Lately she's been plagued with the same dream. Every night, it's there, like a bedtime story that never gets finished or a radio transmission with not enough signal. Every once in awhile, however, Cosima will continue where she left off. Yet, nothing good ever comes of it.
Sometimes Delphine reciprocates her feelings with lustfully lidded eyes and a warm, wet tongue. Other times, she pushes herself away from the brunette with long, pale arms that shake with discomfort. Needless to say, whenever she kisses the blonde girl in her dreams, it doesn't turn out "well."
She isn't quite sure when it happened— when her feelings for her best friend of 5 years became loaded and anything but platonic. She isn't quite sure when Delphine became the object of such attentions, but she can, with certainty, remember exactly when she first felt arousal pooling between her own jittery thighs. She can remember the exact moment she trailed her own fingertips to a heated core and tested a digit between tight, slick muscles. She can remember having to cast a silencing charm to muffle her own strained voice, another's name ghosting from her lips.
She'd be lying if she said she didn't feel sick for thinking such impure thoughts. I mean, really, it was Delphine for Christ's sake. The same girl who fell into Cosima's life by pure chance— it was unfortunate, really, what pushed the French girl into the tiny American's life; but it's not something either girl would change for the world.
"Delphine Cormier?" called Headmistress McGonagall, beckoning the young witch to take a seat on the old rickety stool before the entire student body. The Great Hall was, well, for lack of a better word, "Great." There were four long tables stretched in the center of the hall, each belonging to its own house. There were empty seats scattered throughout each, meant for the first-years who would soon discover their highly anticipated fate and join their ranks.
The timid footsteps of the young blonde could barely be heard above the frenzy of chatter stemming from returning students. 'A Cormier,' one boy muttered with an odd mixture of disdain and awe in the timbre of his deepening voice. 'Her father was a sympathizer to the Dark Lord,' accused another. 'She's a Slytherin,' whispered an older professor Delphine could barely place in her memory. His face, long and weathered, free of any and all hair— familiar in the oddest of ways.
The stool croaked underneath Delphine's weight, wooden legs adjusting to the added load. Blonde spirals comfortably sat atop her shoulders, her hair seeming both a mess and an object of magnificent beauty. Her skin was smooth and creamy, speckled with constellations that fascinated a particular first year with spectacles and dark, wavy hair to no end.
The blonde allowed her eyes to roam around her future classmates, taking them all in. Most didn't even try to hide their disgust; others just narrowed their eyes with curiosity more so than contempt. Her own hazel eyes landed upon one familiar face with thin, rectangular glasses and short, brown hair. He smiled brightly, nodding his head reassuringly. She could see through his charade however, as he wrung is sweaty palms together and altered between tightening and loosening his blue and bronze tie, a nervous habit he picked up from his older brother. Delphine hadn't seen her cousin in ages, certain members of her family having ostracized him for getting sorted into a house other than the grim green and silver.
She sighed, trapping her bottom lip between white teeth, crossing her feet anxiously in anticipation. A part of her wanted to make her father proud by joining his alma mater; another part, much stronger, wanted to go where the hat thought best. She wanted friendship and a family that accepted her— a place with students much like herself. Delphine wanted to be happy, no matter where that placed her. Her father be damned.
McGonagall strolled over to the French girl calmly, giving her a wink as she placed the worn, leather Sorting hat atop her head.
"Interesting… rather interesting," noted the old hat aloud, the entire hall growing silent. "Another Cormier… perhaps, a Slytherin?" A pause. "Hmmmm, you are rather ambitious, aren't you? But, perhaps, Ravenclaw might be a better fit. You have a thirst for knowledge, that's for sure," mused the hat. "However," resumed the garb casually, "you are unlike any other witch or wizard in your family. Not quite a Slytherin, perhaps a Hufflepuff?"
"I'll take anything," whispered the girl, more to herself than the hat. "I just want somewhere I belong. No matter what."
That hat laughed hotly. "Is that so? That's rather… brave of you, Mademoiselle Cormier." Delphine could feel the eyes of the entire room on her, like hot coals burning her resolve to pieces. She could handle it though, she must. This particular sorting was already far longer than any of the others in her year. It couldn't be much longer… right? I mean, there has to be someth—
"GRYFFINDOR!" The hat bellowed. It was as if the armless hat had grown appendages and fired a gunshot. There was an echo. Nobody moved. The young girl could feel blood rushing to her face; the young Gryffindor could almost pluck the tension like a violin string, wound tight and out-of-tune.
An uncomfortable lump formed in her throat as she tried to swallow, the table of red and gold glaring at her with utter disbelief. Her eyes met Colin's in fear, mouth agape. Closing it quickly, he waved her off and offered an unconvincing thumbs up.
Cosima, oblivious having grown up in a muggle family, clapped cheerfully, even offering a "Whooooo!" Few joined the girl in her cheery demonstration however. Taking note, her voice trailed off awkwardly. 'Confused' was an understatement.
Sensing the blonde wasn't going to be moving anytime soon on her own, McGonagall removed the sorting hat from Delphine's head and gave her arm a gentle squeeze. "Go on, dear," encouraged the headmistress, pointing to the Gryffindor table. "Go join your house."
Nodding wearily, Delphine hoisted herself from the stool and wandered to her table, sitting next to another first year Delphine had already forgotten the name of.
McGonagall called another name to the sorting hat not long after Delphine had found a seat.
"Beth Childs," whispered the girl beside Delphine, offering her hand to shake. She smiled reassuringly, already aware of the other girl's debauched bloodline. She didn't seem fazed by it though, a godsend, really.
Glancing around the table, Delphine found older Gryffindors glaring. Shifting uncomfortably in her seat, Delphine returned her attention back to Beth who looked unsure of herself, her outstretched hand twitching in confusion, uncertain if she would be 'left hanging.'
Taking the hand that was offered to her, Delphine mumbled, "Ehm, hello, Beth. I'm—"
"—Delphine, yeah, I know," chuckled the brunette casually, letting go of Delphine's clammy hand. The blonde gave the girl a weak smile, nodding solemnly.
Noticing others were watching, Beth put her arm around the French girl, scowling at their housemates as a way of declaring her allegiance to her new friend.
"Beth," growled Cal, an older, lanky boy who appeared to be in his second year, "careful who you associate with…"
The brunette merely shrugged, quipping flippantly, "You of all people know that 'we' are not our 'family,' Morrison. They don't necessarily define who you are— who you become."
Sighing, Cal shook his head, dragging his calloused palms down his face in frustration. Gritting his teeth, he leaned over the table and drifted his focus to Delphine, looking her up and down. "You may not be anything like your family, but you ARE a Cormier. And that means something here." His gaze shifted over to Beth for a brief moment before continuing as he had. "The war may have ended years ago, but nobody's forgotten. You're not going to fit in here, not until you prove yourself."
"Fucking hell, Morrison. Shut up," spat Beth, finally having enough. "She was sorted into Gryffindor. That means something, dip-shit."
Cal's arms slid off the table slowly, his hands landing awkwardly in his lap. "So was Peter Pettigrew."
The boy sitting beside Cal shoved him forcefully. "The fuck, dude? Lay off," commented the smaller attacker who appeared to be the same age. "She just sat down. Can we at least eat first before you go on being a dick?" He drawled accusingly, returning his attention to the sorting ceremony. "Seriously, you're not usually like this." Cal slumped in his seat, the blood having rushed to his face in a mixture of aggravation and embarrassment.
Wanting to say something to the boy who effectively managed to 'shut Cal up,' Delphine reached across the table and poked the hand he was resting on the table. "Merci…" she trailed off, not knowing what to call the confident boy, hair tied back in a ponytail, grinning widely.
"Tony," he offered with a wink, glad to see the French girl smile for the first time since she joined them. Coughing, Tony pointed back towards the front of the room. "This is, like, super unlike me, but I kinda want to see the sorting ceremony…"
"Oh… I'm sorry, I—"
"Hey, it's fine," he waved her off, revealing his canines in a wolf-like grin.
Nodding, the group looked back towards the front of the room, watching as a girl hopped off the stool and strolled over to the Slytherin table.
"Sarah Manning," called the headmistress, grimacing when a girl pushed her way to the front of the room. She could already tell this one would be trouble.
The timeworn hat barely touched Sarah's head before it shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"
Applause broke out from around Delphine, her housemates clapping and welcoming the new student with some sibling-like slaps on the back.
Clearing her throat, McGonagall continued on down the list. "Cosima Niehaus."
A tiny girl with braids and large, black glasses (that looked far too big for her face) shuffled to the front of the room and hoisted herself onto the stool. She offered the crowd a huge grin, clamping her hands together and placing them atop her lap. She swung her legs back and forth like a small child. As Delphine inspected the petite girl, she couldn't help but feel drawn to her. Her face practically radiated warmth and compassion. The young girl looked so… alive— so in love with the world and eager to please it.
Delphine wanted to hate her for some unknown reason. She wished she could be as delighted with the world around her. It was naïve, for this Cosima to be so happy. It seemed to Delphine that the eager girl was bound to get hurt, and something primal inside the blonde wanted to protect the girl smiling brightly across the room. At the very least, make her smile. Maybe she could be a Gryffindor too?
Lost in her thoughts of what could be, Delphine barely registered the small form disappearing across the hall, being enveloped by a sea of blue and bronze, sitting beside the wrong Cormier.
Delphine awakens that night with a hand clamped around her mouth, arms and legs fastened to her bedpost, while another girl her age, straddles her and points a wand at her chest as she watches her intently. "Delphine Cormier," she husks, snorting incredulously. "Do you know who I am?"
The French girl opens her mouth disbelievingly, shaking her head.
"C'mon, Frenchie, you can do better than that. Were you not paying attention to the sorting ceremony?" Questions the girl above her once more, getting desperate for some sort of response.
"Sestra—" interrupts another girl who looks just like the one holding a wand to Delphine's throat. "—you place silencing charm. Snake cannot speak."
"—For fucks sake, Helena, DON'T interrupt me."
The Ukrainian nods from beside the Brit, shifting her weight between both of her bare feet uncomfortably.
"Considering meathead here is right, I'll just refresh your memory. I'm Sarah Manning," the girl deadpans.
Delphine's brows knit together, confused if that shred of information should mean anything more than some sort of shitty introduction.
Disappointed in the blonde's reaction, Sarah presses the tip of her wand into the side of Delphine's throat, eliciting a pained whimper from the now quivering French girl.
Sarah sighs and repositions herself atop the taller girl, jabbing her knees into Delphine's ribs. Biting her lip, Delphine grunts as an unwelcome tear slides down the side of her pale face.
"Finally, a bloody reaction. Listen, since you obviously don't… reeeemember the significance of my name, I'll give you a quick refresher, okay?" Taking a slight pause, Sarah cocks her head to the side and offers the girl below her a menacing smile— one that looks all too familiar to a cheery-eyed, braid-wearing Ravenclaw. "Your family murdered our parents. Your family is the reason I just found out I have sisters. Your family is the reason we all grew up apart. And your family is the reason we can only be together at school. Your family is the reason all of us are in danger, and you are going to pay for it. Your family fucked with mine and so I'm going to fuck with you."
Delphine couldn't move, only shake, as a wave of tears threatened to spill from her eyelids. Shaking her head, Delphine tried to convey as much remorse and innocence to the angry girl keeping her hostage, but it didn't work.
"Yeah, cute, whatever," spat Sarah as she unceremoniously joined her sister at the foot of Delphine's bed. "Goodnight, Cormier— get ready for some living hell. You're toast."
Delphine's eyes jerked open the following morning, the sun not yet raised above the Great Lake, leaving her to wonder if what had happened between her two housemates had been a dream. Sitting up, Delphine rubbed at her temples and shuffled off the bed, choosing to escape the Gryffindor tower as soon as possible.
She finds her feet carrying her to a nearby tower, yet Delphine can't help but wonder if the distance will be far enough from her offenders to calm her erratic heartbeat. Her fingers feel numb as she rubs them against the material of her new robes, now sporting a scarlet and gold crest.
She stops at the bottom of a spiral staircase. Biting her lip, she follows the steps with her eyes until she no longer can. Sighing, Delphine drags her heavy feet up towards a destination unknown.
'Anywhere's better than here,' she thinks glumly.
Once she's sure she can't go any longer, she finds herself in front of a bare corridor with a single door at the end.
Delphine shuffles up to the door curiously, her eyes locked onto its only distinguishing feature: a bronze knocker in the shape of an eagle.
The young Gryffindor looks left and right quickly before taking a final glance at the staircase behind her. Finding herself alone with her thoughts, she looks back at the bronze knocker intriguingly. The eagle is intricate, yet modest in design, and appears to be sleeping with its head bowed.
Unable to contain her curiosity, Delphine reaches out to inspect the knocker thoroughly. The moment her fingertip makes contact with the curve of the eagle's head, it moves.
Jerking her hand back, Delphine's eyes widen in horror as the bird appraises her (what she will later account as rather menacingly).
"Merde–"
"–Just one, I'm a few, no family too… who am I?" enquires the knocker casually, tilting its head in anticipation of an answer, it's voice carrying an aura of entitled intellect.
Delphine glances around the room, both baffled and utterly mortified.
The knocker loses interest in the bumbling first-year quickly, returning to its idle state of rest.
"No, WAIT!" Yells Delphine to the knocker a moment too late.
Sighing, the girl reaches for the knocker once more, only to find her pointer finger snagged between the bronze bird's beak.
"Ghhhhgh," grunts Delphine in pain. "What was that for?"
Having already released the girl, the bird responds plainly, "You are attempting to trespass into the Ravenclaw Common Room."
" –But I know the answer to your riddle."
The eagle tilts its head skeptically, but offers no response as if to see if what the girl says carries any truth.
"Clones."
Collin Cormier was a lot of things: intelligent, kind, understanding, awkward, but most importantly, a very heavy sleeper.
As young children, Collin and Delphine got along splendidly, and he was excited to see his little cousin after three years of being blacklisted by his own family (or, at least the Slytherin side that Delphine's Dad, Eric Cormier "ran") for getting sorted into Ravenclaw of all things. It wasn't like he was a Hufflepuff, or god-forbid, a Gryffindor. So it was when he saw the pride of Eric Cormier's life, Delphine, placed into the most daring house of all that Collin knew she was fucked.
Collin expected a few of things to come from his cousin's sorting: definitely a howler or two, some unamused Gryffindors, shocked Slytherins, and Professor Leekie was definitely going to be peeved. Collin didn't, however, expect to be woken up at the ass-crack of dawn with Delphine's pointer finger poking his cheek.
"Delphine?!" He gasped.
"Bonjour," smiled Delphine half-heartedly.
"What are you doing here? You can't be in the boy's dormitory," said Collin quietly, as to not disturb his dorm mates, all still fast asleep.
Delphine bit the inside of her cheek again, anxiously glancing around the space. "I'm sorry, cousin… I just, I didn't know where to go. I just found myself here."
Collin sighed, shaking his head. Sitting up, Colin fumbled for his glasses located somewhere on the nightstand beside him. Feeling increasingly anxious, Delphine snatched them up for him and placed them on his head carefully.
"Thanks," mumbled Collin, scratching his head. "Delphine, go to the common area and I'll meet you there, okay? Maybe take your tie off and stash it in your cloak or something. Try to fit in," he sighed.
Nodding wordlessly, Delphine spun around and shuffled back to where she came.
Thankfully, the common room was deserted. Something that Delphine would later come to know was rare and unlike the studious get-up-bright-and-early-so-you-can-learn-as-much-as-you-can-and-become-top-of-the-class Ravenclaws.
Delphine slumped down on a large armchair across from the burning blue fireplace. Not having slept that night, she subconsciously found herself repositioning herself sideways so that her head was propped up on one side and her feet dangled off the other. Feeling content, Delphine felt herself drifting off to sle–
"-Glad to know I'm not the only one who uses armchairs properly."
Caught off guard, the incognito Gryffindor unceremoniously falls to the ground with a soft screech as blonde curls cover her face in defeat.
"Ohmygod, I'm so, so sorry, I didn't mean to–"
"–It's fine. I'm fine," rationalizes Delphine, brushing off the girl who woke her. With a loud sigh, Delphine uses both of her hands to reposition her hair back to its proper place. Once she finishes, Delphine swivels her head to look at whoever is to blame for her bruised botto–EGO.
The other girl gasps as their eyes lock and reveal the one person each girl least expected to see.
"Hi, uhm, I'm Cosima," the short brunette murmurs, outstretching a hand to exude more confidence in her introduction.
"Enchanté," smiles Delphine, already charmed by the girl who captivated her the night before.
"Enchanté," swoons Cosima as the French girl's hand clasps her own.