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agentwilightpasindi na ng ilaw (please turn the lights back on)
pairing: past isabelle ciudad/colin creevey, past isabelle ciudad/zane suwannarat.
words: 4650
universe: meliora.
rating: g, general.
content warnings: mentions of death.
summary: colin creevey dies in his final act of heroicism and zane suwannarat knew better than anyone else when he decided to take the path of self-preservation. isabelle ciudad has to learn how to grieve and mourn two things all at once.
IT HAS BEEN FOUR HUNDRED DAYS AFTER THE WAR. Isa's batchmates have all graduated by now, ready to take on the real world beyond the castle walls of a place they once called their second home. Some of them have seemingly moved on from the haunted memories that never ceased to turn their nights into moonless ones filled with darkness and nightmares. While Isa is aware that everyone is merely putting on facades of happiness and progress, she couldn't help but to ask why it all seems so easy for them. Everyone seems to be able to put themselves together and yet here she is, stuck in a limbo of grief and feelings left unfinished.
She moves out of her childhood home, leaving her parents worried about her wellbeing. Her mother asked her a thousand times if she's sure that she wants to start living independently, and Isa only answers with a resolute 'yes' every single time. Usually, it is admirable for someone to make their mind up so well that nothing would shake them, however, Isa's case is undeniably one that's questionable. She just survived a war and lost very important people in the process, namely her best friend and her first love: Colin Creevey, and her then-boyfriend Zane Suwannarat. (It's not the same, of course, one of them is dead and the other one is still alive, albeit with a newfound hatred for her. Still, it's not like her heart can differentiate grief for two different people. She lost both of them all the same, right?) Anyone of right mind would know that Isa is definitely not ready to move out.
Still, she goes through it, pretends she's fine, and settles into a small studio apartment in London that still feels big and empty despite only being twenty eight square meters. She didn't take a lot with her, just two boxes of clothes, a suitcase filled with her photography equipment, a large tote bag filled with essentials, and a trunk filled with every single memorabilia she felt important enough to take with her (photos she took with Colin that they developed together in the Room of Requirement, memories of classmates she took during the war when they asked her to, a plushie Zane had given her when they were in their sixth year, and a small pensieve given to her by her grandmother).
She unpacks most of her things in one night, except for the trunk. Isa doesn't really feel like opening Pandora's box, not yet. She's yet to view the memory Colin asked her to take before they went off into the war, and she doesn't think she'll look at it anytime soon. Every waking moment is met with cold sweat that came from Dream-Zane's cold stare of apathy or the memory of Colin's haunting smile as he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. To look at the memories in the pensieve would only add more things to either keep her awake at night, or to haunt her dreams like phantoms that refuse to leave.
The camera clicks at the push of a button, and Isa is met with a photo of her studio apartment, lifeless and void of anything reminiscent of a soul. Her composition is barely put-together, not even adhering to the bare minimum of the rule of thirds. The framing is so off that Isa is quick to turn her camera off. She couldn't remember the last time she's able to take a proper photo. Was it one of Colin before the Batle of Hogwarts? Or was it one of Zane when they were still somewhat happy? She doesn't remember. Try as she might to wrack her brain for something substantial, she just couldn't bring herself to remember what the last photo she took was. Even if she viewed her camera's gallery, she'd be met with nothing but the photo she took just now. All of the photos she took in Hogwarts were taken on a film camera in which the developed photos are sitting inside the trunk she refuses to open.
Isa sighs and sets the camera down on the small table that came with the furnished flat she rented. It's only five in the afternoon but she feels so fatigued and exhausted that she finds herself laying down on the floor, begrudgingly welcoming the recurring dreams that always visit her whenever she falls asleep.
IN HER DREAM, COLIN AND ZANE ARE TALKING TO EACH OTHER. All three of them are sitting by the Black Lake and Colin is telling Zane about the latest graphic novel he'd purchased during the summer vacation and Zane is only listening passively. Isa is sitting between them, picking at the lint that built up on her knee-length socks worn over thick beige tights. She'd heard about the graphic novel from Colin during the train ride to Hogwarts and decided not to listen to another round of him telling everyone about what happened to the protagonist. She's listening to the sound of nature instead; the gentle blowing of the autumn wind, the crunching of leaves underneath her schoolmates' feet, the soft waves coming from the Black Lake.
Briefly, Isa wonders what the mermaids looked like. She lets her mind wander off to the depths of the unknown, drowning out the voices of her best friend and her boyfriend. Except, when she finally tunes back into their conversation, they're already talking about her.
"She's always been alone, you know? I think she started sleeping with the lights on." Colin's voice, gentle and enthusiastic as ever, sounds so distorted and disjointed from the conversation topic. His tone does not match his words. If anything, it's almost like he sounds both sad and happy saying all those things.
Isa looks at him, but it's like she's not even there. His eyes are fixed on Zane who's nodding in agreement.
"She couldn't even bring out the plushie I gave her. I guess I was right about Isa. She never really knew when to move forward." Zane replies matter-of-factly. Isa's gaze snaps to him, but just like Colin, he didn't even look at her.
Despite dreaming, Isa knows that this is all just a product of her brain working while she's sleeping. She knows that Zane would never say that. Sure he may be blunt, but he would never hurt her like that. He would never say something so mean and cruel to her. She also knows that Colin would never tell her that she's always been alone, even if it that statement holds true now after the war.
"She hasn't even talked to any of her friends after we left." Colin adds, and then he finally looks at her. "You're alone now, Isa."
"We're never coming back." Zane adds, the smile on his face curved into a malicious smirk.
The environment warps and suddenly there are Death Eaters everywhere. She could hear their mocking laughter as they shout one Unforgivable after the other. Isa is scrambling for her life, dodging spells and casting shields when she can. In middle of the crowd, her eyes meet Colin's and he smiles at her yet again.
"Avada Kadavra!" A Death Eather shouts and Isa jolts awake in cold sweat.
The digital clock on the small table reads twelve midnight. She'd been asleep for seven hours. That's more than the amount of time she usually sleeps. These days, Isa's finding it hard to continue sleeping. After three hours of sleep, she'd awaken from nightmares that usually feature either Zane or Colin's face, and she'd be too shaken to even try to sleep again. Instead, she'd just stare at the ceiling or her window, hoping that somehow, the past year and more is just a nightmare she's yet to wake up from.
SHE IGNORES ANOTHER TEXT FROM SUSAN BUTO IN FAVOR OF SITTING IN SILENCE IN HER FLAT. It has been two weeks since she moved, and she's yet to leave the place. She'd been living off deliveries and food sent by her mother. She refused to disclose where she moved, nor did she entertain any other form of communication to any of her peers. Their persistent owls are let in, but Isa would only give the owl a treat without writing any form of response. Most of her days are spent sitting in silence, only looking at the London traffic from the view outside her window.
Sometimes, Isa would play a game by herself by counting the number of cars per color. Yesterday, she counted forty white cars, seventy black cars, and twenty-six red cars. She would have gone all night if she didn't get tired of thinking about numbers and colors. She knows she's supposed to do something productive now. Perhaps get a job as a freelance photographer and do some product shoots for up-and-coming businesses, or maybe do some portraits. The thing is, she can't. Doing anything more than eating, going to the bathroom, and showering would take too much of her energy. A single household chore is enough to make Isa feel exhausted that she just wants to sit on her bed and look out her window.
"We're here to offer any form of counseling for people who participated in the Battle of Hogwarts. Depression and Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder are common for war-veterans and we are more than willing to extend our help to anyone who needs it. Please don't hesitate to call St. Mungo's Hotline if you wish to partake in counseling, free of charge." She remembers the words of a healer who went to Hogwarts about a month after the war, though she couldn't remember much of what happened after. Since the war ended, Isa just feels like she's drifting, floating in and out as she spaces out over and over again.
Two days ago, Isa briefly considers the idea of calling the Mungo's Hotline, but she decides against it. She couldn't even bring herself to eat her meals on time. Committing to appointments to talk about the death of her best friend and several of her other friends, as well as a break-up that never really happened before she's ready does not sit well with her. How is she supposed to tell someone about her grief when sometimes she forgets that it exists only to be harshly reminded of it when she realizes that she will never take another photo of Colin again, or that she will never be able to nag at Zane for mundane things once more?
Perhaps she's lucky that Zane is still around, that she could probably try and see him if she wishes to. However, the constant avoidance and the seemingly denial of her presence when they all went back to Hogwarts just puts a bitter taste on Isa's tongue. Why must she expend energy on trying to reach out to someone who doesn't want her around?
Still, she finds traces of Zane everywhere. The vest sweater she wore during their sixth year that he complimented. The heart necklace she asked him to clasp behind her neck during a Hogsmeade weekend. The Thai noodles she ordered last week that made her remember how much she missed his mother's cooking. The condescending way in which a character from a TV show spoke. The trunk contains the least memories of Zane, yet Isa could see and remember him everywhere anyway.
It's funny how she sees him everywhere but can't really see him even if she can. A break-up is a break-up, and Isa refuses to hold onto memories of him especially after the lack of communication after the war. She wanted him to hold her, to tell her that it'll be okay and that despite the friends (and first loves) she'd lost, he'd still be there. She didn't expect the silence and absence. She didn't expect him to pretend that she doesn't even exist. Hell, he looked fine during their graduation, like he didn't just leave his girlfriend out there in the war to fight.
Her grief for her relationship with Zane is one matched with confusion and anger. Was she such a horrible girlfriend that he decided that he wants nothing to do with her anymore? Or perhaps she wasn't enough for him? Too demanding, too loud with her presence, a nagger who nags at him for even the simplest of things?
She asks all these questions in her head and she's left with nothing. Sometimes she thinks it's easier to think about Colin. Despite his death, the separation here is clear. He's dead. He didn't leave because he wanted to. He was killed in battle, and somehow that's easier to make amends with.
Isa sees Colin's smile at the back of her mind and she laughs bitterly. Isn't it ironic that the guy who died left her with a more amicable kind of grief than the guy who's still alive?
A PHOTO SHE'D TAKEN WITH COLIN SLIPS OUT OF HER WALLET WHEN SHE WAS PAYING THE DELIVERY MAN WHO BROUGHT HER DINNER. If her memory serves her right, it was taken when they were fourteen. He'd hit a growth spurt that year and suddenly towered over her, his five-foot-ten to her five feet. His arm was around her shoulder, and he was holding one of the comics they both decided to start reading. Memories flood Isa's head to the point of forgetting that there's a delivery man waiting for her to take the food from his outstretched hand. It is only when he snaps at her that she's also forced out of her head.
"Sorry." She mumbles and takes the food. She shuts the door behind her and places the food on the small table, holding onto the photo of her and Colin in her other hand.
Her appetite leaves her the moment she goes back to her bed, staring at the photo of her and Colin as fourteen-year-olds who didn't know that they're about to join a mobilization dedicated to teaching children how to fight against dark wizards who are all adults. The photo was taken from the start of the school year, and the DA wouldn't be formed until later.
Perhaps that's the reason why they're still smiling like this. There's still a hint of innocence left in their youth before it's taken away by the thought of an impending war.
The photo takes her back to a memory of her and Colin in the Hogwarts library, hidden away in a corner between two shelves, away from the watchful eyes of Madam Pince.
"Ang cute ni Ron, 'no?" Isn't Ron cute? Isa muses about her childhood crush while they look at photos of the Golden Trio that Colin had taken back when he was still an overly enthusiastic first year.
"Mas cute ka." You're cuter. Colin laughs, and Isa had been quick to dismiss it as a joke when it should have been clear right then and there.
At the time, Isa had already pushed her feelings for Colin at the back of her head. He's her best friend, she can't mess their friendship up by being in love with him. To confess to him and make her feelings known would mean risking something stable and comfortable for something uncertain and possibly volatile. Teenage relationships don't last long, and she knows that from observing her peers who thought they already found the one, only to break up after three months due to incompatibility and immaturity.
The thought of losing Colin like that is unbearable. She'd much rather deal with silent pining and quietly move on without disrupting their friendship. They've been best friends since they're first years. He's the first friend she's made in Hogwarts and the one she shares most of her Hogwarts memories with due to them being of the same age and year. If Isa were to choose between a friendship break-up and unrequited love, the latter is much more favorable.
She'd let those thoughts cloud her judgment, obscuring the possibility of something more whenever their fingers brush every so slightly, or whenever she'd notice him staring at her while they're developing the photos they took together in the Room of Requirement. It should have been glaringly obvious, and yet Isa decided to live inside her head in fear that he wouldn't like her back, and that any form of romance between the two of them would end in nothing but disaster.
"Kapag wala pa rin akong asawa pag thirty na ako, gusto mo tayo nalang?" If I'm not married by the time I'm thirty, do you want to get married instead? It's supposed to be a joke, but the offbeat nature of it seems to have taken Colin aback the moment Isa finished uttering the last part of her sentence.
She'd made the joke in Potions class when they were trying to brew a Draught of Peace that Colin had forgotten to stir the pot counterclockwise before dropping in the porcupine quills. The potion turned out to be so horrible that Slughorn gave them a failing grade.
"Ang panget ng joke mo, Isabelle." That's a horrible joke, Isabelle. His nose wrinkles as they walk out of the Potions classroom after accepting the grade they were given.
The joke was never talked about again after that, but now that Isa's left alone to her own grief over the overwhelming absence of Colin, she wishes that she'd brought it up after that. She wants to know what he thought of it, if he even dared to consider it. Sure she'd stashed away her feelings for Colin in the deepest recesses of her brain, but that didn't mean her heart didn't feel it. It would still skip a beat whenever he'd smile at her. It would still soften whenever he gently pats her head.
Isa's dinner lay forgotten on the table as she stares at the ceiling, trying to gather all memories of Colin. His face is still vivid in her head; his haunting smile, the way his lips would curl up in amusement whenever Isa gets frustrated over a scene she didn't like in the comic books they read, and the way his eyebrows would furrow whenever Isa calls him by his full name. She remembers how it feels whenever he would hold onto her arm, preventing her from tripping on a rock, or whenever he'd pull her back to stop her from going straight into a wall. She remembers his cologne, a subtle fragrance with hints of mint and geranium.
The one thing she couldn't remember, though, is his voice. The words he'd said remain perfectly verbatim in Isa's head and memories, but for some reason, she doesn't know what he sounds like anymore. Isa stands up from her bed, trying to wrack her brain for any kind of memory that would help her remember Colin's voice, but it doesn't come to her.
"Fuck. I literally just dreamed of him last night." She finds herself scrambling for her digital camera, but there are no traces of Colin in the fairly new camera she'd bought just three months ago.
She closes her eyes, tries to imagine Colin talking to her, and there he is: his face, his smile, but he is voiceless even when he speaks in her imagination. His mouth opens and closes, but no sound comes out.
"No, no, no, no..." Tears well up at the bottom of Isa's eyes. She hasn't cried in months, her chest devoid of any emotion as she continues grieving even almost two years after the war. She has succumbed into emptiness, merely letting the memories take over her. She'd thought that she wouldn't forget... that she wouldn't be able to. Now she's here scrambling to hold onto the shadow of Colin after being so complacent that she wouldn't forget anything about him.
Her eyes find the trunk and Isa hurriedly opens it, her hands going straight for a vial with a four-leaf clover taped to it. (Colin found it sometime during their second year, and it used to be pressed in Isa's photo album, but she'd taped it to the vial containing Colin's memories before she locked it away in the trunk) The memory glows a light blue, Colin's favorite color, and despite her initial hesitance to even open this trunk, her fear of forgetting his voice takes over her that she'd forgotten why she didn't want to do this in the first place.
She opens another compartment in the trunk that contains her grandmother's old pensieve and she drops the memory inside, sobbing as she submerges her face inside the memory, unwilling to let him go in the slightest.
SHE FINDS HERSELF IN THE QUIDDITCH PITCH LOOKING AT A VERSION OF HERSELF AND COLIN WHEN THEY WERE FIFTEEN. Younger-Isa had her eyes closed, her head resting on one of seats while she's sitting on the floor. It was a scrimmage between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw teams and she wagered Colin five sickles that Ravenclaw would win merely just to spite his Gryffindor pride. Colin begins to speak and the dam finally unleashes.
"Wala ka ba'ng pride sa sarili mo'ng house?" Don't you have any pride in your own house? He asks, his gaze fixed gently on Younger Isa.
Older Isa is sobbing as she observes the memory, a spectator in her life years and years ago. She watches Colin shield her younger self's eyes from the sun.
"Nagpustahan pa tayo?" What's the wager for, then? Her younger self asks. The question is meaningless, though. Isa started the wager.
Looking back at it now, she definitely wasn't as mature as she thought she was back when she was fifteen, and she's definitely not mature now. Despite the huge void in her chest and the emptiness she's cultivated over the past years, Isa knows that this is still something she would do even as an adult.
"Ikaw nag aya?" You started it? Colin asks her another rhetorical question.
Younger Isa's eyes are still closed, but Older Isa could see how Colin is looking at her.
The memory warps and she's taken to his childhood room somewhere in the suburbs of England. He's sixteen here, the summer before the war. He's gently arranging photos on his desk and Isa moves from her spot in the corner of the room to look at the photos.
The world stills and time seems to have stopped when she finally lays her eyes on the photos he's gently arranging. They were all photos of her. Their shared passion for photography meant that they both had their cameras out all the time. She's aware that Colin took photos of her throughout the years, but she didn't realize that the photos he took of her had so much... gentleness and love in it. He captured her in ways she never thought she'd be captured.
Isa thinks she's never glowed brighter than she did in the photos he took of her.
She never got those photos. They're probably still in his childhood home somewhere, probably untouched on his desk if he ever left them that way before he set off for Hogwarts.
Colin chooses a photo of Isa napping on a patch of grass by the lake, takes out a pen, and scribbles something behind the photo. Older Isa wants to get out, but she also doesn't want to stop looking. She's hooked on his memories like a fish to a bait. This is the last thing she will ever have of Colin, and as much as Isa wants to keep this moment sacred, she decides to view through it anyway. After all, Colin gave her these memories before the war ended. Surely that meant he wanted her to look through it, right?
His handwriting certainly could be improved, but years of being his best friend trained her to read his messy script. He's writing in Tagalog, his mother tongue.
Isa,
I know this may seem so cheesy to you, but I need to let this out before the war happens. I know everyone is pretending that it's not going to happen — and sometimes I do it, too — but I know that this is also the calm before the storm. Before our sixth year starts, I just want to let all of this out... before anything happens to Hogwarts or the both of us. When I first saw you in the Great Hall five years ago, time stopped for me. I was too young to grasp the concept of love, then, but I was so awestruck by the sound of your laughter and the way the world seemed to have shone brighter when you smiled that I guess it's somewhat imperative that I fall in love with you. Before I knew it, we were best friends. You're one of the people I cherish the most, and whatever happens, just know that I will always be here for you.
Gihigugma tika, Isa. I love you. You don't have to give me an answer, or even answer at all. I just want to say this before I regret it.
Yours Always and Forever,
Colin.
He reads the letter over and over, reciting the words 'Gihigugma tika, Isa' over and over again as he practices how to say 'I love you' in Bisaya, Isa's mother tongue. He recites it for a few more times — still sounding very Tagalog despite the multiple recitations — before placing the letter in a pastel yellow envelope. There's a giddy smile on his face, his eyes crinkled. His smile was so bright that Isa doesn't think she's ever seen him smile like this before.
"I'll just give this to her when before Halloween. Doesn't matter if she likes me back or not. You got this, Colin." He gives himself a little pep talk as he doodles little cats all over the envelope. His mother calls him and he's quick to put the letter inside his drawer before leaving the room.
SUDDDENLY, ISA IS BACK IN HER FLAT, STILL SOBBING. It is only now she realizes that Colin was planning on confessing to her right around the time she'd made it official with Zane. A bitter laugh escapes her lips upon the discovery of her unknowing cruelty. It has always been established that between the two of them, Isa is the more outgoing one, unafraid to try new things. Now that she's seen a fragment of Colin's past and heard his voice once more, she realizes that despite people's perception of them, Isa is the real coward. Colin was willing to take a gamble. He was willing to risk it all for her, and then there she was, a coward who'd stowed all of her feelings for him in the back of her head all because she doesn't want to lose him.
His voice is replaying over and over in her head now. Gihigugma tika, Isa. Gihigugma tika, Isa. What better way to convey love's sincerity than to confess it in her mother tongue despite not knowing how to speak Bisaya?
She feels her heart swelling and breaking at the same time. The void in her chest grows bigger and all she wants is a do-over without any clear plans on what to do if she ever got it.
A twisted thought forms in her head, if time turners still exist, she could change the trajectory of their future. Maybe she'd be able to bring him back to life. Maybe they can try again, and this time she won't be scared. Except she knows she can't do that. Apart from the fact that all existing time turners are destroyed, to change the past for her own selfish desires meant dismissing the efforts everyone has done to win the war.
She looks at the memory swimming in the pensieve and cries on the floor of her flat. After almost two years of trying to move forward, she's back to square one.
pairing: past isabelle ciudad/colin creevey, past isabelle ciudad/zane suwannarat.
words: 4650
universe: meliora.
rating: g, general.
content warnings: mentions of death.
summary: colin creevey dies in his final act of heroicism and zane suwannarat knew better than anyone else when he decided to take the path of self-preservation. isabelle ciudad has to learn how to grieve and mourn two things all at once.
IT HAS BEEN FOUR HUNDRED DAYS AFTER THE WAR. Isa's batchmates have all graduated by now, ready to take on the real world beyond the castle walls of a place they once called their second home. Some of them have seemingly moved on from the haunted memories that never ceased to turn their nights into moonless ones filled with darkness and nightmares. While Isa is aware that everyone is merely putting on facades of happiness and progress, she couldn't help but to ask why it all seems so easy for them. Everyone seems to be able to put themselves together and yet here she is, stuck in a limbo of grief and feelings left unfinished.
She moves out of her childhood home, leaving her parents worried about her wellbeing. Her mother asked her a thousand times if she's sure that she wants to start living independently, and Isa only answers with a resolute 'yes' every single time. Usually, it is admirable for someone to make their mind up so well that nothing would shake them, however, Isa's case is undeniably one that's questionable. She just survived a war and lost very important people in the process, namely her best friend and her first love: Colin Creevey, and her then-boyfriend Zane Suwannarat. (It's not the same, of course, one of them is dead and the other one is still alive, albeit with a newfound hatred for her. Still, it's not like her heart can differentiate grief for two different people. She lost both of them all the same, right?) Anyone of right mind would know that Isa is definitely not ready to move out.
Still, she goes through it, pretends she's fine, and settles into a small studio apartment in London that still feels big and empty despite only being twenty eight square meters. She didn't take a lot with her, just two boxes of clothes, a suitcase filled with her photography equipment, a large tote bag filled with essentials, and a trunk filled with every single memorabilia she felt important enough to take with her (photos she took with Colin that they developed together in the Room of Requirement, memories of classmates she took during the war when they asked her to, a plushie Zane had given her when they were in their sixth year, and a small pensieve given to her by her grandmother).
She unpacks most of her things in one night, except for the trunk. Isa doesn't really feel like opening Pandora's box, not yet. She's yet to view the memory Colin asked her to take before they went off into the war, and she doesn't think she'll look at it anytime soon. Every waking moment is met with cold sweat that came from Dream-Zane's cold stare of apathy or the memory of Colin's haunting smile as he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. To look at the memories in the pensieve would only add more things to either keep her awake at night, or to haunt her dreams like phantoms that refuse to leave.
The camera clicks at the push of a button, and Isa is met with a photo of her studio apartment, lifeless and void of anything reminiscent of a soul. Her composition is barely put-together, not even adhering to the bare minimum of the rule of thirds. The framing is so off that Isa is quick to turn her camera off. She couldn't remember the last time she's able to take a proper photo. Was it one of Colin before the Batle of Hogwarts? Or was it one of Zane when they were still somewhat happy? She doesn't remember. Try as she might to wrack her brain for something substantial, she just couldn't bring herself to remember what the last photo she took was. Even if she viewed her camera's gallery, she'd be met with nothing but the photo she took just now. All of the photos she took in Hogwarts were taken on a film camera in which the developed photos are sitting inside the trunk she refuses to open.
Isa sighs and sets the camera down on the small table that came with the furnished flat she rented. It's only five in the afternoon but she feels so fatigued and exhausted that she finds herself laying down on the floor, begrudgingly welcoming the recurring dreams that always visit her whenever she falls asleep.
IN HER DREAM, COLIN AND ZANE ARE TALKING TO EACH OTHER. All three of them are sitting by the Black Lake and Colin is telling Zane about the latest graphic novel he'd purchased during the summer vacation and Zane is only listening passively. Isa is sitting between them, picking at the lint that built up on her knee-length socks worn over thick beige tights. She'd heard about the graphic novel from Colin during the train ride to Hogwarts and decided not to listen to another round of him telling everyone about what happened to the protagonist. She's listening to the sound of nature instead; the gentle blowing of the autumn wind, the crunching of leaves underneath her schoolmates' feet, the soft waves coming from the Black Lake.
Briefly, Isa wonders what the mermaids looked like. She lets her mind wander off to the depths of the unknown, drowning out the voices of her best friend and her boyfriend. Except, when she finally tunes back into their conversation, they're already talking about her.
"She's always been alone, you know? I think she started sleeping with the lights on." Colin's voice, gentle and enthusiastic as ever, sounds so distorted and disjointed from the conversation topic. His tone does not match his words. If anything, it's almost like he sounds both sad and happy saying all those things.
Isa looks at him, but it's like she's not even there. His eyes are fixed on Zane who's nodding in agreement.
"She couldn't even bring out the plushie I gave her. I guess I was right about Isa. She never really knew when to move forward." Zane replies matter-of-factly. Isa's gaze snaps to him, but just like Colin, he didn't even look at her.
Despite dreaming, Isa knows that this is all just a product of her brain working while she's sleeping. She knows that Zane would never say that. Sure he may be blunt, but he would never hurt her like that. He would never say something so mean and cruel to her. She also knows that Colin would never tell her that she's always been alone, even if it that statement holds true now after the war.
"She hasn't even talked to any of her friends after we left." Colin adds, and then he finally looks at her. "You're alone now, Isa."
"We're never coming back." Zane adds, the smile on his face curved into a malicious smirk.
The environment warps and suddenly there are Death Eaters everywhere. She could hear their mocking laughter as they shout one Unforgivable after the other. Isa is scrambling for her life, dodging spells and casting shields when she can. In middle of the crowd, her eyes meet Colin's and he smiles at her yet again.
"Avada Kadavra!" A Death Eather shouts and Isa jolts awake in cold sweat.
The digital clock on the small table reads twelve midnight. She'd been asleep for seven hours. That's more than the amount of time she usually sleeps. These days, Isa's finding it hard to continue sleeping. After three hours of sleep, she'd awaken from nightmares that usually feature either Zane or Colin's face, and she'd be too shaken to even try to sleep again. Instead, she'd just stare at the ceiling or her window, hoping that somehow, the past year and more is just a nightmare she's yet to wake up from.
SHE IGNORES ANOTHER TEXT FROM SUSAN BUTO IN FAVOR OF SITTING IN SILENCE IN HER FLAT. It has been two weeks since she moved, and she's yet to leave the place. She'd been living off deliveries and food sent by her mother. She refused to disclose where she moved, nor did she entertain any other form of communication to any of her peers. Their persistent owls are let in, but Isa would only give the owl a treat without writing any form of response. Most of her days are spent sitting in silence, only looking at the London traffic from the view outside her window.
Sometimes, Isa would play a game by herself by counting the number of cars per color. Yesterday, she counted forty white cars, seventy black cars, and twenty-six red cars. She would have gone all night if she didn't get tired of thinking about numbers and colors. She knows she's supposed to do something productive now. Perhaps get a job as a freelance photographer and do some product shoots for up-and-coming businesses, or maybe do some portraits. The thing is, she can't. Doing anything more than eating, going to the bathroom, and showering would take too much of her energy. A single household chore is enough to make Isa feel exhausted that she just wants to sit on her bed and look out her window.
"We're here to offer any form of counseling for people who participated in the Battle of Hogwarts. Depression and Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder are common for war-veterans and we are more than willing to extend our help to anyone who needs it. Please don't hesitate to call St. Mungo's Hotline if you wish to partake in counseling, free of charge." She remembers the words of a healer who went to Hogwarts about a month after the war, though she couldn't remember much of what happened after. Since the war ended, Isa just feels like she's drifting, floating in and out as she spaces out over and over again.
Two days ago, Isa briefly considers the idea of calling the Mungo's Hotline, but she decides against it. She couldn't even bring herself to eat her meals on time. Committing to appointments to talk about the death of her best friend and several of her other friends, as well as a break-up that never really happened before she's ready does not sit well with her. How is she supposed to tell someone about her grief when sometimes she forgets that it exists only to be harshly reminded of it when she realizes that she will never take another photo of Colin again, or that she will never be able to nag at Zane for mundane things once more?
Perhaps she's lucky that Zane is still around, that she could probably try and see him if she wishes to. However, the constant avoidance and the seemingly denial of her presence when they all went back to Hogwarts just puts a bitter taste on Isa's tongue. Why must she expend energy on trying to reach out to someone who doesn't want her around?
Still, she finds traces of Zane everywhere. The vest sweater she wore during their sixth year that he complimented. The heart necklace she asked him to clasp behind her neck during a Hogsmeade weekend. The Thai noodles she ordered last week that made her remember how much she missed his mother's cooking. The condescending way in which a character from a TV show spoke. The trunk contains the least memories of Zane, yet Isa could see and remember him everywhere anyway.
It's funny how she sees him everywhere but can't really see him even if she can. A break-up is a break-up, and Isa refuses to hold onto memories of him especially after the lack of communication after the war. She wanted him to hold her, to tell her that it'll be okay and that despite the friends (and first loves) she'd lost, he'd still be there. She didn't expect the silence and absence. She didn't expect him to pretend that she doesn't even exist. Hell, he looked fine during their graduation, like he didn't just leave his girlfriend out there in the war to fight.
Her grief for her relationship with Zane is one matched with confusion and anger. Was she such a horrible girlfriend that he decided that he wants nothing to do with her anymore? Or perhaps she wasn't enough for him? Too demanding, too loud with her presence, a nagger who nags at him for even the simplest of things?
She asks all these questions in her head and she's left with nothing. Sometimes she thinks it's easier to think about Colin. Despite his death, the separation here is clear. He's dead. He didn't leave because he wanted to. He was killed in battle, and somehow that's easier to make amends with.
Isa sees Colin's smile at the back of her mind and she laughs bitterly. Isn't it ironic that the guy who died left her with a more amicable kind of grief than the guy who's still alive?
A PHOTO SHE'D TAKEN WITH COLIN SLIPS OUT OF HER WALLET WHEN SHE WAS PAYING THE DELIVERY MAN WHO BROUGHT HER DINNER. If her memory serves her right, it was taken when they were fourteen. He'd hit a growth spurt that year and suddenly towered over her, his five-foot-ten to her five feet. His arm was around her shoulder, and he was holding one of the comics they both decided to start reading. Memories flood Isa's head to the point of forgetting that there's a delivery man waiting for her to take the food from his outstretched hand. It is only when he snaps at her that she's also forced out of her head.
"Sorry." She mumbles and takes the food. She shuts the door behind her and places the food on the small table, holding onto the photo of her and Colin in her other hand.
Her appetite leaves her the moment she goes back to her bed, staring at the photo of her and Colin as fourteen-year-olds who didn't know that they're about to join a mobilization dedicated to teaching children how to fight against dark wizards who are all adults. The photo was taken from the start of the school year, and the DA wouldn't be formed until later.
Perhaps that's the reason why they're still smiling like this. There's still a hint of innocence left in their youth before it's taken away by the thought of an impending war.
The photo takes her back to a memory of her and Colin in the Hogwarts library, hidden away in a corner between two shelves, away from the watchful eyes of Madam Pince.
"Ang cute ni Ron, 'no?" Isn't Ron cute? Isa muses about her childhood crush while they look at photos of the Golden Trio that Colin had taken back when he was still an overly enthusiastic first year.
"Mas cute ka." You're cuter. Colin laughs, and Isa had been quick to dismiss it as a joke when it should have been clear right then and there.
At the time, Isa had already pushed her feelings for Colin at the back of her head. He's her best friend, she can't mess their friendship up by being in love with him. To confess to him and make her feelings known would mean risking something stable and comfortable for something uncertain and possibly volatile. Teenage relationships don't last long, and she knows that from observing her peers who thought they already found the one, only to break up after three months due to incompatibility and immaturity.
The thought of losing Colin like that is unbearable. She'd much rather deal with silent pining and quietly move on without disrupting their friendship. They've been best friends since they're first years. He's the first friend she's made in Hogwarts and the one she shares most of her Hogwarts memories with due to them being of the same age and year. If Isa were to choose between a friendship break-up and unrequited love, the latter is much more favorable.
She'd let those thoughts cloud her judgment, obscuring the possibility of something more whenever their fingers brush every so slightly, or whenever she'd notice him staring at her while they're developing the photos they took together in the Room of Requirement. It should have been glaringly obvious, and yet Isa decided to live inside her head in fear that he wouldn't like her back, and that any form of romance between the two of them would end in nothing but disaster.
"Kapag wala pa rin akong asawa pag thirty na ako, gusto mo tayo nalang?" If I'm not married by the time I'm thirty, do you want to get married instead? It's supposed to be a joke, but the offbeat nature of it seems to have taken Colin aback the moment Isa finished uttering the last part of her sentence.
She'd made the joke in Potions class when they were trying to brew a Draught of Peace that Colin had forgotten to stir the pot counterclockwise before dropping in the porcupine quills. The potion turned out to be so horrible that Slughorn gave them a failing grade.
"Ang panget ng joke mo, Isabelle." That's a horrible joke, Isabelle. His nose wrinkles as they walk out of the Potions classroom after accepting the grade they were given.
The joke was never talked about again after that, but now that Isa's left alone to her own grief over the overwhelming absence of Colin, she wishes that she'd brought it up after that. She wants to know what he thought of it, if he even dared to consider it. Sure she'd stashed away her feelings for Colin in the deepest recesses of her brain, but that didn't mean her heart didn't feel it. It would still skip a beat whenever he'd smile at her. It would still soften whenever he gently pats her head.
Isa's dinner lay forgotten on the table as she stares at the ceiling, trying to gather all memories of Colin. His face is still vivid in her head; his haunting smile, the way his lips would curl up in amusement whenever Isa gets frustrated over a scene she didn't like in the comic books they read, and the way his eyebrows would furrow whenever Isa calls him by his full name. She remembers how it feels whenever he would hold onto her arm, preventing her from tripping on a rock, or whenever he'd pull her back to stop her from going straight into a wall. She remembers his cologne, a subtle fragrance with hints of mint and geranium.
The one thing she couldn't remember, though, is his voice. The words he'd said remain perfectly verbatim in Isa's head and memories, but for some reason, she doesn't know what he sounds like anymore. Isa stands up from her bed, trying to wrack her brain for any kind of memory that would help her remember Colin's voice, but it doesn't come to her.
"Fuck. I literally just dreamed of him last night." She finds herself scrambling for her digital camera, but there are no traces of Colin in the fairly new camera she'd bought just three months ago.
She closes her eyes, tries to imagine Colin talking to her, and there he is: his face, his smile, but he is voiceless even when he speaks in her imagination. His mouth opens and closes, but no sound comes out.
"No, no, no, no..." Tears well up at the bottom of Isa's eyes. She hasn't cried in months, her chest devoid of any emotion as she continues grieving even almost two years after the war. She has succumbed into emptiness, merely letting the memories take over her. She'd thought that she wouldn't forget... that she wouldn't be able to. Now she's here scrambling to hold onto the shadow of Colin after being so complacent that she wouldn't forget anything about him.
Her eyes find the trunk and Isa hurriedly opens it, her hands going straight for a vial with a four-leaf clover taped to it. (Colin found it sometime during their second year, and it used to be pressed in Isa's photo album, but she'd taped it to the vial containing Colin's memories before she locked it away in the trunk) The memory glows a light blue, Colin's favorite color, and despite her initial hesitance to even open this trunk, her fear of forgetting his voice takes over her that she'd forgotten why she didn't want to do this in the first place.
She opens another compartment in the trunk that contains her grandmother's old pensieve and she drops the memory inside, sobbing as she submerges her face inside the memory, unwilling to let him go in the slightest.
SHE FINDS HERSELF IN THE QUIDDITCH PITCH LOOKING AT A VERSION OF HERSELF AND COLIN WHEN THEY WERE FIFTEEN. Younger-Isa had her eyes closed, her head resting on one of seats while she's sitting on the floor. It was a scrimmage between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw teams and she wagered Colin five sickles that Ravenclaw would win merely just to spite his Gryffindor pride. Colin begins to speak and the dam finally unleashes.
"Wala ka ba'ng pride sa sarili mo'ng house?" Don't you have any pride in your own house? He asks, his gaze fixed gently on Younger Isa.
Older Isa is sobbing as she observes the memory, a spectator in her life years and years ago. She watches Colin shield her younger self's eyes from the sun.
"Nagpustahan pa tayo?" What's the wager for, then? Her younger self asks. The question is meaningless, though. Isa started the wager.
Looking back at it now, she definitely wasn't as mature as she thought she was back when she was fifteen, and she's definitely not mature now. Despite the huge void in her chest and the emptiness she's cultivated over the past years, Isa knows that this is still something she would do even as an adult.
"Ikaw nag aya?" You started it? Colin asks her another rhetorical question.
Younger Isa's eyes are still closed, but Older Isa could see how Colin is looking at her.
The memory warps and she's taken to his childhood room somewhere in the suburbs of England. He's sixteen here, the summer before the war. He's gently arranging photos on his desk and Isa moves from her spot in the corner of the room to look at the photos.
The world stills and time seems to have stopped when she finally lays her eyes on the photos he's gently arranging. They were all photos of her. Their shared passion for photography meant that they both had their cameras out all the time. She's aware that Colin took photos of her throughout the years, but she didn't realize that the photos he took of her had so much... gentleness and love in it. He captured her in ways she never thought she'd be captured.
Isa thinks she's never glowed brighter than she did in the photos he took of her.
She never got those photos. They're probably still in his childhood home somewhere, probably untouched on his desk if he ever left them that way before he set off for Hogwarts.
Colin chooses a photo of Isa napping on a patch of grass by the lake, takes out a pen, and scribbles something behind the photo. Older Isa wants to get out, but she also doesn't want to stop looking. She's hooked on his memories like a fish to a bait. This is the last thing she will ever have of Colin, and as much as Isa wants to keep this moment sacred, she decides to view through it anyway. After all, Colin gave her these memories before the war ended. Surely that meant he wanted her to look through it, right?
His handwriting certainly could be improved, but years of being his best friend trained her to read his messy script. He's writing in Tagalog, his mother tongue.
Isa,
I know this may seem so cheesy to you, but I need to let this out before the war happens. I know everyone is pretending that it's not going to happen — and sometimes I do it, too — but I know that this is also the calm before the storm. Before our sixth year starts, I just want to let all of this out... before anything happens to Hogwarts or the both of us. When I first saw you in the Great Hall five years ago, time stopped for me. I was too young to grasp the concept of love, then, but I was so awestruck by the sound of your laughter and the way the world seemed to have shone brighter when you smiled that I guess it's somewhat imperative that I fall in love with you. Before I knew it, we were best friends. You're one of the people I cherish the most, and whatever happens, just know that I will always be here for you.
Gihigugma tika, Isa. I love you. You don't have to give me an answer, or even answer at all. I just want to say this before I regret it.
Yours Always and Forever,
Colin.
He reads the letter over and over, reciting the words 'Gihigugma tika, Isa' over and over again as he practices how to say 'I love you' in Bisaya, Isa's mother tongue. He recites it for a few more times — still sounding very Tagalog despite the multiple recitations — before placing the letter in a pastel yellow envelope. There's a giddy smile on his face, his eyes crinkled. His smile was so bright that Isa doesn't think she's ever seen him smile like this before.
"I'll just give this to her when before Halloween. Doesn't matter if she likes me back or not. You got this, Colin." He gives himself a little pep talk as he doodles little cats all over the envelope. His mother calls him and he's quick to put the letter inside his drawer before leaving the room.
SUDDDENLY, ISA IS BACK IN HER FLAT, STILL SOBBING. It is only now she realizes that Colin was planning on confessing to her right around the time she'd made it official with Zane. A bitter laugh escapes her lips upon the discovery of her unknowing cruelty. It has always been established that between the two of them, Isa is the more outgoing one, unafraid to try new things. Now that she's seen a fragment of Colin's past and heard his voice once more, she realizes that despite people's perception of them, Isa is the real coward. Colin was willing to take a gamble. He was willing to risk it all for her, and then there she was, a coward who'd stowed all of her feelings for him in the back of her head all because she doesn't want to lose him.
His voice is replaying over and over in her head now. Gihigugma tika, Isa. Gihigugma tika, Isa. What better way to convey love's sincerity than to confess it in her mother tongue despite not knowing how to speak Bisaya?
She feels her heart swelling and breaking at the same time. The void in her chest grows bigger and all she wants is a do-over without any clear plans on what to do if she ever got it.
A twisted thought forms in her head, if time turners still exist, she could change the trajectory of their future. Maybe she'd be able to bring him back to life. Maybe they can try again, and this time she won't be scared. Except she knows she can't do that. Apart from the fact that all existing time turners are destroyed, to change the past for her own selfish desires meant dismissing the efforts everyone has done to win the war.
She looks at the memory swimming in the pensieve and cries on the floor of her flat. After almost two years of trying to move forward, she's back to square one.
