A young woman sat by her window, watching the rivulets of water flow across her view as she wished she were just a drop of rain. How simple and complete would her life be then? No worries over mortality, as water is eternal, and no fears over what would come in the future. The date was September 1st, Kitadrelle Taylor's least favorite day of the year. Before she fell too deep into thought, a harsh shout shattered the silence cocooning her being.
"Get down here bitch! It's time for you to get your ass out of here." yelled up at her.
The name-calling was not uncommon; her parents were drunks. Both failed out of various magical schools around the country, which caused a major grudge against Kit's magic, especially considering the her successes in school.
All summer, she had spent the days hiding in her room, only coming out at night when the other residents of the house were passed out. Food was a scarcity; she had to learn to avoid certain ones that would be noticed if any disappeared while only taking small portions of what she could. Occasionally, she got help from her only friend in the city. Jack was a muggle, but understood what Kit was going through as she used to be in the same situation.
Not wanting to risk the possible wrath from her father for dallying while getting downstairs, she grabbed her trunks, which had never been unpacked, and rushed down the stairs, nearly tripping over an empty bottle of Firewhiskey. Her father waited in front of the fireplace, ready to give his yearly speech.
"Don't come home for the holidays and don't you dare contact me when you're at this school. I do not need to be reminded of them. Got it?"
He spat out 'them' with undeniable hatred; after being practically rejected from the magical world, he couldn't stand anything that had to do with wizards. She merely nodded her head in understanding. He tended to interpret any verbal response as 'talking back' which would never be tolerated.
Ready to jump from the frying pan right into the fire, she walked over to the fireplace and grabbed a small handful of floo powder.
"Kings Cross Station!"
She never liked floo powder. It always made her feel unbelievably nauseous and, when she finally landed in the right fireplace, one look at her tended to remind muggle-borns of a young Bambi learning to walk on ice. She never seemed to be able to use floo powder without hurting herself by stumbling and falling.
Fortunately for her, she was the first one to show up at Platform 9 3/4. Grateful that she wouldn't have to awkwardly ask to sit with strangers on the ride to Hogwarts, she quickly snatched the very last compartment and settled in for a long ride. As the train started filling up, groups of friends looking for seats would glance into her compartment, but as soon as they saw her, they left. You see, Kit had no 'best friends'. In total, she was a loner whose sole purpose was to argue and fight with every other major group on campus. She prided herself in being enemies with both the Slytherin clique and the marauders, even though she was a Gryffindor herself. As this was her sixth year, her interactions with others had become tiring, but she couldn't help but stand against anyone she figured abused their power. Whether that be brutal pranking or anti-muggle beliefs, it didn't matter.
"Hey, hey, hey. Who do we have here?" the bane of Kit's existence asked. The owner of said voice stood in the doorway of Kit's compartment, filling up as much space as his sixteen-year-old body could, which was quite a lot as he was also the star player on the Gryffindor Quidditch team.
"Why James, who could you be talking about. The only people here are Moony, Wormtail, you and I," Sirius jovially added, always game for messing with Kit.
"Yeah, she should move, right?" a small voice belonging to Peter Pettigrew timidly asked. He didn't have the confidence to actually contribute to the conversation.
Kit remained silent and counted the droplets of water on the window; she didn't have the energy to deal with their shit at the moment. Usually, she could keep up with their verbal tennis, but, at the moment, she only wanted peace. That didn't mean she wasn't mentally glaring at them with the sharpest glare her emerald eyes could manage.
"Come on guys, let's just leave. She isn't worth the time anyways." Lupin, the voice of reason, said.
Remus Lupin held the status of Kit's favorite Marauder. Sure, he still acted like an ass, but at least he was usually the one to get the other three asses to leave. The pair had a secret, non-verbal agreement that he would try to defend her as much as he could from the idiocy from his friends, but once they had their sights set on her, all he could do was try to end it as soon as possible.
"Fine," Black said, "but this isn't over."
She never understood what 'this' was. For some reason, she always had some sort of unfinished business with the Marauders. She huffed, blowing a small section of her wavy black hair in the air before it landed over her eyes. Frustration coursed through her being as she shoved the misbehaving strands behind her ear. Rain still pattered against the window, as if to emphasize the constancy of nature, even while she faced her own turmoil.
