Lately, I've been obsessed with the Slytherins. These wonderful little one shots keep popping into my head, and I keep writing them down. Sadly, I won't be posting as much now, because school starts tomorrow. Ugh. High school is a land bountiful of algebra and people who don't like Harry Potter and have never heard of fan fiction. Which is why I'd much rather go to Hogwarts.
Disclaimer: these characters belong not to me, but the wonderful woman who inspired me to start writing in the first place.
Most little sisters want to be just like their big sisters.
Mine does not.
Were it not for the eyes, you couldn't even tell we're related. I'm blond and all curves and tan skin, while Tori's tiny with dark curls that clash wonderfully with her pale skin. But the eyes are identical-big and round, like a cartoon drawing, and celery green with hints of forest green along the edges. The famous Greengrass eyes.
But she acts more like a Greengrass than I ever could.
We were both put in Slytherin, that's true, but she actually belongs there. The sorting hat just stuck me there because a Greengrass anywhere else was unheard of, and I wasn't brave enough for Gryffindor, smart enough for Ravenclaw, or kind enough for Hufflepuff. Tori thinks I am, along with everyone else. But I'm just nice because I don't know what's going on half the time, and 'nice' is a default mode for me. Tori's default mode is 'insufferable'.
She's quiet enough to blend into the shadows and listen to things she ought not to be listening to, but still snide enough to stand her ground. She's not meek like she tells me I can be. I don't mean to be, I just don't see the need to always state my opinion. I know what I believe, isn't that enough?
Tori's like father. Besides the dark hair and pale skin, they're both always thinking. Thinking about what comes next, what's going to happen, what they have to do to protect those they care about. They don't care about much, but the things they do, they guard with their life.
I'm more like mother. She's blond and meek, all delicate. We both care for dresses and parties, frilly things. But she'll be kind and caring, then turn around and make you feel so guilty for being cross with her. I've swore to myself I'm never going to act like that; it's enough to give anyone a complex. Tori can't stand it, she sees mother not as a real mother, someone to look up to and hold in high regard; but more of a child she has to coddle. I'm scared she sees me the same way.
She's far more manipulative than any fifteen year old should be, it really isn't healthy. I've seen her with those boys-Zabini, Nott, Malfoy-and the way they whisper. They all have the Mark, I know that much at least. I've tried to talk to her about it, but she just laughs nervously and brushes it off as nothing. When she told me that, my heart broke in the way it can only do when someone close to you lies to your face.
I don't trust any of them. Blaise, well, I trust him as much as you can trust a Deatheater. Which means I trust him enough to snog him and cry on his shoulder, but I don't trust him when it comes to my little sister. Nott reminds me of Tori. Smart, calm, always analyzing things. It's unnerving. Malfoy was just an arrogant little prat (a good-looking arrogant prat, but still a prat) but now he's...different. He and Pansy are more of mutual friends, and Tori-well, let's just say her relationship with a certain concerns me.
I really shouldn't be sitting her contemplating my relationship with my sister, there's far more important things to worry about. Like avoiding the Carrows.
But sometimes I wish she'd just talk to me; for Merlin's sake I'm her sister. She talks to Malfoy more than she does to me. She can lie about that all she wants, but I've seen them together, heads close, whispering things. Intimate things. The line between friend and more-than-friend certainly is shaky these days. Probably has something to do with the fact we're all probably not long for this world anyways, so might as well make the most of it and admit our true feelings, right? Or at least that's what I tell myself every time I wake up next to Zabini. He's not nearly as attractive first thing in the morning as he is when he's strutting about the castle.
Maybe, if we get out of this alive (and I have this dread in my stomach that we won't), we can start over. All clean and fresh and nice. It'll be just like when we were little. Maybe.
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