Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry forum - Herbology, Assignment #3. Prompt: Your story must end with someone or something screaming. Extra prompts: tearing, silence.

Decided to write my OTP into this, although there is no real pairing here unless you want it to be. I like both Angelina/Montague and Angelina/Lee, as I think they are underdone pairings. Although many people are against Gryffindor/Slytherin fics as common, I don't think people give Slytherins enough credit. Aside from canon, they are, in my opinion, very interesting, especially the older ones. I used Graham Montague even though I don't like the name and gave him Evan as a middle name so it'd spell GEM. LOL I felt creative XD Also, I much prefer Gavin to Graham, hence his father's name. (It is extremely good JKR wrote HP, because if I wrote it, every character would have a suitable middle name so all of their initials would spell real words. Because I feel alliterative and poetic at times, and names bring it out in me XD Deal or go write your own fic!) :3

Word count: 3176

The Montague house looms in front of him. The imposing architecture is ugly, stone as black as the sins on the hands of each male member of the Montague family.

Graham looks up in disgust at the proud Pureblood heritage he has inherited. He flinches, unable to take in the sight of his family's home.

He wishes he didn't have to be here. As the heir of the Montague family, he has to be here. His father died in Azkaban and now, having graduated, the family's burden has fallen on him.

Mrs. Montague walks outside to greet her son. She is cold and distant - every speck the image of a proper Pureblood wife.

Graham can't help but feel pity for her. He is sad she can't truly love him, but he understands. Mr. Gavin Montague thoroughly cocked up in regards to his wife.

It is not long before the annual family gathering is held to honour the Montague name. Graham understands this serves a dual purpose. It reinforces Graham's status as the Montague heir and gives the Montague family a chance to talk about good bride choices to produce the next heir.

Graham leaves the gathering as soon as propriety allows. He cannot stand the gossip, rumours and bickering the small family talks about. None of it matters. The Dark Lord is returning, but none of the fifty-odd Montague family members seem to comprehend what this will mean.

If the Dark Lord returns, Graham may be forced to take the Dark Mark. His younger siblings are too young - he has a sister of six and a brother of four. He alone carries the weight of the Montague family.

And he is the only one who doesn't want it. He's tried to hand over the power to his cousins, uncles, and various other relatives. But his mother refuses to give him up. Graham sighs and steels himself, resolved to do what he should have done two years before.

He had the chance and he blew it. Is it really too late now to do something about it?

He looks up at the cool summer night sky. The moon is low, hanging big in the sky. Three stars dot the clouds, as though guiding him through the fog. Graham takes a quick breath and holds out his wand, making his contact.

Three green lights wink faintly. The contact is made.

He Apparates before his family realizes he's gone.

In the safe house, Graham is immediately surrounded by three wands.

"It's me," he says, hands up. He drops his wand and it clatters to the floor, making a loud racket as the wood finally settles near the stone hearth.

"Prove it," a female voice hisses, wand held near his face.

He wets his lips nervously and takes a breath.

"I am Graham Evan Montague, former heir of Montague, and I am a blood traitor. I threw you, Angelina Johnson, off your broom in third year." He smirks as he finishes talking, remembering that memory fondly.

It was a brutal match. Slytherin had lost the lead and Gryffindor was pulling away fast. He had to do something. Or Flint would want to know why he was scared of girls.

He went after the person with the Quaffle and tackled her, diving for the ball. Instead, he found he held the girl. They had landed in an unoccupied part of the stands. Lucky him.

All he remembers later is her hex.

"And here I thought you Gryffindors lost your courage," he said, before passing out.

Flint was on his arse anyway after that game. Asking why he passed out. Why he was afraid to attack girls.

Graham never feels comfortable around women. Simple as that. They are always the more fragile sex. The ones he is told to take care of. He remembers his sister and is ashamed that she will be unprotected. He does not know why he thinks it's better if she's dead. Strong hands grip him, pulling him out of his thoughts.

"Very good, Montague." White teeth is all he can see before the room is well-lit again.

"I am Angelina Johnson, and I hexed you proper after that Quidditch match. In seventh year, I beat you at Quidditch. It was one-on-one because the other Chasers weren't that good. And I scored." She stands proudly in front of him, dark honeyed eyes glinting with amusement. Her mouth curls into a smile and he is struck again by her beauty.

"So, what do I do?" he asks, unsure of what comes next.

"Hungry?" she replies. As if in answer, his stomach betrays him, growling loud. "I thought so. You big Slytherins always look like you eat a lot. Come on, then."

About to protest, he holds his breath. She has saved him. The least he can do is follow her orders.

"How'd you get a docile Slytherin?" Lee asks, looking up at Angelina.

"Hush," Angelina scolds, going over to the kitchen. "He's on our side, okay? No more questions."

Lee makes a face, but says nothing. He turns to the radio and starts fiddling with the dials. Graham stands quietly, waiting to be told what to do.

"Here," Angelina thrusts some warm food at him. "It's the best we got for now."

Graham doesn't complain. He wouldn't know what to do on his own, either. He's just run away from the Pureblood life. Things are going to be different.

He can't help making a face at the Muggle food. It tastes - salty and watery. Angelina shakes her head at him, grinning like a loon.

"I know, it takes some getting used to. We raided a Muggle house a few days ago and found this stuff. We'll have to move again soon. For now, get some rest. We'll wake you up if anything happens."

Graham nods as Angelina gives him a mini tour. They have the house until Saturday, unless someone comes looking for them. She hopes that Lee will have a safe transmission fixed by Thursday, but if he doesn't, they'll have to move house Friday. Too risky, she tries to explain, but the radio is too complicated for tired non-Muggles.

Graham is glad to be given a room upstairs. A sleeping bag and blanket are on the ground.

"There," Angelina turns around. "I've spelled the room so you won't hear anything unless it's threatening. There are Anti-Apparition jinxes all over the house. This is the safest part." She moves towards the doorway.

"Angelina," he says, surprised he's used her first name. She stops suddenly, feet faltering. Unconsciously, she turns her head and glances at him.

His blue-green eyes are beautiful. They convey relief, gratitude, sorrow. Everything she's thought he was incapable of feeling. And somehow, she feels less alone in the world.

"Go," he says softly. She leaves with a soft rustle as her clothes brush the doorway, hair swinging free down her back.

He memorizes her face and thinks his best mistake was leaving the Pureblood castle he grew up in. There, the shackles were invisible. Here, he is free.

He laughs at that last thought, the ironic situation it presents. Self-preservation is out the window. He is a Slytherin no more, just as Angelina is not a Gryffindor. She's a friend.

And he's a traitor.

Graham doesn't even bother to change. In the silence, he easily falls into a deep sleep, troubled by his latest decisions.

In the morning, he sees he is wearing a long nightshirt. He hopes Angelina is the one who Transfigured his clothes as she is better at wandwork than Jordan.

An interesting though, Johnson and Jordan. He hopes they aren't sleeping together. It would be awkward if he walks in on them. He can't remember who the third person was, although he swears the face is familiar.

When he returns to the kitchen, he finds Angelina alone.

"Jordan?" he asks, indicating the almost-empty room.

Angelina stifles a yawn and shakes her head.

"I'm glad the shirt fits," she nods at him.

"Did you do this?" he asks, about to scowl. He thinks better of it and instead looks down at himself. The nightshirt is long enough to cover his knees.

"Yeah, with some help. I took one of Lee's brother's shirts and Transfigured it. I thought you'd feel more comfortable." She doesn't bother to say that she argued with Lee and Oliver about the clothes. They didn't feel like he was on their side, no matter that she vouched for him.

"What did you do with my other clothes?" He is curious. He hopes she burned them.

"There," she points to the chair by the fire. The clothes are clean and, thanks to the heat, dry.

"Oh," he feels ashamed. Angelina has taken more care than he gives her credit for.

"So, is there anything between you and Jordan?" He tries to sound playful, but he knows his voice is tired.

"No," she frowns. "Why would you think that?"

"No reason. Just thought you two were playing house or something." He grimaces at the way he sounds. What is he, a chaperon?

Angelina laughs. He's startled to hear the sound he's missed for three years. He can't help but smile. Her laugh is infectious.

They stare at each other for a moment. Angelina quickly turns around and continues washing up. Graham uses his wand he finds on the table to dry the dishes.

"I thought you would have destroyed my wand," he says softly, as though he's speaking to no one in particular.

Angelina snorts, "Lot of good that would do." Her retort is kind, but laced with regret. He wonders what has happened to her up to this point.

"What did you do after school?" he asks, hoping it's an innocent question.

She stares at him like he's an idiot and finishes her task.

She indicates the house. "I've been doing this," she says, arms sweeping wide to take in everything. "I've been helping my friends. Doing my part. I'm not much use, I'm afraid. Harry's out there doing the real work with Ron and Hermione."

Graham nods and sits down, afraid he'll say something to ruin her mood.

"To be honest, I'm glad you're here. Too many on our side have fallen."

"I don't want to sit around and be idle. But I also don't want to kill innocent people." He swallows hard as his worst fears are coming out of his mouth. "I was afraid I would be forced to join - You-Know-Who's ranks." He whispers the name in fear. He is not a supporter, although his family has long upheld the Dark Arts. "My father was one of his people. He died in Azkaban. We all knew You-Know-Who would, sooner or later, ask for a replacement. I couldn't tell my mother no, but I know she knew." He is sweating, anxious and nervous that Angelina will reject him as silly or stupid. Like the rest of his House saw him when he wasn't pushing someone around.

Angelina sits down beside him and places a surprisingly cool hand on his arm.

"It's okay, Graham, I know. I was afraid of that, too. My parents are Purebloods, but they don't understand You-Know-Who. They wanted to leave. I wanted to stay. So, we did what we wanted." She shrugs, as if making her cares go away. "I'm afraid of losing them if the war here is lost. That's why I've been doing my best, you know?" She tries to smile, but her mouth quivers. Her eyes glimmer with the hint of tears.

Graham looks down briefly, only to see her long dark fingers against his pale skin. Tearing his eyes away from the contrast of dark and pale, he looks up into her eyes. Tears flow down Angelina's face, marking tracks of beauty along her skin. He grips her arm, hoping to comfort her.

He is seized by an odd impulse to lean over and kiss her tears. Lick her face clean. It takes him a moment to realize his lips are already brushing her cheek. He jerks backwards automatically, alarmed at his own body betraying him.

Angelina is a mixture of horrified mortification and surprise. She can't quite say she wants him to stop, although it is embarrassing enough that she's crying. She thought she had already comes to terms with her parents being gone. Guess not, she thinks wryly, blushing hotly at a variety of things that pass through her mind.

"What's going on?" Lee demands, entering the room. Wearing only shorts, Lee looks like he's lost weight. He's all skin and bones now, dreadlocks still as thick as they were at school. Lee's arm muscles stand out as he shrugs on a shirt. Once he's properly dressed, he approaches the pair.

"Angelina? Are you alright?" he sees her face and immediately his wand is trained on Montague. "Move away," he orders, voice strained. His muscles are tense.

Graham hurriedly backs away, his wand held out to the side in a gesture of good faith.

"Angelina?" Lee asks again, worried.

Angelina looks up at Lee and shakes her head. She sighs and slowly regains her composure.

"It's okay, Lee. I'm fine. Really." She tries to sound convincing, but her best mate isn't buying it.

"Well, come on, then." Lee gives Montague one last warning glance before he leads her from the room. When Lee returns, he makes a pot of coffee and offers some to Montague. Graham refuses. Lee shrugs and pours himself a mug of the hot beverage.

"I thought you did something to her," Lee accuses, not looking at Montague.

"I didn't do anything other than talk. I think she's still hurting," Graham says softly, staring into the fire.

"I don't know what you said, but Angelina's had it tough, alright?" Lee's muscles tighten as he brings the mug to his lips again.

"What happened to the others?" Graham asks, not knowing where his curiosity comes from. "Why are you two alone?"

"We're not alone," Lee retorts, then bites his lips. "At least, we weren't before. Fred and George got separate missions. Same as the others. Oliver - Wood," he adds the surname, seeing Montague's frown, "came to help once, but he's been flying around the continent for awhile now. He stops by every so often when he gets the chance." Lee sighs as Graham looks at the fireplace again. "It's hurt Angelina real bad that her best friends deserted."

Graham looks up suddenly. Rubbing the back of his neck, his face asks his question for him.

"Alicia up and left - went to Africa or South America. Something like that. Married, two kids. Katie's in hiding. After being cursed, she's not too likely to get in a fight anytime soon. Oliver was going to ask her, but decided against it when she wasn't fighting. I dunno why, but Katie won't even see Angelina. Too afraid Angelina's gonna rat her out or something." Lee ran a hand over his head and sighed. "It's been hard on Angelina with most of us gone or out. Angelina's not the best at fighting - she never got top marks in Defense." Both boys grin at that. They remember their classes together with Lupin and Moody.

"But," Lee continues, frowning again. He did NOT just share a moment with Montague, his rebellious mind thinks. "I think Angelina misses everyone. It's hard to be left behind. She's the only one who fought to keep us together. That's why I'm sticking with her. She needs someone. But if I go, she won't have anyone. I make her change houses because of the radio." He held up the Muggle device. "Each week, I broadcast a new show using a different password. We all have our code names. It's the real news, the real truth. Only certain people have access to our location and secrets. If I go, the radio goes to Kingsley or Lupin. Or Wood, if he comes by for a delivery."

Lee stopped suddenly as if realizing who he was talking to.

"I don't know why I'm telling you this," he mutters, rubbing the back of his arm. "But, if you really mean it, you seem to get along well with Angelina." Lee scowls as if this admission burns his tongue.

Graham is surprised at Lee's frankness. He never expected anything from anyone except Angelina. The arrangement he made was with her and her alone.

"I guess," Graham answers slowly when Lee continues to look at him. "I suppose I owe everything to Angelina."

"Damn right you do. She's the only one vouched for ya. I sure didn't think it'd be a good idea. But she said, being a Pureblood, she knew you best. I gave in. She needs a friend and if she trusts you, you're good in my book. Oliver didn't take too kindly to the idea. Too much Quidditch history."

"Yeah, the bloke probably doesn't remember me. Or, if he does, it isn't good. I did hurt two of his Chasers." Graham stretches lazily, his impressive muscles showing despite the extra large shirt.

Lee is impressed by Montague, if his eyes are anything to go by. Then, he is struck by a sudden thought.

"Why'd you never hurt Alicia? Did you have something against her?"

"Spinnet?" Montague thinks. "No, that was mostly Warrington and Bletchley. I took on Bell to irk Wood. Flint told us about them." Montague smirks at the memory. "But Johnson - you always were commenting on her during the games."

"She scored the most goals," Lee defends himself, chest puffing.

"Yeah, but I don't know why. Guess no one else was good enough. Flint and Wood were always at each other, too busy to watch the field. I always told Flint Malfoy was a poor choice, but the bloke was as stubborn as a troll." The two boys laughed about their old Quidditch days.

Angelina was pleasantly surprised to hear Lee and Graham talking. Good, she thinks, let the boys have their fun. Quietly, she tiptoes around to the back where there is another door to the kitchen.

Lee and Montague share some more stories, laughing at the good old times. They fall quiet when they remember the Triwizard Tournament.

In the silence, an ear-splitting scream comes from the direction of the kitchen.