I have a confession to make. Actually I have a few:
I lied, I didn't stay in my dorm for a whole week. That's just sad. No, the next morning I woke up super early, resolved to look damn good. As popular as I was people were bound to have heard about my little spat with James . . . okay "spat" is a bit of an understatement. It was more like . . . an "unabashed-shameless-riotous-brawl".
So I did my hair all up and added some charmed purple eye shadow that changed shades every five minutes. Believe me, that's some high caliber shadow.
Even if I didn't leave my dorm, Rose-fascist-book-worm-extraordinaire would rip out my tongue and fed it to her sadistic cat Minny if I didn't attend my classes. It's acceptable though because I care so much about my classes, you know?
Cue eye roll now.
This brings me to confession number two. I lied about Rose Weasley being my best friend as well. She likes to think we are best friends. She's a sixth year and ever since she came to Hogwarts she'd follow me wherever I went. But she's a brat and way to high maintenance for me, for anyone. After my spat—sorry, I mean brawl—with James Potter I charmed the door to the seventh-year-girls dorm to not let anyone named Rose Weasley in. Because we're not best friends.
My real best friend, Dominique, is living it up in the Americas since the moment she graduated Hogwarts last year. A year early, mind you. She was too damn smart and resourceful to stay in Hogwarts for the status quo of seven years so she sped up the progress and took her N.E.W.T.s in our sixth year.
Looking back I probably should have piggybacked on her plan. Why wouldn't I want to graduate a year early with my best friend?
Oh yeah, my boyfriend James Potter and quidditch were kind of the central focus of my life. Hence, the extensive lack of Marina's in the west.
I miss jerkface Dommy though. She would know what I needed to hear right now. . . Not that I need to hear anything. I'm not emotionally distressed. Of course not.
My third confession: is far too embarrassing to get into. Maybe later or maybe never.
Anyway the morning after the brawl (see I got it right that time) was uneventful. As uneventful as the seventh ring of hell, that is.
I never realized how comfortable I had gotten with James walking beside me in the crowded corridors. I never noticed how much I appreciated his arm to hold on to as he guided me from place to place. And honestly, it's been a long time since I've felt so vulnerable and open to the snippets of gossip I could hear as I walked past.
With James I was so much bolder, braver. But today, I had to swallow all of those insecurities and just strut. Like a champion, an expert, a professional.
Like a boss.
I had to let the world know that I wasn't hurt, that I was taking this new, er, "development" in stride. I was still in control gosh darn it.
Breakfast wasn't that. It was all about appearing dignified. Which was easy: stick your nose into the air and act like there's a horrid smell just on your lip that you're trying in vain to get away from. Glares are good too. And a smirk, nothing can go wrong with a smirk. I mean have you seen the Malfoy family? Those people are on top of the world, even after supporting Voldemort for generations.
I digress.
I was probably sitting at the Gryffindor table for a maximum of sixty seconds before a good-looking boy sat himself just across from me.
I looked up from spreading cream cheese onto my bagel. But only for a second.
"Hi, Tony," I said in a bored voice.
"Hey, Marina." He replied.
Ugh, Tony Garner. We have Ancient Runes together—the only class I don't share with James, thought that's clearly an unimportant fact—and sometime's we'd partner up on the class work. Tony's also one of the Gryffindor chasers. Unfortunately, he's pretty good. Unfortunately, he believes that he's in love with me. Fortunately, I find him annoying. He's constantly asking me out, his hand constantly running through his flat, dull blond hair in an obvious imitation of my boyfriend . . .
Ex boyfriend? I don't think we cleared that up with each other . . .
Anyway.
I find Tony annoying. So, sue me for not being entirely thrilled by his presence.
He knocked his knuckles on the deep mahogany table in order to dispel the awkward tension that was beginning to form around us. "So how are you doing?"
I didn't appreciate the connotation behind the question. I forced a smile and a bubbly shake of my head and asked "What do you mean?"
"Well you know, how are you holding up? What with the break up and everything."
I dropped the giggling school girl act and glared at him. Which, to my satisfaction deterred his smug expression. "Who said anything about a break up, Garner?"
"Marina, I don't think you understand," he fired back, reaching for my hand which I quickly employed to finish preparing my bagel. "He had you by the neck last night." He licked his lips and leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Marina, that's classified as an abusive relationship."
I rolled my eyes, "Oh pish posh. T'was but a spat." I took a large bite out of my-finally—prepared bagel. Mhhhm heaven. "Besides, those are some traitorous and seditious words towards our captain, don't you think?"
Tony sighed as if he truly cared for my well being. Ha! "Well anyway, we should go to Hogsmede next weekend, I can reserve a table in the next couple of days . . ."
"Oh, piss off, Garner," said a voice just behind me. It was Dom's younger brother, Louis, come to rescue me! Merlin, I love that kid. He took a seat next to me and put his arm around my shoulder, giving me a comforting squeeze. Tony seemed unfazed, though he did stand to leave. "Just let me know, Marina. I always have time for you." With a soul shuddering wink he walked off.
I scrunched up my nose, "I don't like him."
Louis smiled. "I know."
His arm was still around me and I was hyper-sensitive to the fact that James had entered the Great Hall 15.6 seconds ago.
"Really, though, are you okay?" he asked quietly.
I took another monstrous bite. "Nah," I said around my food. "Probably not, and don't you dare hug me," I concluded shrugging his arm off as I tried and failed not to glance at James. Okay that was another understatement.
I openly stared.
He wasn't looking back though. When he sat next to his sister and Hugo I averted my eyes to my bagel, then to Louis, then back to my bagel which sadly looked a lot less appetizing than it had a minute ago. Maybe we're broken up. (James and I that is . . . not the bagel).
I wanted us to break up. But how are you supposed to end a relationship cold turkey when it's the only support system you have?
Ugh, I can't do this crap.
"Where's Dommie now?" I asked pushing my bagel away.
Louis shrugged. "Last I heard she was in Rio. If you want to write her a letter you can borrow our owl, since Terror hates long distances."
"Okay," I said, smiling. "Thanks Louis. I love you."
He chuckled, "I know."
Classes were harder to get through. James and I were partners in Charms, Transfiguration and Potions, and we have been since our fifth year. Yes, the decision was not purely academic. No, I did not, at the time, care. Transfiguration was particularly humiliating since I was complete rubbish at it. James would snicker under his breath every time I goofed the spell. The task was to conjure a small tree into the pots provided for us. I think it was another one of Professor Vance's ploys to win professor Longbottom over again. Too bad he's married.
After about the fifth time of conjuring only a branch and a handful of leaves my boyfrie—uh, James took hold of my wand hand.
I looked up at his face, startled. He was no longer laughing, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, a determined frown tugging the corners of his mouth. I gaped at him like a fish, which he thankfully ignored.
"You're pushing it," he said referring to the assignment. I stared at him blankly, my brain running amok, desperately trying to figure out why he was helping me after everything that had happened. After I pulled out all of his hair, and scratched his face. After I ruined our relationship two years ago. How can he really stand to be in my presence, much less help me?
"You're thinking too much about what a tree looks like. You have to think of it as a whole."
I nodded, letting his hand around mine loosen my grip on my wand. "Okay," I said, stronger than I thought I would. "How are you thinking of it, then?"
He let go of my hand and crossed his arms on the table. "I don't know, start thinking about the seed and how the tree will grow from that, I guess." With that he turned back to his friend Liam Wood at the table next to us. I watched him for a little, the moment over.
With a scowl I turned to both my empty pot and abundant pile of branches, which I gave a much deserving glare. I hate transfiguration. Preparing myself for another disappointment, I licked my lips and rolled out my shoulders. Alright, think seed, think sunlight and water and roots and a trunk and branches. Think growth, the passage of time. I muttered the incantation, and promptly squeezed my eyes shut lest I received another malevolent poke in the eye by a rogue branch. Again.
After a moment of silence I opened my eyes hesitantly. There it was my beautiful little tree. The trunk was barely an inch in diameter, but it was there poking out of the soil like a champion. I smiled, and turned to James who nodded in appreciation, before turning once more to Liam.
I quickly reached out and touch his arm. "Hey," my voice pretty much failed me after that when he locked his hazel eyes to mine.
"What?" he asked impatiently.
I cleared my throat, "I was just wondering, where do we, uh, stand right now?"
James glared. "You're kidding right?"
I shook my head slowly. "No. . . Nope, it's been bugging me all day, actually," I said bringing my right arm around to hold my other arm. He gave me a weird look—one that closely resembled the look he would give me before a good snog. I half way thought it was going to happen too, even though I knew the real answer.
"We're done, Marina," he spat at me. "We've been done for a long time."
I nodded, looking away and back at my tree, feeling ashamed again. "Yeah, okay. Just . . . wanted to be on the same page, you kn—"
But he stopped listening.
I spent the rest of the class doodling my name on a piece of parchment. On the back I wrote the name "Sloan" in loopy cursive. It was the name of my new tree, I spent ten minutes deciding on that name just trying to dispel my thoughts of all that was James Potter.
It was difficult and no, it didn't even work.
When the bell rang I promptly attached the piece of parchment on my tree and left it there on the table to be graded. I hoped she gave them back to us.
I liked Sloan.
