"Misery is almost always the result of thinking." – Joseph Joubert
As a sixth year at Hogwarts, I had become accustomed to the melancholy start-of-term family farewells, teary goodbyes, and chaotic racing to be on time. However, it seems like goodbye has always been a bit different. But things have changed.
That's it, babe. Plaster on a smile and hug your parents. High five your baby brother, throw your little sister a thumbs up. Grin a little bit before turning around. Don't turn back. Don't turn back. Don't turn back. Come on come on, eyes open. You can do this. When you're alone. You can't fall apart until you're by yourself. Not here. Not now. Keep your head up girl. You're the queen of confidence. You're doing fine, just fine. Only a little bit more. Don't give up now, you're doing great! Don't slip up; make them believe you're great. Maybe if they believe it then so will you. Don't think. Don't think. Don't think.
I am knocked out of my thoughts by the feeling of rough wool on my bare skin.
"Little slut," he snarls, his eyes dark and cruel and evil. "You want this, don't you?" He cackles, throwing his head back, and twisting his hand in my hair, pulling it violently.
I whip around in surprise, eyes wide, hands balled into little fists at my sides. "Sorry," I mutter, realizing that it is only a boy – just about my age. The wool was just the robes he had slung over his arm, that's all. I turn around quickly, not wanting to attract any attention. I feel a calloused rest on my shoulder and I fight the impulse to shrink back, scream, and run as fast as I can away. No. You're not going to relive that night again. Don't think. He's not him; he's not going to hurt you. It's alright.I turn around with one eyebrow raised in question, asking what he wanted.
"S'fine," he says in a husky voice. He has semi-long wavy raven hair, complete with stubble and bushy eyebrows. My measly five foot four inches is miniscule next to him. He had to be at least six feet. He smiles at me, and winks. He does not remove his hand from my shoulder. I squirm uncomfortably, because his hand feels like His handsand it hurts to breathe all of a sudden. He is close, too close. He is even close enough to kiss. "Last Year Tristan" would have relished this situation but this is "After That Night Tristan" and I am panicking to find a way out. But I feel as if I'm rooted to the spot.
I am saved by a boy who is slightly less tall than the one who has his hand on my shoulder. He rolls his eyes. "Sirius, you idiot, you're going to scare her off. Besides – she doesn't look your type. Her eyes are green, not blue, and you've always said that black hair reminds you of Bella." Somehow, I don't mind that he's talking about me as if I'm not standing there.
Sirius heaves a dramatic sigh and removes his hand and I sag visibly with relief. My entire body relaxes from the tense state it had been in. Act normal. You're okay. As far as he knows, you just don't feel comfortable with strangers touching you. You're not a victim.The other boy turns to me.
"I'm sorry about Sirius; he doesn't mean any harm. Honestly, he's a good guy, he's just...anyway, I'm Remus." He laughs a bit at his random change of subject, and I force a smile onto my face, pretending to relate to his humor.
"Nice to meet you, Remus," I say quietly. My nod is almost imperceptible. "Tristan."
"Interesting name," Remus chuckles lowly, his voice husky as if he has been ill. I can tell he thinks my name is odd but I don't mind. It is rather odd.
"Says the boy named after the myth," I retort, cracking a smile that feels almost real. I hate this. A year ago, if someone had told me that it would hurt to breathe and that a smile would exhaust me, I would have told them to go to hell. Now, when someone says go to hell to me, it's all I can do not to say "gladly."
Remus raises an eyebrow. "You know of the story of Remus and Romulus?" He asks with a strange glint in his eye. I can tell that he must either be Muggle born or half blood, because my mother has told me that there is no such myth in Wizarding culture.
"What can I say?" I ask dryly, furrowing my eyebrows. "My dad is a Muggle historian." Under my breath, I add, "and more into the Wizarding world than my mother." I force another smile. "I've actually always loved that myth, how they were literally raised by a wolf."
"I've always wondered why my mother named me after the brother who got killed. Tells you something, yeah?" He jokes wryly, and I can tell that he is glad to have met someone who knows of the story.
"If it's any consolation, I was always rooting for Remus. I threw a fit when my dad told me that he lost the battle. I swear he ruined Rome for me. I had always wanted to visit Rome, but I couldn't enjoy it all because the wrong person won the battle." Immediately I come to the realization that that was the longest sentence I've uttered since the night. It almost feels nice to have a real conversation.
"You've been to Rome?" He remarks, and I notice that we've started walking. "I've always wanted to go there. Italy is my favorite country."
I nod. "My dad may have ruined my childhood in the sense that Rome wasn't nearly as amazing as it should have been, but I can't deny...I'll never get over the Trevi Fountain, or all that stained glass in Vatican City. My favorite, though, was Venice." I pause, closing my eyes and remembering. The people, the canals, the food...the architecture. My dad was in love. So much so that he had even asked my mother if we could move there. She said no, of course; she loves Ireland, for one, and my dad would regret leaving because he's so in love with our little cottage out in the middle of nowhere.
"There was this little restaurant, and the food was so amazing. The same family had owned it for decades. There was this old man who was always there when I would stop in for lunch while my parents were out sightseeing. Everyday he would buy me lunch, even though he didn't have enough money for himself. I kept saying no, and that I could pay for myself, but he was always insisting that 'he wasn't gonna let a lady pay for her own food if he could help it.' He was a really sweet guy."
I pause again. I haven't rambled on like that since before...
"That sounds amazing. You're really lucky; our family can't afford to travel. Hogwarts is my vacation." Oh, my boy, if only you knew. I do feel for him; we are lucky that my mom works a job that pays such good money. As an advertiser, she gets paid generously. My dad writes for the newspaper, and even though he loves it and I adore reading his articles, it can't pay the bills.
"Oh, don't be so sure, dear boy.
"I doubt I'd be able to either; and I think that it's great that you appreciate what you have. Merlin knows how many people take what they've got for granted." He seems like he knows what he's talking about. I find myself smiling for real this time.
"Thank you, Remus." I reply honestly.
"Would you like to sit in our compartment?" Remus asks suddenly. I realize that it's 10:59 and if we don't hurry we're going to be stranded here on the platform. I nod reluctantly. Although I'm skeptical, I'd rather be around Remus than be alone. Nice, sweet, kind Remus. When I'm alone I think and that's a road I don't want to travel.
"Remus, you dog, have you been flirting with the ladies?" James Potter. If he weren't such a good guy deep down, I would hate him. But he's a genuinely good guy, and he knows what happened that night. He saved me, after all. I would probably be dead right now if it weren't for him. James is one of the few people that I can trust.
James looks at me and freezes, his eyes getting wide. "Merlin… Tristan?" He trails off, and I look pointedly at the compartment full of people, to which he instantly understands. Or at least I hope. Please James. Don't let them know.
"We'll talk later," he mutters to me, and I know he means it. I know that James and I will be talking whether or not I like it. Sirius and Remus look between us with their brows furrowed, while a boy, whose name I think may be Paul, just continues eating chocolate, oblivious to what was happening around him.
"Well, you seem to know everybody but Pete," Sirius says jovially, "so, this is Peter."
"Hello," Pete mumbles through mouth full of chocolate, and I wave half-heartedly as I sit down and pull out my book and soon I am lost in the words of Edgar Allan Poe.
You fancy me mad. Madmen know nothing. But you should have seen me. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded – with what caution – with what foresight – with what dissimulation I went to work. I was never kinder to the old man than in the week before I killed him.
"No, Ryan," I say forcefully. "I'm not having sex with you, I don't feel that way about you, even if I did…"
He doesn't appreciate this. "You little fucking tease," he hisses. His normal smile is lost to a new one, a cruel, sadistic one. He advances on me and grabs my wrist, tight. It hurts.
"Ryan, you're hurting me!" I say, brows furrowed. Who is this guy? This is most definitely not the Ryan I know.
"Good." I whimper, struggling to pull away, but he just tightens his grip.
I must have fallen asleep because when I opened my eyes, Sirius was standing above me with a smirk. My eyes widen and I clench my teeth, trying to fight the overwhelming instinct to scream, kick, bite, fight, run. Sirius may seem like a lot of things, but he is not a monster. I know what a monster is, and while Sirius is a heartbreaker, I know that he would never force a girl to do something. "Sleeping beauty, we're at the station."
I must have been tired. I'm still shaking from my dream – my nightmare – but Sirius doesn't need to know. I'm fine, after all.
I slowly stand and stretch, glad I already changed into my robes. I grab my trunk and proceed to the castle. I'm dreading seeing his face. I don't know how I'll react. I'm scared.
I'd never admit it out loud, but I'm really fucking scared.
"Welcome, welcome!" Professor McGonagall explained the Sorting Ceremony to the first years, all of who looked to be quite terrified. I remember being petrified my first time at Hogwarts, fie years ago. I had gotten used to it, now in my Sixth Year, but back then I was terrified, along with most of my other peers. I was relieved to be sorted into Gryffindor, the house of my mum, and I can remember being very confused when he – although, back then, he was nothing more to me than my big brother's best friend - was sorted into Ravenclaw – I had been sure he would be Soon the Sorting Hat began to sing.
"Oh, I'm just an old hat,
And hats don't have brains,
But you're wrong about that.
You see, I'm more than an old cap,
I can look inside your mind,
And I'll tell you where you belong on the Hogwarts map.
You might be good for Slytherin,
Those sneaky, cunning snakes,
Are ready to get what they want,
They don't mind the stakes!
Of course, it might be Gryffindor,
Where lions always roar,
They're brave and good and daring,
And never bow to horror!
Then, there is Ravenclaw,
With the brighter minds,
They'll solve any puzzle
Yes, you might of their kind!
Last but not least Hufflepuff,
True to their every word
Loyalty is paramount
And they never ever hurt!
That's all I have to say,
So please don't frown,
Don't be shy, not today,
For I'm your sorting crown!"
Cheesy. I reflected upon the song. Perhaps it's running out of ideas.
And they never ever hurt. Incorrect. They do hurt. They do hurt.
Don't think!
"What's wrong, Tristan?" Remus asks, and I shake my head. He doesn't need to know. He needs to forget. He needs to forget about me.
I never had many friends at Hogwarts, besides Holly McCormack, a fellow sixth year, who was in Ravenclaw. She was my best friend. She was never on the train because her mother was a professor here; Mrs. McCormack taught Ancient Runes; but we'd met the first night and I had Owled her almost immediately after "That Night". Neither of us really ever got noticed by anyone as we were both average to most of the Hogwarts population. Few people knew that either of us existed. She was the only one besides James, myself, and him who knew what happened to me that night.She had come over my house as soon as she got the letter. There was a lot of crying and comforting, and I don't think I've ever loved Holly, or appreciated her, more than I had that night.
I loved her like she was my own blood. She practically was.
My only other friend was Damien, a gay Hufflepuff who had been nicknamed Hufflepoof by a couple of people. He didn't know, but I did plan on telling him what happened this year. We were fairly close. Once he had beaten up a guy who had blown me off on a Hogsmeade date.
I didn't eat anything at dinner. I sat alone, spoke to nobody, and didn't eat. Holly, of course, was at the Ravenclaw table and Damien at the Hufflepuff. Remus suggested I eat with them, but I waved him off, claiming that I didn't want to intrude. He seemed reluctant to leave me there, but he backed off with no more than worried glance as he walked away towards his friends
As the entirety of the Hogwarts population attempted to make its way out of the Great Hall, I felt a hand on my arm.
"Tristan," James Potter said quietly, "we need to talk."
A/N: So, there's the first chapter for you. Tell me how you like it! I'd love to hear your thoughts; constructive criticism is welcome as well. Also, who do you think should've done it? Amos Diggory? Perhaps an oc? Definitely a Hufflepuff. (Not Damien. He's gay and besides, he's amazing.) How should Lily Evans work into the story? Maybe she finds out? Or does she hear Tristan having a nightmare? Perhaps they should become friends? Who knows…Also, I need suggestions for a better name than this. Oh, this updated, better version is with the great, amazing help of my superfanmaztastic beta, Tinkie. c:
NEXT ON The Difference Between Surviving and Living:
James and Tristan talk, find out what happened!
Tristan has a nightmare. Lily wakes her up, and demands to know why she was screaming "Please, no, please, stop, stop!"
Severus and Tristan, partners in potions…they become acquaintances.