We Can't Wake Up

Marcus lay still in the clearing. The trees swayed nosily around him, creaking and moaning as the wind forced its way through them. The sun beat down weakly onto Marcus’ face.

His eyes were screwed up tightly and his mouth was a grim line in his pale features. Behind his lids, Marcus could see the red of the sun dancing. The colour reminded him of Anne. She was all warmth and light and energy. Marcus frowned as he compared himself to her. Where she was all warmth and light, he was darkness and cold. He had presence for sure, but it was a different kind to Anne. She brightened the day of those around her, whilst he would pass people and they would silence, afraid that he could blow them apart.

Marcus had always considered himself regal, almost like royalty among ordinary wizarding people. He at times acted as though no-one was worthy of his presence. This was partly due to his father who had called himself Lord Voldemort. The name most certainly suited, Marcus thought.

He had often wondered if he could make a name like that. Something that would silence those around him because they were to full of awe and fright to speak. Marcus wanted to become the most respected wizard ever, even more so than his father. He wanted people to fear him, to be afraid to say his name for fear that he might kill him.

The thought made him smile. To have people respect you like that was the ultimate reward for Marcus.

But what about a name? Marcus pondered. He could think of none. The trees whispered around him as if they were teasing him for not being able to think of anything. The whispering became talking and laughter and Marcus frowned. Am I going insane? he pondered.

His question was answered when the laughter became louder and clearer. He could distinguish the clear, ripple of a girl’s laugh and the low rumble of a male. It took a few seconds more to figure out who the people actually were.

When realization hit him, Marcus hissed loudly. It was Anne and Percy. It stabbed him through the chest and Marcus curled his long fingers tightly into fists. Anne had never laughed when she was with him. She only spoke, mainly in subdued tone except when she was angry with him. But she had never laughed.

Now he could hear their footsteps as they walked together. Suddenly they stopped and he heard Anne whisper something nervously. Obviously they’ve come to the edge of the clearing, Marcus thought bitterly.

“….so odd…..” Marcus caught part of Percy’s sentence. “Maybe we should go elsewhere……. Anne? ........Is everything alright?”

Marcus opened his eyes minutely. He could see Percy and Anne in the corner of his vision. Anne’s face was pale and she was staring at Marcus with a distraught expression. She trembled all over as if she were trying desperately to stop herself from running away. Percy was staring at her in concern.

Slowly, Marcus stood up. He turned so that he was facing the pair. Percy frowned and averted his gaze. Marcus stared at Anne intently, his eyes burning coldly into hers. Anne stared back; hate, rejection and desire plain on her features.

Marcus locked his jaw, his eyes giving no indication of how he was feeling. No indication of how much he wanted to walk over to her and take her in his arms and hold her there forever so that no-one could ever take her away from him.

Anne’s lips curved and Marcus could see her mouth silently forming his name. He walked towards them. Anne quivered as the distance closed. Percy looked towards Marcus and his hand automatically reached for his wand. Marcus raised an eyebrow in Percy’s direction and walked straight past, only just containing the urge to grab Anne’s hand.