So this is a one-shot about Ariana Dumbledore; I wanted to try my hand at writing her! I hope I've done her justice. (:
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
So very, very cold.
She brings her arms up to wrap around herself. She knows she could do more – she could start a fire, and didn’t she prove that yesterday? – but she won’t because that’s scary, and everyone around her is afraid of her anyway and she doesn’t want to make it worse.
It’s already as bad as it can get, though, isn’t it? She knows that they hate her – the crazy girl, who sits in her bed and rocks back and forth, back and forth.
They don’t call her by her name anymore. It’s always she and her and never, ever Ariana, because Ariana was the person and now she is the shell.
Is she all right?
Is she breathing?
And she knows that no one really cares, that they all stopped caring about Ariana as soon as their own lives picked up; and why shouldn’t they? Why should they care about the small, strange girl who messed everything up?
She is alone in the world, and she feels a sort of peace.
She stands at her window and presses her hand to the glass. Below, she sees her brother with that boy he loves – she hasn’t learned his name, and why should she? They don’t care about her; to them, she is nothing but a ghost of her former self, doing nothing worthwhile, haunting forever.
And she waits.
She waits for as the seasons change and her moods rise and fall with the beating of her heart – and she just listens to the people around her speak, because she cannot bring herself to form the words.
And it continues.
She hears the things that they say about her. Whether they mean for her to or not, she does, and she cannot make herself stop.
They say all sorts of things, Albus especially, they belittle her intelligence and say she’ll never be able to function in society and that makes her so angry that she wants to throw things– but she won’t, she can’t, because if she does than he’ll kick her out for good. She knows that there’s only a tenuous hold on her here, a single thread that could be snapped at any time.
She used to fight with him, Albus, because he wouldn’t speak to her unless forced, until he threatened to burn her and she stopped because he wasn’t worth it.
She missed him, sometimes, because she knew that he loved Ariana and but now he loved that boy from down the road and she wanted to get to know both of them – but it can’t happen.
She talks to her other brother, but she gets the feeling that the only reason he is deigning to speak to her is because he is frightened, frightened of her, and that’s no way to be.
And so she is alone.
She has a good life, though. Whether others can see it is irrelevant to her; this is her life and she’s willing to live it any way that she has to.
Because she has to keep living.
And then that day comes and it starts as any other does – and Albus is yelling and then that boy he loves –she’s never bothered to learn his name – is yelling and then she’s falling, falling, falling.
And as she goes, as her breath leaves her, she can feel Albus' breath on her face and she wants to smile – would smile, if not for her impending death – because now, now he wants her, because now he loves her, but it’s too late.