Dream
Raven looked out the small window in her closet-turned-room. Through the weather-worn iron bars she saw fluffy gray clouds that were currently spitting out gumball-sized bits of hail. She sighed and looked around at the matching gray walls, the walls which seemed to grow closer to her cot by the hour. In truth, there was barely room in the closet-sized space to fit a cot, let alone her body, but her long-term confinement was wearing on her. She had to get out. It just wasn't possible.
At least… not physically, she considered. Grabbing that thought and running with it, she carefully lay down on the cot and closed her eyes. I want to be anywhere but here… maybe… Hogwarts. Yes… I'd like to be there. I'd be in the Common room with everyone else bustling around me… I can see their faces. Oh everyone looks so serious… I almost forgot about the war. There's Marcia. She's arguing with Thom again, poor thing. Someone needs to tell her that her braids aren't straight, but I suppose I can do that later. It's almost time for breakfast.
Raven saw herself walking down the bright halls of Hogwarts, descending the moving staircases with a year's worth of ease and conversing with some of the portraits as she reveled in the history surrounding her. The darkening sky and the change of hail to rain were lost on her mind.
Hmmm what to eat today… I think I'll have some of the eggs; the elves always make them just right. And some bacon and toast… maybe a sandwich? Why not? …….. There. A good breakfast to start off a new day. Now to tell Marcia about her braids… and that Thom is cheating on her again. I wonder which I should do first. Oh well she's off in the library, I have plenty of time to think about it before I get there.
Ah, there's our favorite Knight. He's quizzing poor little Longbottom. He's not as bad as I hear tell his dad was, but he's not our best bet yet. It's too bad that his dad died in the first war. Now Old Tom's son is running for mayor of Evil-ville. I say let him have it. We're safe here in Hogwarts. Why let Tom II run our lives here?
Marcia's deep in another book. This one is about… black magic? I guess it's some Muggle thing. I'll leave her be – I wanted to find that old copy of the history book for class. If I'm lucky I'll get enough extra points for that and Professor Binns will leave me alone.
She stayed in her fantasy world for an hour or so, uninterrupted by the world around her until her father came home. He slammed the front door open hard enough that she could hear it from across the house. His steps as he crossed the creaky wooden floor were echoed by the slam of the industrial-strength plastic door hit the door jamb and stuck. She twitched, but went back to dreaming as the unsteady footsteps neared her space.
I can't help but jump as someone has the gall to slam the library door. Really, are they trying to get detention? Well if they were, they succeeded. Ms. Black seems about ready to rip someone's head off already. I always did wonder what it would look like, to see someone's brains dripping out of their ears.
Darn… guess I won't get that chance. Nymmie Snape to the rescue all over. I think she's the only one who doesn't think it odd that her parents named her after someone on the rival side. At least she's not like her father. He still teaches Potions, even though his hair is starting to look like what they say Dumbledore's was, color-wise.
I guess someone else wants a detention… stomping around like that… and what's that banging sound? Are they TRYING to get expelled?
Her father began to thump his large fist on the door. "Bitch wake up and make me some food!!!" He demanded in his loudest drunken voice. When he finally got tired of that (and somehow seeing that it got no response), he began to mutter loudly to himself while messing with the keys on his belt until he found the right one.
Jeez is everyone being stupid today? First the slammed door, then the stomping, then the banging, and now that incessant jangling! That's it, with all this noise I'm better off in the Common Room. First to get the book out… pass the librarian… up the stairs. Oh look my couch is open. Hmmm nice and plush. And the elves started the fire for the day, how nice. Everything feels soft and cozy and warm. Even my robes are extra fine today.
Her father finally managed to get the door open. It swung so far that it bounced off the wall, and he had to struggle to catch it. The action made him sway uncertainly on his feet before he glared into the darkness. "Why's it so dark in here? What'd you do with the window?" He had to try to focus to look out, and was somewhat surprised to see that it was now snowing so hard that he could only see white. No contours, no grass or water. Just white. "Why'd you make it snow, you bitch! Now you'll just have to go outside and shovel."
Only then did he seem to notice that she wasn't looking at him… or that she hadn't moved… or that her eyes were closed… He swore under his breath before reaching out and jerking the cot from side to side. "HEY! Wake up! I'm hungry damn it!"
Raven was jerked out of her fantasy. She looked up at her father with hooded eyes, one of them blackened from an early fray. "Yes father?" she inquired politely, her voice raspy from days of disuse, wincing as her sense were assaulted by her room – the darkness, the closeness… the smell. Oh how it smelled. Like rotten three day old cheeses. Spilled milk. Vomit… mainly because there was some in there, dried into the cot from two years ago. She couldn't find a spell that would get rid of it. In fact, she hoped to find a spell to get rid of her father before she found a spell to rid the room of that smell.
As it was, her father was unaffected by any of it. He reached out and smacked her cheek, his hand glancing past the black eye. She flinched, and he followed her to grab her shoulder hard enough to leave yet another bruise. "I'm hungry, and you didn't make no damn lunch," he growled, pushing his face into hers. "You want another punishment already? 'Cause I'll give it to you, you know I will." She resisted the urge to pull back any more and just nodded fearfully. He pulled on her shoulders, sliding her painfully down the cot towards the door until she was outside of it. Still holding on tight, he frog-marched her through the barren, dirt-strewn living room to the slightly-cleaner kitchen and unceremoniously shoved her into the island. "Make me an omelet," he snarled at her. Then, with a sick grin, he pointed to the stove. "Or we'll see how many fingers we can burn at a time." With that, he turned around and unsteadily made his way back through the doorway to the living room. Moments later she heard the TV turn on full blast, and his answering yelp at the assault on his apparently tender hearing.
With a sigh, Raven turned her mind to the well-known motions behind making her father's favorite meal. Pulling out the cutting board, she thought of the kitchen back at Hogwarts.
The elves are so nice! Just yesterday Mina told me a recipe for something called panna-cotta. I'm not sure what the heck it is but it sounded GOOD. And a lot more challenging than a stupid omelet. I bet I could make one of those in my sleep. In fact… no, Mina would probably have to turn me down just out of duty. Headmistress McGonagall would have a hissy fit if she knew something like that would happen. Still, someday it'd be worth a try. Then I could memorize more spells while cooking. It's not like his order ever changes.
I have to be careful though… after I asked Mina about making different omelets she got suspicious. I don't know why. It's just a silly recipe. But she seemed surprised that a thirteen-year-old could remember a full 8-ingrediant recipe. I got her to re-focus when I asked about desserts, even though it's a lost cause. He only eats one thing, over and over, and God forbid he smells chocolate. I tried to make that chocolate cake two years ago and he FLIPPED. I think I still have a scar. Not that it looks any different from the other scars. Oh well… Hey look I did it! And Mina looks proud of me, too, under all that anger and frustration. She doesn't understand my need to learn this… if I can change the recipe enough maybe someday I can slip a potion in… maybe…
Pulling herself from her daze as a bang erupted from the TV in the next room, Raven realized that she had indeed finished making the omelet, and it was just large enough that she could take some off the edges and he wouldn't notice. She slid the rest of the omelet onto his plate and hurried out into the room, making enough noise so that she didn't startle him. She knew from experience that doing so while he was drunk resulted in one of the worse punishments.
He turned and looked at her, then at the plate. "Finally!" he exclaimed, patting his lap. She made as if to set the plate down, but he grabbed her arm, leering at her. "No," he said, his voice a little quieter now. "Sit."
She stopped breathing. Her whole body froze completely, as if someone had stuck her in the freezer then poured concrete around the block of ice. He'd only done this once before… and the result had been her worst nightmare, the one which haunted her at least twice a night… the one that made her scream so loud even a Silencing spell didn't stop her room-mates from hearing something.
The spell was broken when he shook her. "C'mon bitch, sit on my lap," he growled, his face inches from hers. She began to tremble, but managed to speak.
"I… I need to clean up… sir… please… not tonight…" Her voice trailed off in a whimper at the furious look in his eyes. Coupled with the wild look of his straggly, long, oily brown hair, it was a horrid picture.
"Sit," he ordered, his voice harsh and the smell heavy with alcohol. Still trembling, she managed to perch herself on his jean-clad knees, trying her best not to touch his 3-day-old flannel shirt. Carefully she lifted the plate until it was near the middle of his chest, doing her best to keep her arms and grip steady. If the plate moved at all, he'd break a finger. Or at least, that had been the result last time. Finally he took the fork and began to feed himself. Apparently she made it well, because he grinned in the first bite. And thankfully he was eating slowly, his attention divided between the food and the entertainment on their small television, the only other accoutrement in the room. In fact, the bulk of anything in the house lay in his room… and thankfully, she rarely had to experience any of it.
How'd I get back in the Common Room? Oh well… I need to study again. Professor Snape is making us write another essay, or so Nymmie says. She could just be trying to get us to study more, like last time, but I'm inclined to believe her. After all, he's been in a bad mood ever since that old tattoo resurfaced. That spell was supposed to work forever… I have a bad feeling that the whole thing has to do with Old Tom supporting his son from the grave. Literally. Why do ground up bones feature in so many dark potions? I mean really, just because you went trolling around the graveyard doesn't mean that you're special. Or evil. You could just be a really stupid grave-digger. But at least this time he isn't getting tortured through it. Not even a burn. It's just –there-. Still… it's not like he needs another reason to be crotchety.
And again, poor Longbottom. It's so obvious he takes after his dad. And Professor Snape knows it oh so well. But still, is that any reason to give him detention every night for a month? Then again, there's that rumor circulating about Professor Snape actually tutoring Longbottom. And his potions have gotten better… or at least, not so many have blown up lately. That's an improvement of sorts. … I wish someone would lower their voices though. This shouting is making it really hard to not study.
She was rudely pulled to reality at the feeling of the dish being knocked out of her hands, and her father's answering roar. "You bitch you messed up my omelet!" he snarled at the top of his lungs. She cowered, trying to move away while not leaving his lap – doing so would result in a greater punishment. As it was, she cried out as he took her finger and bent it back until he heard a breath-taking "crack". Then he looked at her face, all screwed up in her attempts to hold back tears and screams of pain, and couldn't help his reaction. "Let's go," he finally said.
She sat still, completely confused until he shoved her off his knees to the ground. She stayed steady by planting her palms while keeping her fingers up, trying her best not to cry. Then he was grabbing a few locks of her hair and pulling her. She cried out again, trying to brace herself and stop the pull. "No please," she begged as he dragged her across the dirty floor into his room. She continued to cry and beg him to stop as he laid her on his bed and ripped her clothes off. It was only as he began to pleasure himself that her dreams took over her mind. She gave herself that little peace, escaping from reality while her father raped her body, ripping at it horribly because he could sense that his goal, her mind, was somewhere he couldn't reach. Thus, he satisfied himself with what he had. Besides, it wasn't like the bitch had anyone to tell inside that cavern called a head.
Somehow I'd made it to the dungeons… Now to remember why… maybe… There's Professor Snape! Wow… he looks confused. Then "Raven? Why are you here? It's summer… and why do you have a black eye?" Oh… oh my… he can… he sees me.