opaque.

                  ❝ i know that what i am is clouded, refractory, partial.❞ 

huh, who’s MARLO KELLY? no, you’re mistaken, that’s actually DANIELLE GOYLE. she is a 19 year old PUREBLOOD witch who is a STUDENT AT WADA & BORGIN AND BURKE’S EMPLOYEE. she is known for being INSINCERE, DRAMATIC, HARSH, DISILLUSIONED, and RESTLESS but also LIVELY, CAPTIVATING, AMBITIOUS, LOYAL, and DARING, so that must be why she always reminds me of the song OH NO! BY MARINA and EXCITING LAUGHTER BARING WHITE FANGS, GLITTERY EYESHADOW, DOWNING VODKA WITHOUT WINCING, PLAYFUL WINKS, SITTING CURLED UP IN THE SHOWER FOR HOURS, MINI SKIRTS, TAKING A DRAMATIC BOW. i hear she is aligned with THE DEATH EATERS, so be sure to keep an eye on her.

she  feels  more  put  out  than  anything  else  .  it’s  like  they’re  asking  her  to  do  the  dishes          —          except,  instead  of  dishes,  they’re  asking  them  to  torment  some  poor  muggleborn  business  .  if  her  older,  stuffier  cousin          (          apologies,  diomedes          )          hadn’t  been  designated  to  observe  them,  she’d  suggest  they  just  dismiss  the  futile  task  .  but  there’s  no  good  fortune          —          so  she          —          and  danielle          —          are  forced  to  enact  the  task  assigned  to  them  .          “         this  is  so  stupid  .          ”          she  complains,  but  her  expression  remains          (          mostly          )          neutral  .  they’re  out  of  earshot,  not  eye  .          “          it’s  not  even  busy  .  what’s  the  point  ?          ”          logically,  she  understands  that  this  is a  test,  and  that  their  target  is  primarily  for  practice  .  low  risk  .  but  that  does  not  stop  her  from  moaning  about  it  .

Rahim didn’t think he’d ever smiled quite as unreservedly as Dani was now, though his eyes softened in what felt distinctly like fondness. He didn’t always understand Dani, but he liked being around her. She had a way of making people feel good. Even him, most days. “I’ll take the compliment. I don’t argue with you,” he said, voice lighter, before he frowned again. “Right, I guess your dad went to school with her.” His hadn’t, but Orion had certainly developed a negative opinion of the new Minister since. Rahim had heard at least five different ideas on how they could take out Granger, so he supposed he could see Dani’s point. It felt like he was drifting a little too close to what Rahim considered disloyalty, so he just shrugged, “Well, we couldn’t miss it. That would have looked strange.” He might have preferred a touch of suspicion falling on their heads in exchange for not going through this experience, the eyes on his back. It was never possible to get used to the sensation of being hated. But his father didn’t ask him to do things for no reason. “I reckon we’ve been here long enough, though. No one’ll miss us.” How true that was. He nodded his head towards the door, ready to head that way, raising an eyebrow along the way, “I kind of thought you liked parties though.” 

“You’re very clever,” she says, nudging him a little. She knows what role she fulfills for many of her friends: that she’s something bright. She does it with love, truly, mostly surprised that her nature is something that has a positive impact. If that even is her nature: who’s to say, if Danielle Goyle is actually like this, or if it’s just more lies? “Hm-hm,” she murmurs. “He’s always talking about it.” And for years, Dani had shared his hatred for Hermione Granger and all her friends. Now? She feels apathetic, most of the time, but that on its own is disloyalty. She tries not to think about it too much, such thoughts only leading to confusion and a wish to throw herself whatever distraction presents itself first. You hate Hermione Granger, she tells herself. And that’s it. She tries to move on. Dipping her toes in the water called disloyalty is something she’ll do more easily about the likes of Archie, but with Rahim? She’s more scared of it. Not because she distrusts him, but because they both have a father who’s desperate to prove something. “You’re right.” She walks through the room, eyeing the people around her. How deeply Dani has tried to be a part of this world all night, her dazzling smiles working wonders, but not enough. “Do you want to get out of here, then? Properly?” The thought is relieving, as Dani realises how tired she is. How defeated, even. “Oh yes, I do. I had fun.” It’s said with a smile, but it’s not too convincing now that the end is near. “Like you said, I didn’t feel very wanted.”

truth  be  told,   val  had  never  been  a  fan  of  fairy  tales.     the  ones  where  it  ends  in  marriage  and  a  the  end  or  all  things  are  tied  neatly  with  a  bow  with  no  consequences  to  be  faced.     the  fairy  tales  that  people  meant  when  they  bandied  about  the  phrase  ‘ happily  ever  after ’  held  no  manner  of  plausibility  to  them.     the  truth  of  fairy  tales  resonated  more.     stories  where  the  forests  have  teeth  and  crows  are  omens  of  poor  fortune  to  come.     women  are  meant  to  stay  in  line,   the  enchantress  eats  house  guests  for  dinner,   and  only  the  eldest  children  survive.     (   as  the  youngest  daughter,   valeria  was  rather  indignant  about  some  of  these  connotations.   )     at  the  end  of  the  day,   pretty  little  stories  simply  didn’t  agree  with  her  so  much  as  piercing  truths.

but  she  knew  dani.     better  than  she  knew  anyone  else,   really ;    and  perhaps  her  ardor   –   like  sun  shimmering  off  water,   or  tumbling  head  over  handlebars   –   was  enough  to  make  val  want  to  believe  in  it.     if  only  for  a  second.     (   and  a  second  it  is.     she  thinks  of  the  mark,   then,   the  winding  serpent  on  her  father’s  arm.     wonders  what  her  own  inevitable  branding  will  look  like  at  the  end  of  it  all.   )

i  think  we’d  be  killed  before  the  day  is  over.     her  lips  will  twitch  and  the  apparition  of  a  smile  takes  the  chance  to  dare  to  appear.     “i  do  really  like  croatia,”     val  muses.     “or  france.     that  one  feels  more  like  you.”

Danielle is built of lies, most of them to herself. She’s untruths, pretense, an actress not just on the stage, but in every act of her life. There are only a handful of people that know her, and Val is one of them. It should scare her, but it doesn’t.

It makes her feel safe. The fact that someone knows her, all the ugly truths and all, and still chooses to love her. Her mind drifts to things she’s scared to think about, to feelings she would rather not feel, as Dani is in no place to get her heart broken. But Val speaks of a life they could live, she cannot help herself. Her eyes make their way to her best friend. Her soulmate. She realises that she wants a life with her, but not just like this. “France, yes. I look excellent in a beret,” she says, a smile making its way to her lips. “We could live by a lavender field.”

z shrugs. “maybe you’re just shopping in the wrong places.” he replies - but she has a point. the robes have always reminded him of church, of duty, of sins and punishment and confession. muggles, at least, have a lot more variation in their daily attire. they have fun with it, he thinks, and wishes he could capture that a little more. wixen just have drama, and most of it without any kind of soul, or reason. just drama so common that it stops being dramatic. “ew. no.” he retorts, refusing to hear even a bar of it. “just wear some bloody oxfords, or boots, or something. they look better.” he tries not to look too pleased with himself as she falls into a stunned silence - it hadn’t been intended as such a shocking kindness. he’d never meant to elicit such a reaction. but it’s still nice, to think that she could, that she would want that. he can’t help a tiny grin down at the ground, his head tilted away to hide it. home, he thinks, is like some twisted vine around her, stretching higher and higher. he can picture it wrapping around her, growing until she cannot move anywhere. until it kills her. the thought makes him sick. “of course i’m serious.” he says it softly, with nothing but sincerity. only dani, he thinks, could pull such a tone from him. only she could be the recipient of such a normal, such a kind offer. the rest of him is too far twisted. “you wouldn’t. you couldn’t.” i would kill for you, he thinks, without a single sting of remorse or guilt. “you have a lovely voice, dani. and i don’t work at home that much, anyways.”

sometimes  she  wondered  why  it  took  this  to  ease  her  mind.     (  this:   the  alcohol  hot  in  her  blood,   the  warmth  of  dawn  reflecting  off  the  pavement,   the  ache  that  took  to  her  body  after  long  nights.     dani,   even.  )     the  sobering  mornings  always  came,   though,   and  sometimes  she  felt  worse  after  than  when  she  started.     if  she  was  so  smart,   then  why  did  she  keep  this  up  when  she  never  got  the  results  she  wanted  out  of  it?     as  london  wakes,   she  watches  the  muggles,   considering  them  as  they  begin  their  mornings.

maybe  valeria  resented  them.     was  that  enough  to  appease  any  wandering,   perfidious  thoughts?     to  justify  what  her  father’s  colleagues  were  doing?     she  wasn’t  sure.     sometimes  it  didn’t  feel  like  enough.

i  don’t  know  if  i  can  keep  this  shit  up.     it’s  the  start  of  a  dangerous  question,   a  challenging  rhetorical.     one  that  could  never  leave  the  bench  they  were  sitting  on,   she  knew.     val  rarely  humored  this  train  of  thought  but  as  she  finally  looks  to  dani,   she  sees  her  own  uncertainty  reflected  back  at  her.     it’s  equally  as  comforting  as  it  is  scary.     “and  what  happens  if  we  just  .  .  .  stop?”     the  query  was  a  bit  blunt.     what  ifs  weren’t  valeria’s  thing;     she  was  far  to  much  of  a  realist  to  dream  up  happily  ever  after  scenarios  where  there  was  no  war  or  legacy  expectations.     but  frankly,   she  was  tired  too    –    and  just  maybe,   she  wanted  to  hear  what  else  was  on  dani’s  mind.

Dani wasn’t sure what she had expected Val to say, but it wasn’t this. A what if. The suggestion that quitting was even an option to discuss. She felt the Dark Mark under her sleeve, her father’s face with something twisting in his mouth a stark reminder of how trapped she felt. Of the expectations she had not met, of the promised glory that laid for her at the end of all this. Of the way her father scared her, pushed her, made her doubt it all and then made everything very, very clear.

But still. The what if took shape in her head, and Dani thought of a life without all that. Where her tattoo would no longer change, where they could breathe. Where early adulthood could be messy for tall the reasons it should be, and not because of a war they’d been dragged in. Dani knew. She knew Gregory Goyle did not love her. She knew that she felt no devotion to the cause. She knew that this was not what she wanted. 

But Dani was also a proficient liar, to herself most of all. Because here was what she also knew: she wanted glory, fame, to be on top. And the Death Eaters promised that. They promised to raise the Goyle name up, from the ashes it had fallen into. And Dani yearned. She wanted the fucking world, nothing less. She would not settle for a life of mediocrity. 

‘‘ of course. ’’ she says quietly, handing the brunette a cigarette before lighting her own and passing over the baby pink lighter decorated with various stickers from Badgers to shooting stars. At Dani’s words, Pippa can’t help but raise a brow, she knows she’s not fine. neither of them are fine, they haven’t been fine for a while now, or at least Pips hasn’t. But she chooses not to say anything. They’re both pretty expert at not saying anything at this point. it’s all part of the job. ‘‘ do you want to come to mine for a drink? My mother tends to hang around after the meetings, you know, do the big girl stuff i guess. ’’ there’s a bitter taste in her mouth with the last words. 

Dani looks at the lighter, and feels something tug at her heart. Pippa shouldn’t be here: she’s too soft, too kind. She lights her cigarette, takes a drag and plays with the lighter for a few moments, intrigued by the fire. Bored. Always so fucking bored. At Pippa’s suggestion, her eyes widen and brighten. “Fuck yeah. I could use a drink.” And an empty house: that was the way she preferred them. Her own father would be returning home, head hanging, frustrated with the proceedings of the meeting, his failing at climbing the ranks once again. It’s best not to be around him when he is in such a mood. She’s been at the brunt of his anger often enough to know that. “Let’s get out of here then.” Dani takes another drag from her cigarette before demonstratively throwing it on the ground. With something to do on the horizon, she can feel herself relax, slightly. “Wanna side along apparate, or will I see you there?”

he watches something flash across dani’s face - something dark, something not there in the room with them. for a moment, he worries it was the orb - but then she’s back, and he realises it was probably just her life, her family, all the weight of an upbringing of hate laying across her shoulders. the thought sours his stomach, but he doesn’t let it show. there’s no use in him letting it ruin their day. “mm. i think they let the best of it die a couple centuries ago, but still… they do better than our kind, more often than not.” he lets out a chuckle. “sandals full stop should be banned. shoes should cover your feet, not leave them open.” he looks about his neighbourhood - he hadn’t thought too much of it, when he signed his lease, but he’s grown to love it immensely. it’s much busier than anywhere he’d lived before. it’s opposite to his usual stoicism and quiet, but it allows him to feel like he might be irreverent, might be filled with love and life, some day. he knows that day will never come, but it is nice to pretend. “you know, i could always turn the study into another bedroom. there’s always room for you, doll.”

He probably should be watching, looking for whatever information could be gleaned out of the congregation of people, but Rahim felt too tired to do anything but flicker his eyes vaguely across the ball room. It was a relief to hear a friendly voice coming his way, someone he knew and liked. “I think, next to you, I don’t look like much,” Rahim said, a faint smile growing as he turned to face Dani. She looked a lot happier than he did, but Rahim knew, underneath that, surely, she felt just as out of place, felt just as much tension in her shoulders. He nodded, already on the move, as he offered up, “Sure. I don’t exactly think this crowd wants us around. They probably think we have a lot of nerve to even show up.”  

Dani beamed at him, the compliment making her feel a little lighter. She knew she looked good, in truth, but to hear it from the likes of Rahim, still meant a fair deal. “Come off it. We’re a right pair of lookers.” She moved alongside with him, the prospect of being away from all this a good one. She was supposed to feel at home in crowds like this: it was what she wanted, was it not? A life of glamour. But like Rahim said, she did not feel wanted. And Danielle Goyle craved to feel wanted, above all. Maybe that was something the Death Eaters could give her, she thought bitterly: a world where she felt wanted, on top. “Well, we probably do. My dad’s been bristling about Hermione Granger being a ...” She didn’t want to say cunt, and paused, searching for a better word. “Bitch for most of my life.” He’d not shown his face, though, the coward. Dani had been made to go, the shining representation of the a new generation of Goyles. She supposed it was a smart move: she was better at this kind of thing, after all, and had wanted to go regardless. Still. “Feels kind of strange to be celebrating her, now.”

“Yes.” What kind, she doesn’t specify at first. It’s an easy enough answer, that still hides the truth without dismissing it. “We’ve been friends since ... I don’t know how long. How can I not have feelings for her? It’s called friendship, fucker.” Of course, it’s not just that. She knows, she knows, she knows, but she doesn’t want to. Fragility does not suit Dani. “But there’s more than that, yeah.” A pause. “She’s my other half, I think sometimes. A soulmate, or something cheesy like that.” Dani shakes her head. She hates the truth: she is a girl built of lies, a spider in a web of carefully spun falsehoods. She hates how it falls from her lips, surprising herself most of all. She spent so much of her time lying, that it’s terrifying, this. “I might love her.”

Dani shrugs. “I suppose.” It’s an evasive answer, and the truth craves to come out. “Yes. But what good are thoughts, right? They’re useless.” She drowns in thoughts. “Do you know what is real? Fear. I can think about it all I want, but I don’t really know if it’ll lead somewhere.” Because thoughts alone are betrayal, and that doesn’t come natural to Dani, who is all loyalty. Only if she has something better, something more to devote herself to, will she give her thoughts weight. For now, they are futile, small betrayals that ache to think about. “I’m too much of a coward.”

"Oh, fuck off. I want all of them on my zombie apocalypse team. We’d be unstoppable.” Dani, however, thinks for a moment. “Alright. I’d have Z on my team. I think that’s the best for my own survival, yeah? I’d ... fuck, I hate this one.” She frowns. The thought of either betraying or killing her friends is not a fun one, even if it’s all fun and games. “I’ll kill Rahim. He might thank me for it, and all. And sorry, Arch: I’ll betray you. But it will be temporary, like that time I stole something from you. We moved past that too, yeah?”