You never know when a lunatic will come along & give you a sadistic choice to make -- Early Winter 1997

Siblings may fight but not Draco and I. We were unable to stay mad at each other for too long, we needed each other too much. When we did fight though, it was something to see. I sighed, grateful that Linc seemed to understand and not press the issue.

I turned when he pulled a flask out of his robes, a home remedy for pain. But what would he need it for? I knew only some of his story, just like he did mine. We both preferred not to talk about ourselves and family. When he put the flask down, I took it. "How do you know it works?" It's not that I didn't trust him, I was just interested. I wanted it ask what kind if things he had to deal with but we both respected each other's privacy too much for me to do so. Beside, I was more or less asking that question anyway. I made a mental note not to drink the potion until just before he left. "Is it really that strong?" I looked over at him, wondering who the real Licoln Matthews was.

We were at quite a tricky line with that question.  I cleared my throat slightly and replied, "I take it quite a bit during stays at home."  I had a hard time looking her in the eye with my answer.  I was good at hiding the pain that I felt every time I got close to mentioning what happened at home, but some intuitive people could easily see beyond the front.  "It was when I first started taking it years ago.  Now I have a bit more of a tolerance for it.  But since it's your first time, I imagine it would affect you the same way."  I ran a hand through my hair.  "No one else has ever taken it before... and I won't be offended if you decide not to want to try it.  I tend not to drink things people randomly offer me, so I'd understand."  Only once did my grandfather foolishly tried to poison me by offering me a rootbeer float.  The fact that he was being nice had been a huge red flag.

I looked down at the flask in my hands, "I trust you, I do want to try it. It's just...." I looked over at him, he had never been this open with me before. Draco and I were so used to having to find each other's tells to know how the other was actually feeling that I knew something was wrong here. "Linc," I asked softly, "What happens at home that would make you want to take this?" I held up the flask, wondering what he was hiding. "I don't mean to pry," I said quickly, "I just mean that if something is happening at home, maybe I can help you." I hoped he wouldn't get mad at me for asking, I just wanted to help him if I could, just like he helped me. I forced myself not to try to lighten the conversation by saying I could use some at home as well. I knew he would take that and try to figure me out just like I was with him. This was the one time I didn't want to change the topic. I hoped I got the chance to repay his kindness someday.

"The only way anything will change in my home life is when I graduate and get out of there," I said, sighing slightly.  I looked at her.  I had never felt so vulnerable as I did right then and there.  I swallowed and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.  "I have a complicated life at home, to say the least.  Everyone hates me... and that hatred comes with a price that I pay on a regular basis," I explained quietly.  "There's a reason I don't like to be touched and why I try to keep people from shouting as much as possible.  All either one does is cause pain."  I looked away from her and down at my hands as I started to pick at a frayed hole in my jeans.  Whenever I was at school, I tried to forget about what I had to go home to.

"So, I made that from a lot of simple ingredients and it works," I said, a little louder than before, trying to shrug off the topic.  Though I knew Juniper would not let it go that easily; I knew I would not if one of my friends described this scenario that vaguely to me.

I forced myself not to take his hands in mine, I've know since we met that he didn't like to be touched, just never why. I wished I had asked earlier. "Linc," I said shaking my head slightly. I had a general idea of what he went through, and I wanted to help him as best as I could. I didn't want to press the issue but I didn't want to drop it either, I wanted him to know I understood better then he might think. "The price of being the disappointment and hated is a high one." I agreed slowly, "What's the price you have to pay?" I asked gently. I though I knew but I want him to confirm it. I hated the fact the I was probably bringing up bad memories he could suppress while he was here but if he was being hurt, there had it be something I could do. No one deserved to be the disappointment or hated by their family. I knew that all to well.

I could tell her, but it was easier to show her.  I normally wore long sleeves and jeans because I did not want to answer any questions about the scars on my body.  I never went shirtless because of the scar that covered most of my chest.  I unbuttoned the cuffs on my sleeves and rolled them up.  My parents and grandparents were smart, though, if anything ever left a scar where it would be more visible to the outside world, it was never anything major and they did try to make it disappear.  But they still left their mark -- no matter how faint.  I only showed her my forearms and I shrugged, again trying to make it seem like it was nothing to fret about.  

"It's not as bad as it looks," I lied, rolling my sleeves back down.  "Especially compared to what you have going on right now."

My eyes widened as he rolled up his sleeve and I had to force myself once again not to touch him, this time to trace his scars. All to soon, he covered them back up, shrugging and attempting to convince me that it wasn't that bad. Of course he would try to turn the conversation onto me. I shook my head slightly, "Oh Lincoln," I began, using his whole name rather the the short form I preferred. I looked him in the eye, "I am so sorry that this is happening to you. You know as well as I do that the scars are never as bad as the events that led to them." I could only imagine the story behind each and every one, and those were only the ones I had seen, I was sure there were more, almost positive. No wonder he made his home remedy for pain. "When did all this start?" I may not have had the best home life, but clearly it was better then his.

Too right she was; the scars were just distant reminders of how horrible people could be to innocent children.  The events that lead up to them would never be forgotten, though some of these seemed to melt together as it was a daily occurrence whenever i was home if not sometimes even closer together than that.  I kept her gaze for only a moment before looking down, buttoning the cuffs back up.  "It's been going on for as long as I can remember," I said, trying to sound casual and make it not seem as bad as it was.  I looked back up to her.

"Remember when I told you I understood protecting your brother?  Well, I can say that mine never had to go through this... they never put a hand on him if I could help it..." I kept the foreboding 'until' from the end of that sentence.  I shook my head slightly.  "You seem to have a vague familiarity with what I'm saying though... I can see it in your eyes.  Please tell me it's not this bad for you," I said quietly, never wanting this to happen to anyone -- even my nemesis.

My heart sank when he said it had been going on since he could remember. How could someone do something like that to a child? I took a shaky breath and allowed the conversation to temporarily turn me, figuring I owed it to him. I shook my head, "Not as bad." I said, wishing I could've kept the understanding from my eyes. "It was usually more mental then physical." I tried to explain, thinking about how Father would say I was the disappointment and not worth it. I started to believe it, and Draco was still trying got get me to see the other side. I wasn't sure if I ever could, when something was drilled in to your head as much as it was, you tended to believe it, no matter what others said. "If that makes any sense."

"You brother passed away right?" I asked gently, "Did it have anything to do with this?" I knew he would protect his bother as best as he could but sometimes, we couldn't always be there for them. I was beginning to figure that out now.

"Sometimes the mental warfare is worse than the physical," I said sadly.  "There were days I wished the physical came instead of dear old mother screaming at me and saying the things she would say.  So yes, it makes perfect sense."  And that explained a lot when it came to Juniper.  I had always wondered, but never asked, what she was holding back.  At least it never got to the point for Juniper for it to be physical.  One or the other may be manageable to some extent, but both could easily break a person.

I instantly got that gut wrenching feeling of guilt and despair at the mention of Austin's death.  I looked out the window that was near Juniper's bedside.  I could see what happened plain as day still, and I had mixed feelings about it fading away.  It was a good reminder of what could be lost if something like this happened to anyone and yet I wished it would fade away because I did not need the constant reminder of my failure.  "In a manner of speaking, yes," I said slowly, still looking out the window at the snow gently falling and the wind blowing it around.  "Our father started yelling at me over us playing where we were.  He apparently had stepped on one of our toys -- mind you I was seven and Austin was four."  I took a deep, shaky breath and continued.  She wanted to know and we had been friends for quite some time... and I could not keep all of this bottled up.  I needed to tell somebody.

So I continued:  "Well, I stood there, letting him yell at me.  I knew that I would end up being hit -- it's just what happened.  And I was okay with it, trying to take all the blame so Austin would be spared.  Naturally, the beating came and I saw Austin coming to get involved... to help his big brother.  And my dad's fist was coming down and I knew - I just knew - that it was going to hit him.  And he would regret hitting Austin -- they loved him."  I cleared my throat slightly, unsure if I could make it the rest of the way without showing emotion.  "I pushed him out of the way to protect him... and I got the full force of the hit.  I remember it hurting so badly that I probably ended up with a cracked rib with how hard he hit me.  But there was this noise so sickening... it made my blood run cold and the hitting stopped.  When I pushed Austin out of the way, he was so young that he couldn't keep his balance that well yet.  And we were so close to the landing at the top of the stairs... he fell down them and lay at the bottom... blood pooling around him... he wasn't breathing..."  I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose for a moment.  "I-I couldn't even say goodbye to him.  They didn't let me go to the funeral and, in their eyes, their only son had died."  I opened my eyes and turned to look at Juniper, unsure of what I would find in her eyes this time.  "So, yes, it did have to do with all of this... but it wasn't their fault; it was mine.  And they made sure I remembered that every single day."

<< Sorry for the long response!  Apparently Linc had a lot to say! >>

I took a shaky breath as I closed my eyes, picturing everything he was saying: a young Lincoln being hit, badly, a even younger version of him walking to where he was, attempting to help, him being pushed gently out of the way and the deadly stairs. My eyes flew open at the sickening thud of Austin hitting the bottom in the movie of my mind. Tears had formed in my eye and started to fall. I shook my head, and looked him the eye "You didn't do this. That's on them, not you. You were trying to protect him." I knew he probably wouldn't believe me, but I had to say it. It was true and I realized I was probably the only person to say it wasn't his fault. "I know you probably won't believe me, when you hear something like that that much you tend to believe it, but it wasn't your fault."

I wanted to take his hands in mine and apologize for brining up the topic but I had to settle for just the latter, "I am so sorry for bring this up. I can only imagine you're try to forget it as much as you can." I knew something like that could never really go away, but sometimes suppressing the memory is enough to relieve you for a bit. Although it makes it all the worse when the memory came back and hits you harder each time. "Thank you for telling me though. If you ever want to talk about it or visit him, just let me know. Please, I'm always here if you need me." I couldn't believe that they didn't even let him go to the funeral and vaguely wondered if he had ever gone to visit his brothers grave or if it might be to hard for him. Something's have a way of staying with us, whether we want them to or not.

<< that's alright! June had a bit more to say then I anticipated as well and may or may not have had the same reaction I did....>>

<< I know, right?  It's so sad! >>

I stayed quiet for a moment, having returned to looking out the window, blinking back tears and the emotion.  I tried my best to not show any emotion; it was better that way when I was home.  She was completely right; I had heard it so much that it was my fault that I did not believe her when she countered that.  I sighed and looked over at her again, still not expecting the emotion from her that I received.  She shed tears for my brother when I could not.  I shook my head slightly.  

"You don't need to apologize," I assured her quietly.  "You didn't know... and to keep things bottled up inside isn't always the wisest of things to do."  I was touched that she offered to be there for me with everything -- especially a visit.  The last time I spoke to my brother was at the bottom of the stairs pleading with him to open his eyes and let me know that he was okay.  No one took me to his grave -- the family just assumed that since I was his killer that I did not want to see him... or they thought that wa another way to punish me for his death.  I was not entirely sure.  And even now, with me being able to go on my own... I was actually a little bit scared of going alone.

I looked into her blue eyes and said, "So... are you going to tell me the truth of what happened to you?  I don't believe you when you say you don't remember."

<< yes! >>

I knew that look, he didn't believe me. I had given the same look to Draco countless times before when he tried to convince me that I was special or worth it. Linc was right, mental warfare was worse then physical. At least with physical, if you hid the scars you could pretend that everything was okay. That was more difficult to do with the constent voice in your head as a reminder. "I know that look." I told him. "I'm going to do everything in my power to try to make you believe that you had nothing to do with this." I knew it would be a hard task but maybe somehow I could manage it. "Please do let me know if there's anything I can do. If you don't want to visit alone, I wouldn't mind meeting him, if you'd let me." I smiled over at him, hoping he would take my offer seriously and not just brush it off.

I sighed and allowed the conversation to turn to me. I shook my head. "No." I replied simply. I knew no one would believe me but I also realized there was no reason for me to tell the truth. I turned to him and saw he was looking in my eyes. "Look, I'm not telling Draco, Professor Dumbledore doesn't know and Jetty didn't see anything. I don't remember what happened. Maybe I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time." It tied to convince him. "Even if I did, I wouldn't want to bother you with anything." I thought of what stories must be going around the school. "What are people saying happened?" I asked. I wanted I know how close the students were to the truth.

I smiled slightly, grateful of her offer.  I just was not entirely sure what I was willing to do.  I knew that when I went to see him it would break me.  And I hardly ever let people see that side of me.  I did not say anything else about me and was glad that she actually let the conversation switch to focus more on her; I was not sure if I could handle more talk about myself at the moment, though I would have answered any more questions she had.  Something about that just felt right and safe to be able to do so.

I shook my head at her.  "You wouldn't be bothering me with anything, Juniper.  And, believe it or not, I'm good at keeping secrets," I said, my lame attempt to lighten the mood slightly.  I sighed and ran a hand through my hair.  "The school... well, there's a few different theories.  Some think that you got gang raped or something by a bunch of wizard hating Muggles that stumbled into the village.  Others venture to guess that you just ended up getting mugged or something along those lines.  And different theories that are similar to those, but with different reasons as to why you ended up there," I replied to her, thinking of everything.  "Well, then there's the students who blame your brother.  They see he's acting different and say that he's mixed up i the wrong crowd and they went after you -- of course they're saying it's for drug money or something like that, though some of the Slytherins really think that it's a certain group that they think Draco is affiliated with."  I watched Juniper closely for a reaction.  I personally agreed with the Slytherins.  They were in Draco' house, they knew what he was up to to some extent.  If they thought he was mixed up with the Death Eaters, then he probably was.

"I know your good at keeping secrets. But I'm still not telling." I nodded as he told me all the theories. I forced myself to remain emotionless as I knew he was probably waiting for me to falter so he could figure out the truth. When he started talking about Draco being part of a group, it took all my strength to not react. I sighed. "I can tell you I wasn't gang raped." I assured him. "Actually, I wasn't rapped at all. That much I do remember." I turned to him. "What do you think happened to me?" I was curious as to what theory he thought might be true. I wasn't sure what one I wanted him to believe.