Author's Note: So, I know this makes me really weird, but I really don't care. Anyway, this is a prequel to Heirlooms by Johnttf. Yes, a prequel to a fanfiction. I told you it was weird. It's still good, though, and you should read it. It might make more sense if you read his first, but you don't necessarily have to, I guess. But you should anyway.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or the world or any of it, even though that would be really awesome. I do own all the books and a robe, if that counts. I also don't technically own the characters; although, it feels like I half do, really. Those belong to Johnttf, and the link to his fic is above. You should totally read it because it's awesome.
Chance
Kathryn
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It's not like I purposefully try to isolate myself. It just seems to happen that way. Some people would probably say I don't try hard enough, but I've found that most people aren't worth trying to talk to, let alone worth being friends with. I tend to just stick to myself. I like it that way. Mostly.
"Well done, Ms. McNeil," comes the expected praise, as I successfully perform another spell. I can't see the resentment in most of the class's eyes. I've never been good with people. But I can sense it, and I know they talk about me – sometimes when they think I'm not listening, sometimes when they know I am. Why anyone would be so purposefully cruel is beyond me.
Part of it's my fault. I know it is. I could try to be like everyone else, to struggle at times and excel at others, but I don't work that way. If I excel at something, I'm going to excel at it. Problem is, that gets me labeled, gets me mocked, gets me nowhere. I don't have any friends, not really, but I try not to let it bother me.
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Meals are the worst. At least in class, I can act like I belong, but in the Great Hall, it always becomes painfully obviously just how much I don't. Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not completely ostracized, and I'm not the only one who's mostly ignored. It just feels that way sometimes.
"Kathryn," a voice calls, breaking my train of thought. "Over here." I look up, noticing an empty seat next to one of the girls in my room. I can't remember her name, but I don't normally need to use it. I frown. I was pretty sure she hated me, but it's not like I have anywhere else to go. I slide onto the bench, force a smile and a mumbled hello. She smiles back, and I try to tell myself that it will be fine. But there's a gnawing doubt I can't seem to shake.
"How was your day?" she asks, and I can't help but think whether she actually cares.
"It was okay, I guess," I say. I don't elaborate, and the conversation kind of falls flat from there. I should try to keep it going, I decide, so after an immeasurable silence, I finally ask, "How was yours?"
"Good. We have so much homework though. I don't know how I'm ever going to get through it all."
I'm glad for the change of subject. Homework is a topic I can actually talk about. "It doesn't seem to be too bad, just a couple of papers, study, memorization. It'll be fine."
"You think so?"
I nod. "I looked at it earlier," I inform her. "Looked pretty easy, actually."
She doesn't say anything for a minute, and I wonder if that was the wrong thing to say. I probably should have spouted some nonsense about how difficult classes are and how I barely have time to get anything done, but that's not true. The homework is easy and so are the classes.
Then she starts speaking again, "I hate to ask you this. But would you help me? With your help, I'll be able to get the work done so much faster."
I only hesitate for a moment. This is what I've been waiting for – a chance to actually maybe make a friend - so I take it. "Sure."
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We walk to the common room, the conversation a little strained, but I can dismiss that with the fact that we've never really talked before. Of course, it would be awkward. Also, studying in the common room is something I rarely do. I don't like the distraction, and sometimes the stares, so I usually study where there aren't any people. I guess today's a day for trying new things.
Only about a minute into looking over the homework, my roommate has a problem. "I don't understand this," she says, interrupting my work about halfway down the page.
I glance at what she's talking about. "It's really not that hard," I tell her. "You just write the ingredients of the antidote next to the potion name. There's a list in the book."
She grabs her book, rummages around until she finds the list, and starts writing. I go back to work, sure she'll be fine now. Another few minutes later, she speaks up again, "I still don't get it."
I stop working again, now almost done with that homework. I'm a little annoyed at being interrupted again, but I figure I should try to help my new friend. I point to the list in the book. "Here's where you get the list of ingredients from. You just have to match these with the ones in the actual potion."
"But how do you know which ingredients go with which?"
I frown. Does she not pay attention in class? "That's what we've been studying for the past few days. It should be in your notes."
"I can't take notes in that class," she informs me, grimacing apologetically. "Professor O'Neely just talks too fast. I can't keep up with him."
"I guess you can look at my notes, if you want," I offer. She's a friend. That's what you do for friends, right?
"Could I? That would probably help a lot."
"Yeah, sure." I get the notes in question out of my bag and hand them to her.
"Thanks."
I smile when she smiles at me and then go back to work. The next interruption comes about five minutes later. By this time, I've finished my Potions homework and moved on to Charms. My new friend, however, is still agonizing over Potions. "This just doesn't make sense. Can I see yours?"
I hesitate a moment. There shouldn't be a problem, though, if she just wants to get an idea of what's going on. I hand her my work and go back to Charms.
After another few minutes, she asks, "What does this say?"
"Hellebore," I tell her after looking at the paper. She writes it down. "What are you doing?"
"Well, I figured it would just be easier and less time consuming if I wrote down your answers. You don't mind, do you?"
The question gives me pause. It does actually bother me. Cheating is not something I take to well, but do I tell my friend this? What if she doesn't want to be friends anymore? "I do mind, actually," I finally say, icily. I take my paper back from her and gather my things. "I think I'll go study elsewhere now."
I stand up and head out of the common room, probably for the library; though I'm not entirely sure. Guilt is setting in and so is worry. I should have just let her copy the paper. What would it have hurt? I probably lost her as a friend forever now, my first friend here, gone just like that. It doesn't surprise me exactly. I just wish that, for once, something I want to happen would actually last.
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I hide out as long as I can. I don't want to go back up to the common room. I don't want to go to my room. I don't want to face any of this situation, so I stay away until I absolutely have to go back.
As soon as I enter the common room, I spot them. The girl who was supposed to be my chance is talking to the other girls in my room and quite a few more girls in our year. I try to ignore them as I walk past toward the stairs, but I can't help eavesdropping, which is made easier when my "friend" starts talking more loudly as I pass.
"She's so stuck up, won't even let you look at her paper to see how something's done. All she cares about are her grades and showing everyone else up. I don't know why anyone would ever talk to her."
The words sting more than I'd like them to or even feel that they should, considering they're lies. I turn on my heel and head back the way I came. As the group breaks into peals of laughter, I decide I almost don't care if I'm not supposed to be in the corridors at this time of night. Maybe they'll send me home. It wouldn't matter. There's nothing keeping me here, except the fact that we're learning magic.
I slip into the first door I see, an empty classroom, and slide into one of the chairs. I'm breathing hard, throat constricting, eyes prickling. Tears threaten, but I don't want them to form, don't want to give those girls the satisfaction of getting to me.
I cross my arms on the table in front of me and lay my head on top of them. I close my eyes, hoping that will help, and try to convince myself that it's no big deal. So what if no one likes me? But I can't keep the loneliness at bay, and tears start sliding from the corners of my eyes, unbidden. After trying to stop them for a minute or two, I just let them come.
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"Are you okay?"
The voice startles me, and I sit up, hands going to my face to wipe away my tears. As it turns out, the voice belongs to Jones Wilson, one of my fellow Ravenclaws, also one of the smarter ones, if that term can be used to separate us.
"Do you care?" I ask, voice not exactly working properly because of the tears, but if he's come to laugh at me, it won't matter.
"I asked, didn't I?" he replies, somewhat snidely.
I shrug, hopefully making it look indifferent. "I'm fine."
"No, you're not."
That annoys me. Who is he to tell me what I feel, especially when he's intruded? And to tell me I'm wrong too, let alone whether he's right or not? "What do you want?" It comes out sharper than I intend.
"I wanted to see if you were okay, but if you're going to act like that, I won't bother next time." He turns to leave, and suddenly, I'm torn. Jones actually came to talk to me, to see if I was okay. Even if that didn't mean he really cared, there was a chance he did. And wasn't that what I was looking for?
"Wait," I called. He turns, and I'm not sure what to say. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you. You were just trying to help."
It takes a moment, but he seems to accept that, actually walking into the classroom and sitting in the chair next to me. "I'm Jones," he says.
"I know."
"And you're Kathryn."
I nod at that; though, he doesn't really seem to need the confirmation.
"What happened?"
I don't really want to talk about it, but I'm also afraid that if I don't say something he'll leave again. I think that might be worse.
"I wouldn't let her copy my Potions homework."
"Potions?" Jones asks. "That was easy."
I nod again. "I know."
"And she's spreading lies about you? You should go tell them what she did, that it isn't true."
I shrug. "It doesn't matter. No one likes me anyway."
"That's not true."
"No, it is. They all hate me."
"I don't hate you."
"Then you're the only one."
"That's not true. Not everyone hates you."
I shrug again. "It doesn't matter whether they hate me or not. No one talks to me, so they might as well."
"Most people don't really talk to me either."
It's true. I had noticed that most of our fellow students avoided Jones as much as they did me. "I guess," is all I can think of to say, and after that, silence takes over. It's not necessarily a bad silence, though, more a companionable one. It's different. I think I like it.
"We should probably go back now," I finally say.
"Yeah."
We head to the common room, and just before we break off to go to our separate staircases, Jones says, "Good night."
"Good night," I reply, then a breath, and finally, "And thanks."
"No problem."
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When I get to breakfast the next morning, I'm tired. It isn't surprising. I couldn't sleep, not really. The events of the day kept playing in my head. I couldn't believe I'd actually thought I could be friends with that girl or that she even wanted to be friends with me. And then, there had been Jones, who had actually seemed to care, amazingly. I'm prepared to sit wherever, like normal, but just like yesterday, I hear my name.
"Kathryn."
This time, however, it's Jones, and I allow myself a small smile as I take a seat near him.
"Hey," I say.
"Hey," he replies.
I wouldn't have believed it, especially not after yesterday, but I think I might have finally found a friend. It wasn't the person I expected, but I don't think that matters all that much. I just hope that this time it actually lasts.