(no subject)
After this.
"Convince me you care about others. Convince me that I was wrong and you do care. That I mean something to you. Mean enough to you because I care about you as an uncle should, and that I believe in you."
"Then maybe you shouldn't. I've let others down, makes sense I do the same with you as well. I am sorry, uncle."
"Very well then. When you've changed I'll come back. But not before."
The words echo in his mind, cutting him over and over again, filling him with anger and rage. And for him, there's only one acceptable outlet for that rage. Anger.
Pain.
He paces the edge of the forest, letting all the beast-rage in him out by snarling and snapping at the air. He'd been used. Used. Like so many others. Used by Voldemort. Used by his brother. By the other followers. Now his nephew.
He cares. Some will argue he cares too much. Worries too much. Makes his involvement in the lives of others too personal.
If he were any animal other than a wolf he would be a hen fussing over her clutch of chicks.
The imagry suits him.
Demon bunnies run past his field of view, but he takes no interest in them. They stopped being an outlet for his frustrations a while ago. Killing them was satisfying at first, but that wore off quickly. Perhaps once he's rested himself from chasing them and pacing about he'll go after them again.
You cared about someone who cannot care about you no matter how much he wants to. And he wants to, or the cards would never have broken his wand.
Now a wand is not the locus of power for a witch of a wizard. It is only the means through which magic is focussed and directed. But the snapping of the wand in two by Sorrow was a symbolic act. You have to learn to get used to life without magic and learn to rely on others and care about them.
He could be wrong about the symbolism, but the end result is the same.
And thinking about the cards angers him. They hurt Draco by going after something so entrenched within every witch and wizard: magic.
Deeds may make the man but magic is so integral to those that have it that life without it is almost impossible to imagine. It requires starting over again, which may be what the cards intended all along.
It makes him think of Moon. The one who started this as far as Rabastan is concerned, but not the one who did the deed. Someone else did it. But Sorrow is not here. Moon is here. And he will be upset.
At her.
At Draco.
At himself for believing in foolish hopes and dreams.
He doesn't want to go back into the bar yet. He hasn't worked out all his angers and frustrations to make it safe for him to return.
"Convince me you care about others. Convince me that I was wrong and you do care. That I mean something to you. Mean enough to you because I care about you as an uncle should, and that I believe in you."
"Then maybe you shouldn't. I've let others down, makes sense I do the same with you as well. I am sorry, uncle."
"Very well then. When you've changed I'll come back. But not before."
The words echo in his mind, cutting him over and over again, filling him with anger and rage. And for him, there's only one acceptable outlet for that rage. Anger.
Pain.
He paces the edge of the forest, letting all the beast-rage in him out by snarling and snapping at the air. He'd been used. Used. Like so many others. Used by Voldemort. Used by his brother. By the other followers. Now his nephew.
He cares. Some will argue he cares too much. Worries too much. Makes his involvement in the lives of others too personal.
If he were any animal other than a wolf he would be a hen fussing over her clutch of chicks.
The imagry suits him.
Demon bunnies run past his field of view, but he takes no interest in them. They stopped being an outlet for his frustrations a while ago. Killing them was satisfying at first, but that wore off quickly. Perhaps once he's rested himself from chasing them and pacing about he'll go after them again.
You cared about someone who cannot care about you no matter how much he wants to. And he wants to, or the cards would never have broken his wand.
Now a wand is not the locus of power for a witch of a wizard. It is only the means through which magic is focussed and directed. But the snapping of the wand in two by Sorrow was a symbolic act. You have to learn to get used to life without magic and learn to rely on others and care about them.
He could be wrong about the symbolism, but the end result is the same.
And thinking about the cards angers him. They hurt Draco by going after something so entrenched within every witch and wizard: magic.
Deeds may make the man but magic is so integral to those that have it that life without it is almost impossible to imagine. It requires starting over again, which may be what the cards intended all along.
It makes him think of Moon. The one who started this as far as Rabastan is concerned, but not the one who did the deed. Someone else did it. But Sorrow is not here. Moon is here. And he will be upset.
At her.
At Draco.
At himself for believing in foolish hopes and dreams.
He doesn't want to go back into the bar yet. He hasn't worked out all his angers and frustrations to make it safe for him to return.