All You Wish For and All You Need

Marcus slipped the stone back into the pocket of his robes and sat on the edge of his bed. The curtains around him were partly drawn, as they were nearly everyday now.

He pulled out the drawer beside his bed and fingered through the contents. There was an old and frayed book, a few extra quills, a small scrap of crumpled parchment and at the bottom a folded piece of hunter green silk. He carefully picked the silk up from the draw and withdrew into his bed.

The silk was heavy and cold as he stared at it, allowing his fingers to stroke the soft surface. “Anne,” he whispered and unfolded the material gently. Inside was the bracelet which he had taken from Anne. The bracelet which now contained a part of his soul.

He had kept it with him since that night. Partly due to fear that if he returned it to Anne it would be destroyed and partly because he did not know how to give it back to her. Marcus sat quietly as he stared at the piece of himself. It seemed so odd that something so fragile and unimportant could be transformed into something so significant that a part of him resided inside.

It still had that slight glimmer, even in the darkness that he was surrounded in now. Marcus continued to stare at the bracelet, occasionally stroking the smooth metal. He could hear voices in the common room and the thumping sounds of people walking towards the room where he sat.

Marcus hurriedly placed the bracelet back inside its container and walked towards the door. He flung it open and walked out, ignoring everyone who looked his way.

He nearly ran out of the castle and in to the grounds. He sucked in the sweet fresh air and paused for a moment as he stared at the sky. It was beginning to darken already. Marcus took off once more and as soon as he was sure that he was out of sight of any students he ran. He ran alongside the lake, his robes billowing out behind him. The wind whistled through his hair as he stretched his legs out and they carried him faster and further.

The trees surrounded him and twig-like branches grappled at his clothing. But he paid them no heed and continued to run until he reached the clearing. Marcus could not explain why he continuously came here.

Anne. The voice echoed. He smiled bitterly. Of course. That would be the reason that he kept returning here wouldn’t it. His obsession. First Harry Potter and now her. Neither of them gave him a moments rest.

Without realizing he was doing so, Marcus drew the stone from his pocket once again. Lord Voldemort stared at him in an almost bored fashion.

“Want something?” he asked. “I was under the impression that you weren’t talking to me.”

Marcus snarled and shook his head, not sure of why he had taken the stone out and why he wouldn’t just pick it up and put it in his pocket.

Anne sat beside the lake, watching as the clouds peacefully drifted across the horizon. They were wandering aimlessly, but it didn’t seem to bother them and they were in no hurry to get to wherever they ended up going.

If only my life could be like that, she sighed. Not having to care about anything, just letting things happen as they happen. She sighed again, heavier this time and stood up. In the depths of the lake Anne could see the mermaids frolicking about together. They looked so cheerful and happy in their watery home.

Anne walked away from the lake, away from the happiness and contentment of the things around her. She wandered into the trees, knowing that in there she would not find those warm feelings. In there she would only find coldness and misery as the trees towered above her and blocked out the light.

Except for one place. One small clearing in which she used to spend much of her time with a particular person. Anne shook her head slowly from side to side to dispel the thoughts forming.

Why did she and Marcus have to fight over the stupidest of things? Why did everything always seem to blow so far out of proportion when it came to him? He distorted her perception of things, and blinded her, preventing her from seeing things that were sometimes right in front of her.

But what was in front of her now? Only trees, darkness and the soft ground.

Marcus looked at the ground and clenched his hands. He wanted to pick up the stone and throw it away. Throw it somewhere so that he would never be able to get it back ever again. But he couldn’t. The thought of throwing away his father tore at him. They may not have known each other. But they were related. They were the same. Marcus could kill just as Lord Voldemort did.

“Kill her Marcus.” Voldemort spoke suddenly, his quiet voice ringing in the silence. “She makes you weak,”

Marcus’ head shot up and he stared at his father. He opened his mouth and then closed it again, warring with indecision.

Lord Voldemort walked forwards and stood infront of his son. “Kill her Marcus and be done with it. You’ve had your fun now get rid of her,”

Marcus hissed and stepped backwards.

“You will kill her Marcus,” Voldemort stared at him mercilessly. “You will kill her just as you killed the other two worthless people.”

“I will not!” Marcus screamed. “I will not kill her!”

“Yes you will or she will destroy you,” Voldemort moved forwards menacingly, his voice quiet and full of venomous authority. “You must kill her.”

“No!” Marcus flung himself away from his father’s vicious gaze. “I will not, I cannot…” his voice faded away.

“You are weak Marcus,” Voldemort whispered. “Weak and pathetic. You will kill her!”

Marcus shook his head violently. “NO!” his voice was becoming hysterical. “I will not kill her!”

“You must and you will kill the girl. She is nothing.” Voldemort moved closer again, “She is worthless and if you don’t kill her then so will you be.”

Marcus turned to face his father, his arms trembling as he shook with the feelings coursing through him. “I will not kill her!”

“Then you will fail,” Voldemort sneered and looked down his nose at Marcus.

Marcus howled and kicked the stone violently. “I will not!” he shrieked again and fell to his knees. He let his head drop to the ground. “I will not, I will not,” he muttered despairingly over and over.

Anne’s fingers trailed along the mossy trunk of an enormous tree when she heard the howl. Instantly she knew it was Marcus and she had sprinted to the clearing. She saw him kick the stone and knew that he had been talking to his father. But about what? Marcus cried out and sank to the ground, his head resting no the mossy grass infront of his knees. She could hear him muttering to himself.

The scene wrenched at her heart and her legs moved of their own volition and carried her to him.

“Marcus,” she whispered as she knelt beside him and placed her hand tenderly on his back, attempting to soothe him.

He did not move for a moment, merely listened to the sound of her voice echoing through his mind. He could not destroy her. Marcus lifted his head and pushed himself up to look at her, to stare at her.

“Anne,” his voice was husky and his hands reached out to her. “I will not. I promise you, I will not.” Marcus placed his pale hands on either side of her golden face and then slid them down her neck to her shoulders. “I will not. I cannot,” he muttered and rested his head on her shoulder. “I will not. I will not.”

Anne closed her eyes at the sensation of her skin on her own. But she trembled at his words. “What Marcus?” she whispered as she stroked his hair.

“I cannot. I cannot,” his voice was fierce and weak at the same time. He shuddered against her and Anne cried out in sudden fear. Marcus lifted his head to look at her. “I will not Anne,” he murmured again and pressed his cheek against hers.