veiledviper
in
iruin
fratricide; ( lilith and zak. ) → squarewarts-verse. pg.
Characters: Lilith Dupond [veiledviper] and Zak Saturday [cryptidwizard]
Summary: Lilith has little use for brothers, but it is sometimes necessary to pretend. Written for the squarewarts fic meme.
Rating: PG.
Lilith has a brother. He is the youngest of three, arrogant and self-serving, foolish and disrespectful. Once, he rifles through her room while she is away at school, and when she discovers this, she pushes him down the stairs in a sudden, explosive fit of violence.
He breaks his arm in three places, and he never thinks to go into her room again.
She does not desire any other brothers, has never desired such, but the little Muggleborn boy, Saturday, seems to have taken a liking to her. The Headmaster's new rule requires that they mingle with those of other Houses during mealtimes, and it is during these times that the boy works up enough bravery to sit next to her. He smiles, the hesitant smile of a child to a superior, and she smiles back.
"Hey, Lilith!"
Her smile twitches at the corners, ripples like water, and then snaps back, wide and radiant.
"Hello, Zak."
His discussion is animated, incessant and rambling, but Lilith is good at pretending to care about people. She has had years of practice. She nods her head at all the right times, and smiles. She even laughs, and somewhere far off she thinks that her brother never speaks to her in this manner, and is curious as to why this boy does. He tells her, in despairing, melodramatic tones, that his Potions class is difficult, that Professor Granz is unfair and rude, that he's sure he will fail the course and have to take it over.
"I don't know what to do," he says.
Lilith finds herself giving advice: "Petty tyrants are just that. Do not give up before you've started. You can only fail if you've set that precedence for yourself."
He frowns, and appears to think this over. "You think?"
"I know," she says, and thinks of her father. She has had years of practice.
---
She asks him once, while watching him attempt, and fail, to build a snowman, why he speaks to her. His scarf is askew, and he sneezes, noisily, into one of his gloves. Her hands twitch.
"I'unno. You look lonely sometimes, I guess. And you give me good advice." He seems to hesitate, and then smiles, wavering and soft. "Or sad. I'm not sure."
"Ah," she says, and goes to straighten out his scarf. "I never noticed."
---
Sometimes, she thinks of the night she tortured him, while wearing the mask of one of Ultimecia's followers. She replays the memory of his agony in her head over and over again. It's not a pleasant thought, but it isn't unpleasant either. It's a thought, one of the many that filter and jumble, wind in twisting, twining paths in the recesses of her mind. It is a lost thing in a labyrinth.
She asks him about it once, and watches a shadow skitter across his eyes. "I don't like thinking about it," he finally says, and his voice goes tight and strange. "What kind of person would do that to someone else?"
Lilith watches a line of ants march a path through the grass, and with her head lowered, he cannot see her face.
"I couldn't say."
---
Something happens, one day. An argument. When she sees Zak, he has a black eye. She reaches to touch his face, and he recoils. She asks if he'd like her to heal his injury, and he refuses. And so she sits down, she works through her potions homework, she waits. He hates the Slytherin common room, he told her once. "How can you stand it?" he asked her. "It's so dark and...gloomy."
"I work well in darkness," was all she said. And now he is here, has snuck in some way, and sits with his legs curled close to his chest in sullen, angry silence.
Suddenly he says, in an impulsive rush, "I hate purebloods."
Her quill hovers above her parchment, and it is a moment before she thinks to set it down. "Ah." She doesn't look at him.
"I'm sorry," he blurts out. His voice trembles. "I didn't mean to say that."
The ink bleeds onto the parchment, ruining her work. "I see." You meant to say it, you simply forgot who you were saying it to. Own up to it, she wants to say. So few people embrace their hatred. They think of it as a dark, uncontrollable thing. But hatred is as much a facet of human nature as love. Perhaps moreso. "What has made you decide this?"
"I..." he pauses. "I guess it's dumb, huh? To decide that. You're nice, and Lizzie's nice."
"It's never good to make assumptions, no." And then: "Who won the fight?"
"I did."
Lilith picks up her quill again.
"Good."
---
"Hey, Lilith?"
They are watching the stars pass over the night sky in a slow, endless rotation. The stars she knows, are warm and white-hot, they blaze so bright they would burn a person to ash within moments. But from this distance, they are far away and cold, as insignificant as the dirt beneath her feet. Like humanity, in a way.
"Yes?"
Zak turns to regard her. His hair is getting longer now, and it falls in front of his eyes. When she reaches to brush it away, he allows it. "You asked me, a long time ago, why I hung out with you."
"I did, yes."
"Why do you hang out with me?" he asks, and is surprised to see her laugh.
"You remind me of my brother," she says, and he smiles.
Summary: Lilith has little use for brothers, but it is sometimes necessary to pretend. Written for the squarewarts fic meme.
Rating: PG.
Lilith has a brother. He is the youngest of three, arrogant and self-serving, foolish and disrespectful. Once, he rifles through her room while she is away at school, and when she discovers this, she pushes him down the stairs in a sudden, explosive fit of violence.
He breaks his arm in three places, and he never thinks to go into her room again.
She does not desire any other brothers, has never desired such, but the little Muggleborn boy, Saturday, seems to have taken a liking to her. The Headmaster's new rule requires that they mingle with those of other Houses during mealtimes, and it is during these times that the boy works up enough bravery to sit next to her. He smiles, the hesitant smile of a child to a superior, and she smiles back.
"Hey, Lilith!"
Her smile twitches at the corners, ripples like water, and then snaps back, wide and radiant.
"Hello, Zak."
His discussion is animated, incessant and rambling, but Lilith is good at pretending to care about people. She has had years of practice. She nods her head at all the right times, and smiles. She even laughs, and somewhere far off she thinks that her brother never speaks to her in this manner, and is curious as to why this boy does. He tells her, in despairing, melodramatic tones, that his Potions class is difficult, that Professor Granz is unfair and rude, that he's sure he will fail the course and have to take it over.
"I don't know what to do," he says.
Lilith finds herself giving advice: "Petty tyrants are just that. Do not give up before you've started. You can only fail if you've set that precedence for yourself."
He frowns, and appears to think this over. "You think?"
"I know," she says, and thinks of her father. She has had years of practice.
---
She asks him once, while watching him attempt, and fail, to build a snowman, why he speaks to her. His scarf is askew, and he sneezes, noisily, into one of his gloves. Her hands twitch.
"I'unno. You look lonely sometimes, I guess. And you give me good advice." He seems to hesitate, and then smiles, wavering and soft. "Or sad. I'm not sure."
"Ah," she says, and goes to straighten out his scarf. "I never noticed."
---
Sometimes, she thinks of the night she tortured him, while wearing the mask of one of Ultimecia's followers. She replays the memory of his agony in her head over and over again. It's not a pleasant thought, but it isn't unpleasant either. It's a thought, one of the many that filter and jumble, wind in twisting, twining paths in the recesses of her mind. It is a lost thing in a labyrinth.
She asks him about it once, and watches a shadow skitter across his eyes. "I don't like thinking about it," he finally says, and his voice goes tight and strange. "What kind of person would do that to someone else?"
Lilith watches a line of ants march a path through the grass, and with her head lowered, he cannot see her face.
"I couldn't say."
---
Something happens, one day. An argument. When she sees Zak, he has a black eye. She reaches to touch his face, and he recoils. She asks if he'd like her to heal his injury, and he refuses. And so she sits down, she works through her potions homework, she waits. He hates the Slytherin common room, he told her once. "How can you stand it?" he asked her. "It's so dark and...gloomy."
"I work well in darkness," was all she said. And now he is here, has snuck in some way, and sits with his legs curled close to his chest in sullen, angry silence.
Suddenly he says, in an impulsive rush, "I hate purebloods."
Her quill hovers above her parchment, and it is a moment before she thinks to set it down. "Ah." She doesn't look at him.
"I'm sorry," he blurts out. His voice trembles. "I didn't mean to say that."
The ink bleeds onto the parchment, ruining her work. "I see." You meant to say it, you simply forgot who you were saying it to. Own up to it, she wants to say. So few people embrace their hatred. They think of it as a dark, uncontrollable thing. But hatred is as much a facet of human nature as love. Perhaps moreso. "What has made you decide this?"
"I..." he pauses. "I guess it's dumb, huh? To decide that. You're nice, and Lizzie's nice."
"It's never good to make assumptions, no." And then: "Who won the fight?"
"I did."
Lilith picks up her quill again.
"Good."
---
"Hey, Lilith?"
They are watching the stars pass over the night sky in a slow, endless rotation. The stars she knows, are warm and white-hot, they blaze so bright they would burn a person to ash within moments. But from this distance, they are far away and cold, as insignificant as the dirt beneath her feet. Like humanity, in a way.
"Yes?"
Zak turns to regard her. His hair is getting longer now, and it falls in front of his eyes. When she reaches to brush it away, he allows it. "You asked me, a long time ago, why I hung out with you."
"I did, yes."
"Why do you hang out with me?" he asks, and is surprised to see her laugh.
"You remind me of my brother," she says, and he smiles.