Broken Strings

This was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

She shouldn't be here. She'd known from the moment she showed up on Jack Dyllan's doorstep that she should not be there. Had she listen to her own instinct? No, of course not. Was she regretting that now? Oh yes.

Katrina-Carlotta blamed her blasted curiosity. While it often took her to new places, and pushed her knowledge of magic to new heights, there were times where it was more of a curse than a blessing. The woman was starting to think that it was more of a curse than anything else in relation to Albus Potter. After all, if it weren't for her curiosity the man would be just another Rebel to her. She couldn't picture it.

Watching the exchange in front of her, knowing that she was an uninvited observer on a most intimate moment, the witch remembered the first time she'd been warned off her curiosity.

A fifteen year-old Katrina-Carlotta sat at the top of a green hill, the late-summer sun beating down upon her midnight hair. Her legs were tucked underneath her, and a book sat open on her lap, three more stacked neatly beside her.

Upon hear the sound of footsteps approaching, the teenager didn't even bother to turn around, knowing that it was only Savino Gallo. Savino and his twin Santo had been her mentors for many years, and the girl had been rather proud of herself upon realizing a few month prior that she could tell them apart just by the sound of their footsteps.

Savino sat down silently on the grass beside her, and let out a sigh at the sight of the book nestled in her lap.

"You little devil, what have we told you about the bookcase in the back of Santo's study?" he asked, exasperation obvious in his tone.

"I intended to put them back before their absence was noticed," the young girl admitted, tone light.

"Marmocchio," the man muttered fondly under his breath, "that was not the point, and you know it.

"Mi dispiace veramente," the girl apologized, "but you know how I get curious."

"Curiosity killed the cat," the wizard said solemnly in his low, smooth voice.

"But satisfaction brought it back," Katrina-Carlotta retorted quickly, a smile on her face.

"Ah, but even a cat only has nine lives, piccina. What happens the tenth time a cat gets curious?" Savino questioned. Katrina-Carlotta had no answer.

And so the dark witch remained silent, wondering what her beloved mentor would say if he could see her now.

Jack's eyes remained close, allowing herself to breathe in and out. Breathing. Breathing was difficult. Breathing shouldn't be difficult, not this difficult. She slowed down space and time, even slowing the colored specks and blobs that floated in the darkness beneath closed eyelids. The colors and specks squirmed and danced as she concentrated on breathing. In through the nose, let the oxygen recharge every brain cell, make it think, make it reason; breathe out through the mouth, release the negative, expel the poison and the toxins into the environment, let the world take it from her. Breathe in hope, expel doubt.

Gryffindork.

It was a common name. Any of her acquaintances (she could not say friends, she had never really had any) from school who had been in other houses had used the term, but very few people had ever had the courage to say it to her. Jack was the muggleborn who thought it was all too wonderful to even be magical, but to belong to the noble House of the good and the brave... Very few had risked bursting that bubble. But it had seemed right coming from Albus, as he commented from afar when she hung out with James. It had seemed right coming from the quiet Slytherin she had never had an issue with. Something was very fond in that word. Normal. Friendly.

She slowly opened her eyes, risking a look into the world she had retreated from. Katrina-Carlotta was here. Fine. So be it. If she wanted to be a piece of furniture in this situation, she could be a piece of furniture. Jack would treat her as no more. It was Albus that mattered. Not because she had to win him from Katrina-Carlotta, and not because he was something to be won. But because he was a friend who needed her, and she wanted to help him. She had no motives. She had no plans. She only had hopes.

He held out a hand. She swallowed and moved her gaze from his eyes to his hand. Her hand raised, hovering above the table, before reaching out to grip his. Her eyes lifted, finding his, holding his. She poured what she could from her eyes into his. Her need for a friend, her hope that he would be that, her sincere wish to help him how she could, and her inability to promise more of herself than she was certain she even had the right to give. "I will..." She gathered her strength, her resolve, her compassion. "I will be your friend for as long as I can do anything."

Like waiting for a tide that would never come. Waiting by the shore, waves lapping at your wet, bare feet, staring at the horizon where land met sea. Where dark met light. Where the impossible was possible and dreams didn’t seem so out of reach, stars close enough to reach out and pluck out of the sky.

A hand, a Quidditch-roughened yet warm, calloused yet reassuring, snaked around his fingertips and gripped his palm, tightly. Tight enough to be his anchor, heavy enough to pull him under.

Albus could see into her eyes, the sea-green depths, and knew that he would never reach the horizon.

He closed his own. When he opened them next, the desperate, cracking, demanding, vulnerable veneer was gone, and in its place appeared to stand Albus Potter, smiling as he had always been.

Inspite of everything, there was a slight hint of hoarseness left to his voice, even as that fragile, faint smile flittered and rippled on his face. “I guess I should’ve seen that coming.” He drew her hand up, still warmly encasing it and stepped forward. He had a bare couple of inches on her. His other hand rose up, palm cupping her cheek, thumb stroking across her chin once. Twice. The tender touch lingered, inspite of the faint joking tone. “Mum always did tell me to watch out for the redheads. The blasted ones have been ensnaring Potters for ages.”

The breath lodged in his chest had to discharge itself, now. He leaned forwards, face pressing into her hair and breathed, lips pressing a light kiss against her temple. They moved, almost inaudibly, and the words were so, so painfully frivolous. “I hate you, you know.”

Then the restraints snapped back on and he stepped back, exhaling with every second. His hand still clasped around her own tightened briefly, “Take care.” I'm sorry. Then he let it go and turned, steps decisive and leading him towards the other woman in the room, hanging back with her back slouched that surely violated every instinct that she ever had.

Albus’s eyes were clear as they met Katrina-Carlotta’s. A slight probe of Legilimens, and a whisper of a message left behind in the confines of her mind. “Its alright” And he knew he didn’t need to clarify any further.

“I think its time for us to get going, Madam du Hunt. If you have something left to say to Jack, you can finish the conversation after I’m gone.” He sidestepped her, and began walking to the door. From the periphery of his vision, he could see an outline outside the fluttering curtains lining the windows, like someone approaching. His hand reached out to the doorknob and turned, the door creaking open. He turned his head and met Jack’s gaze across the room.

“Oh, and if one word of this reaches James, I will kill you.” And then he was gone, the room and its walls still echoing with the sounds of the last joke that Albus Potter would make for a very, very long time.

She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting. Perhaps she had been waiting for an angry shout, as loud and sudden as a roar of thunder. Or maybe some part of her had been betting upon watery eyes and hitched breaths. But no, Albus had just walked out with little more than a caress and a final joke.

The male's words still echoed over and over inside her head. "It's alright," the voice of Albus Potter told her. She understood his sentiment, what the wizard was hoping she would grasp, but the words only served to make her momentarily angry. It wasn't alright. It was so, so, very far from alright.

Turning to face the redhead, there was so much Katrina-Carlotta wanted to say in that moment. "I hope you're in as much pain as he is right now", was the first thing that came to mind, followed closely by; "do you really care that little about his happiness?" and "you may say that you're a light witch and a good person, but I've slaughter thousands, and even I wouldn't do that." But all of those things were petty, and purposely phrased to hurt the other woman as much as possible.

Pushing back the temptation to just murder Jack, the assassin was incredibly surprised by the words that finally did leave her mouth. "I've been hired to destroy you," Katrina-Carlotta stated neutrally. To be fair, she hadn't exactly been hired, but it was close enough. "I don't say that to scare you, just to warn you. For Albus," the witch admitted bluntly.

As soon as she'd spoken, Katrina-Carlotta covered the left side of her face with her hand, and turned the right side of her face away from the other woman. While it was hardly a dramatic movement, it was the often-unreadable assassin's equivalent of sobbing in front of a stranger.

Lowering her hand after a few seconds, the European found herself with nothing to say that could be in any way productive. Due to her lack of words, Katrina-Carlotta simply turned away and strode towards the door. The woman was only a few meters away from the exit, when she suddenly swiveled back around towards Jack.

"He's sorry, you know. Far sorrier than he should be." And with that, the dark-haired female once again turned her back towards the witch whom she would most certainly one day face in battle. Taking a few more smooth strides forwards, she opened the door Albus Potter had just stepped through, intending for the two dark practitioners to disappear together into the night.

Jack nervously watched Albus' eyes open, slowly, revealing all there was beneath the heavy, fleshy veils, feeling as though she were cowering beneath his eyes, though she held strongly against it, looking tall and firm. A smile came onto his face, and Jack felt a squirm in her stomach, feeling uncertain and unprepared for whatever was to come. He spoke and the words grated against her ears, throbbing inside her head. He held her hand tightly and approached, getting much closer than she let people get. He gently cupped her face and she flinched against it, unfamiliar with such contact, not sure she liked it. He was making jokes, but she did not like it. Jack Dyllan, the queen of pranks, the master of hiding from emotion behind jokes, felt uncomfortable as Albus tried to laugh his way out of this situation.

He leaned forward and she tensed, ready to rip herself away, but she rooted herself to the ground, forcing herself to withstand his punishment - that's what this was, after all. Punishment. She could not give him what he wanted. She could not promise him more than she could, it would not be fair, and it would not be genuine. Jack did want to give to Albus, but there was a part of herself she could not give. She had sent apart of herself off with Nemo, and it was beginning to return, but he wanted it now, before she could hold it and remember what it meant to her. He wanted to have her heart before she ever had a chance to have it.

She cared about Albus. More than she had intended to care about anyone after Nemo, after Vito, after Chase. But he needed her, and she was not sure she could love someone that needed her. She had done it time and time again, and it didn't work. It couldn't work. Because she was never sure they loved her beyond their need. Her heart just couldn't trust another person who needed her.

He had kissed her forehead, and she squeezed her eyes closed, refusing to let them betray her. He hated her. That hurt. Chase had said she hated her. Vito had constantly reminded her of it. And when Jack had tried to help Nemo, he had assured her that he hated her too. So many of these people who wanted her love could not have only her friendship. They either had her love or she became an enemy. Jack let out a breath, her heart quivering and her stomach turning cold. Why? "I know."

He let go, because they all let go. She was used to this, so she let it happen. He spoke to du Hunt, but she remained, her eyes closed and her body rigid. He threatened her, but why would she tell James. This wasn't funny. This wasn't cute. This wasn't a joke. "Okay." That was all she said, because she had no interest in holding him there. He was going to leave, and he was probably not going to return. There was no use postponing it.

The door closed and the wake of destruction was tangible. She could feel the tension and the energy in the air, pressing in on her and throbbing against her. Katrina-Carlotta spoke and Jack did not move, did not open her eyes. "Thank you." She knew it wasn't for her. It was for Albus. But still.

Again, Katrina-Carlotta spoke and she began to walk away. Jack was happy to let her go, but Jack felt words bubble up into her. Her eyes opened and she caught Katrina-Carlotta with her words. "Your job is to be a fly on the wall. But understand that a fly never gets further than that. You will never understand Albus, and neither will I. You will never find unity in him. You will never understand where I come from and what I do and why I do it, so stop hating me for what you don't understand, and hate me for what you do. Hate me for not loving Albus Potter, but don't hate me for not being able to."

Katrina-Carlotta couldn't help it. She laughed.

"If you must compare me to an insect, at least make it something that I decently resemble," the dark witch told the younger woman to whom she was conversing with. Leaning against the doorframe, the female allowed her dark hair to fall over her shoulders and partially into her face as she pondered.

"A spider," Katrina-Carlotta announced in an almost childish way after a few moments of thought. Really, it did make more sense than anything else she could come up with. Quick, deadly, feared, often dark, occasionally showy, graceful, almost always unseen; there were more than enough similarities to get by with.

All traces of amusement draining from her face, Katrina-Carlotta allowed herself to ponder over the other words that Jack had spoken. "You're right, of course," she admitted only a little bitterly, "I will never understand Albus nor yourself. You both contain a bit too much light for me to ever comprehend the way that you think. Just like how you will never understand myself or Albus, for our darkness. Ironic, that."

The assassin was about to turn her back and leave, for real this time, when the Order Member's words floated through her mind like a soft but unrelenting breeze.
Hate me for not loving Albus Potter, but don't hate me for not being able to.

Nostrils flaring with some emotion that the dark witch didn't wish to put a name to, she wet her lips with a quick movement of her tongue. "I've never met anyone like you, Jack Dyllan," Katrina-Carlotta admitted in a voice just louder than a whisper but in a tone as hard as steel, "and just for that, I'll try."

Such an event, something boarding upon compassion being given to someone whom should be her enemy, hadn't happened since that event with Susan Bones many, many months ago. Then again, Susan was now dead by her own hand, so perhaps this was more of a bad omen than a good one for the fate of Jack Dyllan. Finally closing the door behind her, Katrina-Carlotta accepted that fact that only time would tell.