(AN: Hay guys. It's the first time I've written a story in a long time. I hope you guys will be critical with me, I'm doing this to practice! For now the characters involved are entirely original characters, but they'll interact with the main cast in later chapters. R and R)
Rain pattered down on the cold marble walls of the Salem Institute, filling the school with a damp chill that the thin spring uniforms couldn't quite shield the students from. In the basement, where the potions classes where held, a young witch busied about preparing each of the class workstations for the day's lesson. Her breath hung in the air with each exhalation, and her fingers were growing numb on the pewter caldrons, which she so carefully set up. Across the room, a small gray man with a short, tapered beard scribbled away on yellowing parchment. At length, he looked up.
"Are you sure you don't mind setting up, dear?" he asked, speaking as always in a slow and somber tone. "It's awfully chilly."
"No, Mr. Wallace. I don't mind." Replied the witch, as she placed three porcupine quills by each caldron.
"You'll be missing breakfast."
"Not hungry, Sir."
"Won't be late to class?"
"Never, Sir."
"Well." He brightened considerably. "It's nice to have company." He sat forward, setting down his quill. "Tell me, what do you plan to do after your up-coming graduation?"
"I'm not sure yet, Sir." She leaned against one of the desks and crossed her arms. "Possibly join the order."
The smile left the older man's face. He leaned forward "You aught not say such things so loudly, my dear." He looked about, nervously wringing his hands. "One never knows who might be about at times like these."
"Sorry, Sir." She cleared her throat nervously.
"In any case." He stood. "You'd do well to continue with potions. You're one of the best students I've had in a while."
"Thank you."
"Now shouldn't you be getting to class?"
The young witch nodded, pushing a lock of curly black hair out of her eyes. "Yes Sir. See you in the afternoon." She turned to leave, only to find her path blocked by a cross looking young man. He glared at her with almost unnaturally dark eyes.
"Sophia. Finally." He stepped towards her.
"Oh, hay Mark," she smiled as nonchalantly as she could "I've got to get to charms, Mr. Proctor will be cross if I'm late you know." She tried to side-step him, but he caught her arm in a firm grasp.
"Proctor is never cross." He let her go, giving her a pleading look. "Can't we talk?"
"Of course we can. Why wouldn't we be able to?" she studied her shoes as she spoke, as though perhaps they would know what to say.
"That's what I want to know. You haven't spoken to us in almost a month." He crossed his arms "What's this about?"
She was silent for a moment, before gathering herself up to her full height. She looked him in the eye "You know what this is about."
He frowned. "Still?" His voice cracked slightly
She nodded.
His face took on a weary sorrowful expression "I thought we agreed we'd both move on."
"Suppose it's easier for you." Her stance and expression remained frozen, the only difference was a slight edge to her voice.
"You think it's easy for me?"
"It obviously is."
"Because of Angela? Look, I started going with her to help me get over…. Well. Why would it be any easier for me?"
"I suppose the word love meant more to me then it did to you." She turned on her heel and left before he could get another word in.
"There's going to be quidditch practice this afternoon. Pass it along to the beaters if you see them."
Sophia looked up from her book. "What's the point? The final match has been cancelled."
Greg, Sophia's team captain, shrugged "Just for fun really. It's been a while since we all got together."
Sophia nodded and looked back to her book.
"Say can I ask you something?" Greg said, sitting next to her and observing her with a mildly worried expression.
"Sure." Sophia looked up "what is it?"
"Is everything okay with you?"
"Of course" she smiled reassuringly "Why wouldn't it be."
"Well, you used to spend time with that Mark Finn and his brother, and well that whole gang. But I only see you on your own these days."
Sophia sighed "It's, um, it's complicated."
"Right." He leaned back. "Still, you aught to talk Steve. He's been giving his brother the cold shoulder for causing all this."
Sophia laughed "Sounds like something he might do. I'll have a word with him tonight."
"No need. Here he comes now." Greg got up and ambled along as a small pale 6th year hurried up. Huffing, he paused to run a hand through his messy brown hair in a vain attempt to make it lay flat.
"Hay Sophia." He grinned.
"Hay, long time, no see." She grinned back "Finally out of detention?"
"That Rupert has it out for me, I'm telling you." He was referring to Ms. Rupert, a rather strict defense against the dark arts teacher who had joined the school earlier that year. "Want to go for a walk?" he offered his arm, which Sophia took gratefully.
"Love to."
They strolled across the grassy fields of the Salem institute in silence for a while, behind them the large marble school building shown white in the afternoon sun. It's gleaming pillars, 23 in all, stood as they always had, holding up the massive archway that served as entrance to the school. Its many windows glinted in the light. On the flat square roof, some first years could be seen playing with their owls. One of them would toss up something; probably a dead rat, and the owls would swoop down eagerly to snatch it up. It was a common game, which was also, incidentally, completely against the rules.
"So." Said Sophia at length "I heard you aren't talking to your brother."
Steve scowled. "Yeah. So? He's being a twit."
"You shouldn't be so hard on him."
"And why not? He's hurt a friend of mine, just because he's too much of a coward to stand up to that rat bastard we call a father." He spoke through gritted teeth.
"It's not just your father." Sophia sighed "There's more too it. There's you-know-who reeking havoc in Europe, and the tension between everyone higher then ever. There are lots of complications to someone like him dating someone like me."
"So you don't think pure bloods should date muggle-borns either?" he looked at her sharply.
"I think everyone needs to choose for themselves who they want to be with." Sophia met his glare with a sad smile. "Without others judging them for their decisions."
He was silent for a while, and Sophia could see that he was fuming over this. Finally he spoke tersely "A real man wouldn't care."
Sophia rolled her eyes. "Look can we talk about something else? Your coming to the team practice tonight aren't you?"
He brightened up "Yeah. We're going to have a dummy match against the Wardell team." They spent the rest of that pleasant afternoon discussing flying techniques.