Amusing
Title: Amusing
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Antonin Dolohov (thinking on his sister, with mention of parents)
Rating: PG
Other: Written for the November 5th challenge (when wild creatures die recklessly in sorrow) for 30_hath.
Just occasionally, he remembers them. His father without hair, his mother with very nice and flowing hair. His sister, who might have stolen his mother’s hair. Sonia-thoughts visit more often than father-and-mother-thoughts. To him, there is no significance in this.
He remembers her hair, yes, and he remembers her laugh. The way that she would dash through the house, unbound. One of his fellow students had once offhandedly referred to the girl as a sprite; Antonin had attached the title to her ever since. Perhaps her free senses were what allowed them to get on as well as they had, when neither cared overly for the other. They had lived under the same roof, but what was attachment for their family? It was a miracle, almost, that they had gotten on so well.
If he even vaguely misses any member of the family, it is Sonia. If only for her spirit, her endless ability to amuse.
One of the house elves, before dying (Antonin had found their decaying corpses upon returning home), had gathered articles relating the story of the family’s death. It had been one of the occasions so often termed “absurd,” though Antonin had never seen it as anything save natural. His father and mother had destroyed one another when angry, presumably intoxicated; what could be less unexpected? Relations had ever been a necessity that could turn unpleasant, even volatile.
It was his sister’s death that seemed to have intrigued the papers. They had seen in it tragedy, the story of a young girl driven by loneliness and passion to destroy herself, to thrust a lurid dagger into her chest and collapse beside her recently-fallen parents. On and on they had gone, speaking of how she must have felt so very alone, her parents dead, her brother imprisoned. How the prospects for a young girl must have seemed utterly diminished and that a single moment of overwhelming abandon had initiated her action.
The truth was rather different. Antonin had laughed at the papers from the very start, knowing full well that his sister would have felt no great loss. Sorrow could not have driven her… Had he ever seen her touched by true sorrow? No. The family knew better than to fall to such foolishness. If anything, she had died because it seemed the thing to do, had seen the blood and decided to add her own by stabbing herself. A quick end, no great importance, and no meditation.
It is amusing, the way the papers had told it. Sometimes Antonin looks over the articles and laughs, thinks that if Sonia could see them, she would laugh with him.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Antonin Dolohov (thinking on his sister, with mention of parents)
Rating: PG
Other: Written for the November 5th challenge (when wild creatures die recklessly in sorrow) for 30_hath.
Just occasionally, he remembers them. His father without hair, his mother with very nice and flowing hair. His sister, who might have stolen his mother’s hair. Sonia-thoughts visit more often than father-and-mother-thoughts. To him, there is no significance in this.
He remembers her hair, yes, and he remembers her laugh. The way that she would dash through the house, unbound. One of his fellow students had once offhandedly referred to the girl as a sprite; Antonin had attached the title to her ever since. Perhaps her free senses were what allowed them to get on as well as they had, when neither cared overly for the other. They had lived under the same roof, but what was attachment for their family? It was a miracle, almost, that they had gotten on so well.
If he even vaguely misses any member of the family, it is Sonia. If only for her spirit, her endless ability to amuse.
One of the house elves, before dying (Antonin had found their decaying corpses upon returning home), had gathered articles relating the story of the family’s death. It had been one of the occasions so often termed “absurd,” though Antonin had never seen it as anything save natural. His father and mother had destroyed one another when angry, presumably intoxicated; what could be less unexpected? Relations had ever been a necessity that could turn unpleasant, even volatile.
It was his sister’s death that seemed to have intrigued the papers. They had seen in it tragedy, the story of a young girl driven by loneliness and passion to destroy herself, to thrust a lurid dagger into her chest and collapse beside her recently-fallen parents. On and on they had gone, speaking of how she must have felt so very alone, her parents dead, her brother imprisoned. How the prospects for a young girl must have seemed utterly diminished and that a single moment of overwhelming abandon had initiated her action.
The truth was rather different. Antonin had laughed at the papers from the very start, knowing full well that his sister would have felt no great loss. Sorrow could not have driven her… Had he ever seen her touched by true sorrow? No. The family knew better than to fall to such foolishness. If anything, she had died because it seemed the thing to do, had seen the blood and decided to add her own by stabbing herself. A quick end, no great importance, and no meditation.
It is amusing, the way the papers had told it. Sometimes Antonin looks over the articles and laughs, thinks that if Sonia could see them, she would laugh with him.