A/N: This story has been started and restarted about a million times. Sorry to you guys who keep rereading it – though there aren't many. I just can't find a good place to start it. Maybe this is it.
I sat in the bed for hours that night, just looking at the ceiling. I might have fallen asleep, for an hour at most. To tell the truth, I wasn't sure if I could sleep, or if I wanted to. I woke up (if I'd even fallen asleep, which didn't seem very likely), and glanced at the grandfather clock across the room. It was 1:30. I'd been fourteen for over an hour, and I hadn't even noticed. Suddenly feeling wide awake, I got out of bed and walked over to the window. The Hogwarts grounds were dark and empty. All I could see of the Forbidden Forest were the shadows of trees. The shadows were the same color as the trees were when I'd arrived at Hogwarts that afternoon.
It was really quiet. There were only a couple people in the whole entire castle. It was the summer – what could you expect? As far as I knew, the only people here besides me were Professor Dumbledore (the headmaster), Professor McGonagall (some teacher), and Remus Lupin.
The view of the dark grounds was beginning to bore me, so I walked downstairs to the Common Room. I expected to be alone. After all, there was a 75 percent chance that this Remus Lupin kid wasn't even in Gryffindor. So, I was 75 percent sure that the Common Room would be empty. I doubted that Professor McGonagall, who was also the head of Gryffindor house, would be there. As I neared the bottom step, I saw a boy sitting on the closest armchair to the fire, just staring at it. There wasn't anything remarkable about this boy from the back. Of course, few people look remarkable from behind. He had sandy-blonde hair, and he wore muggle clothes.
I was hoping to be able to sneak out of the Common Room before he saw me. At least, before he could say anything. The last thing I wanted was a conversation with an apparently normal kid. I slowly lowered my foot onto the last stair, when it creaked. I cursed inwardly. The boy whipped around, looked at me, and smiled.
"Oh, hi," he said.
"Hey." I was hoping that the conversation would end there, but he continued.
"I thought I was the only one who stayed up this late." I liked his smile. It was, strangely, different than most people's smiles. I was used to the sympathetic smile. I'd gotten it from Dumbledore, McGonagall, and countless of my classmates back at Morgan's. I was even used to the condescending smile, which Dolores had constantly given me whenever I let it slip that I was a muggle-born. It was really only three, maybe four, other people who had given me true smiles in the past few months.
"I couldn't sleep. I can go back upstairs, if you want," I said quietly, pointing back up the stairs where my dormitory was.
"No, it's okay." Seeing that as an invitation, I sat next to him on the couch.
"So, what are you doing here?" I asked after a couple minutes of silence. "Why aren't you at home?" I sounded bitter. He didn't catch it.
"My aunt had a conference overseas. Professor Dumbledore said I could stay until she came back." It sounded rehearsed.
"What was the conference for?"
"Something with the ministry."
"Oh."
"I'll be going home in a couple days."
"Oh." See? a voice in my head whispered, People who have a home to go to always go there. That's why people feel bad for orphans. We don't have homes. I swallowed the lump in my throat. I could have had a home, I told the voice.
"What about you?" His voice pulled me back into the Common Room, and away from the conversation I was having inside of my head.
"Me? It's a long story."
"It's the middle of the night. We have four hours until breakfast," he said, checking his watch.
"I guess."
"Well?"
"I'd rather not talk about it." I was hoping beyond hope that he'd just leave it at that. I figured that he wouldn't. He was a teenage boy. Most teenage boys, not that I had a lot of experience in the matter, were nosy.
"Oh."
There was another awkward pause. He'd left it at that. I was grateful for that. I didn't like to think about the last few months. I don't know if I would've been able to tell someone about them. At least Dumbledore had already been told. McGonagall hadn't asked.
"So, where are you from? You have a weird accent," he said. He was trying to change the subject.
"America."
"That would explain it."
"Yeah."
"Why haven't I seen you around?"
"I went to a different magic school – in America."
"What school?" he asked. He sounded genuinely curious. I couldn't help but reply.
"Morgan Le Fay's School of Magic."
"Tell me about it," he said, but it sounded more like a question than a command.
"It's an all-girl's school. Nobody really knows where in America it is. Most people guess that it's in upstate New York, or Maine. Nobody really knows, though. I loved it there. The winters were long and cold. The dormitories were small. There were no school houses. You were split up based on age, and your dormitories were assigned by chance. I had the best dormitory. There were three other girls in it." I stopped, and swallowed. "I loved it there."
"Why don't you go there anymore?" He politely ignored by brief pause, and let the conversation continue.
"It, well, it reminds me of stuff I'd rather forget." Once again, he didn't push. He seemed willing to let me say what I wanted to, and to let me stop when I wanted to. It was weird, telling this to someone I barely knew, even though I stopped before I got to anything really personal. He seemed to understand what I meant.
"Why do you live with your aunt?" I asked. It was my turn to change the subject.
"My parents died when I was four. She was my only relative." He half-smiled. "She used to be one of those old ladies who yells at kids for whispering, and if a football goes into their yards, it's a lost ball. She wasn't thrilled about taking me in, but, well." He paused.
"Man, I'm making her sound like a real jerk. She's nice, really. She's different now. Taking me in, well, it changed her. She's not the same person she was ten years ago."
"I wish I had an aunt to take me in." The words slipped out without my meaning them to. Remus looked at me sadly, and I hated it. I'd gotten that look from everyone for the past three months, since my mom died. It was the sympathy. But, he didn't put it in a smile. He put it in his eyes. I liked it better there.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"It's nothing." Damn, I thought to myself, Why did that have to slip out?
"Listen, Sabrina, it feels better when you tell someone. Trust me. I know. You can tell me." I figured that I owed him an explanation, after all that pushing that he didn't do. I took a deep breath. I had no idea why I was telling him this. God, I didn't even know him.
"My dad died before I was born. For the longest time, it was just my mom and me. We were never really close. When she told me that she was sending me to Morgan's, the school of magic, we got into a huge fight. I never talked to her again if I could help it.
"Three months ago, she died. I feel horrible because we never made up." I'd said it. I couldn't believe that I had. I couldn't even tell Rose and Kylee. And they were my best friends now that, well…
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. And, I guess because of those deep brown eyes of his, I knew that he meant it.
"So, what's your story?" I asked. I'd spilled all my lifelong secrets (well, not all, but I'd definitely spilled some), and it was his turn.
"Before I was born, my parents had another son. He ran away from home when he was twelve. He was psychotic - totally messed up. When I was four, he came back and killed my parents. I've lived with my aunt ever since."
"I'm sorry." I tried to let him know that I meant it - that I genuinely cared about his life - but I didn't have those same eyes as he did.
"It's okay."
We sat there quietly for a while, just gazing into the fire, watching it slowly die down.
"If we wait here long enough," Remus whispered, "The house-elves come and restart the fire in the early morning. I've seen it a few times. They try not to be seen, but if you wait long enough, you can see them." I curled up on the couch next to Remus's armchair.
"Can I wait with you?" I asked.
Remus was right - we did see the house-elves. Only two of them came into the Common Room to start the fire. They ignored Remus and me. I wasn't sure if they even saw us sitting there. By the time that they'd arrived, the fire was completely out. The house-elves pointed their knobby fingers at the fire, and the fire began to crackle once again. The house-elves left immediately.
"I don't know why I like that," Remus said, quietly, "It's just a fire. But ever since I woke up early during my first night here, and saw them, I've loved seeing it. It doesn't make sense," he shrugged, "But there it is."