Shoutout to lbjw0128 for being a loyal reviewer. Kind of a filler chapter her, I suppose. Not much happens, but it will. Enjoy!
The next day, Roman woke up, sweat dripping down her cold, extrememly stiff body and stomach churning. As quickly as she could, she threw the covers off her body, dashed through her curtains and to the bathroom in the girls' dorms. She fell to her knees in front of the toilet and emptied her stomach of the light dinner she'd eaten the night before. Her throat burned and her head ached, but her stomach wasn't flipping anymore. She leaned away, redid her bun since most of it was sticking to her sweaty neck, and then stood up, purposely avoiding a mirror. She didn't want to know what she looked like. Roman only rinsed her mouth with mouthwash, bit down on a piece of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum and then headed for the Hospital Wing in search of something to help her pounding head.
The whole way there, as there were no students in the empty corridors to distract her, Roman thought of the nightmare she'd had. She had gone against what her father had said, gone to see them in London in the hospital and found Mum there, head lying on her shoulder, her once beautiful reddish brown hair devoid of any real color and her face thinner than was healthy; her skin was waxy, a sickly yellow, and her lips were white and cracked; the worst part, however, were her eyes. They weren't open, they hadn't been for a long time, but there were deep shadows underneath them, her eyes were sunken into her head, too far, so far that Roman was sure even if she could open her eyes that she wouldn't be able to see properly. Nothing happened in the nightmare. Roman just stood at the foot of the bed, a failure of an actress, watching as her mother slowly died in front of her. Nothing happened to distract her from her deteriorating parent, nothing to take the focus off the IV in her arm, or the tube in her nose and how her wedding ring, the ring Father had bought for her when he turned 21, was much too large for her, hanging off her ring finger. Roman stood, frozen, as her mother slowly left her. And there was nothing she could do about it.
Roman, when she was just being herself and not acting, wasn't usually a very emotional person in the sense that she didn't express what she felt. Very rarely did she cry, or even show any signs of sadness, but she could yell when made very angry. However, when the script called for it, Roman could bawl like a baby or curse like a sailor. She could be anyone. She could play anyone. No matter what was asked of her, whether it be she play a woman hellbent on murdering everyone she knew or Mother Theresa, Roman could do it. So she spent the time walking to the Hospital composing her face, becoming a new character, a happy character, a Roman whose family wasn't falling apart. Doing this was easy. She acted it every day.
Madam Pomfrey was already bustling around when Roman reached the infirmary, face now perfectly made into the expression she used to always wear. Eyebrows raised, like she was daring something to happen, and a faint smile lingering around the corners of her mouth, like she was thoroughly enjoying whatever it was that was going on. She knocked on the door frame and stuffed her hands back in the pocket of the hoodie she had worn last night, tipping her head forward. "Wotcher, Madam Pomfrey," she said quietly, and Madam Pomfrey looked up.
"Goodness," she said, "what are you doing up so early, Miss Michaels? And here?"
Roman shrugged, smile still lurking around her lips. "My parents wanted to spend some alone time together. My Mum's going to have to go away for a long time, so Dad wanted to spend as much time with her as he could." She gave another smiled and then nonchalantly rubbed her temple. Pomfrey frowned. "What can I do for you, dear?" she asked, and Roman shrugged again, wincing a bit.
"It's my head," she said, "it's kinda... throbbing like I just got stabbed." She said this casually, hoping it would get her some medicine faster, but what the nurse didn't know was that this expression was true. Every two seconds a sharp pain pounded in Roman's temples.
Pomfrey quickly went over to a nearby shelf and came back with a tall glass filled with a pink, bubblegum-colored liquid. "Drink this, dear," Pomfrey said, "it's bitter, but it'll take care of that headache." Roman plugged her nose with her fingers and knocked back the drink. When she let go of her nose, the bitter aftertaste flooded her mouth. "Blech," she said, screwing up her face. Madam Pomfrey took the glass back and Roman said, "Thanks." Madam Pomfrey smiled and Roman said, though she didn't need to explain herself, "I'm gonna go get some breakfast."
She turned around and walked quietly to the Great Hall. There was only one table there, as there were so few students. Roman saw three third years there and sighed. No one from her year had stayed for the holidays. As Roman approached the table, golden dinnerware laden with food still present, she saw the only girl drop her book after her one friend got to laughing too hard. Roman stooped and picked up the book, handing it back. The girl, who had bushy hair and rather large front teeth, held her hand out. "Oh, sorry, thanks-" she began to say, but Roman drew the book back in to her chest and looked at the cover.
"Werewolves," Roman muttered, and the girl's face turned bright pink, but Roman looked at her and asked, "Lupin's got you studying werewolves?"
The girl accepted the book and scooted a little closer to the edge of the bench. Roman took this as her invitation to sit down, so she did. "Snape, actually," the girl said, wrinkling up her nose. "He stood in for Lupin a few days ago. Thinks we're behind."
They both stared sideways at each other for a moment, then Roman stuck her hand out. The girl, apparantly happy to have female company at the table, eagerly shook her hand and said, "Hermione Granger."
"Roman Michaels," Roman said.
Hermione shoved her book back in her already-overstuffed bag and tapped her red-haired friend on the shoulder. This got the attention of the other boy, too, and he leaned around to see what Hermione wanted. Hermione, gesturning to her newly made friend, said, "This is Roman Michaels."
The red-head waved a hand after he had swallowed all his food. "Ron Weasley," he said, and Roman smiled. Did he really think she didn't know who he was? His hair might as well have been a nametag, considering all the siblings he had. The other boy waved too, and said more quietly, "Harry Potter." Roman knew that, but she smiled at him too. "Nice to meet you all."
Harry pointed a finger and said, "Wait a second. I know you!" Roman waited for him to finish. "Wood talks about you all the time. You know, Oliver Wood?"
"Oh, I know," Roman replied, reaching for the bowl of grapes on the table. "Yeah," Harry said, "he talks about you all the time. Says you'd be great for the team if you practiced on his orders..."
Roman laughed. "What're you guys doing today?" she asked, and Hermione held up her book. "Homework!" she said, and Roman smiled a bit. "On Christmas break?" she asked, and Hermione nodded, her nose scrunched up. Roman stole a piece of toast from Hermione's plate, although she didn't really look like she minded, as most of her focus was on her book, and stood up, crunching the toast in half. "Well, I'm gonna go see who else I can bother. Later, new friends!"
Roman quickly walked down the corridor toward Lupin's office, school bag slung over her shoulder. It felt wrong during the holidays. When she slowly pushed open his door, she saw him at his desk, writing furiously on a piece of parchment. Then her eyes flicked to the tank in the corner.
"What is THAT supposed to be?" Roman yelled, barging in the room, smiling wide. Lupin jumped and then looked up; he saw what Roman was looking at and smiled. "It's a grindylow," he said, standing up from his seat. Roman dropped her bag on a nearby desk and pressed both palms against the side of the small glass tank, peering in at the creature.
"Ugh, they're much uglier than the pictures in the books," she said. The horned water-demon hissed angrily at her.
Lupin stood behind her, watching as she made faces at the grindylow. She stuck her tongue out and crossed her eyes, and the grindylow shook its fist at her. She stood up.
"Wow," Roman said, and Lupin smiled at her. They just stood like that for a few seconds, and Roman thought she saw his pupils dialate a little, but then she grabbed her bag and opened it.
"What can I help you with, Roman?" he asked, and she said, "Well, I was going to ask if I could get my essays in advance so I could have them done before term resumed, but now I just want to make faces at that thing." They both laughed and she scrunched up her nose at the grindylow. It retreated to a far corner of its tank, hiding in the murky water. Roman laughed again.
"You really want more work for the holidays?" Lupin asked, brows pulling together. Roman shrugged, pulling out four empty scrolls. "I don't have anything else to do. If I get these done I can rub it in Belle's face." She thought of Belle, along with the rest of the school, working hard at their essays while Roman lounged in the common room, lap full of Sugar Quills.
Lupin stared her down for a moment, appraising her, and then shrugged. "If you'd like." Roman nodded and sat down in her usual desk. Lupin asked, eyebrows raised, "You want to stay here?"
"You want me to work alone?" Roman asked, sounding hurt. She sniffed, picked up her bag and blank scrolls, and then stood up, marching toward the door. "Fine!" she shouted. "Fine! I see how it is!"
Lupin laughed from behind her, as she didn't step through the doorway, "You are quite the actress, Roman."
She rolled her eyes and sat back down in her desk as he handed her a book. "You really mean that?" she asked, and he nodded. "Good," she said matter-of-factly, "because I'm going to be famous." She beamed up at him and then asked, "What page?"
"Chapter seven," he said quietly, moving back over to his desk. For the rest of the time, he quietly watched Roman write.
Good student, he thought.
Let me know what you thought! Stay fabulous!
~Paige