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The Hanging Cycle by FoundriaPenguin
Chapter 1 : love & then disgust
Rating: 15+Chapter Reviews: 3

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Disclaimer: Thank you, JKR, for creating the world of Harry Potter. :')


She is engulfed in the winds, the noises of the people, the hurricane in the sea - and she is alone.

Figures flit past her vision as she sits on the edge of the Quidditch pitch. The green grass tickles her folded legs and the breeze plays with strands of her hair, but she pays the natural forces no mind as she scans the Slytherin stands for one particular boy.

Although he is one particular boy, he is not there.

The match is about to start. He said he would come, even though it is likely that he will stay behind, locked behind his own dark dungeons. He has never been too good about keeping his word.

Why is she hoping?

The winds grow stronger, the noises turn to roars, deafening roars of the people, the hurricane in the sea starts to shriek and suddenly - she decides to leave. To leave him behind, to not ever look back - it will be a wonderful thing after all that. The match is starting, and they are now finishing. How fitting.

Her legs feel cold in the whipping wind now that she has left the safety of the earth, and she starts towards the stands as the players begin to zip by her.


Every step is akin to dead weight. Her feet do not want to move, but her mind is as firm as Professor McGonagall’s when she is doling out detentions. She will not falter.


She is about to climb the steps of those mountainous stands. And she knows, she knows that one step up these stands means forever. She and her magic boy will be permanently separated, despite the fact that she’d thought they had such a strong bond. Perhaps this is why she hesitates before she takes the first step.

She wants him to come save her, to come be her knight in shining armor. She knows he has always had it in him, just never for her sake.

“Always keep your expectations low,” she chants softly to herself.


She shrieks in surprise - the sound of her name, the low voice, it all seems very familiar yet so far away. They are still in the middle of the storm - the winds are beating against her, the roars of the school monsters in the stands are ever so overwhelming, yet the hurricane in the sea seems calm.

Her magic boy, she notes, is behind her. And with a brand new, optimistic outlook on life, Isabella puts everything behind her. Why is she willing to face him now? She was almost abandoned.

She has to shout over the winds. “I didn’t think you would come!”

“I told you I was going to,” the magic boy replies softly. “Why are you yelling? It’s so quiet here.”

In disbelief, Isabella slaps him halfheartedly on the arm. Does he not recognize the storm around him? The cracking sound, however small, seems to resound through the storm, but it quickly blends with the sounds of beaters' bats making contact with Bludgers. No one is watching them. They are engulfed in the winds, the noises of the people, the hurricane in the sea - and they are together.

Unaffected by her attempt to harm him, he laughs, and the sunshine peers down through the clouds. He never seems to take anything she say seriously. Or maybe he does when he thinks no one is watching, Isabella notes. She is only his perpetual amusement, and that frustrates her. He always leaves when he thinks there is nothing else to say.

And Isabella doesn’t know what to say at that moment either. But she is pleading, pleading with her eyes. “Please stay, please stay. Don’t walk away again! I’ll think of something! I will say something to capture your attention, to plant you by my side for eternity!”

That oblivious magic boy takes the silence between them as his cue to leave, although the situation they are in is anything but silent, what with the storm, the winds, the school monsters, and the hurricane in the sea. Without another word, another gesture, or another smile for her, he climbs the steps to speak with his friends in the Slytherin stands, those same stands she was searching through before the match started.

She shakes her head, smiling wryly. Has she really expected more?

He is Isabella’s magic boy, but he is everybody’s magic boy. He does not know he is leading her on, or maybe he does, because she knows that he knows himself to be a jerk.

He is no magic boy.

“I brushed him off...because I’m a jerk,” she recalls him saying with a nonchalant grin. It seems like so long ago.

But she insists on continuing the tale, that something between them exists, because surely if magic exists, there could be something between them, too.

A few days later, she will see him being another girl’s magic boy. He will be a great friend to her, he will give her all the right signals, and then he will pull out the floor from under that poor, unsuspecting girl’s feet.

Disgust for him will blossom from the bottom of her soul.

Some days, he will suddenly remember her existence and come barging in to her life like he’s the bloody Minister of Magic. He will be nice to her, he will pay her special attention, he will walk her to her classes when his are on the opposite side of the school. He will make her feel special. In her eyes, he is the true magic boy again.

Special, that dreaded word with a falsely positive connotation that really, really just crashes all of her hopes down in the end.

And then the cycle continues on. As the distance between them grows apart, so will her fondness for him, or so she thinks. Isabella can leave him behind. Isabella can forget about him.


Disgust, and then some.

And then love once more.

After all that, he leaves her hanging.


A/N: Haven't written much for a while, so let me know if it was god-awful. :P Many thanks to all of my friends for your support. A review would be lovely as well :3

edit 1/2/12: This is a spin-off of my new story that shall hopefully be posted soon, so you'll definitely be seeing the return of Isabella and the magic boy soon! Thank you for reading!

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