Time Bomb

I first saw her when I stepped off the Hogwarts Express. She looked different. She had cut her hair. It resembled PJ Harvey on the cover of NME. The other Slytherin girls gossiped loudly. She stared at the ground. Silent.

For a second, her eyes perked up, and she noticed me staring. She gave me a slight smile. I tried to smile back. At that moment, I could not have imagined the effect Tracey would have over me. My sixth year at Hogwarts. Theodore Nott. 1997. Seventeen years old. When Tracey broke me down.

…

Although I did not look like it, I considered myself a punk. I liked the music. I knew the names: the Ramones, the Sex Pistols, the Clash. I owned Road to Ruin, Raw Power, and Fresh Fruit for Rotting Vegetables on LP. I read the magazines. I cut out pictures of Ian Curtis. I thought I 'got it'.

At that age, there was a biting confidence that narrowed my awareness. I did not look punk. I wore the regular Hogwarts uniform. I did not go to punk shows. I did not go to punk parties. I had just listened to a piece of vinyl. And yet, it felt like I was in an exclusive club. A member of a class that looked down on the squares around me. It was a pervasive position that coloured the way I looked at others.

This need for superiority -the feeling that I was better- was probably a symptom of my loneliness. Everyone around me was having fun. They all had friends. They did things together. They were making the most of their time at the school. I was alone. I was isolated from that world. There were two ways I could think about it. Either there was something wrong with me, or something wrong with everyone else. I chose the latter, with punk rock as my channel.

…

I bought my first punk record when I was fifteen. It was the during the Christmas break of fourth year. I spent the two weeks at my grandfather's big empty house. On the train to head there, I saw SPIN magazine's October issue with Rancid on the cover. Tim Armstrong had a red mohawk. He wore a studded jean vest with black pants. I thought it was the coolest thing I'd ever seen. I headed to a record shop and bought And Out Come the Wolves on tape. I must have listened to it hundreds of times over that Christmas. Roots Radicals was my favourite song. It felt like they were singing to me. They were telling me that it was alright. There was place for me: punk rock.

…

I was the first to arrive at my Honours Potions class. I'd heard rumours throughout the school about the class. Snape, with his greasy black hair and sour demeanour, buried the students with his reading list. His condescending deep tone permeated his lectures, giving off a smug air, and gave the twelve students in the class a sense of being among the potions elite at the school. I took my seat near the back of the class. It was not long before I was joined by Draco Malfoy, the other Slytherin in the class, with thin blonde hair and a long aristocratic nose. He took the seat next to mine.

"You're in this class too?" He asked.

"Yeah."

"Good. I was afraid I'd be stuck with Ravenclaws and Granger."

I nodded in agreement.

"To be honest," Draco spoke, sitting back in his chair. "I was a bit intimidated to take this class. Everyone talks about Snape being such a slave driver. I think we'll be alright if we stick together."

"Hopefully."

Hermione Granger and Harry Potter were the next to enter the room.

"Oh God. Anyone but him," Draco sniffed.

...

"The three most important things you need to keep in mind is symmetry, proportion and harmony. First, the key to symmetry is balance. Imagine a scale. If one side is too heavy, it drags down the rest. What is done to one side must be done to the other. Neglect of or preoccupation with one ingredient will cause a negative reaction with the others. Second, the key to proportion is knowledge. You must understand the ingredient. You cannot act on inference or impulse alone. If you do not know the proper amount required for the situation, you do not have enough information to act. Finally, harmony is the most important. Harmony comes from inside you. The key to harmony is confidence and comfort. You must be confident enough to follow through on your actions. If something goes wrong, then you must be willing to act, and fix the situation. You must be comfortable enough to relax. If you are on edge, then you will make brash reactive decisions. If you do not have harmony, then you are a danger to yourself. Worse. You are a danger to those around you. You are a danger to those who put their trust in you. You are a time bomb. The question is not whether you will explode, but when."

…

My days followed a regular rhythm. I awoke to the drab green light that permeated throughout Slytherin. It lingered on the ceiling like smoke. There were no windows in Slytherin to greet the rising sun. A low hum was used to wake the students at 7:30am sharp. I'd linger, as the others in my dorm room stirred, loudly moving through the beds crammed together in two rows.

Everything I owned at school was located in the trunk next to my bed. It was mostly filled with my clothes and books for class. I used the rest of the space to store my tapes, the handful of LPs I brought, and my pop magazines. The only exception was the walkman I stuffed under my pillow.

After class, when the dorm room was empty, I'd lie in bed, listening to my tapes, with the volume on full blast. It was my favourite time of day.

I spent my evenings in the library. It was the furthest I could get from everyone else. I'd do readings, homework, or write the worst poetry. Only a couple students used it in the evening. There was always a table of Ravenclaw students gossiping. Hermione Granger could usually be found there, so long as a Quidditch game was not being played. I never saw any else from Slytherin. I liked that part of it.

Once the library closed at nine, I'd head back to Slytherin. I could count on a handful of kids talking or playing cards in the dorm room. Instead of joining them, I'd head into the Slytherin Common room, nestle my back against the cold concrete wall near the door, and listen to my tapes. I'd play them on low volume, just loud enough to hear, and close my eyes. By 10:00, I'd head off to sleep, putting my walkman under my pillow once more, and ignoring the whispers around me.

…

"This is impossible!" Draco moaned. Potions was ending. He tossed his text book roughly into his canvas bag. "I can't stand all of his wishy-washy bullshit. I don't care about the balance needed in potions. I just want straight instructions."

I nodded my head in agreement. I draped my black backpack over my shoulder.

"You know what we should do? We should study together. I sure it'll be easier to sort out this bullshit together," Draco suggested.

"Study together?" I repeated. My fingers rubbed on the Black Flag pin I'd stuck on the right strap of my bag.

"Sure. It'll be great. Two minds are better than one, right? This weekend. Saturday. I'll talk to you then."

He rushed out of the class, giving me no time to respond.

…

I headed towards the dorm room, hoping to listen to some music before dinner. Three Slytherin girls walked ahead of me: Pansy, Tracey and Millicent. I stared at my feet as I walked.

"Nine Inch Nails? Isn't that the band with the freak in black?" Pansy asked.

"His name is Trent Reznor. He's not a freak," Tracey said.

"Please. Anyone who dresses like that is a freak. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that out," Pansy teased.

Millicent snickered.

"I bet you fantasize about him," Pansy continued. "With his greasy hair and his boney fingers all over you."

"No. I don't!"

"You're not fooling me, Tracey. We've all seen what you've turned into this year. Sometimes it's like we don't even know you."

…

After the library closed, I sat on the floor in the common room next to the exit. My back rested on the cold concrete wall. I listened to my walkman. One of my Rancid tapes. They other Slytherins crowded around the couches in the middle of the room. My volume was turned on low, just high enough not to hear their words. I could see a number of the Quidditch players: Draco, Goyle and Vincent. A couple of the girls were with them, Pansy and Daphne, hanging on their empty words. I tried to ignore them. My knees pressed up to my chest.

Then, something unexpected happened.

I noticed Tracy break away from the group, and head towards the exit. I turned my head to avoid her gaze. But, she stopped before the door, right in front of me. Her eyes burned crimson. I took out my headphones.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey," I responded instinctually.

"What are you listening to?"

"Rancid."

She held onto her elbow. "Cool." She turned to look back at the group around the couches. "Could I join you?"

I stared blankly at her for a second. Like a deer caught in headlights, too surprised to move. "Sure," I was finally able to say. I held out one of my earbuds.

She grabbed it, and sat down to my right. I watched her closely. She stared straight ahead without acknowledging me. I felt as if I'd been taken from my body to somewhere completely different. Like I had been swept up in a great wave that threw me forward, and no matter how I tried to react to it, I kept being pulled along.

Tracey grabbed the walkman from my hand. She turned up the volume, until our whole being was surrounded by the music. We sat like that for two hours. When one side of the tape finished, she flipped it immediately. We listened to it two full times. Then, after it finished for a second time, she took out her earbud and handed me back the walkman.

"Thanks," she said. She stood up. "You know, you kinda look like Nick Cave."

"You kinda look like PJ Harvey," I replied.

And she left.

…

I laid awake in bed. My eyes were open. I could feel my heart racing in my chest.

It took me hours to fall asleep.

...

I sat in the same place the following night. I did not know what to expect. I held onto my walkman tightly. No music played. I stared at the group on the couches. It was the same bunch as before.

I did not see Tracy. I had not noticed her all night.

I instantly started to doubt myself. There was no way she was coming back. Who would want to spend time with me? All we did was listen to music. She could do that herself. She did not need me. I'd been alone for such a long time, why would I expect that to change?

I considered leaving. I felt embarrassed that I even considered that she might join me again. Stupid. I was stupid.

The group around the couches burst into laughter. It felt like they were taunting me. I held my head in my hands. It was my fault. I isolated myself like this. There was no one to blame but myself. Everyone else was able to have fun. What was stopping me? I squeezed my walkman between my fingers.

Then, a hand touched mine.

I looked up. Tracey stood in front of me. She slipped the walkman out of my grasp. Sitting down to my right, she took out a tape. I watched silently. She hit eject, put the tape in, closed it, and pressed play. She hands me one of the earbuds.

Joy Division played in my ear. She leaned back on the wall. Her eyes stared blankly at the crowd. I could barely hear the music over my racing heart.

…

Draco raised his head momentarily from his Potions work. Saturday morning. We found an empty classroom to work in.

"You know, people have noticed you and Tracey," he said.

"What?"

"Don't play dumb. You think we wouldn't notice you sitting in the corner? It's pretty obvious to all of us."

"Obvious?"

A smile grew on Draco's lips. "You know what I mean." I gave him a blank stare. "Now, what do you think about this problem?" He pointed at a question in the textbook.

...

At the library, I noticed Hermione sitting at her usual spot with Ron and Harry. Her long brown hair was delicately tied back in a ponytail. Even though the studious aura around her remained, she joked, and laughed, flashing her wide infectious smile while she was surrounded by her friends.

I wondered if things could have been different. Would I be in the same place if I was not sorted into Slytherin? Did the windowless house with its gaseous green light turn me into the person who sat at my table? Or was I doomed, by some essential part of me, to be pulled along in this melancholy. It was a spell I was unable to break. I feared I would take it to my grave.

…

Tracy did not arrive until 9. I tried to flash her a smile. She sat, quiet as usual, and we heard the drones of Bauhaus.

…

"I am assigning you all a special project. It must be handed in the day following the Halloween Ball. The project will involve everything we've discussed up until this point. Further, it will test your ability to adjust to something new. You will be required to step out of your comfort zone. I understand that this will feel intimidating. You will be challenged in such a way that you might not like. Unfortunately, when it comes to potions, only by pushing your limits will you ever be able to fully grasp what it means to do something right."

…

"Hey," I said. "You know, uh." I struggled to get the words out.

"Yeah?" Tracey acknowledged, taking out her earbud.

"Forget about it," I waved it off, turning to look straight ahead at the common room, trying my hardest not to notice whether she was staring at me or not.

…

"This is total horseshit, right?" Draco complained. He stretched his arms into the air. "There's no way that Snape can get away with this. It's criminal. There must be some rule that says you can't assign us to do an assignment on something he has not taught. He's just too lazy to explain it to us. Right around the Halloween Ball too!"

I listened to Draco's rant silent. Our work notes and books were spread out on the table, early Saturday morning, in our empty classroom.

"You have any thought about who you're going to ask to the ball?" Draco asked.

"Me? No," I said. It had never crossed my mind.

Draco crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm thinking about asking Tracey out. She's pretty cute. I'm digging her hair cut. That's not a problem for you, is it?"

My stomach was pulled down at the suggestion. But what could I say? It's not like a cool girl like her would ever go with me. She owed me nothing. "No. It isn't a problem."

…

"Have you ever heard of the Red House Painters?" Tracey asked me.

"No. Are they a band?"

"Yeah," Tracey said. "Over the summer, when..." her voice trailed. She closed her eyes. "They helped. I like them."

"Cool. We should listen to them sometime."

Tracey smiled. "I'll bring their tape tomorrow."

…

Hermione sat across from me in the library. Her usual seat was taken by a group of first year Ravenclaws. She gave me a shrug, pulling out the chair. I gave her a knowing nod.

I could make out her impeccable notes. Her handwriting was filled with neat flourishes. As she wrote, she bit her lip slightly. The arch of her round nose twitched when she thought intensely. I sat dumbly watching her.

I imagined for the first time taking her to the dance. Hermione. The prefect from Gryffindor. Her perfect marks. Her perfect friends. The way her life seemed to fit perfectly into the puzzle of Hogwarts. We could not possibly be more different, except for a thin ribbon that connected the two of us. I remembered back in first year when she was a lonely sad girl with no friends. She spent all her time in the library. The same place she always sat. There was a number of times I heard her whimper as she wrote her impeccable notes. It was a silent journey we both shared, only she found a way out of it. Now she had friends. People who cared about her. Even though I fantasized about us on the dancefloor, moving in each other's arms, I knew there was no chance for us. That ship sailed years ago. Only, I stayed at the shore staring at the empty water, wondering why I was left behind.

…

Tracey sat down next to me. She did not grab one of my ear buds. I watched her closely. I could see she was upset. Her eyes were red. I took out my earbuds.

"Are you okay?" I asked her.

Her face convulsed. She struggled to keep her composure. "No," she answered. Her lip quivered. "You idiot."

My heart sunk.

"Did you tell Draco he could ask me to the ball?"

I was silent.

"I can't believe this. I can't believe you. If anyone..." She shook in frustration. Her words lacked sense. "After everything, I thought you would understand. You would try to understand." Tears welled in her eyes. I wanted to explain. I wanted give an excuse. But, I had nothing. I was so fucking confused. How could I explain it, when I did not understand it myself?

She grabbed at her hair. "I wish I could take it back," she said. "All of this. I miss what I had. I want it back. I did not try to ruin it. I didn't. Fuck."

She stood up and left.

I noticed the rest of the common room staring at us. I did not put my headphones back on. Instead, I sat in silence. Wondering how I ruined the best thing that had happened to me.

…

Tracey did not join me in the common room the next day. I did not go back for the rest of the week. I was too ashamed that she might never come.

…

"I'm sorry Nott," Draco said. "I didn't mean for my words to be twisted like that. That was not my intention."

I sat silent, working at my desk in the empty classroom, without lifting my head to acknowledge him.

"Look, I know it sucks, but fuck her. She was a bitch anyway. She didn't even agree to go with me to the Halloween Ball. I was lucky Pansy agreed to go. Otherwise I would have been screwed. You might not know this, but she's been acting selfish like this all year. She's been a real bummer ever since she got back from the summer vacation. We'll all been trying to put up with it, but this might be the last straw. The way she treated you in front of everyone? Who does that? All because you said it was okay for me to ask her out? I'm not sure anyone is going to want to spend time with her after this."

"Could we please focus on the work?" I asked him.

"Right. Let's get this done. I want to get this finished before the Ball, so I can enjoy it."

…

The night of the Halloween Ball, I laid on my back in the empty dorm room. I could here the whole House stirring in anticipation. A part of me wanted to sneak out of it. I could hide in an empty classroom. Yet, I was pulled to attend. I'm not sure why. I think I wanted to see if Tracey would be there. I wanted to see if she went with anyone. I was torn apart. My insides were tight knives eating away at my throat over the past week. It was a grating horrible tearing sensation. I wanted to be okay. I wanted her to be okay.

I headed to the ball with the other boys in my year. They spoke about scoring with or nailing their dates. I felt as isolated among them as when I was completely alone. The Ball officially began with a speech by Dumbledore. I leaned against a far wall. Draco had snuck in a bit of alcohol, and he spiked my drink.

I scanned the crowd, but I did not see Tracey. When the dancefloor officially opened, I spotted Hermione. She had her hand on Ron's shoulder. A wide smile graced her lips. It looked to me like she was exactly where she wanted to be. I could never have interlaced myself in that group, because life had put me here with Slytherin. I needed to find my own place. The proper space that could grow a smile across my lips.

So, I left.

…

The common room in Slyterhin was empty. I sat in my regular spot. The miring green light hung to the ceiling. My head was arched back. Tightly, I held onto my empty walkman. The cold concrete wall pressed onto my back.

Here I was. My place to be. And yet, it felt empty. Incomplete. Like a half played song, missing its most important note.

Then, Tracey stepped out of her dorm room. She had glassy eyes, dragged down by her melancholy. She approached me slowly. I watched her. Silent. She sat down to my side, slipped the walkman from my grasp, and put in a tape. She offered one of the headphones to me.

The Red House Painters began to play. They were reserved yet piercing. The final lines of Katy's Song go:

A chance for calm, a hope for freedom
Outlet from my cold solitary kingdom
By the forest of our spring stay
Where you walked away

And left a bleeding part of me
Empty and bothered, watching the water
Quiet in the corner, numb and falling through
Without you what does my life amount to?

I rested my head on Tracey's shoulder. She grasped my hand.

The Slytherin common room. Tracey and I. Connected by the music. Trying desperately not to give away.