The End Of The Story

Is Not The End, But Another Chapter
@colemetmilinia

Traipsing around London was hardly the most fun thing the Wizard could imagine doing, but things were getting weird in his head nowadays and he needed time out. The flat was suffocating thoufh O was hardly home these days what with being at his Lad's. Pigment was quieter than usual, but it was for the gallery that Damion was out. They were low on certain ingredients for their experiments and for painting, and the fridge needed stocked. But instead of going at it like he usually would have - quickly, directly, without any fuss- he was taking his time. His hands buried in his cream hoodie and his head down so he wouldn't be recognised around the streets and shops so easily. He knew soon Raymond would be sending out his goons to ruin his life again so there was no need to make it easy for him. Quite the contrary. He mostly window shopped to begin with. Stopping in front if display windows to let figures that had been walking behind him pass without them seeing his face. There was always the chance of turning round and seeing Raymond standing there. Esther's flat was probably nearby but he didn't know the address so it wasn't like he could just turn uo if anything went wrong. For this afternoon he was on his own.

Though Kit would be home soon for a few months so he wouldn't be mostly by himself in rhe near future. O was caught up with this Anton guy like a moth to a flame and Damion had no place around that. Until the guy screwed up and hurt his best mate he couldn't say a thing. Though he still didn't know why it was bothering him so much. He was glad that at least one of them had someone to go and see now as they had spent nearly every waking moment together for nearly a year but instead of being relieved he was disappointed. Maybe because he was used to his best nate being around all the time and now he wasn't. When Kit got back from Hogwarts he'd have something else to focus on. That was what he was currently looking forward to besides getting to know his actual  sister better. Maybe Esther would get along with Kitkat- Kathryn- and he could spend time with them both. These days all he had was the hope for family connections as the rest of the aspects of his life had packed up and left him. As pathetic as it was, he was miserable... and didn't know what to do.

Coming up alongside a large apothecsry and potions shop he sighed and lowered his hood. There was no time like the present after all and at least he could pretend to be productive. Stepping in, he slid through the door gracefully and lowered his eyes to the nearest row of shelves. There were gaps so the people on the other side of the shelf were easily visible but he kept his head down. Half the things he only recognised because of... because of Cole. Dismisisng the thought he slipped his hands out of his pockets and pinched the bridge of his nose. What were they needing.... what was he in here for...

It was more than a week and a half after the full moon, which meant Colemet no longer felt like absolutely waste. Lycanthropy, as she had found, was quite the adjustment. In her mind, she somehow thought she had been prepared. After all, she had carried tendencies of the wolf for years now, and she had witnessed what her father had gone through before she was able to make him wolfsbane potion. The agony, the madness...she thought she knew. But as it went, she realized she knew nothing, that an outside perspective didn’t even give one a glimpse into what it was like to be a werewolf. She hadn’t been prepared. The transformation had been made easier only by the wolfsbane potion she was still able to brew, now for her father and herself, but even with the miracle drug, it had been agonizing. She knew it was in part from the resistance of her mind, the part of her brain that didn’t want to admit it was a reality. She didn’t understand why...it had been months now. Surely her mind understood?

But Colemet knew better, and she knew how her head unfortunately worked. It was a constant battle behind her eyes, her thoughts always pulling in different directions. What she knew to be true was always contested by the urge of her brain to twist all perceptions and make something new. She knew she was a werewolf, of course, and she knew there was nothing to be done about it. But a part of her brain didn’t want it to be true, didn’t want the disease to be there. She couldn’t shut that part off enough to mitigate the resistance, and the transformation was as hard as ever. People were supposed to control their thoughts; their thoughts were not supposed to control them. It was an unfortunate fate, and one Colemet didn’t know how to solve.

Taking it day by day, that was how Colemet solved it, or at least coped with it. Perhaps there was no real solution. If there was, she hadn’t found it yet, but that didn’t mean the world stopped turning. She had a job, friends, things to do for her family…no longer Damion to worry about, she reminded herself with a pang in her chest. She had to keep going. Her job and skills had been demanding recently, as she needed more ingredients from the apothecary. She went through some of them rather quickly now that she was making wolfsbane for both she and her father. She was in a shop in London, looking through the shelves. Her mind was wandering, and her brain barely registered what was before her. Aconite, aconite...where was it? She raised her gaze to look on a higher shelf, but found herself practically seeing through it instead. On the other side there was a man, she noted, one of familiar form… She looked through the shelves a little closer, and her eyes widened when she saw who it was. Damion...Damion Kvothe. She thought she would never see him again, that she was done, and simply the sight of him felt like an instant shot to the heart. She didn’t want him to see her, so she quickly shuffled the other way in hopes of making it deeper in the shop before she caught his eye.

Working alongside O in the shop had been an eye opener for a start considering he had never worked with Alchemy since school. On top of that their main business was showing/displaying art in a massive gallery that welcomed all kinds through their doors. Ingredients were mostly focused in the workshop than on or around the main floor of Pigment anyway... so he'd just need the standard ones they ran through quickest for now then he'd get to the rest another time when O had remembered to write down everything else they needed. He was probably in the wrong place for the rest of it too. Maybe next time he'd send Kathy to get the things they needed as that was her job now... but it would also mean he would have one less excuse to get out and about.

It was knowing Raymond was out and walking the streets again that had him so antsy these days, knowing that at any moment the next person he saw could potentially be the monster who had 'raised' and broken him. And when that day came he was going to be a goner in a range of possibilities. Death would be the nicest option. But Raymond Kvothe had never been a nice man nor had he ever been known for being merciful. Anyone he was in contact with could find themselves on the older wizard's hit list and knowing that had caused Damion to try and get rid of as many people in his life as he possibly could in an effort to protect them. It had cost him love, a home with someone else, friends and his freedom. And he couldn't even let any of them understand fully without letting them into his head.. and he just wasn't going to let that happen. Letting them see it all; the panic, the pain, the things he had done. The scars he wore with an invisibility charm over them courtesy of his emancipated father's hand? No. He couldn't do it. For being a Gryffindor sometimes he was such a coward.

Perusing the shelf, his fingers tracing the wood as he walked along it slowly, Damion's thoughts barrelled into one another as he took in a deep breath to steady himself. Everything good in his life bar two or three things had been ripped from him by Raymond whether directly or indirectly. His eyes flicked up at a stir of sudden movement as he reached the end of the first row and his brows shot up. His breath stopped in his chest. His heart lurched and panged painfully causing his eyes to widen as his lips parted. 'Cole...' Right in front of him, all but running away from him was the ex love of his life. Suddenly snapping back into action, he started forward again with his hand lifting slightly. "Cole? Colemet.. Cole!" He started after her as a look of hurt flashed across his face. Why was she running away from him?!
The other patrons rather got in the way, slowing his progress, but he was determined to get to ger. This was the first time he'd seen her since... since the day he'd broken both of their hearts and walked out of her cottage in Godrics Hollow. Emotions rose inside him he couldn't even begin to process but he knew he couldn't let her just leave. He had to talk to her. He needed her to understand!

Colemet wished she could put the pat behind her and keep it there, yet no matter what she did, it seemed to creep up on her any time it could. She couldn’t get the werewolf attacks out of her mind no matter how hard she tried. It was a great way to practice Occlumency; empty her mind completely, forget anything was there at all. It was so counterintuitive to her to do that, as she liked nothing more than filling her mind with knowledge, but that was why it was a challenge, and that was why it was a learned skill. Still, it couldn’t erase everything, and it certainly hadn’t erased the recent wounds in her heart. She wanted to put it all in the past, have it behind her and not revisit it… But fate had a way of dragging it all up and putting it right in front of her again, and that was exactly what it felt like when she had set her eyes on Damion Kvothe.

It didn’t take much to get Colemet’s heart going, but this was enough. Werewolves had naturally elevated heartbeats, so it wasn’t surprising that she felt the pounding in her chest pick up, but she hadn’t expected so much of a reaction that she felt as if her heart was going to beat right out of her rib cage. She shouldn’t be feeling like this...it wasn’t worth this… Why was she so stressed out? Perhaps because she had thought she hadn’t thought she would ever see him again, or perhaps she had just hoped she wouldn’t. She didn’t need additional heartache… She just wanted it to be over and done with, but it followed her. She wanted to believe she was imagining it, that it wasn’t him and that she was just paranoid, but her heart told her more than her mind that this wasn’t the case.

Colemet wanted to get out of there as soon as possible, or at least away from him. She had hoped he hadn’t seen her, but the hurried footsteps that fell into step with hers in a few moments told her this wasn’t the case, and her heart sank. She tried to pick up her pace, but she realized she was heading further into the store behind shelves, not out of the store. She willed it away, wished she was anywhere but here. She could apparate, but that would draw far too much attention. She felt her heart hammering, her blood pressure rising, and it came to a head when she made it to a dead ended corner and she was forced to turn around and face him. She couldn’t even prevent the bitter tone that came out of her mouth when she spoke. “What do you want?!” she snapped, more forcefully and angrily than she meant, though the expression on her face probably said otherwise. She didn’t want to be this angry, but she couldn’t help it...

Ex-love was a simplistic lie rather than a truth, but it was at least the closest semblance he could try to muster to latter when the Witch sprang to mind. Once you loved someone... you never really stopped. It just... changed. It wasn't as ardent or life consuming anymore, they weren't the first person you thought of in the morning or the last at night either. But they never fully evacuated your heart either. They would stay there forever, forever lingering and reminding of those times shared in the past... of what once was. Would he ever fully stop loving Colemet? No. But he wasn't in love to the point he had once been. He had ruined it for himself. His mind forever questioning and doubting, his thoughts telling him she deserved better and he could never fix her when he would always be a broken soul himself. Knowing if he'd stayed like he had planned she would likely have died by now. The ring he had bought for her birthday in Paris would never meet her eyes, the promise never uttered, for he had had to put selfishness aside to let her go. So she could live. All he wanted was for her to be happy and to find her every wish and want in life.

Damion just knew it wasn't with him was all. But even still the expression on her face as she hurried away from him cut into him deeper than any hex Raymond had ever inflicted... but he was helpless to stop his feet carrying him after her at the same speed all the same. He couldn't rightly say what he hoped to achieve if he did catch up with her yet he pursued her through the shelves, dodging the other customers with the clear goal of not letting her slip away. Which in all fairness was pretty close to utter madness considering what he'd done. How one night of thinking had turned everything they had had onto its head and destroyed his first stepping stone of trying to get his life on track. He had wanted to save her- from what, he wasn't entirely sure- and he had failed miserably. He had become what he hated; someone who had hurt her past words or apologies.

And finally they ran out of floor and shelves and were pulled to face one another as the shop came to an abrupt halt behind sheathes of plants and jars, obscuring them mostly from the rest of the shop. The malice in her voice stole the breath from his lungs and he unconsciously took an immediate step backwards from her as his eyes widened. Shaking hands knotted against one another in a effort to remain looking composed but he could tell the tension that clenched his jaw probably gave him away immediately. "...Okay... I deserved that." Damion finally murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he held her gaze. Her eyes were flashing at him, plainly telling him how she felt about seeing him and his pursuit but like a masochist he couldn't look away. His heart tightened to the point he thought it was going to give out and he finally remembered to breathe again as he blinked a couple of times and finally dropped his gaze down to the side. "In fact I deserve far worse, all things considered. It's practically a gift that you're willing to say anything to me at all."

Colemet didn’t want this. She didn’t want any of this. Everything that had happened the past few months...she simply wanted to will it all away. Sometimes it all escaped her mind and she found it easier to be in the present moment. That was usually when she was out in nature doing her job; that was where she felt full and complete. But most moments it seemed to catch up to her and hit her in the worst ways imaginable. A flash of anger, a moment of heartache, searing loss that she felt deep in the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t bear it, yet day after day, she had to.

Seeing Damion was like reopening a wound. Seeing him felt like a stab in the heart, a stab...well, basically anywhere. She wasn’t sure if it was the adrenaline that caused the pain coupled with her flight response, or if her emotions really had such an effect on her. She had never been an emotional person, but today, seeing Damion, she couldn’t help it. Like other moments, she tried to will him away, which had come in the form of running initially. She thought she had imagined him...there was no way he was really here. But the moment she had heard hurried footsteps fall into step with her own, she knew that her twisted mind wasn’t playing tricks, much to her dismay.

Anger was the only way she knew to react. Colemet wasn’t one to show heartbreak, to show sadness. All of her pain and hurt translated itself to anger, and that was exactly what she was putting on him right now. Perhaps he didn’t deserve it, the same way he didn’t deserve it all those years ago, but she couldn’t help it. She didn’t have kind words for him, not like this… “I don’t have time for poetic ramblings,” she said shortly, the edge still very clear in her voice. “I said, what do you want?” Her voice wasn’t kind, wasn’t soft; it was all hard edges and anger. She couldn’t recall using a voice like that on him since she had lashed out on him in school. But in her mind, wrong or not, it was merited.

Less and less time he was spending in his animagus form, yet it was the only way he could escape most of his emotional and psychological duress. Every day was a waiting game for not just him, but for Kit and Oriel as well. It was as if an invisible but no less a dark cloud was hanging over them, moving in a stormy front, but as they couldn't see it they couldn't plan or prepare for it. Kit had already moved out so it wasn't even like he could focus on meeting the blonde frm the train station this year in a month's time. All he had was Pigment and Oriel, and he didn't even know how long he'd have either of them anymore.

He'd say he had Esther but Raymond had his claws in her so he had to be careful about meeting up with her or going to her flat. Knowing he had a sister who's future was only slightly less bleak than his own was a painful burden to bear... yet it wasn't by his hand. It was by the monster who had sired them both. Who had hammered the nail of the coffin that was his relationship with Colemet home, committing it to a place where it would never be again. Once, he had planned his future with her in it. A home in Godric's Hollow, maybe with kids that would have the eyes of the woman he had loved so much. Rebuilding both of them together. But he had since realised he was not the man who would do that for her. There would be a person who would walk into her life and whisk her off her feet to carry her to the life she deserved. And he was thoroughly out of the race, by his own hand. It was ironic, really, how it was now a mark they both bore. She had done this to him in school but had left the explanation for years later. This time it had been him as he spiralled downwards into the mess of his mind, but the explanation had been immediate. It likely hadn't made much sense nor could he remember exactly what was said. Just that he had mentioned Raymond, and that she deserved more than he could give her. It had been the same say that he had nearly lost Oriel in an explosion and had spent 5 hours trying to find him... before finally finding him in Mungo's barely clinging to life. He hadn't had time to think of what had transpired that morning, of what he could have done differently. It just drove home the fact that he couldn't save anyone, and those he tried to ultimately slipped through his fingers.

His hands clenched and unclenched by his sides, his heart hammering like it had the first time they'd ever been standing in front of each other like this. Only that time she hadn't been scathing and livid with him, merely curious. And his nerves had been born of attraction and insecurity, without the heavy load of guilt he now carried with him. "I... I don't know..." He pressed the heel of his hand, moving to the side so she could leave. He hadn't meant to cage her in, prevent her from a choice that was entirely hers to make. Namely, whether or not she wanted to talk to him. "To apologise? To talk? Even though I'm a blundering idiot and an probably making this situation worse?" He steepled his hands over his face, breathing in deeply as his eyes clenched shut. "Because I've missed you." He whispered to himself, barely aware she could likely hear him. But it was the truth. She had been such a stable part of his life. An amazing friend as well as everything else. There was a void in his life that he had created through rash decision from being in such a dark place... a space she had once occupied.

Colemet didn’t have time for this. She hadn’t had time or energy for heartbreak in the first place, though she supposed no one really did. She had thought they had a future together...she thought she had finally been certain about something, only to have it ripped out from beneath her like it had never even existed. She had barely even gotten an explanation, only one that was lacking saying she deserved a man better than himself. She had no idea how that could be true, because he was all she had ever wanted, yet he didn’t seem to care. She supposed she probably didn’t deserve an explanation at all. After all, she had done something similar to him all of those years ago, and she hadn’t given him one until years after. Perhaps this was a taste of her own medicine.

It angered her. At this point, she was mad at him but growing increasingly mad at herself. This is what she deserved. She thought she had paid for her sins with all the trouble she had been through over the years, but apparently it wasn’t enough. She was mad at herself for even being upset. She had done this, and now she knew how it felt to be on the other end. It was easy to be angry with Damion, but also with herself. It wasn’t sustainable to stay that way, though, which was why she had expended so much energy simply trying to move on. Anger wouldn’t be good for her, not towards Damion, not towards herself. It wasn’t easy for her to let go of it, but she was trying.

This was making the task all the harder for her. Seeing him was the last thing she needed, flooding up not only the emotions that she was trying to get over, but also the anger she was trying to work through. Her lycanthropy had worsened her temper, but it had at least made it less frequent. Now, though...now she was explosive. The inner parts of her mind told her not to, like they were clawing for the docile side of her to be the one that showed, but that simply wasn’t in the cards right now. She clenched her fists in frustration as he said he didn’t know - how could he not bloody know? She noticed his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, and she realized he was just as worked up as she was, though in an entirely different way. Please calm down… said a distant voice in her head, but one she couldn’t draw herself close enough to. “Then talk. I’ll listen.” she said, managing to make her voice less razor sharp than it had been prior when she spoke. Her heart took a pained jump when he said he missed her, and her anger boiled up, clenching her fists tighter until her nails dug into her skin. “Oh? Well I’ve missed you too. But that hardly seems like it is worth bringing up considering the circumstances.”

He had become the one thing he swore he wouldn't be, the one thing he had promised he would keep her from; he had been the man to break her heart. Rather than an honour it was a weight that bore him down, weighing on his shoulders as if his conscience had become a physical entity that he was chained to carry around for the entirety of his existence. Perhaps the playing field was even now. But that didn't matter to him. As far as he was concerned the field had never been filled with more craters and fissures, each more perilous and deeper than the last. But he was the one who had done this to both of them. To keep her safe. He had truly believed it was the only way. Now... now he didn't know what to think. Raymond was out there just waiting for him to slip up and he'd been careful not to so far. Just being out like this was putting both the pair of them and Oriel back home at risk, too.

The sorting hat had placed him within the wrong house. He was no Gryffindor. There was no bravery in what he had done for the past year. No... Damion Kvothe was a coward. Even now, standing with the Witch who had once been the love of his life, the one he had been on the precipice of pledging his life to, he was scared. He was shaking. His heart was working overtime trying to keep up with his shallow breathing and his tense state. Damion could only imagine how Colemet was feeling. They'd known each other once down to their bones. Every twitch, every faked smile or twist of the fingers. They'd had a year to change all of that, and they had. Damion had become an expert once more at hiding his physical health as well as his complete mental state- the current situation be damned. And Cole was angrier than he'd ever seen her in all the years he had known her and he didn't know what to do. What to say. Knowing that he should say nothing and walk away before he ripped open the healing wound. Yet knowing his heart wouldn't let him.

Nausea was boiling in his gut, making him swallow by reflex. But even that was a task as it felt like his throat had become sand paper with a rock lodged in its midst. He wished that he could see Eric again to help him, like he'd helped him last time when he'd gotten back in contact with the Ravenclaw before him again upon starting his position at Hogwarts. He wished he had the guts to come out and tell her everything he hadn't been able to before, to make her see and understand why he had done what he had done, why he had rushed everything to a close and left before she could say anything. How it had turned out to be one of the worst days of his life and it still haunted him. With everything he had to tell her though there was so much he couldn't. Like how he still had the ring that he was going to propose to her with when he'd taken her to France for her birthday. That he'd wanted to move in with her so neither of them had to fear about being alone anymore. How for that one year she had made him feel worth something again. Had made him feel alive again. And how he had died when he'd left.

Where did he draw the line then if he told her anything? Who did he think he was to imagine she didn't deserve at least a semblance of an explanation? If now wasn't a good time, then when? "I'm... I'm trying to. Merlin Cole, but I don't even know where to start." His eyes flicked down to where her knuckles were turning white, her nails biting into her palms, and he pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead. Anger filled him rapidly at his own ineptitude. The Wizard could almost feel his father's temper straining to lash out at something and destroy it. But he was not his father. That had been the point all along. His heart panged painfully within his chest and as he raised his eyes back to her they were shining slightly too bright while also being flat. "... You have? Shit. Shit. I am such a bastard."

Colemet wished inside her head that she wasn’t like this. She wished she could speak to him civilly, like her heart wasn’t breaking inside of her chest, but there was no way for her to escape the pain. Perhaps under different circumstances, she would have been able to hold herself together, but she wasn’t the same as the last time she saw him. Before she had been tortured and irritable with the split between world she had known. Now she acted all on instincts, an anything that hurt her was returned with anger. She knew it was awful, but she couldn’t stop herself, not in the heat of the moment. The wolf inside of her wouldn’t let her.

But Damion had no way of knowing that. He didn’t know what she had become, nor would he ever know now. Everything they were, everything they had...it was gone. And whatever was left of it, whatever could be left of it, she seemed determined to rip it apart, as if that would somehow make it better. But she knew that wasn’t really what she wanted. They had so much… They had known each other inside and out, she had let him into her life and he into hers, he promised never to hurt her...and then he ripped out her heart. Maybe she deserved it after what she had done to him all those years ago...it really wasn’t very different, was it? But it didn’t mean she wouldn’t fight it with all she had. She knew she shouldn’t, but she couldn’t stop.

Colemet traced every movement of his with her eyes, acutely aware of everything he was doing. She could hear his breathing, hear hisn rapid heartbeat, practically feel the tension he was feeling, and it pained her heart even more because the last time she had heard all of that was when she was laying against him with her head on his chest. It had all been so much quieter then… Now it was all fear and tension and sadness. She couldn’t even blame him; she was probably terrifying in the moment. “Find somewhere to start, then,” she said, her voice dangerously calm. At least it wasn’t a scream… she thought to herself. She let go of her fists, the spots where her fingernails had dug in sore and raw. Her anger flamed when he asked the most ridiculous question she had heard from him thus far. “Of course I have, Damion! You were everything to me! Do you really think I wouldn’t miss you after a major piece of my life was ripped from me?!” She couldn’t control that outburst, but she was starting to think that was more out of hurt than anger. Had he really thought she was so heartless that she didn’t miss him?