The life of a musician ((Conan))

[Mackenzie Holden]

“I’d go where I’ve known, if the Earth could find my feet. I would run away and go where I’ve known.” Mackenzie Holden strummed her guitar as she sang the song she had just finished. Her eyes focused on the guitar strings instead of on the unnerving sight of Tommy’s head in the fireplace. He had made an unexpected visit while she was in the common room fiddling with her guitar and finishing up the song. It had made her scream out in shock when his head had suddenly appeared in the flames. Mack had shoved her guitar to the side and crawled toward the fire on all fours, staring at the head of Tom Quincy. “Wha- what the hell?” She had stuttered as she reached forward to touch his head, but she pulled her hand back as if she was burnt. He had merely smirked and nodded toward her guitar, “What’ve you got for me, Mackenzie Sara?” Mack felt her jaw drop and then she flustered herself while reaching over and grabbing her guitar. Now she was singing and trying to avoid eye contact with the one man who ever did believe in her (besides Jack). “But you don’t even care, no you don’t even care… what’s fair.” Mack finally looked up to see Tommy watching her intently as she broke into the chorus. “I’m not standing alone, not standing around. While they sit there and wait for me to lose my ground. Not letting it go, won’t leave it behind. Won’t let it pass me by, no, not this time. Not standing alone, not standing around, not letting it go… won’t leave it behind.” Mack chewed on her bottom lip and continued to strum the guitar, the words leaving her as she sang for Tommy.

When she was finished, she looked over at her producer and raised an eyebrow. “Well?” Tommy merely watched her and then after a moment he opened his mouth to speak, “It was great. When can you get into the studio?” “When I have a break. Keep in mind little Tommy Q. that I am firstly a student and secondly a rock star.” “You aren’t even that, Mack, so don’t let your head get too big.” “No, in order to do that I’d have to be you, wouldn’t I?” She smirked as Tommy laughed, “Touché, well, I’ll let Georgia know you’re at least working. Talk to you later, then.” And with that, the head of Tom Quincy was gone and all that remained was the flame licking the log in the fireplace. Mack shook her head, wondering why on Earth Tommy had just decided to pop into the fireplace. Surely he would have scared the daylights out of any first year who might’ve spotted him. It was lucky that he had chosen a time when she was the only one in the common room. Now that he was gone, though, Mack felt more alone than ever. She missed Jack, she missed Tommy, she missed Trevor even though she was mad at him. Mack had never felt like she was the only one in her life, and now she knew what it felt like. She set her guitar to the side and pulled her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. Her eyes remained on the fire as if willing Tommy to come back, or maybe to even get a visit from Trevor. Trevor wasn’t able to, though, because he was at Durmstrang… but, still. It would be a nice surprise.

As the fire crackled, Mack closed her eyes and hummed a tune that had suddenly come to her. She started to sing without knowing it, but when she did realize it she didn’t stop it. “Where’s my will? Can I find my way? The Earth is wild, and I can’t sit still. A familiar sound, a familiar voice; makes it so hard to make a choice. I don’t know if I should stay.” The song came so easily to her, but she didn’t bother to remember it, because she knew she wouldn’t be able to sing it with as much emotion as she was now. Mack realized that it was harder at Hogwarts now, not because she wasn’t talking to Jack much but because her sister had left. She missed Dixie, and the letter she received from her older sister made her miss the drop out that much more. Mack leaned her forehead on her knees as tears began to slide down her cheeks. She sat like that for minutes, and after awhile she began to get sore. Mack lifted her head and wiped at her tears hastily when she heard someone entering the common room. “Oh, hi Conan.”

[jacob]

Conan had been strutting down the hall, humming to himself a rather catchy tune, prepared to bust into the Common room screaming the words, but when he stepped inside, the will for that sort of behavior was lost. Within seconds, it was as if he’d walked into a cloud of seriousness. When someone’s feeling down, there’s just something about the air…about the sounds you hear, that make it obvious that there’s something up. Conan wasn’t one to jump up into everyone’s business, but he was one to listen to everyone.

He always took pride in his ability to be a secret keeper. He was very, very, very good at hearing things, and locking them away inside his scull, never to be spoken again. When he was young, about nine or so, Conan had a very big mouth. I mean huge, like dinosaur huge. Everything that went into his ears came out of his mouth to all the wrong people. He often started arguments between his parents, because he would tell his mother what his father said about her, or the other way around, and he always spoiled birthdays. When he went to school, he immediately began shutting off this bad habit, and after three years of work, he had become amazingly good at just listening and not talking.

“Hey…hey what’s up?” His voice was soft, caring in a manner not normally heard from boys. For never really having a female influence in his life, he was rather good with girls and emotional things. When the time called for it, Conan could be sweet, compassionate, and understanding to anyone’s needs. It was a gift with people…or something like that.

He made his way over to a large chair next to Mackenzie’s. Her guitar was out, and it looked as if she had recently been playing it. Conan did love music, and he really admired artists. Though he wasn’t really an artist himself, he could play a bit of guitar, and a tad bit more of piano, but he didn’t write his own music. He could really appreciate the work the girl must put in to write her own music.

The boy hoisted himself up onto the arm of the chair, smiling over at Mack, his head tilted to the right just slightly. One could easily laugh at him, seeing as he looked like a foolish puppy who just learned about people being sad and not wanting to play.

[Mackenzie Holden]

The question he asked, it was a simple question. It wasn’t so simple to answer. Mack tucked a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear and looked into the fire. What wasn’t wrong would have been a more suitable question. She didn’t plan on spilling her heart and soul out to Conan, knowing better than to trust someone outside her close circle of friends and family, but there was a part of her that just wanted to get it all off her chest and tell someone everything; no matter who that someone was. Whether or not she wanted to tell Conan everything was something that was struggling inside her. After a moment’s silence, Mack reached over and picked up her guitar, situating it in her lap so she could play lightly as she continued to stare into the fire. Finally, she looked over at him and smirked; “This is all my life is. Music. Not that I don’t love it, because I do, music is my passion, but sometimes you need more than a guitar and lyrics in your head to be happy. I used to have Jack, but he’s not around anymore. I’ve just gotten close to my sister and she thought it was important that she left for Paris. So, I’m doing what I’m always doing now that I have no life. I’m making music because it’s the one thing I know will never leave me.”

She looked away from Conan and back into the fire, the words slipping from her as she played; “I drift away to a place, another kind of life. Take away my pain and create my paradise. Everything I’ve held has hit the wall. What used to be yours isn’t yours at all. Falling apart and all that I’m asking, is it a crime, am I overreacting? Oh, he’s under my skin, just give me something to get rid of him. I’ve got a reason now to bury this alive, another little white lie.” The song was from her first album and it had done better than 24 Hours, which was something that had shocked nearly everyone at G-Major because 24 Hours had been her first single and the people had loved it. This song held so much emotion, though, and even if the producers and managers at G-Major didn’t realize it… she did and so did Tommy. Mack continued to play but stopped singing as another tear rolled down her cheek. She ignored it as her hands continued to strum the guitar and her eyes remained focused on the fire. The acoustic guitar had been a gift from her step-father, and now as she held it, it seemed to burn in her hands. Mack stopped playing suddenly and looked down at the beautiful guitar. Without a word, she shoved the guitar toward Conan. “You play, maybe it’ll make me stop…” She looked up at him and attempted a smile, “What are you up to?” Mack watched Conan a moment and then looked to the fire again.

[jacob]

Conan simply nodded. He simply nodded a lot. It was hard to think of the right things to say for certain issues. It was even harder when you really don’t know a person so well. For being a people person, and for finding himself rather adept at dealing with problems, Conan did occasionally run into a bumpy spot. He figured, that sometimes, people just needed to vent. It was always good to have someone that you could just spill your heart to, and have faith that that was the end of it.

Conan had always been slightly frustrated with his placement in Slytherin, mainly because no one trusted each other. Trust, for Conan, was a vital part of life, but when a person is sorted into Slytherin, it is automatically assumed that they are untrustworthy, which is not the case for Conan. He prides himself on being loyal and trustworthy, and would have been in Hufflepuff if not for his arrogance. His arrogance was often overpowering.

He listened to Mack as she sang, and played the instrument in her hand. It seemed rather natural, the sounds that radiated from her. She was meant to be a musician; that was obvious. Conan felt sick to his stomach when the instrument was shoved at him and he was told to play. It seemed so wrong, to lamely pluck out music on such a thing, in front of a real musician. Conan was no such thing, he was just a follower. He loved the art, and he loved the idea, but he didn’t have the talent to follow through.

None the less, he took the thing from her, shifting it in his lap. It was a lovely piece of workmanship and for a moment he thought about handing it back, apologizing, and leaving, but company in times of struggle was never a foul thing. Company could do so much for a hurting heart. He began to play the thing, clumsily, having not actually played since he came to school this year. He tried not to get embarrassed when he messed up, for he wasn’t a rock star like Mack, she was sure to know this.

“I’m not up to much, not much at all. I’m never up to much though. Just running around the school being a goof.” Whenever he got a chance, Conan always worked hard to lighten a mood.

[Mackenzie Holden]

Mack had continued to look into the fire as Conan had begun to clumsily play the guitar. He answered her question, and she smiled softly although the smile wasn't from the heart. It was just her politeness showing through, which was odd - most definitely odd - because Mack was never polite to anyone who she didn't consider a close friend. She tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear and continued to stare into the fire, letting her mind wander. Her unhappiness was affecting her music writing, when usually it helped it in some way. She was usually able to feed off her unhappiness and write the best songs (Skin was a perfect example of that) but now... everything just blocked her creativity and not only did it drive Mackenzie mad, it made her want to curl into a little ball and just die. Music was her life, and if the depression that engulfed her was going to drive away the only thing she found herself loving... she didn't know what she was going to do. She lifted her gaze to Conan and she cringed noticeably before standing from her spot on the floor and perched herself on the arm rest of the chair he was sitting in. "Not to sound too harsh and cliché Slytherin, but... that was absolutely the worst guitar playing I've ever heard." She smirked at him and then grabbed his hand, guiding it further down the neck of the guitar, "If you hold it here, it's easier to play." She nodded and then stood from the arm rest of the chair, "Maybe it wasn't the worst, because I've played pretty horribly in my past, but it sure wasn't great." Mack knew that she might sound harsh, even though that was most definitely not her intention, but she couldn't help but be honest.

She crossed her arms and stared into the fire again, trying to keep her mind from reeling out of total control. After a moment, she turned her gaze back to Conan. "Don't worry about playing like a fool in front of me, I've been in the same situation, you know. I wasn't always good at playing that sodding thing. I've had a lot of time to practice and all. Everyone is able to play it if they try, but it's those of us who have music in our hearts and souls who are actually willing to try to. I honestly couldn't live without music in my life, and that's one of the reasons why I tried so hard to get to where I am today musically." Mack sank into the empty chair to her right and watched Conan with a curious gleam in her eyes, "What exactly does 'running around the school being a goof' entail?"

[jacob]

Conan held in a blush when she admonished him, and to hide his embarrassment let out a hint of a chuckle. He let her guide his hand down and nodded slightly, struggling to make the sound coming out of the thing sound just a bit better. Finally, after hearing her talk more about her music he stopped playing and just sat back in the chair. He turned slightly in his chair and looked straight at the girl.

Conan had never been admonished for staring as a child, which is probably why he makes eye contact most of the time. He doesn’t feel funny looking people head on when he talks to them, unless it’s a girl he had a crush on. Mack was a nice girl and all, but he didn’t have a crush on her. Unlike most thirteen year old boys who were just discovering girls, Conan didn’t have a thing for every girl he met. He knew how to have girls that were friends, and girls that were more then friends; one of his more mature areas in life.

He laughed casually as she asked him what being a goof involved. That was a difficult question to answer. Conan could normally be found either, sitting somewhere reading or writing, or he could be found running around looking for attention. He would have proudly listed off a ramble of activities he had been up to lately, but then remembered he was talking to a prefect, and some air of appropriate behavior must be held. “Aw, you know, chasing girls.” He shrugged, that was an easy and clever answer.

“You know, I kind of have an idea of what you mean about music...” He shrugged. Conan didn’t want to pry, or to be one of those kids who always tells people, ‘I know how you feel’ when all someone really wanted was to complain. It does get really annoying when you never have the ability to just feel bad for yourself because everyone else says they feel the EXACT SAME WAY. Of course, Conan wasn’t implying that Mack wanted to feel bad for herself. He just knew how it was for someone to always one up you on feeling bad. “About music never leaving you…”

[Mackenzie Holden]

Mack held a secretive smile on her face as he stopped playing the guitar after she had finished talking. When he had answered her question, Mack had to do everything in her power not to laugh aloud. Instead, she raised an eyebrow and shook her head. "All guys are exactly the same, aren't they? Girls this, girls that. But when they actually need the guy to be there for them, what aren't they? Oh, yeah, that's right... THERE! Honestly, are all boys dense or is it just those of you who only like what they can't have and then once they have it they just shove us aside like we were nothing more than a used toy?" The anger and pent up frustration that Mack held toward every male in her life just seemed to be pouring out of her as she shoved her hands in her pockets and slouched further down in the arm chair, her steely blue eyes glowering at the dancing flames of the fire. She scowled and sat in silence for a moment. It was when Conan made a comment about music that Mack looked up with at least a little interest. She merely stared at him after he had spoken, her eyes unblinking. It was hard to believe that anyone could completely understand what music was to her, because it was hard to believe that anyone else had gone through half the things Mack had gone through in her childhood. That was how she found music, it was how she became... Mack. Her suck-tastic childhood had cleared the area for a creative side of Mackenzie Sara Holden to blossom and she was grateful for that one thing only.

Finally, after a few more moments of silence, Mack reached over and plucked the guitar from Conan. She looked at it against the firelight and sighed; "It's beautiful. The most amazing thing I've ever held, ever played. It's my whole life, and I owe it everything. But... it owes me nothing. Music... music alone can't be a person's life. Simply because music doesn't return any feelings, it doesn't hug you, hold you, kiss you, or tell you everything is going to be all right. The most music can do is be an outlet for the emotions that you would otherwise keep under cloak and dagger. At times it can be the most magnificent thing you'll ever write, ever create, but the rest of the time..." Mack looked at the guitar and shrugged with a look of disgust but she made the face with such a nonchalance that it would appear that she wasn't caring about what she was going to say next, even though she did; "Most of the time, it's just a melody, a harmony, some notes, and dynamics. Add a dash of words here and there, and you've got a song, but still no arms to hold you, no mouth to tell you everything will be okay. Just... emptiness in a form of a guitar that you once loved.

"The point, Conan," Mack sighed and crawled onto the ground and toward the fire, she smirked and looked back at him as she shoved the guitar into the fireplace, "is that music is my life, but I need to be someone else's life. Now, can you say you feel the same way?"

[jacob]

Conan listened as she ranted about boys. All girls did that. Boys are the devil are they not? Oh well, Conan had learned that guys were very, very bad people, and being one of them, he was doomed to hearing girls tell him he was like every other guy. Normally Conan would have made an effort to assure Mack that not all guys are the same but it seemed pointless. Maybe for her actions would speak louder then words and she’d meet a guy who’d show her in his own time. At this point, Conan wasn’t interested in pushing the “there are good guys” battle.

He was far too preoccupied by her continuing the music talk. He didn’t know what to say back, and didn’t want to interject, so he just let her go. He listened as she spoke of music not returning emotions, true, it couldn’t do that. It also couldn’t hug or kiss you or talk to you. But the more he listened to Mack, and the more he thought about her words, he had a feeling this all went back to the “there are good guys” battle.

He sat in his chair and watched as she crawled out of her and towards the fireplace, he nearly gasped when she shoved the guitar he had held two seconds before in the fire. Wow, girls are crazy sometimes. Finally, after staring at the burning guitar for a few minutes and mulling over her question, he peeled his eyes away and looked at her. He shook his head as he pulled his hat out of his back pocket and put it on his head. “Not about music.” No, Conan couldn’t say that music was that to him, music was just a hobby for him, not a life, but there were other things. “But there are things to me, which I hold onto because they’re unchanging.”

Conan didn’t often talk about his own personal fear of change, just because it was a strange fear. Conan had an un-matched fear of change and of being forgotten. He didn’t know why, he didn’t have a reason, but he had the fear. The fear he held was one of the biggest reasons that he strived for so much attention; he didn’t want people to forget him.

“They’re always inanimate things, because you know what? People change, and people make mistakes and people hurt you. But sometimes a person who can hurt you is what you long for even when you know the only thing to never leave you or hurt you will also never love you. It complicated, that we as humans want the things that cause us pain. This hat on my head? I wear it all the time and I love it more then most people because it was a gift from my uncle and no matter how much he changes, or how distant I grow from him, this hat never changes and it always holds memories of the things I used to love about my uncle.”

He thought for a couple minutes in silence, turning his attention back to the guitar in the fireplace. “There are reasons we cling to things that cant love us back. I guess I’m just rambling the same things over and over again, but that guitar.” Conan nodded his head toward the fire and then turned his gaze back to Mack, his eyes staring straight into hers. “You know you loved that guitar. I may not know why, but you cherished it because it never hurt you. You cherished it because it held some sort of memory that you felt couldn’t hurt you. And my best guess is that by throwing it into that fire you decided you’d rather have someone who can hold you, and love you, and even hurt you, more then that guitar that can only hold, and love, and cherish memories and ideas and songs and thoughts.”

By now Conan had no idea what he was getting at. He did that a lot, get into long drawn out lectures on subject without any real point. He shrugged, feeling slightly foolish for talking so long on something he was unsure of and then continued looking straight at Mack. He wondered idly if she’d hold his gaze of if she’d look away like most people did. Then he wondered if he’d pushed the envelope too far.

[Mackenzie Holden]

“But…” Mack stated slightly confused, she was going to say “it’s just a hat…” but as he continued, she realized what he meant. Mack had never had something like that. Her life was ever changing, even the inanimate objects that Conan seemed to cling to so dearly. She chewed on her bottom lip, painfully reminding herself of Dixie when she was silent. It must be nice, Mack found herself thinking, to have something like that to hold onto, to remember all the good things or all the memories that you cherished through an object. She didn’t have that. She didn’t have that and she never ever would, because having that would mean she had good memories to keep. Mack hadn’t any good memories to keep locked inside an object or her heart. Not even her songs were because of events that happened, they were just emotions. With what Mack had grown up with, she held no room for good memories. Her mind would always click back to something that her father bad done, or click back to the torment her older sister had bestowed upon her. Mack’s life really hadn’t begun until Jack Rendel had appeared in her life, and just as quickly as he had done that he seemed to have disappeared… leaving Mack heart broken and light. Jack was her light, he was the beacon of hope in her foggy world that she stumbled through blindly, and now it was as if he had gone out and she was back to being blind.

When Conan had finished talking, he held her gaze, and Mack didn’t look away. She knew what her eyes contained, fear and anger, but most of all pain. Jack had been everything to her, he had been her one and only from the moment she met him in the hall with that horrible Vika girl. She knew that she wanted to be with him from the second the Shrieking Shack had collapsed on them. She knew that they were perfect for each other the moment she grew jealous of Felicity at the bar the night of Mack’s first performance. She knew that life would be so much brighter with him in it the first time they kissed. And now? Now what was it? What was it supposed to be? Who was she supposed to love? Her heart cried, but the tears didn’t pour from her eyes as she looked at Conan. Jack had held her heart, and now he had gone off with it somewhere and she didn’t know if she’d ever get it back. Conan was wrong. The guitar held no memories that Mack would like to have. That guitar held pain and nightmares. That guitar held a gruesome past that Mack wanted to erase from her mind and it held an illicit future that she knew she wouldn’t be able to run from. That guitar was the devil reincarnate and Mack held no attachment to it. “No,” she whispered, her eyes still locked on his, “you’re way wrong, Conan. That guitar… holds nothing dear for me. It wouldn’t do me any good at all to keep it, it wouldn’t do anything. See, you keep talking about the objects that we hold dear to our hearts never change, but you’re wrong about that. As I grow older, more memories get added to that guitar, but they aren’t memories I’d want to relive.”

She finally broke the eye contact and looked into the fire with a shake of her head. “From day one, I was treated like the worst baby alive. I wasn’t considered a Holden, because I would never be a true Holden. My older sister was always the perfect daughter, I was kind of like the wizarding version of Cinderella, you know; the muggle fairy tale? Only, there was no fairy god mother, and no mice, no pumpkin, no ball, and definitely no prince charming. Over the years, I discovered music, and it was music alone that got me through all that happened to me. When I was in my third year, I met Jack for the first time… we’d been in the same house for three years, yeah, but I hadn’t ever given him the time of day to actually get to know him. The moment I met him, I felt… complete, like never before because he alone could understand me. Jack was… he was… indescribable. It’s a good thing I met him then, too, because also in that year I found out I’m a half blood and that my real mother was murdered by my real father. So, I mean, it was kind of horrible but I could manage because Jack was there. The summer of my third year, I got a record deal, with help from Jack. Fourth year was pretty much, fine, except things started happening in Jack’s life that made him start to drift and stop talking to me. I went on tour that summer, came back this year, and here I am now.” Mack looked back at Conan and shrugged, “See? If I keep that guitar, if I attach myself to it, if I continue to attach myself to music… it’s just going to make me worse.”

Mack tucked her hair behind her ear and sat down in the arm chair she had been sitting in previously. She knew she didn’t mean what she said, she couldn’t ever really detach herself from music because it was solely who she was, but she couldn’t keep going on the way she was. If she was going to become this new Mackenzie, if she was going to take her heart back from Jack, then… she needed to do it her way and on her terms. The only problem with the way Mack was thinking now? She didn’t know if Jack would come back, and she was pretty sure that if he did… she would be willing to go back to the way things were. She hadn’t told him how much she cared about him, because she could tell it wasn’t in his nature to show how much he cared about a person… that was evident with how little couply things they did. They rarely ever held hands, hugged almost never, and kissed significantly less than they hugged. She didn’t want to be the first person to initiate the words that were surging through her and making her heart quicken. But she knew that he never would… besides, it didn’t matter anyway. Jack was gone and Mack didn’t know if he would be back, so why worry?

[jacob]

Conan was surprised when she did not look away, though he should have expected it. He listened attentively as the verdict was emitted. Wrong. The way he saw it, Conan had a 50/50 chance of being right, so it wasn’t so strange he had made the wrong assumptions about Mack. He listened as she corrected him and then nodded when she looked away. It made sense what she had said to him. Destroying bad memories is the easiest way to cope with hardships. Conan had done his share of that. He’d burnt letters, clothes, whole books of pictures; he burnt pretty much everything that associated him with his father. As he thought about it Conan realized that he didn’t know much about bad memories. Aside from his father in Ireland, Conan hadn’t had too hard a life.

Conan continued his train of thought, right into the subject of relationships. In truth, Conan had not ever been in a real relationship. Not one like Mack was talking about. But for a boy of thirteen, it made sense on one degree or another. Most guys Conan’s age were just starting to have girlfriends, just starting to like girls in fact. Conan had moved past that point, but he’d never had a real, real girlfriend before. This matter aside, he knew a bit about love. Conan was the boy that made lost of friends who were girls, and made sure they knew he was dependable. Once they knew he was dependable, it was an immediate instinct to go to him for relationship advice. For as simple as a guys mind was, a lot of girls often asking him to help them out with their boyfriends. Conan had seen lots and lots of people fall into ‘like’ before, and even a few who had fallen in ‘love’.

As much as Conan wanted to be able to continue telling Mack he knew how she felt, he honestly couldn’t. Now was the point in the conversation when one simply understands that he no longer has all the answers. Conan stood up, and as bold a move as it was, he made his way to the floor next to Mack and sat down. “Is giving it all up what you want to do?”

[Mackenzie Holden]

Mack fidgeted with her star shaped ring on her right middle finger. She never took it off. It was the only piece of jewelry, aside from the guitar pick around her neck, that she wore. She looked up when Conan took a seat beside her and asked her if it was really what she wanted, to just give it all up. It was a tough question, and if she had been asked it when she was ranting… her answer would have come simply. But now that she was able to think about it, Mack was fairly certain she didn’t know what the hell she wanted. She chewed on her bottom lip and then looked at him next to her, “I want to be able to get through Hogwarts without having all this sadness around me, that’s what I want to do.” She smirked, as if joking her way (even though that reply wasn’t too much of a joke) out of this would make it better. After a moment, Mack sighed and leaned her head against the chair that she was sitting against. “No, it’s not what I really want, but it’s what I have to do. I have no choice. I can’t be happy again with the music I’m making because most of it revolves around Jack. He was my inspiration, now he’s just… gone. And honestly, I feel hurt and rather outraged but I can’t put that into a song because Georgia won’t like it.” Mack scowled as she mentioned Georgia with disgust. All the manager wanted was bubble gum crap and Mack didn’t do bubble gum.

There was another silence and then Mack smiled, “We’ve been talking about me and my pathetic life for nearly a half hour, I feel really self-centered. Tell me then, Conan, what does that silly hat of yours hold?” Mack grinned as she poked the hat on top of his head, her eyes looking at it with curiosity.

[jacob]

Conan pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on them, half listening to Mack and half not. He was still thinking about what she had said and then he heard her continue on with a ‘I just don’t want to be sad’. Conan had difficulty with those sorts of things. For Conan, happiness was such a need. If he wasn’t happy, things got bad, and therefore he avoided any and all things that would take away his happiness. That was probably a big reason he had avoided getting into any relationships. He’d seen a lot of girls like Mack, a lot of girls who got hurt. He’d seen even more guy hurt girls, and a few guys get hurt too. It was a lot of pain, being in love. Probably the greatest known phrase dealing with love fit Conan’s perception of it perfectly; ‘love is a battle field’.

Conan could go off on an hour long lecture on happiness, and being happy without leaving being music, but he chose not to. For one reason or another he knew it probably wouldn’t change the way Mack felt. All he decided to say to her was a simple thing, “Sounds to me like you could use a new inspiration.” He shrugged in his fashion and took his hat off as she asked about it.

As he turned the thing in his hands, admiring the sleek, black mink fur he smiled. “This thing?” He turned his head and smiled at Mack before looking back at the hat and sliding his hands to the front of it. His fingers moved slowly over the star on the front, signifying the last element of Soviet Russia; Communism. “This hat holds free thought, independence, originality, creativity…and happiness…comfort.” They were all true things the hat held for Conan. This hat was a sanctuary for him and he thrived in the unchanging safety it provided him.

[Mackenzie Holden]

“New inspiration? Why, that’s a blasphemous thought!” She said in mock shock. Of course, the idea of that wasn’t all as blasphemous as she was letting it on to be, but Mack knew she couldn’t just find new inspiration. She hadn’t been looking for inspiration in Jack, he had just come to her and that’s what had made her music so amazing. It had just come. Now, if she ‘found’ a new ‘muse’ it would sound almost forced and not nearly as amazing as it was before. Maybe it would, maybe she wasn’t giving the idea a full think through, but the idea of it at the moment was too much to actually go into full detail about. So, she shoved it to the back of her mind and focused in on the conversation that was going on at that moment, not what would happen when she went to actually start playing again. Because she knew that the second she picked up one of her other three guitars, the music wouldn’t come easily, at least not as easily as it used to. Mack looked over at Conan as he took his hat off his head and answered her question.

She nodded in understanding and smirked before reaching over and taking it from his hands and putting it on her head, “How does it look?” She asked as she struck a pose and then laughed. She took the hat off and placed it on his head before running her fingers through her blonde hair to straighten it out. “You know what I think?” Mack eyed him a moment and then nodded again, “I think it’s great that you have something like that. I mean, I don’t have anything that can make me feel like life will be okay if only I could have that item. It’s a really great thing that you have that hat that means so much to you. I think, the closest thing I have to that is this…” she reached behind her neck and unclasped the guitar pick necklace and dangled it in front of Conan, so he could take it. “It’s a pick my friend Jamie gave me before I came here for my first year. I never take it off, even though we aren’t friends anymore… Before we had a falling out, if I was having a hard day, I’d hold that pick and just think about Jamie. It helped a lot, but now it has no use. I should probably throw that into the fire, too.” Mack smirked again before taking the pick and putting it on again. “Alright, then, back to your hat. Your uncle gave it to you?”

[jacob]

Conan whined as she snatched his hat and then let himself laugh as she put it on. “Oh, real cute.” He stuck his tongue out at her and then smiled and tugged the hat down over his ears as she placed it back on his head. When she dangled her necklace in front of his face he reached a hand up and just held it in the air, turning it around to look at both sides. “Don’t toss it into the fire.” He said, following the thing with his eyes as she took it away. “It is a nice thing to have.”

Conan shrugged and laid his head back on the chair, eyeing the ceiling above them. It was complicated, the concept of his hat. It was hard to explain though it seemed so simple to him. He shrugged again and stared straight at the ceiling still. “I moved away from my parents’ house when I was just a little kid. My uncle took me in and we were really close for a while.”

He thought about his father and felt his lip twitch slightly, luckily the side away from Mack. He would have looked like a retard if she’d seen that. “My uncle knew I liked the concepts of Soviet Russia, so he got me this hat. It had never been touched when he gave it to me. Still in its original box.” He turned his head and smiled at Mack.

“Unlike that guitar of yours, this hat is the carefree feeling of my childhood; the feeling of never having to worry about life because your parents are always looking out for you? Its comfort and safety all wrapped up in a bit of fur. It’s a good feeling and I would never give it up…ever.” At that his hands moved up and he clung to the hat with a boyish smirk spreading across his face.

[Mackenzie Holden]

Mack shrugged her shoulders and grinned as he stuck his tongue out at her. It was fun to just joke around, she hadn’t joked around with anyone since Kris left. Kris, who had been like an older brother to her, had left when he had gotten married in his sixth year. Sure, she had told him she was fine with it, but seriously? 17 and married? It was almost absurd… he wasn’t even out of Hogwarts yet! Well, regardless, he was gone and that meant she couldn’t have him track down Jack and tear him limb for limb like he had promised. It didn’t matter now, though, did it? No. She was joking now, and smiling, and having fun without having to try. That was what mattered. Not the fact that all the people she cared about most were leaving her one by one. “I won’t,” she told Conan in reply to tossing the pick into the fire, “You kidding me? This thing is worth a lot of money if I ever wanted to sell it. See, it’s Joe Strummer’s guitar pick… pretty damn expensive, and I still don’t know how Jamie got it.” She shrugged, because she hadn’t bothered to ask him when he had given it to her and she knew it would be nearly impossible to get it out of him now, so why worry about it? Mack was finding a lot of things to not worry about.

She listened to Conan talk about his relationship with his uncle, and Mack nodded again as she fiddled with her ring for the second time. She picked up on how Conan used the phrase “for awhile” and Mack wondered what the story was behind that little two word phrase. She didn’t ask, though, because Conan was talking about the hat again. A small smile had been crossing her face with every word he spoke and she let out a light laugh as he clung to his hat. “Very cute…” she told him with another laugh and another poke on the hat. “Well, all I’ve got to tell you is…” Mack pulled out her wand and flicked it, “Accio cookies.” Instantly a tin of cookies floated down from the girls dormitories and landed in front of Mack, who opened the tin and waved it in front of Conan. “If cookies were my comfort object, I’d be very comfortable. Tommy, my darling producer, has a tin of cookies sent to me every two weeks, like clockwork. Take one, spare me from gaining anymore weight.”

She took one herself and bit into it, as she leaned back into the chair. There was another silence and then Mack couldn’t help herself. “Hey, Conan? What did you mean by ‘for awhile’? You said you and your uncle were close ‘for awhile.’ Did you mean something happened, or… was it just a tense mistake?” She chewed her cookie as she watched him and waited for an answer, hoping she wasn’t prying into something that shouldn’t pried into.

[jacob]

“I am cute huh?” Conan laughed at himself and watched with wide eyes as Mack called the cookies to her. He did love cookies. He didn’t get to eat many cookies, no one at home made them. I mean, he had lived in a house full of boys for most of his life, so who the heck’s going to make Conan cookies? His mum never even made him cookies. He grabbed one and shoved the whole thing into his mouth. “That Tommy of yours is a pretty cool guy.” Conan tried to get the words out of his mouth, but in the end they sounded more like ‘fat fommy guy fof rours is a fretty cool guy’ or something to the like.

Conan swallowed his cookie finally and reached for another, just as Mack asked about Conan’s relationship with his uncle. “It wasn’t a tense mistake.” Conan sat for a while, turning his cookie over in his hand, eyeing it. It was that it was something he wasn’t comfortable, or ok with talking about, it was just that it was complicated to get out. The whole issue was a complex one, and took a bit of explaining.

“It’s a complicated story, so bare with me if you want to hear it ok?”

Conan took a bite out of his cookie and then carefully chewed and swallowed it before beginning his explanation.

“My uncle works in the Werewolf Capture Unit of the Russian Ministry. When he was a kid, his dad, my grandfather, was attacked by a werewolf and killed by a werewolf. The werewolf was never found. Both my father, and my uncle are now obsessed with preventing this sort of thing from ever happening.”

Conan took a breath and eyed Mack to make sure she was following, then continued.

“My cousin followed my uncle into that field but I don’t really like what they do. I’ve fallen completely in love with the whole concept of werewolf culture, and I think that the way the ministry treats them like animals is disgusting. That’s one of the main reasons my father kicked me out.”

Conan took another bite of his cookie, now hoping Mack was still understanding him.

“So this last summer, my uncle started working really hard on locating a werewolf thought to be living in our area. He was always bringing home papers and files and things on the guy, and finally one day when he was at work, I snuck into his office and read up on the guy. Turns out they had figured out where he was staying, and they were planning on capturing him that night; that night was a full moon, I neglected to notice that.”

A sigh echoed from Conan’s mouth as he thought about the next events of his story, they were tough on him.

“When I snuck out to go find this guy, and try and talk to him about what being a werewolf was like, my cousin figured out what I was up to. He followed me there, and if it wasn’t for him, I would’ve been caught right in the middle of a very frustrated man changing into a werewolf. Instead, my cousin was. See what you have to know, is how painful it is for a man to change, because all your bones and muscles and things are being messed with. So when my cousin jumped in front of me to pull me away, this guy swung around and smacked my cousin clear to the other side of the room. If the ministry hadn’t busted in right then, (rather upset to find us there mind you) that wolf would have killed my cousin.”

Conan stopped for a minute and set his cookie on the floor, not hungry at the moment.

“After that my uncle blamed me, rightly so, for my cousin’s injuries.”

[Mackenzie Holden]

Mack merely smiled with an amused spark in her eyes when Conan mumbled something that sounded an awful lot like “That Tommy guy of yours is a pretty cool guy” through a mouthful of cookie. That wasn’t necessarily true, because Tommy had his control freak moments. The moments that were positively scary because Mack wouldn’t sing a verse a certain way or she had changed a chord on him without warning. She always told him it was her music, and he would always argue that it was their music. One time, Mack even went as far to call him ignorant and arrogant and someone she wouldn’t want to see ever again because he was living vicariously through her. She hated that. Tommy would get these flashbacks of his fame days and he would try to recreate them through Mack. Of course, they all failed because Mack’s music appealed to a different audience and she obviously wasn’t going to sleep around with every guy she met while she was on tour. Tommy had given up on some things, but having her play a certain way was not one of them. Mack looked over at Conan when he said what he had said wasn’t a tense mistake. She then nodded when he said it was complicated and to bear with him.

As she listened to him speak she felt a mix of emotions. First, there was the definite confusion that she always felt when someone spoke about their past. It was hard for someone who never really lived it to understand what really happened during the moment. Second, there was the emotion of sympathy. Her heart went out to Conan. She couldn’t relate, not really, because she had never severed a tie with someone who had cared about her. Mack was losing Jack, yes, but that wasn’t because of one definite action she did. No, that was because Jack had decided to cut her off from his life because she couldn’t possibly understand. Or was it? It could very well just be an excuse she was giving herself. It didn’t matter. The point was, she couldn’t relate to Conan. The most she could do was give him sympathy and she wasn’t even sure if he wanted that. Mack let a silence hang in between them a moment and she let out a small sigh that ended in a whistle.

“I… well… werewolves?” Mack ran her fingers through her hair with a look of incredulity on her face. Then she shook her head, “I want to say ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘I understand’ and all those other absolutely ridiculous phrases you hear from people when you tell them stories that took something or someone from you or ruined something between you and someone you cared about a lot, but I really can’t. I can say, though, that what you’ve just told me is something I’ve never heard before.” She looked at the tin of cookies in front of her, thinking how great it would be if one cookie could make every problem in the world could go away. “So, he blames you for it and you think it’s okay? I mean… I don’t mean to sound… prying but, you know, that’s not okay. It wasn’t your fault, even if you don’t want to believe it. And it certainly isn’t a reason for him to sever ties with you. But what do I know? I don’t know how purebloods think when it comes to family matters such as these.”

[jacob]

Werewolves; that was always where the confusion lied. Conan guessed it was because other people weren’t a part of his family, and they didn’t understand what huge obsession werewolves had become to his family. They were literally all his family cared about. Even their consideration for blood and family loyalties had faded out in their desperate need to contain werewolves. Their desperate need to right the wrong they felt was done to Damien McIlroy I. It was a complicated matter, more complicated then most families dealt with, but for Conan it was just part of life. Werewolves were part of life.

Conan was happy that Mack didn’t try to sympathize with him. Too many times people had told him they were sorry and that they ‘felt for him’ when they could honestly never understand. Unless you were a McIlroy you would never be able to truly feel what a serious matter werewolves were.

Conan didn’t feel it was his fault his cousin had been injured, but at the same time part of him knew it was his fault. Mack couldn’t truly believe it wasn’t. Conan had been foolish to put himself and his cousin in danger. Conan’s problem was in his uncle’s abandonment. Mack was right; it wasn’t an issue worthy of severing ties over. “In my family, we hold grudges. We hold grudges and we take werewolves very seriously.” Conan sighed and picked his cookie back up. “In my family I am the black sheep, I am the scapegoat. In my family it is simple to sever ties with me, because it is so common.”

[Mackenzie Holden]

“I would take werewolves very seriously, too, if I ever came face to face with one. At the moment they aren’t much of a threat to me, though, so… I just don’t think about it.” Mack shrugged and reached for another cookie before saying the next bit. “Grudges, though? Grudges I know all about.” She groaned almost absent mindedly and took a bite from her cookie. Yes, grudges were big in the Holden half of her family. Her father held so many grudges against her and her sister that Mack had once joked about him keeping a list somewhere in his office. What was really pathetic, was the fact that he actually had a list.

She munched on her cookie in thought and then shook her head. “I really couldn’t imagine that. Losing someone I cared about over something so trivial. Yeah, I mean, I lost my dad if you think about it, but he was pretty much a wanker if there ever was one. And it’s really wrong for you to be nearly thrown out of your family completely because of it.” Mack sent Conan a look and then she smiled playfully, “My family sounds like one of those families from an old muggle television programme compared to yours. You’re free to take mine, though. I’m pretty content with… well… being at G-Major really.” She shrugged again before finishing off her cookie.

“You know, if it’s so common for them to sever ties, I think you’re better off.” Mack said this with sincerity in her voice because she believed that if your family turned their back on you, you were better off because they would eventually stab you in yours.

[jacob]

Conan nodded in agreement. He personally did feel better off without the criticism his family brought on. The only problem with being severed from your family when you were thirteen was managing to live on your own. “See, the only reason I even still talk to my family, is money. I don’t have any.” Conan went to school, and he didn’t do anything to make any money for himself. The only money he received was a monthly allowance from his uncle, which had significantly decreased since his cousin’s accident.

There were two other reasons Conan didn’t completely leave his family though; his mother and his cousin. “My cousin doesn’t hate me for what happened, but he cant talk to me right now, my uncle would get mad. My mother had never hated me, she’s the only sane one around, being a Roderick and not a McIlroy. Sometimes I think it’s my grandfather’s fault that all the McIlroy men are grudge holders…actually…I know it’s my grandfather’s fault.” Conan laughed and smiled over at Mack.