug. And that was the biggest problem for her.

The fact he was on her mind made it all the more ironic as she felt that familiar tingly-being-watched feeling on the back of her head as she sat down on one of the few benches clear of snow. A sardonic smile slipped onto her features as she spoke outloud. To any passerby, she might have looked like she was talking to herself. But Carrera knew he was there. He always showed up when she least expected it. "Figures that you would show up," she breathed, shaking her head from side to side. This was a conversation that she was not particularly looking forward to, mostly because she had no desire to talk to him at this point in time. She didn't know what there was to say, what she could say. Thanks for saving my life while you probably slaughtered innocents? Oh yes, that would be the perfect way to keep from starting a scene. She pressed her lips together, waiting for him to show his face. He never could resist torturing her with his presence, it seemed..

Template by Lis.

[Deleted]

1831| Carra | boom back. Also, totally did not just steal your template <3

You, you’re everything I want. And I, I’m everything you need. This night is cutting into me…And we risk everything tonight\\ I, I am the misery you crave. And you, you are my faithful enemy. This hunger seems to feed on me. A sacred sin, a dying breed.

Music was the only indication that Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour was not abandoned utterly these days. Tonight it flowed from the partially closed doors and windows; haltingly, momentarily off key, sometimes with random pauses in between, but it flowed. The Weird Sisters had made it their home and haunting grounds, performing several live shows from the spacey halls since they first “moved in.” They took the occasional big event to keep their pouches comfortably jingling with galleons, but opted for their smaller shows more often. The arrangement kept smiles on their faces, whiskey in their goblets, and fans (mostly female) hanging off the doorbell. Only their new lead singer seemed to be capable of finding unhappiness amidst this merry affair.

Most of the band sat out on their makeshift sound stage, hunched over their instruments, wands pointed with one hand while the other made manual tuning, completely engrossed in their melodic trade. William O’Neill’s instrument could not be tuned with wand and hand, so he awaited practice sessions as always; he was vocals, after all. His usual corner was empty, for tonight he lurked in a side room, wrestling the darkest of thoughts while his bandmates worked, joked, and laughed in the warm hall lights outside.

Scattered across his desk were documents and forms pertaining to a Hunstman position with the Ministry. Will by no means needed a second job, but his recent involvement at the siege on Hogsmeade revealed to him another passion and possible talent. Though his attempt to capture the werewolf Lupin was unsuccessful at the Siege, despite the remarkable assistance of Jackson Archer, Will had developed an acute interest in recounting their showdown with the beast. His fascination deepened as he went over the scenario, every detail as best he could, and spotted ways they may have succeeded. How better to confirm these theories than in practice? The Ministry contacted Huntsmen to retrieve and subdue dangerous magical creatures almost daily, given the current atmosphere in the wizarding world. In truth, they preferred aurors, hitwizards and the like, but he was confident his NEWT qualifications would at least get him sanctioned for a short term training course, making him eligible for hire. It would be the ideal outlet for his current frustrations to humanely (but, of course, aggressively) take down beasts, and be seen to be doing so “legally.” The most glorious detail was that it was freelance, hence did not require him to be subject to the deplorable Ministry of Magic entirely. He could get away with pretending to be, and still have his fun.

Tonight, however, not even that thrilling prospect of becoming a Hunstman could distract him from the storm that plagued his thoughts; a storm that cast dreadful shadows to form a woman in his mind, one woman: Carrera Bristow.

His ever adored and ever accursed ex-lover, Will couldn't find peace of mind for long from thoughts of her since the Siege. The memory rolled before his waking mind like some obscene picture show. The air was almost frozen that night, and foul with the stench of blood and ash, and fell with the screams of the agonized, and howls of the ravenous. Will had spent the better part of the night knocking out Ministry cloaks and moving them from the line of fire, while viciously praying he did not encounter a civilian he had to act upon. Fate answered his prayer, and sent him a distraction in the form of Lupin, rogue and ravenous in his bestial form. After a near fight with the beast, aided by Jackson, Lupin managed to escape, but not without leaving Will bruised and sporting a sprained ankle.

More exhilarated than disappointed, he had returned to the fray, duelling with more force, given his painful state. He saw her then, darting about in the chaos that was consuming the village, and suddenly, giddy exhilaration turned to cold fear, and then wrath. He had been told, no, promised, that Carrera was currently consumed in Quidditch business safely in London, and it was thus impossible she would be here tonight. He had confirmed this mere hours before the siege began. His source would pay dearly for their error.

Will followed Carrera as best he could, paying just enough attention to his environment to avoid being slaughtered, but eyes always where she was, and gauging where she was heading. Why was she even here? She had her damned Quidditch, she didn’t need to meddle in this War. He couldn’t even remember a time when she seemed inclined to take a side. Obviously she had changed more than he wished to admit in the two years they’d been apart. ‘Righteous brat is going to get herself feckin’ killed’

Right on cue with this acid thought, she vanished from Will’s line of sight, making him let lose a string of Gaelic swear words, and hexes in succession, blasting persons and objects out of his way as he half ran half limped down alleyways. And there she was again, making his heart stop for all the wrong reasons. A werewolf was at level with Carrera, defenceless with some newfound child in her arms, and the beast closing the distance with inhuman haste. All reason left Will then, and, completely forgetting his magical capabilities, he propelled himself forward, even on the injured ankle, not stopping till he felt the matted fur between his fingers and the hard, muscled form collide with his own. Both creatures, one wild with hunger, the other with rage and fear, struggled, but only briefly, as the icy ground beneath them overpowered them both and brought them toppling down. By some stroke of fortune, Will went down atop the beast, and felt more than heard the sickening crunch as the spine snapped below its head from the contorted angle it smashed down on the ice. Will had struggled to his feet and lingered long enough for his eyes to find Carra’s from beneath his mask, before vanishing as Order members and allies converged on the scene. She had known him them, he knew it.

The whole altercation had lasted a few minutes, but haunted him for days and weeks after, tirelessly. What doubts he had brooded on about the cause he now irrevocably supported were confirmed and cemented the moment he saw the werewolf bearing down on Carrera. She knew he was a Death Eater, and probably guessed he was on site, but not until their eyes met did Will feel the full burden of the reality of the image he had shaped of himself in his first lover’s mind. He couldn’t fathom how much more real it was for her to see him in full Death Easter dress, with a dead werewolf at his feet (one of the very horde his side had unleashed), backed by a chorus of explosions and screams. ‘What have ya become, ya bastard?’

He wasn’t entirely certain what the answer to that question was yet, but he knew the answer did not lie infront of a microphone on the soundstage tonight. “Come on, Will, we can’t win women holed up in our dens, get out here and sing, mate!” With tremendous effort, Will heeded his bandmate’s call and left his fortress of angry indecision, and joined the band on stage. He breathed deeply as the deep strumming of the guitar took him over, signalling the intro to one of the darker song they were planning to cover. Eyes still closed, the lead singer leaned in to the microphone almost sensually, took a breath…but no words followed.

His eyes snapped open, and Will leapt off the stage, heading for the front door amid the surprised and annoyed yells issuing from his bandmates. The drummer, a nimble, amicable lad a few years Will’s senior managed to cover the length of the parlour to catch Will at the door. He alone of the band had some vague idea of their lead singer’s personal life, so guessed where he was heading. Will felt his upper arm gripped, as the drummer began “Will, she can’t-” An arm across his collarbone, slamming him into the wall cut his sentence short, and then a wand at his throat. “ONE MORE WORD,” Will roared, followed by a softer, venomous tone “..one more word, and I’ll blind ya.”

His screamed words still rang in his own ears as Will released the drummer, rage in both their faces, and pure shock in those of the others. Walking out the door, he imagined they’d soon be drinking and signing off his behaviour to his “hot Irish blood,” or they might not. He did not care, presently.

Will knew Carra’s routine, for the most part, aided by assistance from his associate, now more than eager to prove true on his information, after his last slip that missed Carra’s appearance in Hogsmeade, which Will did not waste much time “clarifying.” Tonight, he moved down Diagon Alley in the direction mostly likely to come across her at this hour. After vaulting a few wrought iron fences and propelling himself high up overhangs and lower rooftops, he found his target, and paused to study her for a moment.
Anyone else would probably feel guilty spying on someone so intently, stalking them. For Will, however, it was natural, almost his right to be able to watch Carrera so intently. His heart was pounding, and his mind was unsettled as he felt a tirade of feelings all at once. As ever, he did not know exactly what he wanted, or what to expect, but he knew he needed to see her face, to speak to her. His feelings would fall into place the moment that happened, for better or for worse. ‘Ya know it’s gonna be shite..so what are we waitin’ for? Go say hello.’

With twitch of a smile, Will found his way down to the ground, with a muffled thump as he landed a few paces behind her bench. A fire surged through him as her heard her voice, directing words at him. She knew he was there, and spoke without turning to face him, that irked him. She smelled intoxicating, that irked him more. He stood behind her bench, scanning the quiet, chilly little park she had chosen to stop at. “I didn’t save ya just for you to sit with yer back to the dark alone, Carra. Even on Diagon, ya never know what other beast might be lurkin’, and what its needs might be.”

He slowly leaned down to kiss her cheek then. It was rough, brief, and without warmth. His nostrils flared as he moved back to a standing position behind her. He still couldn’t determine his current state of mind, any more than he could decipher hers. They both knew this crossing of paths would happen, yet now that they were here…what now? “ How’s the child,” he asked, looking down, studying her profile, then, remembering her scars, added “got out without a scratch?”

Template by Lis.

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742 | will | bitter carrera is bitter

You only know what I want you to, I know everything you don't want me to.  Your mouth is poison, your mouth is wine.  You think your dreams are the same as mine.  I don't love you, but I always will.  I don't love you, but I always will.  I don't love you, but I always will.  I always will.

She could hear him standing behind her, close enough that she was sure if she turned around, she would be able to reach out and touch him.  And half of her longed to do just that, to reach out and grab his hand in hers, entwine their fingers the way she had once felt like it always should be.  She longed to pull him to her and let him fold her into his arms and to just stay there.  It would be so easy to do.  She knew he would do it if she asked him to.  There would be no question.

But then the other half of her longed to do the exact opposite of that.  She wanted to strike him, curse him, hex him, repeatedly.  Carrera wanted to hurt him, to make him feel the way that he seemed to have an all-too-uncanny talent for making her feel.  She despised the fact that he was capable of making her feel like that, despised the fact that she let herself feel all of those things, despised the fact that she could not help but let them consume her as of late.  It was frustrating, maddening even.  She couldn't help but wonder if sometimes he did it on purpose.  It wouldn't be the first time he'd done something particularly vindictive or spiteful as of late...

His voice filled the silence of the night air, and she pressed her lips together, a quirky sort of half-smile on her lips.  A sound she now loved and hated.  She couldn't imagine that there was anything about him that she didn't feel that way about, save for his new occupation.  That one she saved a particular brand of hatred for, the kind that made her chest ache and cheeks burn whenever she thought about it.

"Well, I never asked you to save me, so I guess that's a moot point.  You forfeited the right to council me a long time ago, William."  She exhaled through her nose slowly, astounded by the amount of control it had taken to not turn around and spit those words in his face.  He had taken to treating her like a petulant child, always needing to be told exactly what to do and when to do it, lest they misbehave and have to be chided.  Carrera closed her eyes and swallowed hard against the frustration that was rising in her throat, burning her like bile.  The last thing she needed to do was start a scene in the middle of a public park.

Carrera froze as Will leaned down to place an almost mocking kiss on her cheek.  Her lip quivered for but a moment as she fought to steady herself.  It would be so easy to lose herself in the warmth radiating from his body, the smell of his soap, the feel of his skin against her skin.  It would be so easy to lose herself in him, and yet it was the one thing that she would never, in a thousand years, be able to forgive herself for.  And it was for that exact reason, she thought, that it made it so very attractive to ensure that she was not the only one pained by this.  It was a terrible thing to consider, an even more terrible thing to actually do, but she couldn't help it.  He had done unforgivable things, and Carrera needed it to be clear that she could not and would not abide them.

She did not turn when he addressed her next, and it was probably a good thing, too.  She likely would have loosed the mocking laughter that his question had lodged in her throat in the most uncomfortable way.  "The child," she said through clenched teeth, struggling to keep her voice even.  "Made it home without a scratch.  The experience put the fear of Merlin in them, no doubt.  But the child is fine."  Carrera did not like the suspicion she had that William had added that last part of the question as a small jab at her.  Her temper flared as she took a deep breath through her nose, ignoring the burning of the cold air in her lungs.  "Not everyone was so lucky," she said bitterly, the corners of her mouth turning up into a dark smile.  Carrera looked over her shoulder, cocking her head to one side as she looked over William once.  "But I'm sure you knew that already."

Template by Lis.

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497| Carra | have some feels

An error in my genesis, the reason why I started this. Where did we go wrong?// Don't you know, in the end, you're no stronger of hand, you're no stronger of heart. Don't you know, in the end, we'll be tragically torn apart, if we can't control the storm?

Will drank in her words with a cold leer to match hers. He saw them both as deadly predators pitted against each other; hungry and rampant, yet too polite to draw first blood. His kiss, though coldly delivered, still managed to yield a tug of desire for her. Her soft skin was one of the many things he once worshipped about the witch sitting before him. The sting of her reminder at his relinquished right to have influence of her quickly turned the desire to a bitter memory. Will still chuckled, despite himself.

Every inch of her profile and every strained syllable indicated an immense struggle happening behind those fiery eyes of hers. The tension almost radiated between their spaced persons, and he knew there was little chance of this encounter ending quietly or without passion…the less favourable kind.

“I know yer itching to climb up on yer high horse and rain scorn and disgust down at me, Carra. I’d ask ya to save yer breath, I didn’t come here to be lectured and cursed.” Indeed, he still wasn’t sure what he was here for.

Carrera was the only person alive that could trigger his emotions so impulsively, often in favour of rage. She didn’t have to even be present; the mere thought of her was enough to shatter whatever semblance of stability his mind could patch together since he left her those few years ago. His aggression toward his concerned band mate was evidence enough of that. Yet, now that he had acted, and was here next to her, what did he want to happen? To gain her…understanding? Forgiveness? Surely not William O’Neill.

“If you remember me at all, you’ll remember I delighted in a little controlled chaos, but not bloodshed. I didn’t know what was planned ‘til it was too late. A lot of those ministry fools owe their lives to me, believe it or not. Thanks to evil old Will, they got to run back to the mighty Ministry with their tails between their legs. "

He studied her closely as she made reference to her wounds. Once again, he recalled her body perfectly, and remembered a time he was privy to..adoring it privately. Now, however, no thoughts of desire followed this memory, as he imagined the werewolf wounds beneath her clothing. Bitter anger consumed his musings over them. Wrath for the fact that it had happened, wrath for her having been there to begin with, and wrath for his association with the cause.

His eyes flicked back up to meet hers and he peered into them for several moments. “Ya shouldn’t have been there at all. Why did you get involved? I told ya to stay out of it. Stick to yer damn Quidditch. That’s where they told me ya’d be…” Will shifted slightly on his feet as he caught himself a bit too late in his quiet rant. ‘Might have just blown yer cover, lad. Sod it, things can’t get any worse, anyway.’

Template by Lis.

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1019 | will | only if you have some

Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise.  No one compares to you; I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side.  Every time I close my eyes it's like a dark paradise. No one compares to you, I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side.  And there's no remedy for memory; your face is like a melody, it won't leave my head. Your soul is haunting me and telling me that everything is fine. But I wish I was dead.

If it weren't for the fact that it would probably start the most god-awful of arguments, Carrera might have audibly scoffed at Will's words.  "And yet, I just have the funniest feeling," she quipped, licking her lips, the cold air bitter on her tongue.  "That you're here to do just that to me. Lecture and curse."  Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on how you chose to look at it, Carrera had no desire to filter the words that were to fall from her lips tonight, least of all to William O'Neill.  Several times in her life, she had held her tongue, but not tonight.  If he thought that he could show up after such things happened, expecting for her to simply brush it off as if it were nothing, as if he had simply dropped a glass of milk, then he had another thing coming to him.

She pressed her lips together in a thin line as he spoke next, justifying whatever had happened that night.  If she wasn't forcing herself to at least listen to the words coming out of his mouth, she might have gotten up and walked away.  Then again, that wouldn't have ended well either, considering that it was almost certain he would have followed, turning the whole situation into one even messier than this one was guaranteed to already be.  No, this was the better option.  Even if she did want to lay the heel of her hand across the side of his face.

"You can't honestly tell me you didn't even have an inkling about what was going to happen, Will.  What did you expect when you were told to go to the village with all of those other...Death Eaters?" she hissed in a low voice, glancing around to make sure no one else was around to hear the words.  "Certainly you cannot be telling me that you expected to go there and spend the evening giving children puppies and kissing babies.  I don't care if there are people that owe their lives to you, because that's what I would have expected of the Will I used to know.  There is still blood on your hands, William O'Neill.  Do not try to fool yourself into thinking otherwise."

That was the simple truth of it, and Carrera was almost a little surprised that it had come from her so easily.  Perhaps a part of her was still trying to shake some sense into Will, before it was permanently too late.  Then again, it could have been the bitter, angry part of her, seeking to remind him that he was not an innocent, that just because he had joined for his own...political reasons, it didn't mean that he was not guilty of the crimes committed that night.  On the other hand, it was more than difficult to leave out the little detail that her own blood was on his hands.  Oh, wouldn't vocalizing that little delicious detail just send him into an absolute rage?  For a fleeting moment, she was tempted to bring it up.  But it was a subject she didn't wish to talk about more than she had to, if she had to.  It was still rather touchy, if truth be told.  She could accept that it had happened, accept the consequences, but she did not have to be okay with the reason why it had happened.

It was true, Will was the reason that she was alive, breathing, walking, talking.  The reason that the child she had been protecting was alive.  They both would have been dead otherwise.  It would have been one thing, if she had of had proper use of her wand.  But hand to hand, Carrera would have been absolutely no match for the werewolf.  So in that respect, her injuries were rather minor.  She could make due with the scars, the preference for wildly rare meat.  But she was not yet ready to make peace with the fact that the reason she lived was Will.

It seemed that every single time she got closer to pushing him out of her life completely, he had to go and do something that would completely fuck all of those plans up.

Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped when she heard the next words out of his mouth.  She pushed herself up from the bench as she clamped her lips together, the anger and frustration bubbling up in her chest.  He had been keeping tabs on her?  Having her followed?  That was crossing the line. Her fingers curled tightly around his wrist, dragging him behind her without words as she walked toward the forest, only a few hundred feet before them.  The entire way, she said nothing.  Mostly because anything she could think of was laced with more profanities than real, helpful words.

When they were finally in the cover of the trees, away from prying ears, Carrera wheeled around and placed both hands square on his chest, shoving him hard.  "You've been following me?" she half-shrieked.  "Who the hell is they, Will?"  Carrera ran her fingers through her hair, almost too muddled to think properly.  On impulse, she pulled her wand from her coat, jabbing the tip into his chest.  "You better start fuckin' talking Will, because I'm not having this. I'm not having some stranger stalk me and report what I'm doing and where I ate lunch to you.  You start talking now, or I swear to Merlin you'll wish you'd never gotten out of bed this morning." 

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1288| Carra |moar feels!

There’ll be times..when my crimes..seem almost unforgivable. I give in..to sin, but you have to make this life liveable.// And I’ll make it all worthwhile, I’ll make your heart smile.// Strangelove, will you give it to me, will you take the pain I would give to you, again and again, and return it?

Will let her lead him like a naughty child caught in the act; defeated and eyes downcast. His thoughts were consumed in how he could avoid this deteriorating into a screaming match like their encounters tended to become of late. She didn’t know the first thing about how the Death Eaters operated, how binding and absolute submission to the Dark Lord’s will was meant to be. No one could blame her. They both grew up being schooled a world away from England, and heard only snatches and rumours. And even now, he knew she supported the Order, but was not a member as yet (for which he was perpetually thankful), thus not privy to the intricacies of the Enemy. All this considered, he did not fault her for her accusations, even though they burned him utterly. He would not lash out in defense, he must not.

For the first time since he had barged back into Carerra’s life, Will was actively trying to minimize the damage his encounters caused, though he would never admit out loud that was what his mental processes were doing. He pretended it was something subconscious. Impulsive, loose cannon Will, considerate of someone else’s feelings? Preposterous. That brawl and knock about with the werewolf must have addled his brain.

They were suddenly in a patch of forest he had no idea existed near Diagon. A park, more than likely. He hardly ever spent leisure time exploring Wizarding London, so it wasn't surprising he did not know this place. Grunting slightly as she pushed him from herself, he kept his eyes downcast still as she raged at him in the privacy of the clump of trees. He should have checked himself before letting slip that detail. This conversation was going to be challenging enough without her thinking he had her stalked night and day. ‘Tough shit, lad. Best man up and take yer beatings.’

Will would never let anyone else brandish a wand at him ordinarily. Even though it was Carra, he still felt uncomfortable with her threatening stance. If had been anyone else, instinct would have kicked in long before, and seen him sidestepping and countering, whether magically or physically. Yet there he stood, eyes travelling down the wood of the wand pointed at his chest, his tongue briefly touching his upper row of teeth in a thoughtful manner. Will’s mind strayed briefly to Carra’s duelling prowess. She had always been good (though, he was better, he thought), and had presumably improved since they were a couple. From that thought an unexpected pang of reality once again struck, over the thought that, had he not gone down the path he choose, duelling would be one of the countless other activities they would still be doing together to this day.

His nostrils flared and his eyes snapped up in anger at this unwelcome reflection, and Will sidestepped her wand and caught hold of her wielding arm by the wrist in one fluid motion, gripping her shoulder with his other hand firmly but gently, and backing her up into the nearby tree. Will’s eyes bore down into hers, marvelling as ever at the passion in them, despite that passion being wrath directed at him. She was irresistible, even given the circumstances. He wanted nothing more than to press his lips to hers in a fiery kiss. Yet he didn’t. William “do as I please” O’Neill denied himself and let her go in a growl of frustration, stalking off a few feet away.

“Why do ya fight me at every turn, Carra?! You make this harder than it already feckin’ is.” Will struggled to keep his voice low and even, with varying success, and a fair amount of gritted teeth. Breathing hard, he turned to face her again. “I had NO idea what was going to happen, the same way YOU have no idea what goes on with…us. We learn things on a need to know basis; moments before, and meant to act immediately and without question. I went knowing what would happen, and did what I could to minimize the slaughter, nothing more.” Will had also tried to capture the werewolf Lupin and failed, but, in truth, that was not planned, and a rather unexpected opportunity.

He mulled over the memory of the instant he received word of the Dark Lord’s plan, and how apprehension, resolution, then fear had gripped him in quick succession. Apprehension for what would play out, resolution that he had little choice but to join, and fear for the possibility that Carrera might be there. This last sensation gripped him stronger than the others, and, even as he rushed to Hogsmeade, he managed to touch base with a single important person.

“My father. My father was the they, yer angry about. Ya remember ‘im? He’s come down to London fer a long stay. He’s still fond of ya, his would be ‘daughter in law.’ I made him put that fondness to good use and make sure you were safe, distracted by Quidditch or whatever. He didn’t know why I needed to know so badly…but he knows now.”

Will ended with a bitter ironic smile, as he thought of the argument that followed his return. It had not been his father’s fault. Kieran did indeed see Carrera still in London, and did not notice whenever and however she had left to arrive in Hogsmeade in time for the Siege. Yet he had never seen his son so furious. The elder O’Neill had stared on bewildered, till ‘Death Eaters’ were mentioned, and the horror to discover what his only son did in his time not spent bewitching witches with this on stage crooning made him equally as wrathful. They might have brawled then, had Kieran not stormed out first, heartbroken and blocking out the sound of his son’s roar as he tore his own apartments asunder. They had since partially reconciled, and had an uneasy peace. He knew Will was here tonight with Carra, and was elsewhere in London, yet partially alert for any signal that might come his way.

“That’s the truth of it. I’ve got no reason to lie to ya, and never have. You can call me all the worst names ya like: monster, bastard..Will works just as well, by now,” he said with a half smirk. “But, you can never call me a liar, cause I’ve never lied to ya.”


Hesitation hindered his words momentarily. It was the eternal struggle of trying to say what he meant, yet being incapable of doing so due to pride. He knew deep down his admiration and draw to the Death Eaters had long been distorted and disillusioned, having seen and been a part of their true agenda. The ideologies he upheld were but a thread in the immense and sinister cloth the Dark Lord sought to spin over the world. But he could not leave now and not pay for it dearly. He was bound to them and had the mark to prove it. ‘That damned taint on yer skin and soul,’ his father had said.

His eyes fell to his own forearm, and his fingers automatically went to his sleeve, exposing it, as he studied it with contempt and curiosity; she knew it was there, she had seen it before, so he had nothing left to hide. Eyes still on the mark, he addressed Carra once more “I’m doin’ all I can, Carra, and I’m damned either way. But I nee-..I’d rather not do this without ya.” A monumental attempt at redemption and reaching out. Even the words he could muster surprised him. His eyes moved up to meet hers, readying his last sincere card to play, in case it was needed.

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635 | will | golly, carrera.

Now and then I think of when we were together, like when you said you felt so happy you could die. I told myself that you were right for me, but felt so lonely in your company.  But that was love and it's an ache I still remember. Now and then I think of all the times you screwed me over, part of me believing it was always something that I'd done.  But I don't wanna live that way, reading into every word you say, you said that you could let it go.

She could feel her temper flare in her chest as Will's fingers wrapped around her wrist.  He backed her up slowly until her back was pressed against the rough bark of a tree.  Carrera could feel her chest rising and falling heavily with the adrenaline pounding through her veins.  Her fingers flexed around her wand as she forced herself to continue looking up into his face, into his eyes, which were peering back with such an intensity that she was surprised neither of them burst into flames.  When he finally released her arm and stalked off with a snarl, Carrera, too, turned to compose herself.  She felt as though there were a scream trapped inside her chest, and she was completely powerless to release it.  It was stuck, just building up pressure until she thought she might burst.

Her back was turned to him when he finally began to speak, and she couldn't bring herself to turn right at this moment. The odds that she might burst into tears were not in her favour.  Carrera simply listened, her arms crossed over her chest.  She wasn't all too surprised to hear that Death Eaters didn't know about a lot of things until it was the moment that they needed to be done, as much as she hated to admit it.  She shook her head hard when Will mentioned his father, the man who had been keeping his eye on her.  She shuddered at the term "daughter-in-law", closing her eyes.  How she wished he wouldn't use that term.  It brought on memories far too painful for her to care to re-experience.

She exhaled, trying to steady herself, though she feared that the moment she began to speak, her voice and resolve would crack and crumble away.  "You're not a liar, Will," she breathed, her hand rising to rub at her nose when she turned to face him again.  "I never called you one, and I wouldn't call you one unless you were."  Her eyes floated up to the dark night sky as she inhaled slowly.  "But you need to understand that I walked away because you broke my heart.  You broke my heart because you did something that you knew I could never abide, and you did it anyway.  And when I couldn't accept it, you left.  You didn't stay with me, you left."

She shook her head, shrugging her shoulders uncomfortably.  "I was the one that put myself back together.  I was so in love with you that I thought I might die.  At the time, I would almost wish that I would.  So don't you understand how having you show up out of the blue, never mind pressing yourself back into my life... Don't you understand how much it hurts?"  She sniffed, looking down at her feet.  "And even if you mean well, even if you're just trying to look out for me, it's going to destroy me, Will.  No matter how hard I try, it's going to destroy me."

His words stunned her into silence.  Her lips pressed together. On one hand, of course she wanted to be there for him, to be there for whatever he needed, whenever he needed it.  But then there was that little voice inside of her, reminding her that it would ultimately hurt her more than anything.  And that in itself was an agonizing concept.  Her breath came out in an unsteady flow as she swallowed hard.  "I..." she said slowly, her voice cracking.  She stopped to steady herself for a moment, looking down at her feet again.  "I want to be there to help you, I do.  But I can't be there the way you want me to be there, Will.  I just... I can't right now..."  She was almost worried about what would be said next.

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