No Use Moaning About It
A/N: I won nothing from the world of Harry Potter.
This fic was written for the Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges forum 'Female Character Appreciation Challenge' set by Lily F. Lux. The task was to write a fic less than 5000 words on a female character from the world of Harry Potter. We could choose if we wanted an easy, medium or hard character, and as such, I was given the hard category of Olive Hornby. Femslash was encouraged, and I tried to incorporate it, if not subtly (I don't usually write slash unless for challenges, but I thought I may as well try my best).
This is my 9th take on a story about the girl, and after writing it and re-writing it, I truly believed that the girl is worse than the boil on the ass of the love child of Umbridge and Bellatrix (charming, right?). As such, this is my final attempt on capturing her character, and I hope I did the story justice. Thank you Shane (NightmarePrince) and Ana for taking a look at this and making me feel better about submitting, even if I hate the ending haha.
I hope you all enjoy reading this whilst I go and join Myrtle in haunting Olive, simply because the girl has given me so much stress to come up with her story :) Happy International Women's Day everyone, and please go and check out the other amazing entries in the challenge- it was a great idea about how to celebrate the occasion :)
Word count: 2550
The blood-curdling scream she let out did not register in Olive's mind as her own; she was sure that the resounding echoes on the cold, tiled walls were the sounds of agony that had been ripped out from somebody else's lungs. In fact, she couldn't be sure if those chilling echoes were a result of one or several screams. She didn't care either way; she was too busy trying to control the violent shaking of her pale hands.
She refused to look anywhere else in the room. Not at the porcelain sink that was overflowing with water, not at the brick wall which was now defaced with glittering red cursive, and not at the- the-
It was too much for her to handle. She quickly twisted her body to the side as another flow of vomit forced its way out of her mouth. Olive didn't mind the bitter, foul taste it brought; she would much rather concentrate on emptying her stomach rather than acknowledge what had happened.
It was a limited reprieve, however, as she began to gag on thin air. Wiping her mouth with the sleeve of her robe, she brought her knees to her chin and cradled them with her shaking arms. Thick, wet tears made their way down her cheeks, ruining the artfully applied mascara she had put on earlier that day. Soiled water seeped into her skirt, yet she continued to rock back and forth, whispering words of comfort to ease the fast thumping of her heart.
She was imagining the whole thing; or it was just some cruel joke. It had to be- she refused to believe what her eyes had shown her to exist just around the corner. It was probably the girl's idea of the perfect revenge- she was bound to retaliate sooner or later, all of her bullying victims did. This particular girl was smart, smarter than anyone she knew, and was certainly a large enough geek to pull this off. Of course it was her; she was probably watching her now, cackling away from behind a stall door.
Although she did not truly believe this, she called out in a wobbly voice, "Myrtle, you stupid nerd, jokes over. Ha-ha, very funny- not. Come out now."
Of course, the only reply she received was the eerie dripping of water droplets hitting the stone tiles nearby. Tap, tap, tap.
Olive buried her head into her knees again, counting each droplet. She tried to get her breathe to match the pace, but it refused to stop its ragged pattern as her body continued to shake uncontrollably. She needed to check the scene again, her inner curiosity and logic to confirm the facts making its way to the forefront of her mind, but she knew she could not face it.
"Myrtle, I'm serious. This is not funny."
Drip. Drip. Drip.
"Look, I'm sorry about what I said. Just come out."
Tap. Tap. Tap.
"You look fine. Please, I'm sorry."
Drip. Drip. Drip.
She strained her ears with each half-hearted attempt to draw Myrtle from her hiding place, hoping to hear the younger girl's laugh ring throughout the room. She had even apologised, although it came out more as a sob, thinking that any show of her weakness would appeal to Myrtle's good nature. Nevertheless, only the water seemed to hear her plea.
The desperation she felt soon gave way to anger as she was left unanswered. How dare she try and make her feel guilty? Sure, she had said some things to her that were rather rude; but it was no different to what she had said to the girl the week before, or the insults spouted by her friend that she spurred on the week before that.
Myrtle should have been grateful if anything- deep down she was only trying to help the girl out. The other girls she bullied were because they annoyed her, and although Myrtle was the same with her know-it-all attitude and whining nature, Olive had developed a sort of soft spot for her. The only reason she teased her about the ugly round spectacles she wore was because they in no way framed her beautiful hazel eyes in the way they needed to be; how could one admire the way the green flecks over-shadowed the golden brown patches when they were covered by a hideous, thick piece of glass? She could go beyond her plane looks to become a beautiful witch and part of Olive's popular circle.
But no, the girl had to make a remark about knowing Olive's secret and had run off to sulk in the bathrooms, as she did at least twice a week, if not more. She was the one who ran off; Olive hadn't told her to go. She had even sent her friends off to pick on some Hufflepuff girl so she could find her and make sure she was alright- using the pretence of course that the Headmaster had sent her.
And now she was here, trembling from head to toe in the disgusting bathroom, catching who knows what diseases off the unhygienic floor, just so the girl could have a laugh. Well, two could play at that game.
"Alright, fine. Stay there. I'm sure you won't mind if I take a look at your body then, maybe prod or kick it a bit? It can't possibly hurt you if you're 'dead', can it?" an unnaturally high laughed bubbled from her thin lips as she shouted at the room's ceiling. "I'm getting up now, last chance to come out."
Her legs protested as she hauled herself up, holding onto the edge of the sink for balance. When her knees swayed, she gripped tighter onto the edge, watching as her knuckles turned white under the pressure. Slowly, she eased her way closer to the toilets until she stood in front of the wall marked in deep red.
"I bet this isn't really blood, is it?" her wavering voice betrayed her nerves, but she made herself stand taller.
Rolling her shoulders back and jutting her chin out, eyeing the first groups of stalls pointedly, she boldly strode closer to the rough surface. Hiding a gulp, she thrust her index finger into the sticky red words. "Enemies of the heir beware? Is that supposed to scare me? What could you possibly be the heir to, your parents are poor Muggles," she tried to project her voice, but found it hard as bile began to rise in her throat once more. It's just dragon blood, it's just dragon blood.
She braced herself before turning to the second last stall in the row. Counting to ten in her mind, she bit her lip and looked down.
Her heart caught in her throat and she choked back a sob as her knees finally gave way. She allowed herself to fall to the ground, one leg twisted to the side. She had hoped that Myrtle would have moved by now, prayed that she would have gotten up.
Crawling forward as though someone was reeling her in, she extended a thin hand towards the lifeless body before her. It hovered just above the dark grey robes that were strewn across the floor as she tried to touch Myrtle's shoulders. Tears spluttered her cheeks as she forced herself to grip the girl, shaking her aggressively.
"Wake up, wake up, c'mon please wake up!" she urged, not realising how much effort she had to exert to move the girl.
Olive was not a pretty crier. She knew her cheeks were rosy, the salty tears covering them making her loose hair stick unpleasantly to them. Her blue eyes were probably rimmed in red, making her look as though she had sniffed one too many powdered bicorn horns. However, this was one situation where her vanity was not put first.
She tried again and again to wake Myrtle, yelping when the girl's limp, pale arm flopped across her leg. Her hair, usually long and silky, was soaked; turning her locks an even deeper shade of chocolate brown. Her uniform was crumpled underneath her stiff body, bulking at one side from Olive's attempts to rouse her. Olive could feel something sticky on the side of her jumper, but did not dare look at her hand to see if it were any other liquid than water.
What was worse, however, was the way the girl's eyes stared unblinkingly into her own. Beyond the darkened pupils, Olive swore she could detect the fear and shock the girl must have felt as her attacker, whoever it was, stole her last breath.
"Please wake up."
Gently, she lifted the wired frames that now sat skew-whiff on the girl's round face. They had caused so much trouble, yet she no longer felt like snapping them in two. Holding them in her left, she extended her right hand to sweep Myrtle's fringe aside.
She leapt back, however, upon touching the blemished skin; it felt like ice, only it had the ability to send a chill to her very core. Her lip quivered and she clumsily scuttled backwards, trying to place as much distance as possible between her and the body. It was real and Myrtle was definitely dead.
She did not stop moving backwards until she felt her back press into the sick, and with nowhere to go and nothing to block her view, she allowed herself to weep. As she had hastened backwards, Myrtle's head had lolled to the side, giving Olive what she thought was a reproaching stare.
"Stop it! Stop watching me!"
The girl should have been breathing- her chest should have been falling and rising gently.
"It's not my fault!"
Her eyes should have been crinkling as she smiled or frowned.
"Get up!"
Her lips should be smirking- not parted slightly in shock.
Olive began to rock back and forth again, continuing to stare at Myrtle. She would have done anything for the girl to leap up and smile then and there- she would've thought her smile pretty and wouldn't have cracked a joke about the girl's crooked teeth. She prayed that she would start lecturing about the runes people their age ought to know about- she would've listened and not called her a nerd. She would have even given all the galleons in her father's vault if Myrtle sat up and started bawling- she would hug the girl as it meant that she would be alive.
Almost an hour passed, yet Olive did not stir until she felt a gentle hand placed on her shoulder. The owner patted her, urging her to stand up, yet the soothing words did not penetrate her mind. The walls seemed to be closing in- the room getting smaller and smaller. She could hear her heart beating, louder and louder, yet clenched her left hand tighter, refusing to let the person take the glasses she still held.
As a drumming noise filled her ears, the sight of her professors leaning over Myrtle faded. She welcomed the gloom.
Olive opened her eyes slowly, blinking rapidly as the brightness assaulted her eyes. She knew she was in a bed somewhere, for the sheets were comfortable, albeit a little crisp. Her stomach felt empty, but she knew it wasn't because she hadn't eaten yet. She yearned to be in Heaven, but the low murmuring of a familiar voice told her that she was far from it.
"Oh good, you're awake. No, no, stay there, that's a girl. I've got to go and sort some paperwork out, goodness this is a tragedy, you just make sure you drink up that water there and you'll be right to go," Madame Nin's stern voice faded as the elderly witch bustled up to her office.
She groaned; any hope that the events of the night before were a dream flew out the window above her head. Closing her eyes, she tried to sink back into the pillow and sleep the day away, not willing to face the sympathetic faces of her curious peers who were probably chomping at the bit to get her side of the story. She wouldn't tell them anything, of course, other than the fact that she thought that they were pathetic for whining over a dead geek.
Images of said geek's body surfaced to the front of her consciousness, and her eyes flew open.
Her throat was hoarse and scratchy. Gliding a tongue over her dry lips, she decided that perhaps she did require a drink. Turning to pick up the glass Madame Nin had indicated, she felt her eyes prickle. There, glinting in the sun, were Myrtle's frames; one arm was bent slightly, showing the place where Olive had evidently held onto them. She felt her cheeks burn as she thought of how she must have embarrassed herself in front of the professors who had come to investigate the scene- what would they have thought, seeing her crying over her?
Quickly, she made to pick up the glasses, hoping she could dispose of them somehow without anyone else seeing them and drawing conclusions, when her hand felt as though it had been dipped into a bucket of ice.
Squealing, she withdrew her hand and cradled it to her chest, looking around wildly. She let out another squeal when she spotted a pair of misty eyes staring at her.
Her mouth dropped open and she began stammering as the owner of the eyes smirked.
"I don't think you will need those to tease me with- ghosts don't really care whether or not they require spectacles, you know," Myrtle's smirk grew bigger as she peered smugly at Olive.
"Myr- Myrtle? What- I thought- you can't-"
"You know, you're not very smart for someone who thinks they run the school. And to think, I almost believed you when you told me being smart was a bad thing," she let out a girlish giggle, apparently finding her statement amusing.
Olive rubbed her eyes, not sure she wanted to believe that Myrtle was there. If she was, it meant that she hadn't lost her, not really. However, by the way the girl was looking at her as she lazed on the foot of her bed, chin in hands and kicking her legs behind her, she had a feeling she mightn't like that.
"You see, I really wanted to tell people about your little secret- I was going to walk out of the bathroom, skip down to the Great Hall, and shout to the students that Olive is a big, fat, les-" she cackled as she took in her horrified expression, "but then I saw you snivelling over my dead body, telling me to get lost. Then I thought, wouldn't it be great if you had to see me all the time? I could tell everyone here your secret, and when they all died, I could tell the next lot of students!"
"You stupid little-"
"You thought I was playing a joke before? No way, this is going to be my fun!"
Olive squeezed her eyes shut again, cursing under her breath. Not for the first time in the last twenty-four hours, she wished that she had never entered that bathroom- any fear and anger she felt then was nothing to what she knew she would feel now.