wunderkind | (no subject)

wunderkind

STUFF GOES IN HERE

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From:

doggedly

[There's a great many answers he could give to that question, some biting, some cruel, some sarcastic--and he even starts in with one, or he thinks to--

But instead, he looks at Edgeworth, and then looks away again, pushing his hand over his mouth, his shoulders tense.]

Because that's the way it's always been.

From:

jurisimpudent

[Edgeworth lets out a single, miserable scoff. The way it's always been. His own response to that is, in fact, deeply sarcastic - ]

Brilliant reasoning. Impossible to argue with. And, while we're at it, we've always treated medical conditions by bleeding the patient - why not continue on with that, as well?

[He shakes his head, bitter.]

If you all would just leave us alone, we'd be...We've not done anything to any of you.

From:

doggedly

They have reasons. Pages, and pages of reasons. They've got old grievances and hurts and-- stories, that they've made up to justify it to themselves. They're better, that's what their reason is, and you're--

[They, they, he keeps saying they when it should be we. But separated from them, it's-- so much more difficult, to be full of conviction.

Abruptly, he laughs.]

My great-aunt told me that muggle-borns steal magic from wizards. That's how they get it. They take wands off of wizards, but they start by stealing magic--that's where squibs come from. And d'you know what, she actually believed it.

From:

jurisimpudent

[Edgeworth, true to form, reacts initially to the wrong thing entirely:]

I've never stolen anything in my life.

[But a moment after, he shakes his head, because he knows that's not the point; it's just his instinctive reaction to being accused of a crime, however indirectly.]

That's foolish. I - When I was six, I set a paper on fire accidentally when I got a B. That wasn't even the first - I never asked for it, and I never understood it. I -

[But that's still wrong. Those sorts of appeals aren't going to even come close to convincing Sirius. So instead, there's just this, sad and frustrated:]

When we first started talking on that train, I really wanted to be your friend.

From:

doggedly

[He snorts, at that first protest--and he's hardly listening to the rest of it, it's just empty, to him--he doesn't believe that shit, he could tell that to Edgeworth, he doesn't believe it but there's people who do--

Talking about the Hogwarts Express is nearly as low a blow as dredging up Sirius' own memories to parade about in front of him. Sirius stares hard at Edgeworth, his ears ringing. He's actually thought about that moment a great deal--not that moment, exactly, but that first day--the weird hope that he held tightly in his chest, a hope he couldn't put a name to or even understand--and then it had crumpled underneath him, all of it, twisting down into the role he was always meant to fill.]

It wasn't ever going to happen. Not-- friends.

From:

jurisimpudent

I'm aware. I was simply a naive fool back then.

[But that's not said without sentiment. A naive fool, full of his father's words and admonitions - that when he went off, he had to learn everything he could but always keep an open mind. That he should be kind and seek out those who were kind. He regrets his humiliation, but he doesn't fully regret his wide-eyed earnestness - not when it was what his father wanted.]

But you weren't as bad as the rest of them, you know. Not that first day, at least; you turned into a right bastard after. [A slight pause, and quieter:] And you were...funny. And smart. Before Greengrass came into the compartment, and Goyle - you were almost even kind.

From:

doggedly

I wasn't.

[He corrects him, quietly, grimly. He stares down at his hands, instead of looking at Edgeworth. It feels as if there's something hard in his chest, it makes it hard to swallow to take a breath--]

I was always a bastard. That's what I'm meant to be. [The irony of him saying that, with his blood purer than anyone's--isn't lost on Sirius, and he laughs, and pushes his hand over his mouth. Merlin.]

Everybody has a role that they're meant to play. It wasn't ever going to be anything different for me. And it's stupid, I thought--

[No. Now he's just fucking rambling; he shuts his mouth, hard, trapping that thought away.]

From:

jurisimpudent

[He'd been lost enough in his own pensive sorrow, but he looks up now - sharp, flinty. He'd have seized onto that even without knowing what he knew; now, understanding Sirius Black so much better, he has some inkling of where that sentence is going to go and he's not going to just let it go.]

You thought what?

From:

doggedly

[Sirius scowls, instantly. He hates that he said that, that he let even that little bit of extra thought slip out. Bad enough that Edgeworth knows as much as he does--now he's just giving the information away as well. Well done, Black.]

It doesn't matter. It didn't happen. All of that shit, that was years ago. Why even talk about it?

[And then, more cuttingly, to try to get away from the topic at hand:] You don't actually still think about first year, do you? My God, Edgeworth. You have to let things go.

From:

jurisimpudent

[And that makes Edgeworth flinch, look away - he turns his gaze downwards, towards the ground. Because there is something inherently humiliating, yes, about being the sort of person who dwells on someone not liking them. And there's something humiliating in living in the past. And there's something deeply painful in knowing that...he'll never not think about first year. Those months will be seared painfully into his memory. He'll never rid himself of them.

But Black is trying to get a rise out of him. He's trying to get him to back off. So:]

If it's irrelevant, Sirius, why do you look like you're about to be sick?

[And that's good. Sounds scathing.]

From:

doggedly

I don't.

[He bites out the words, short. Which is stupid, really, as it only makes the truth of Edgeworth's words more obvious and true.]

Why do you look as if you might cry? What d'you want me to say, that I wish we'd been friends? I don't. I don't care. And I don't sit around thinking about first year, or the Sorting, or any of it, because-- what happened, happened.

From:

jurisimpudent

[And Edgeworth grits his teeth and stares down at the grass. He's willing to fight on a lot of things, factual and emotional, and not back down, but...Miles Edgeworth is lonely, and he is friendless, and one cannot be friendless and stand forth and arrogantly proclaim that of course Sirius wished they had been friends. (Because even if they'd been sorted together, into the same house, there's still such a world of difference between them. Miles can't even find a place amongst the other prefects, or amongst the other Gryffindors; why would cool Sirius Black, star Quiddich player, effortlessly handsome, pay the least heed to clumsy, stodgy, ill-spoken Miles Edgeworth?)

It's not without a hint of cruelty, though, that Edgeworth says:]

A pity. You'd have made a better Gryffindor than you do Slytherin.

[And then he's shaking his head, gathering himself up, brushing off his robes in preparation for standing to go. Look as if he might cry - No. There's no time to be that stupid, soft-hearted little boy anymore. He's not going to cry; he's going to act.]

But fine. If you refuse to help, then you refuse to help; I'm not going to use the Imperius curse on you. I just request that you not get in my way.

From:

doggedly

[First year Sirius Black--stupid kid, a wide-eyed idiot with no sense of anything--had thought the world infinite, and if someone had said to him you'd make a better Gryffindor than Slytherin, he'd have put them off, quickly, because that wasn't allowed. Blacks were Slytherins, he'd have cited that fact--but somewhere, deep in him--he would have been pleased.

And Sirius hasn't forgotten that feeling. He's buried it, he's pushed it away, he's twisted it with hatred of Gryffindors, joined all the old prejudices--

So why the fuck does he still feel it, that stupid swoop, in his chest, why does he look up at Edgeworth as he stands, expression uncouched for the moment--before he narrows his eyes, before he glares up at him.]

You don't know that.

[Shut up about it, he orders himself, shut up about it, it doesn't matter, and he believes that--]

What are you going to do, exactly.

From:

jurisimpudent

[And Edgeworth catches just the last moment of that expression - and something twists within him - and it is pity, isn't it? He does pity Sirius Black. He pities the boy's sorrow, his loneliness...But no; Edgeworth is lonely; Edgeworth is sorrowful. Rather, it's this: he pities him for not having the strength to break away from the expectations on him.]

I'm going to Dumbledore first. And then I'm going to go to the party.

[Once he would have said this with vicious irony; now there's just quiet resignation.]

Don't worry; I'll play the thieving Mudblood. If they catch me, I'll just say I stole the letter from amongst your things. The loss of face will be minimal.

From:

doggedly

[After all of this--all that they've talked about--and he's still on about the fucking party. Sirius lets out a breath, sharp; it's half a laugh.]

D'you honestly think Dumbledore will let you go?

From:

jurisimpudent

Short of imprisoning me, I don't know how he'll be able to stop me.

[Edgeworth looks down, though; that bald, frank question leaves him a bit ashamed. Because - ]

I am deeply indebted to Professor Dumbledore; of that there is no question, and in most things I'll follow his guidance. But his highest priority is the protection of the students. I believe there are more important things.

From:

doggedly

Such as what, getting yourself killed?

[Not that he cares. He ought not to care, and he doesn't, really; he shakes his head, scowling.]

If you're into noble gestures, you should really just go and not say anything to him. That's the proper way to commit suicide.

From:

jurisimpudent

[Miles shakes his head in turn. It's stupid, he knows it's stupid - he's even agreed with Sirius that there are better ways to do this. That he should go some other route. And yet he just...

He starts to try to explain himself, but for some reason his explanation consists of this:]

I don't see that my course of action is all that different from yours.

From:

doggedly

[He's already hunched his shoulders, settling down into what is, more or less, a sulk--but Edgeworth's words get his attention--and an incredulous snort.]

What are you talking about. How. How are we at all the same in this, you stupid--

From:

jurisimpudent

[He looks over - waits for Sirius to finish his insult; nothing's forthcoming.]

What is suicide but a life wasted? I die now, I die frustrated and unfulfilled. You die fifty years from now, you die frustrated and unfulfilled. The parallels hardly need be underlined and illuminated.

From:

doggedly

[He's pushed his hand over his mouth, irritated, that's why nothing is forthcoming.]

Suicide. You stupid bastard, suicide, that's dying here and now, today, or tomorrow-- or Friday night at nine sharp-- at least I have a fucking chance of it!

From:

jurisimpudent

[His mouth twists - not into a smile, but something that looks a bit like a smile - mirthless, joyless.]

No you don't. Not as you are now. Not with you being so afraid.

From:

doggedly

[The silence is heavier this time. Sirius stares over at Edgeworth, his jaw set.]

Afraid.

From:

jurisimpudent

Afraid.

[He sees he's gotten a bit of a rise; there's a touch of cruelty in the deliberate emphasis he gives his accusation.]

Do you deny this? Everything you've said has been motivated by fear. You cling to that which makes you miserable because you fear that the loss of it will be worse. You're fearless on the Quiddich pitch, Mr. Black, but when it comes to your life, you're a coward of the first order.

From:

doggedly

I'm not a fucking coward.

[He practically snarls it. Everything about him is tensed again, his lip curled a little, his hands clenched at his sides--]

You can't understand anything. You've made that clear. So don't pretend as if you know anything about me. I'm not afraid of losing anything. I'm not afraid, of anything.