little h e l l↓
abigailgracefletcher
It was strange how they had come so far -- from strangers, to heated lovers, and now to people who really had nothing more to say to one another. Owen could apologise to Abigail for all the horrific things he had done to her, and even to his other victims, but where would be the point in that? It wouldn’t fix things; it wouldn’t undo the torture or the harsh words they exchanged, the expression of hate and the denials of love. It wouldn’t change a damn thing. He barely ever apologised for anything and even then, why change one’s behaviour so far into the game? But he pitied her for losing so much so young, and he pitied her for having so much faith in the good of all things.
“There isn’t a single person on this planet that isn’t selfish -- wizard and human alike.” Owen’s husked tones became softer, almost soothing in a way and they lacked their usual hostility. His amber-flecked grey gaze moved from the Gryffindor to stare across the lake, his body tightening to stop the onset of shivers. “You want your parents back, and for this bloody war to come to an end in rainbows and unicorns. Voldemort wants to lord over us all, with even Death Eaters beneath him in the long run. And me…” He trailed off and briefly allowed a shiver to ripple down his spine, the Dementors having affected him terribly. “I want to forget everything and play Quidditch.” Owen tipped his head back against the bark of the tree and stared up into the thick canopy. “But we can’t. Your parents will never be back, I’ll never play Quidditch the way I wanted to because we’re fighting a war, and we’re fighting each other.”
Owen dropped his head to land his gaze on Abbie once again, and there was a sad smile tugging at his pale lips. “Life isn’t fair, Fletch. It never has been. It’s a horrible messy shade of grey with lighter and darker patches throughout and sometimes, the bad guys win. Beedle the Bard isn’t going to finish this tale with a moral and a few light jokes.” It didn’t matter at the end of the day who won, in Owen’s case, because either way he was doomed. If Voldemort carried out his plan and ruled all, then he would be stuck in lifelong servitude to the man. If he lost and good triumphed over evil, then Owen would spend the rest of his days in Azkaban with the rest of the Death Eaters. “But if you’re going to be one of the idiots that fight, then don’t whinge and cry about it all. Put your loss to use -- let it drive you. Otherwise? It’s wasted and without it; what would you really be fighting for?”
