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 The Value of a Friend || Natasha

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Clint Kennedy

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PostSubject: The Value of a Friend || Natasha   Mon Feb 16, 2015 4:00 am

every storm runs
runs outta rain
 

What he was expecting from the letter was just one of the usual letters from his mother - an update on how things were going, maybe a few sentences of a rant about it, and probably a section written from his uncle to make sure he was doing alright at school, but from the first sentence, he knew something was wrong - it wasn't how his mother usually wrote. A frown flickered across his features, his gaze scanning the rest of the letter briefly before going back to read in detail.

My dear boy...
I don't even know how I'm going to tell you this... It might be a few days before you even get this... I'm not exactly sure how long it takes for you to actually read these things now, with your studies and everything. Oh, your uncle is so proud... I'm proud of you...

Clint... It's about your uncle... Something... Something's happened to him. You can't drop your studies; he wouldn't have wanted such a thing, but... Your uncle was involved in an accident, Clint... He's... Well, your uncle's dead...


Clint stopped reading there, shock making him stare like he couldn't understand the writing. He read back through it once, twice... "Clint, you alright?" It was one of his classmates, but he didn't fully register the words. Before he knew exactly what he was doing, he was running out to the halls, desperate to get away from the rest of the students and distantly hearing one of his friends yelling after him.

Where were the best places in the castle again? There was no way he was going back to the common room; they'd find him there. He had to go somewhere where he could be alone. His mind was already racing in an attempt to puzzle through what he'd just read. 'Your uncle's dead.' The words rang in his ears like his mother had actually been there to tell him, and he almost tripped taking the next turn. Along with the phrase came a million different memories. Those summers and trips out to his uncle's farm... His parents arguing, fighting... The tension that had been between them... The day he got his acceptance letter to Hogwarts. All the moments came rushing back quicker than the young male could handle, and he stumbled a few more steps before he gasped, coming to a hard stop and leaning heavily against the nearest wall before quickly sinking down to his knees.

"Not in front of him!" Eric hissed. "What kind of father do you call yourself? He's your own flesh and blood!" His uncle was arguing again, and Mother stood behind him, gnawing on her lip and looking more skittish than any usual argument she had with Father. "What do you think you're gonna do? Set him out on the streets? And my sister? You gonna leave her to herself too?"

"That's not your choice!" Clint jumped at the harsh tone of his old man, scrambling back from the door of his room and rushing back to his bed. He knew he shouldn't listen in on such things. Mother had said it was 'adult' business and that Uncle Eric would handle things - that things with Father would get better.


But they never had. Father hadn't ever treated Mother right. Something had always seemed off with the old man. But never when they were at Eric's farm. Mother had always loved it there... And Clint himself had lived for their trips out to his small farm.

It was at that point that Clint realized there were tears dampening his cheeks. He usually didn't cry. He'd never been one for doing it all that often. Mother said it didn't solve anything, but now he couldn't help himself. He could list a million different times when he'd looked up at his uncle's face and saw a gentle smile. Eric had been nothing like his father. It was so hard to get any kind of emotion out of that man. But Eric? Oh, how easy it had been to be around him. So much easier than life at home...

Clint blinked only enough to clear his vision so that he could see. He hadn't really been paying attention to where he'd been running, but now he realized why he'd ended up where he had. If anyone was going to find him, there would only be one person that would think to look here - the only person he would ever trust to find him at a moment like this besides... Besides Uncle Eric.

He pulled his legs a little closer to his chest, just enough that he could lean his head against his arms that he folded across them. To be entirely honest, he didn't want to think about what he'd just learned. He didn't want to believe it possible. They were supposed to make another trip out to the farm the next time he would be off from Hogwarts. Mother had promised to take him out, and Uncle Eric had promised to write when he could. Clint had only told his mother about securing a spot on the Quidditch team. They had both agreed to surprise Eric with the news the next time they saw him. Now he wouldn't get the chance...

He couldn't care that he was crying now. There was no one here to see him like this, and that was good. No one needed to know how much those words hurt. He didn't want to tell everyone about the situation. Half of them would probably be just as touchy about it as Father was, once upon a time when Clint actually saw him. Clint sat back against the wall then, a bit of a scowl cutting through his grief at the thought of his father. That man probably didn't care that Uncle Eric was dead. Mother probably didn't tell him, and wouldn't tell him. And to think that Clint could still remember the last time he'd seen Eric like it had happened only yesterday... That thought made him wince, and he buried his face in his hands again, muffling another choked cry.

"You know I'm proud of you, kid." Eric reached over and playfully ruffled the young boy's hair, making Clint lightly swat back at the young man with a grin playing across his face. Eric smiled and shook his head, amusement glinting in his eyes.

"So what's all of this mean?" Clint asked for what might've been the hundredth time.

"It means you're a wizard, Clint," Eric said, pausing in his work to look back at the young boy. A fond smile rested across his uncle's lips and a glint shimmered in his eyes - something that made the young boy feel excited, but, at the same time, he couldn't name.


They had been so proud and so willing, Uncle Eric especially. His mother had always seemed to want to smooth things over with Father. Eric had been entirely on board from the start to support Clint going to Hogwarts to begin with.

Funny and cruel thing life was, Clint decided then. Funny and cruel how quickly someone's world could get turned inside out and upside down... Cruel how something so brilliant could be cut out... And just like that.





TAG: Natasha Strelkina 
 NOTES: Set in their third year, of course <3 and the italics is the letter from his mother, and some flashbacks, just so i don't confuse you. Wink

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