An Overdue Rendezvous PV

The giant clock on Hogwarts' tower was showing a minute past midnight by the time Dee was stomping up the stairs to the top of the astronomy tower, a crumpled letter in her hand and murder in her heart. She'd debated whether she should come at all, but with only ten minutes left to the rendezvous time decided that yes, she should - to Hex whoever had thought it funny to send this letter into the next century, and then likely toss them off the tower. Her hand twitched, parchment crinkling further. She couldn't fathom the cruelty, couldn't imagine who hated her enough to play a prank like this.

It had been over a year since Jack had vanished, and Dee had... not moved on from what had happened, not quite, but gotten used to it. Learned to deal with the nightmares that were just the memory of watching Jack collapse in front of the Quidditch stadium playing on loop, over and over again, and of how still he'd been when she'd finally made her way over, the smell of burnt centipede stinging in her nose. One might expect what had happened between those two moments to also feature, but it didn't. Meenauh, Xailah, and her had taken care of the monstrous centipede quickly and efficiently enough, after all - no one had gotten hurt in that fight. (No one but Jack.) It had proven, if nothing else, that whatever people might say about the education standards at Hogwarts, it had taught them well.

So that was just how it was, now - Jack was gone, Dee had gradually and painfully learned how to be happy again, and if she still woke up from nightmares every now and then, well, that was between her and her dorm mates. And, apparently, whoever had sent her that letter.

She took a deep breath when she reached the top of the tower, trying to compose herself but still unable to summon anything but boiling hot rage, scorching her lungs and burning on her tongue. She'd spit it at whoever was waiting for her like poison. If there was anyone waiting at all, that was. If whoever had sent that letter wasn't peacefully sleeping in their own dorm bed at the moment.

Her wand was already in her hand when she stepped out into the clear night, fingers closed around it in a tight fist, very unlike her usual, graceful duellists' hold. There was someone there, shadow outlined by moonlight, and Dee knew exactly what to say, because she'd gone over it in her head repeatedly on the way here, getting angrier every time. She was ready to verbally rip them to shreds. "How dare you," she hissed, stepping forward because she wanted to know who this was before she tore them apart. "How-" She stopped. Abruptly, like she'd run into a wall, like the the air had been stolen from her lungs, the cool night air that she hadn't even noticed a moment ago but that now sent a violent shudder down her spine. White noise filled her ears.

Because. Because the figure was Jack, after all. Which was impossible, but still true, and she stood there, staring, because her mouth was still ready to spit the venomous speech she'd prepared but now none of the words fit anymore, and she didn't know how to adjust. "Jack?" Her voice was thin and cracking in the night.

She blinked, her vision swimming, but even after one, two, three times, it was still Jack, and finally, she stepped forward again, closing the distance. Wrapped her arms around his waist, her forehead against his chest, and started crying.

@Jack Warren

April 27th, 11:59 p.m

With Jack's fingertips still lightly brushing against the cool metal of the guard rail, the boy let out a deep, defeated sigh. Cold, invisible chains rested across his shoulders, and they slumped slightly as he let his disappointment settle. Slowly, he craned his neck, allowing his gaze to sweep down and across the landscape like the wind rustling through the forbidden forest. However, the sound of shoes against the stone resonated into the chamber, and Jack's languid watch quickly focused. His eyes snapped towards the entrance, the only door that led from the tower stairs. Although he couldn't immediately identify the stranger approaching, the boy envisioned only one individual crossing the threshold into the observatory. Flashes of that last normal night he had with her before the urges and dreams of corpses. It only happened because both of them happened to let their emotions control them, which fueled intense and immediate jealousy, only spurred on by that stupid game of spin the bottle. The thought of it pulled a bittersweet smile from the edges of his lips.

'I think I love you, t00.''

Her whispered words coiled around his arms, chest, and neck. A snare trap caught onto his wrist as he looked into the past. Something that can never come back again, no matter how badly Jack wished it would. If only those words would stay with him forever, but as the last bubbles of revelry escaped his lungs, 'what ifs' surged around him, threatening to drown him in a sea of regrets.

It was the sound of ire-laced words that let him breach the surface and snap him out of his thoughts. He hadn't caught the words, but the emotion behind them was crystal clear. Jack's brow creased in surprise, and he squinted towards the petite figure that had just spat at him. The cover of the night could not hide her identity for long, and his eyes began to adjust to the light of the moon. It was her.

The young man's lips felt dry, and the frog that was already forming in his throat transformed into a toad. It was as if everything he had wanted to say filtered through his head and fell directly into a shredder. The drum that was his heart didn't only begin to beat but bang, crash, and slam. If he hadn't been stunned into stillness, Jack would have lost his footing altogether.

“Dee.” a gentle whisper escaped his lips.

The taller Hufflepuff immediately mirrored the Ravenclaw's steps forward to meet her halfway. Jack's arms wrapped around her, a hand placed on the back of her head, pulling her into his chest. He couldn't stop the tears from starting to well up and let out a staggered breath that he hadn't realised he was holding. “I-I’m sorry." was all that the boy managed to eke out, against the threat of outright bawling. Her warmth against him was the only proof he needed to know that this wasn't some psychosis creating what he wanted to see. Jack only wanted to hold her closer.

@Dealla Prince

Any last doubts Dee might have entertained on whether this was really Jack, ideas of a metamorphmagus impersonating him, vague thoughts of Polyjuice potion, they all disappeared when Jack pulled her closer, held her like he, too, had to prove to himself that she was real. Not because he was the same - he'd grown taller since they'd broken up, obnoxiously so, the shape of him had changed in the past two years, he even smelled different. But the way he held her was the same, one arm curving around her back like he didn't want to let her go again. It only made her cry harder, hold on tighter, her fingers digging into the fabric on his back, clinging to the solid, real warmth of him.

This wasn't the reunion Dealla would have imagined, if she'd ever let herself think about such a thing, hadn't believed it an impossibility. That vision would have seen her collected and in control, imperiously demanding explanations, ensuring that he knew that he held no power over her anymore, that she'd moved on. That she was happy now. It certainly wouldn't have included ragged sobs shaking her body that made it impossible to breathe, crying like she hadn't let herself cry since that day in the hospital wing with Aly and Peri's arms around her to keep her from falling apart. It was pathetic, but she couldn't stop, ugly, snotty tears soaking into Jack's shirt.

Because in truth, all the things she would have liked to say to him, they were all a lie. She hadn't moved on from what had happened a year ago, how could she have? There had been no closure, nothing, he'd just been gone, with a small voice playing in her head on loop telling her it had been her fault, her fault, her fault. It was all she'd been able to do to lock that voice away, to leave it screaming itself raw in a dark corner of her mind. Hadn't told anyone about it, because how could she admit any of this out loud? She'd barely admitted it to herself.

It was the thought of her friends that finally pulled her out of the embrace, after what felt like seconds, like hours. It hadn't been comforting, exactly, but solid, reassuring in that he was real, and here. The tears didn't stop, but she let go of Jack's shirt with an effort, placed her hands on his chest instead to push herself away rather than pull closer, put some distance between them. Just as far as he'd let her go, enough to suck in a deep, shuddering breath in an attempt to calm herself down. She felt terrible, probably looked terrible too, eyes red and face puffy from crying, and the tears were still coming, but... she couldn't do this. Couldn't stand here with Jack's arms around her and a confused ache in her chest, not when Peri had lost an eye because of him, and Aly had hated him on her behalf long before that. Not when she hadn't even told Mad about all that had happened, because she hadn't known how to start or how to end, and what was even the point if Jack wasn't coming back anyway?

Except he was here now, and Dee took another trembling breath, steeling herself before she looked up, lashes heavy with tears and scared and hopeful and desperate all at once, finally meeting his eyes, barely illuminated. It really was him, she thought, while she looked for the right words all over again. His broken apology had registered only with some delay, but when it did, she let out a sigh and shook her head. "That's not enough," she said, her voice rough. It couldn't make up for two years worth of pain, for crying herself to sleep too often to count. For watching her friend adjust to living with only one eye. It still sounded like she had to convince herself. "It's not."

@Jack Warren
Mentions @Pericles Dralt, @Aly Salinger

April 27^th, 2025

The young man kept his eyes tightly shut, dreading the return to those early days of being imprisoned in his mind, confined to that uncomfortably lumpy medical bed. The memory of the box spring digging into his back through the thin mattress sent a shiver down his spine. For almost two months, Jack has been confined to his solitary bed, a captive of his mind, ensnared in a painful void of watching freedom that feels more stifling than any prison with bars.

Whether or not this was actually real, the soft sobs and warmth Jack felt pressing against his chest were strangely comforting for the boy. It grounded him, like planting your feet in the sand, bracing for the wave finally to impact. However, if he had known how much tears and snot were about to be on his chest, he probably wouldn't have worn a white shirt. It was humorous to Jack that his thoughts would turn to a joke instead of what he truly wanted most in the year he was gone. Though that bubble was soon to burst, the start was an almost disapproving sigh,

"That's not enough," she spoke, strain clearly in her voice, "It's not."

The shoe dropped as Jack's soft, bittersweet smile fell into an unhappy grimace. It was the truth. He had caused pain, and this was just the beginning of his journey towards redemption if such a thing even existed. Allowing her words to dissolve into mist, Jack bowed his head. "I understand that." He fell silent once more as if grappling for the right words, "and I know that I have a long road ahead to regain your trust and the trust of most everyone, but I have to try, don't I?" His voice grew in volume as he got more animated, and as he spoke, all he could figure to do was reach out towards Dee. It might be a lesson in psychology for Jack not even to consider trying to shirk responsibility for the fact that he had been infested and manifested into a malformed clone of himself that was perfect for that creature's machinations. But what scared Jack was the idea that his actions were a manifestation of his thoughts and desires, albeit in a corrupt and twisted way. Violence and anger were often a weapon that he wielded in the past; he just couldn't detach from it.

"I'm goin' to show you that I'm not that person. That 'me' you had for the past few years wasn't me. The real me wants to start from that night in the Quidditch stadium, the first time we said 'I love you." He spoke, hardly catching his breath in between sentences. The words fell from his mouth like a torrent of his internal thoughts and feelings, "and I need to prove to you that I have changed. He's dead, left along with that bug in the dirt." He threw his arm back, pointing in the direction of the Quidditch pitch, where they had last seen each other a year prior. That was it, and he fell to silence again.

"I'm goin' to show you. " His last words were mainly said to himself, as if to bolster his confidence.

@Dealla Prince

Watching Jack's face twist at her words was painful, but she couldn't take them back. She pressed her lips together, eyes red from crying. The hug and the tears had been a moment of weakness, born of that infinite relief that he was here and okay, that she could maybe start letting go of the guilt that she'd been dragging around for a year, slowing her down and leaving her struggling for air. But that moment had to end, because it wasn't real, and Dee knew it.

Jack's knowledge differed from hers - or he was determined to change what she thought she knew. Dee flinched back from his words, that declaration that contained too much honesty and vulnerability for her to bear at the moment, raw and unprotected as she was. Stepped back when he reached for her, panic clear in her expression. She hadn't thought of that night in London in a long time - had actively tried not to, until she'd gotten used to it, had forgotten to pay attention. Thinking back to those perfect moments had been too painful. It had flooded her mind with too many questions she couldn't answer - when things had gone wrong, how she hadn't noticed in time - and had kept her from moving on, which she'd needed to do, desperately.

Things had changed since then, at least for her. She didn't want to go back to three years ago, even if she could have, for too many reasons - not the least of which had a raucous laugh and gunmetal green eyes. But it was hard, standing here, looking at Jack desperately telling her that he wanted to try, that he was going to prove to her that he deserved her trust, and having to tell him in return that she couldn't do it. Knowing that she'd failed him before, over and over again. It was harder because of the urgency in his voice, like he couldn't get the words out fast enough because he needed her to know all these things she didn't want to know. She'd never considered that time might as well have stopped for him back then.

"Jack, that's not... I don't..." She broke off, searching for the right words. The words that said it's been three years and you were gone and Madhup's laugh is the warmest thing in my life, all in one. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, shoulders tensing. Her hands curled into fists. "Jack, I have a boyfriend." The words came out soft, and when she opened her eyes, her expression was pleading. It was out there now, the simplest reason why she couldn't do this, why she was the wrong person for him to tell these things to. "I'm so glad you're back," she added quietly. "That you're... you again."

This time, she reached out, helplessly. Would take his hand if he let her, one of his in both of hers. "Please understand."

@Jack Warren
Mentions @Madhup Hexum

April 27th, 2025

This was all too real when the love he held was all but forgotten. Was Jack just a fool to even hope that this conversation would work out the way he had fantasised and dreamt? He held his eyes closed, and he tried not to let her words affect him, but there wasn't a chance in hell that he could ignore her words scraping against the brittle shell the boy had only just begun to rebuild around himself. His teeth ground against one another, and his jaw stiffened as he attempted to keep himself in check. All the moisture in his mouth had vaporised, leaving his tongue feeling like sand. Finally, Jack's eyes opened. It was the boy's best attempt to keep a hard look in his gaze as if he hadn't been deeply affected by Dee's confession.

It wasn't lost on the Badger that this wasn't easy for the woman standing across from him, either. Her fingers curled into balls, and the way she spoke as if she believed what she said would destroy him. Unfortunately, her expectation wasn't that far from the truth.

"I'm so glad you're back," Her addendum was like setting a band-aid on a shark bite. "That you're... you again" A sardonic chuckle escaped from the tense young man. Sadly, only Jack knew that both of his previous selves were dead and left behind in an unmarked grave. What stood before Dealla Prince was something much more broken—an amalgamation of the two formed from trauma, tearing him down and the lessons he had learned, building himself back up. The form may have been the same, but along the way, his pieces were lost in the transition. If only it were as easy as being himself again and reverting to a previous save from several years prior.

Jack let Dee take his hand in her own, afraid that his eggshell facade would shatter if he tried to move. It was comforting, the warmth of her hands against his, "Please understand." Her pleading words struck a chord deep inside the boy. Jack was keenly aware of how unfair this was. It was unfair to Dealla, unfair to his friends and family, and unfair to him. Like an old friend, the heat under his ribcage began to grow.

"No." The boy spoke tersely, breaking the sombre atmosphere that had been created between the two of them. It was anger. A fury not directed at anyone besides himself and the situation he was in. He withdrew his hand from Dee's and then inhaled sharply. "This was stupid, I'm an idiot—I should've never put you in this situation—I'm sorry— " His words jumbled together, one thought after the next. Pulling away from Dee altogether, Jack turned, beginning his exit. As he walked, the man ran a hand through his hair, letting himself stew. The anger that sat just under his heart like a pot over a fire only grew in intensity. He forbade himself from continuing to think about how unfair his life was as if it were some Jack-Pity-Party. "I shouldn't have done this to you."

Jack will leave the thread unless otherwise stopped.

@Dealla Prince

“No.”

Misunderstanding, something inside Dee cracked and splintered at the rough, sharp-edged denial of her plea for, if not sympathy, at least a sense that he understood. She flinched from the anger behind it, too familiar, her fingers loosening and going limp. “Jack,” she began, but knew before she even started that anything she could possibly say would be insufficient. Heard the helpless justifications in her own words and shut her mouth before they could come out.

Then Jack's hand was gone from hers and her fingers curled around air instead. She shivered, suddenly cold. But Jack continued, words tripping and blurring, a frantic rush, the anger present but contained. Locked in without a way out, not directed at her. (Never at her, she should have known.) “This was stupid, I'm an idiot—I should've never put you in this situation—I'm sorry—” The pain in his voice seemed to echo in her.

“Jack,” she repeated around the ache in her chest, then broke off again, empty of words. Couldn't even contradict him, because deep down, she wished he hadn't. Had stayed away and let her pretend, because this was so much, too much, and she didn't know how to handle it. Jack turned away, awfully, blessedly, his steps wooden as he moved towards the door. Something in him had splintered, too, perhaps beyond repair.

For a few moments, she stood, listening to the echoes of Jack's footsteps, down the stairs. (Leaving her behind.) Then she crouched down in a startling, sudden motion, arms wrapped around chest as if to hold herself together, and cried - for Jack, and for herself; for what could have been but wasn't, and for the fact that after how hard she'd worked to get here, she now felt like she'd barely moved at all. She wanted Mad's arms around her and his voice in her ear, enforcing that she wasn't the same girl that had left Jack in front of the Quidditch stadium a year ago. Wanted it with an intensity that hurt, biting and scratching and scraping at her lungs. His absence made the night feel icy around her.

@Jack Warren
Mentions @Madhup Hexum

She'd lost track of time when she made her way back through the quiet castle, fingers trembling. The common room was dark and silent as she slipped into the Martial Eagle dorms without word or light, but headed for Aly’s bed instead of her own. She crawled in next to her best friend with jerky motions and threw one of the pillows into the vague direction of where Peri was sleeping. Tried to hide the way her throat was cried raw by muffling her words into Aly’s pillow. “Jack is back.”

@Aly Salinger | @Pericles Dralt

Thread left!