(1939-12-10) Can Never Agree
Details for Can Never Agree
Summary: Angelus and Madeline exchange a few words in the common room.
Date: December 10, 1939
Location: Gryffindor Common Room, Hogwarts
Related: Loyalties

It’s a rare thing for Angelus to miss any event, even when things don’t work out for him. He would usually just find some sort of role that would work, or help him deal. But the fourth year does not go to dinner - probably one of the first meals he’s ever missed - and he’s certainly regretting it now. When he enters the commons it’s very near to curfew, his pace very slow as he crosses the room, casting a glance around to check on how many housemates are still around.

Madeline had noticed the boy's absence - and it had made her feel briefly quite smug. She didn't comment on it to anyone, though. Or offer much of an explanation as to why her eyes might have been a bit red. After dinner, she'd spent most of her time sketching out and working on a 'drawing' on a piece of parchment - if you can call it a drawing. Using big, bubble letters, she's written the words 'Junior Auror' across a piece of paper, turned landscape. Across the bottom, in carefully written and fancy script it says 'Madeline Evans.' In the middle, again in large, bubble letters are the words 'Honor' 'Duty' and 'Courage.' She's currently using pencils to color in the word Honor with whites and blue shading. As the portrait hole opens she looks up, frowns for a moment at Angelus, and then looks right back down at her work.

Angelus’ slow movement ceases as his blue eyes slide over Madeline by the table. Suddenly frozen, he stands there silently and watches her. No movement, no words, just inwardly thinking until he suddenly whirls back to the portrait hole, taking the steps back to the now exit. He’s barely through it when an older boy stands up. “Eibon,” says the fifth year, loud and firm, as he takes a step after him. “Where do you think you’re going? It’s almost curfew.”

The voice freezes Angelus, heaving a sigh as he turns to look at the older boy addressing him. Nothing is said in return, but Gel does lift his chin as he gives the fifth year a look back.

Madeline ignores the exchange, as she continues adding blue around one side of the letters in the world 'Honor.' Darker blue at the edges, and lightening as the color moves into each individual letter. What does it matter to her if Angelus goes out there after curfew and gets into trouble? House points are stupid anyways.

For a moment there’s a standoff stare. The fifth year giving Angelus an expectant look, a shake of his head, while Angelus stares back with a questioning look. When he turns to look at the portrait hole again, the older boy speaks up again, “I want let you lose us any house points.”

“Relax, I’m not leaving,” Gel finally pipes up with a little shake of his head. He lifts a hand, flicking it lightly and casts another glance around the commons. As his gaze lands once more on Madeline, another bout of regarding her with quiet thought, he approaches the table. Sliding back a chair he sits, crosses his fingers together and places both hands down on the surface of the table. After several moments of silence, the youth eventually asks, “Did you send off a letter to Auror Odori yet?” Though he tries to bite it back, there is a trace of bitterness in his tone.

Madeline's shoulders tense as Angelus sits at the table, but she doesn't look up at him, or pause in her coloring.

"Of course," she answers simply. "I told her it was stupid to trust you," she adds. She'd tried, though. She'd tried too hard, because Rena'd wanted her to. She'd started to think it'd been long enough - more than a month! - that maybe he was gonna keep the secret. That was stupid of her.

Angelus falls into silence again, half the time watching Madeline and half the time looking down at the table’s surface. His hand lifts - elbow on the table - to rub at his forehead. His head simply rests in his hand, once more saying nothing while he thinks. Eventually he lowers his hand to rest it back onto the table. “What do you expect? It was my group you playing spy on. How can I just forget that?” He tilts is head questioningly at her.

"That's why I told Rena it was dumb to tell you," Madeline answers, still looking down. "And you're an idiot if you still think they're about wizarding culture. You ask Rozenblats if they're about wizarding culture." She's shading with a heavy hand now - forcing herself to stop and switch to a lighter color pencil. "The Magijugend hurts people."

“It is about our culture,” Angelus returns instantly, shifting in his seat. “Why do you want to believe the worst about them? We don’t. Most of us don’t,” he says, and yes, falling into ‘we’ and ‘us.’ “There are people on both sides hurting each other.” He lifts a hand and flicks it through the air. “Whatever, you aren’t ever going to understand. We’ve already well-established you and I are never going to agree. I believe in my people, you in yours.” But draws in a breath and holds out a hand to her. “We can still stay civil.”

Madeline lets out a laugh. "You're crazy, Eibon. You're just insane." She glances up at him with a solemn frown, then down at her work as she jabs a finger at it. "Honor. You don't got any. It's always been your problem. You go tell whoever you want. Put a bloody banner in the entry hall for all I care. It don't matter."

Angelus’ expression falls, and a second after he pulls his hand back. He blinks and stares at her, momentarily scowling before he gives his head a hard shake. He slaps a hand down on the surface of the table before he rises. “You don’t know the meaning of honour. Just because you don’t like something doesn’t make it honourless. They are my friends. I didn’t do anything wrong.” He pauses for only a moment, leaning his hands down on the table. “We can be civil, Evans. We have to. We’re housemates.”

Madeline jumps a little at the slap, and pulls her drawing closer to herself, protectively. She doesn't want to have to start over. She lifts her head to look at Angelus again, her posture tense and her jaw tight as she considers him, and then shakes her head. "I know honour - and you don't got it. She gave you another chance, but you ruined it. I knew you would." Her eyes are moist - though she stubbornly refuses to cry.

"You're not here. You don't exist. And it doesn't matter what anyone does to you now. 'cuz you're not here," she answers flatly.

Angelus’ fingers twitch and he once again scowls. Despite his expression, however, his voice is kept calm and cool, his blue eyes locked on Madeline. “You’re being rude, Evans. You don’t have to like me, or the people I consider my friends, but we can be civil. We can.” He draws in a breath and straightens from the table, his chin lifting. “All right, I’ll be even with you. I will share a secret of my own with you and you can do whatever you want with it.”

"I don't want your secret, Eibon. I don't care about you. I don't care what happens to you. You can go put both secrets on the banner for all I care," Madeline spits out, looking back down at her paper again and letting her hair fall around her face. Picking up golden bronze color, she starts coloring little pieces here and there of the word 'Duty.'

It comes quite of a bit of relief when she refuses. Angelus lets out relieved sigh. A few thoughts came through his head that made him nervous, but it’s gone when she disagrees. Instead, the nervousness is replaced by annoyance and the youth shakes his head. “Fine, fine,” he says, holding up his hands. “I tried.” His mouth opens to say more, but he closes it quickly and shakes his head more and turns to walk to the stairs. He stops just before taking a step and glances back to the table. “You are the one who’s refusing to be civil. Remember that.” And he turns to climb the stairs.

"Tell yourself whatever you want!" Madeline calls after him. As he disappears up the stairs, though, she stops trying to color - and soon finds one of the other girls joining her at the table, gently putting a hand on her back and checking on her to see if she's alright.

Angelus disappears upstairs and into his dormitory. There’s a loud thump against the door, and then moments pass. Eventually, the blonde haired youth comes back down the stairs without much of a glance around. His robes have been discarded, wearing simple woolen breeches and no shirt. He pauses at the bottom of the stairs briefly, and then stalks over to the fire, lifting the bracelet up in front of him, giving it a once over before with a simple flick, he tosses it into the flames. Turning back to the stairs, he once again retreats to his dorms.

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