Hey! This is my first Hetalia fic. It is USUK , and set in the HP verse .
disclaimer: I own nothing
Whispers invaded his ears as a wide path opened for him; none of the students willing to go anywhere near the lone teen. Such isolation would usually depress a person, but for Arthur, it was the norm. Ignoring the dirty looks cast his way; he gripped his books tighter to his chest and shuffled to his next class, avoiding eye contact with those foolish enough to look at him. Although irritated glances were cast his way, nobody was daring enough to cast a hex in his way. Not after the incident with the rebounding of a curse. The student was gravely injured by his own hex and also expelled for casting a dark curse. Now, instead of bullying Arthur, the students of Hogwarts chose to steer clear of him, the Cursed One.
It was not as though he chose to be this way; Arthur was simply born with this curse. Anybody who said his name would be cursed with a horrid death, the Headmaster had told him. He must never tell another his name, lest the cursed word was uttered. Arthur had witnessed the tragedy caused by his curse, and he never wanted to see that happen again. So he kept to himself, hissing at anybody who dared to come his way.
"A Gryffindor," Arthur could hear somebody spit, "That vile thing belongs in the dungeons with those snakes! He does not deserve to be in that House!" Giggles accompanied that comment, but the group of girls froze in fear when Arthur turned his icy eyes onto them. He gave them a harsh glare, before shuffling away. "Even his eyes are the colour of those snakes!" Arthur heard as he rounded a corner, grimacing to himself at the high-pitched voice of those girl.
People tend to gossip about a person even if they are there. Arthur found it highly amusing how they actually thought that he would not be able to hear those spiteful words. Sometimes he really doubted the intelligence of the whole school. One would think that after four years, the students would grow up and accept Arthur. But instead, he was isolated more than ever. Arthur supposed he like it that way. Peace and quiet is something that he could not live without.
The looming door of the Potions room appeared in sight, and Arthur made his pace just a bit faster. Cold air kissed pale skin as the teen travelled further down the staircase, carefully avoiding the crumbling parts of the stone.
Arthur loved Potions. Although how he managed to brew perfect potions with his horrid cooking skills was beyond anybody. But of course, Arthur paid no heed to the rumours spreading around of him, and shoved past the crowded classroom. The table at the back of the room was always empty, and Arthur had made it clear that it will stay that way. Slumping down onto the wooden bench, the wizard watched with half-lidded eyes as the rest of the class filed into the room.
Settling down, Arthur watched lazily as the teacher started the lesson, droning on about the uses of a newly invented potion. Arthur tuned him out until the bell rung; he would find out the solution to the potion later. The rest of the day was relatively peaceful, with an incident or two, but nothing Arthur could not ignore.
It was not until the flying lessons that something unexpected happened. Alfred Jones made his grand appearance, making the girls squeal in delight and Arthur scowl. He didn't actually hold anything against the other, but the brash attitude and the screams of Alfred's fans just did not sit well with Arthur.
Alfred grinned widely at the class, earning yet another scowl from Arthur. He simply did not know how to keep a low profile, does he? Sighing to himself, Arthur did his best to tune out the bloody loudmouth that Alfred was. The volume of his surroundings grew louder and louder, until Arthur thought that his ears would burst. A loud whistle pierced the air, and Arthur thanked the heavens for the sudden peace.
The instructor barked out a few commands for the class to get into pairs. Immediately, the group rushed towards Alfred, bombarding the wizard with requests. Arthur grimaced; the teacher should just put the class into pairs. It would save all of the drama that he hated. As if reading his thoughts, another whistle silenced the class.
"You obviously cannot sort yourself in an orderly fashion," the teacher said, "I will be the one who puts you into pairs." A collective groan sounded from the class, but the teacher ignored it in favour for putting the class into pairs.
Arthur waited patiently for his name to be called, watching in interest as the remaining class reluctantly moved to their assigned partner. It was not often that his class was sorted into groups. Even the teachers knew of the curse on Arthur, so they minimised the interaction he had with the rest of the student body. At the back of his mind, Arthur briefly wondered about his assigned partner. He would probably have to do all the work, and there would be a new rumour about him cursing his partner.
His name would be called soon, Arthur realised. Reluctantly, he stopped his train of thoughts to focus of his teacher. As soon as the words left the man's mouth, Arthur had to clench his fists until his skin broke. Out of all of the people-
"Arthur Kirkland and Alfred Jones."
