Chapter 4: Projections

"Hannah?" Nott asked, leaving the door to Slytherin.

"Hey Nott," I responded.

"What's up? Do you understand how late it is?" His voice sounded groggy. As he stepped towards me, his back arched forward. Large bags hung under his eyes. He must have just woken up. I wonder if his outfit was what he slept in: a tight black shirt, and baggy black pants with holes at the knees. His hair looked messy, and kept in a square. He was neither composed or compelled.

"Yeah I know, I'm sorry if I woke you up."

"It's okay Hannah. A bunch of the guys were returning from the party loudly. They beat you to it." He raised his arms in the air to yawn. His shirt raised over his chest, exposing his skin. The waist of his pants dragged downwards, emphasizing his shape. The way his hips lead down towards his crotch. I nearly giggled to myself. His body exposed; the intimate details shown. Nott had a good body; his smile was better.

"I'm still sorry. I know it's super late."

"It's okay," Nott repeated. His voice still rugged from waking. "What's this about anyway? Can't say I've ever had someone call on me this late before. Did you end up going to the party? Is this about Cedric? Oh God," he paused, the tone taking a more serious edge "did he try to force something? That fucker! I swear to God I'll kill him if he did."

"No, it's not like that," I tried to specify. "This isn't about Cedric. Well, maybe it is, but not in that way. He didn't try to take advantage of me. Or, at least, I don't think he did. Anyways, that's not why I'm here, I think." The words kept flowing out of me like a torrent which I had no control over. A wild natural stream I was observing without participating. The alcohol was making my thoughts muddled. I could not think straight. And I'd never been in this situation before. These were new thoughts; thoughts I was unsure of. My feelings were hard to approximate in words.

Nott seemed confused. His left eye hanged down; he was too tired for me. I was too drunk for this. "What?" he asked. "I'm not sure I'm understanding you. Did Cedric try something or not?"

"No." I said.

"Then what's the problem?"

To be honest, I'm not sure if I knew what the problem was. There was definitely a problem. I would not have acted the way I did with Cedric if there was not one, but I could not put my finger on it. The frustration started to build up. Moments from earlier in the night started to come back to mind. Cedric leaving me at the party; Terry's words of advice; Ron's explanations; Cedric's empty praise; my fucking hair in the mirror. With each memory, I bit my lips harder. I wanted to just be able to express myself. To share my feelings with Nott. Have him understand. Only, the desire just made me more frustrated. Please, please, please, I just wanted to get what I wanted, this time.

"I'm tired!" I nearly yelled. My arms dropped to my side. The knees below me gave way. Nott's face quickly changed to concern, jumping forward to grab me. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders; his skin under his shirt rubbing against my arm. "I'm just tired, tired of boys thinking of me like I'm some sort of ideal. Like I'll complete them. I just want someone to see me. See me as I am." My voice began to be choked up. I actively fought back tears.

Nott stood up, holding tight on my shoulders. "It's okay Hanna. Lets move somewhere more private, and you can tell me more." I realized that I had yelled right outside of the door to Slytherin. Shame quickly came to my face. I felt like an idiot. Nott did not seem to mind. He lead us firmly through a hallway to our right.

The tequila was playing with my head. I had never drank that much. It felt as if there was delay in my thoughts. My body moved; my voice spoke; my heart beat, before I ever decided to. Almost as if my mind was working on a lag. The choices occurring after the actions. I felt vulnerable in the state. Like I was lacking control. I was happy I left Cedric, I would not have felt comfortable with him.

"You know this area more intimately than I do. I'll follow your lead." I told Nott.

Nott smiled, and started to walk in front of me. I drudged behind him; my sense of balance swayed. "I know a good place. There's a small room nobody uses out here around his time. It looks a little shoddy, but I like its character."

"Cool," I said. Nott did not seem like someone who would need a private place around this time. Maybe he was not quite like what I imagined him. I did not really know him. The last few weeks had been the most we ever talked. He seemed different this year. He was more confident; spoke with more force; looked cuter too. The punk rock look suited him well, even if he felt nothing like a punk. Like a flower trying to be edgy with thorns; he only had a slight edge now.

Although I never imaged it, I wondered if Nott was actually more than I gave him credit for. When he was in Slytherin, perhaps he was as sharp as a sword: cutting through hearts. Was this place where he brought girls after the dark? Did he make them moan? Get down below their skin? What were his intentions with me? "You bring girls here often Nott?" I asked, the words left my lips without a second thought.

At the suggestion, Nott merely laughed. His tone did not sound condescending; he responded like I had said a joke. "No," he was able to articulate within his chuckles. "You'll be the first person to join me here. I use it to serve an opposite function. Its where I generally go to avoid everyone else." A smile crossed his lips, but his joyful pitch faded. His eyes stared forward: impersonal. "There's those times when I just can't stand everyone else. When I need to be outside of Slytherin. Or when I'm alone at night, and I feel like I'm wasting my life ... when I feel wrong," His voice trailed off with the words. The drive in his voice slowly dissipating. The words sounded worn and rough; his mouth cutting through the air.

I felt sick to my stomach. His voice sounded so sincere and hurt. My picture of him had been off, only a moment before. Had I just done what I accused the others of doing? What Cedric had done to me? God, I felt like I hated myself. I slowed down behind Nott; ashamed for him to acknowledge my presence.

For what it's worth, Nott did not appear to mind. He slowed his pace to accommodate me. The room Nott had been leading us to was only a few feet across. There was a single chair in the corner and no windows. The walls were bare; a blanketing white covered the surfaces. An ugly carpet covered the ground over a floor of exposed concrete. I wonder if the carpet was Nott's, it seemed out of place. There were no emotions in the aesthetics: only blind emptiness; a dead room resting. I wondered what Nott liked about it. The room was nested at the end of a long hall, the other rooms were unmarked. I would have guessed they were classrooms, but there were no numbers on their doors. Nott pushed his wand to the room's door, but said not incantation: it must have been unlocked. Why bring his wand to it then?

Nott moved into one of the corners, and sat down on the carpet. His back rested against the wall. His shirt bunched up at his hip; a sliver of skin peeking. He motioned for me to sit on the chair. Instead I moved next to him, and sat down. A small smile flashed on his face as I chose the floor. His eyes drooped downwards, looking over my body. There was little subtlety in his gaze; the exhaustion removing the nuance within his action. We were quiet for a second. I wanted to find some words to share. My mouth felt dry. I felt destroyed; irrelevant. "What is this place?" I asked.

"It's an empty closet. Or, at least I think it is. I can't imagine any other purpose for such a small room with nothing in it. Most of the rooms in this hallway are storage. Kids from Slytherin use them for their own purpose all the time. They're pretty empty too, but they're much larger. Some are used for the Slytherin parties; some are used them as hiding places to avoid curfew. I'm the only one who ever uses this place, at least most of the time. I guess no one else has felt the need to walk all the was to the end here. It's my private place."

"That's cool. People actually often use storage rooms? HufflePuff kids generally keep to unused classrooms in the west tower" The different houses had their own cultures revolving around their location and spirit. Subtleties in the experiences were often larger than it would seem on the surface. "We have to get the trust of certain professors, to be given keys for cleaning. The keys are then generally shared around a group of friends. It's tough to procure." Ernie had one the year before; we often sneaked in there to talk about boys.

"It's much easier for us Slytherin kids. No one ever checks a bunch of the storage rooms. Don't blame them. Doesn't seem like a fun way to spend time. The basement is pretty miserably place when you don't have to check empty rooms. I could see some advantages to oversight though; people would have quieter sex that way."

My cheeks blushed at the suggestion. HufflePuff had a reputation for having the most sexually active students, but that only meant there was more supervision to make sure it did not happen. It was actually quite difficult to do those sorts of things around HufflePuff. I guess Slytherin was a different sort of house. Did the moans fill the hallways? Little fingers touching and touching. Discovering those little places where those secrets were held, and the sweat so much more personal. In rooms like this too. I felt hot next to Nott, and then embarrassed; I quickly wanted to change the subject. "Why did you press your wand against the door, if you did not need to cast a spell?"

Nott looked down at his hand, and took out his wand from his pocket. His grip barely held it, letting it fall into his fingers; his thumb stroked the base. "I was feeling the magical aura in the room," he began. His eyes looked at the ceiling. His shoulders slouched. The space between use was slowly starting to disappear, as we leaned towards each other for support. Our energy fading as the time went by. "I read in a book about it during fourth year. If you're in an area filled of residual magic, with concentration, you can feel the subtle remnants of the magical vibrations. It's tough to do, but what you can feel when you do it, it's powerful. Like listening to a great piece of music, or reading a great poem. I'd describe it as people's left over emotions: their hopes, fears, loves, cries."

"I've heard of that. It's pretty advanced magic though isn't it?"

"Yeah, I've been doing it for two years, and I still feel like I don't really know what I'm doing. Professor Babbling is helping to tutor me in it, apparently she did some work on the classical expression of it in ancient magical runes."

"That's cool, so why did you feel it now then?"

Nott did not reply right away. He touch his hand to his mouth in thought. His gaze seemed empty, as if he was looking past everything in abstraction. "This room is sort of my case study. I've made it sort of a routine to check the aura before I enter it. To see if I am able to identify any changes. I feel as though I need to do it every time, or else I'll stop."

"You're pretty serious about this."

Nott laughed to himself quietly. "Yeah, I guess so. It's what I'm thinking of studying when I leave here. There aren't any practical jobs related to it, but something about it just sort of feels right. There's some fascinating history and theory around it too, some people think it holds the secret of what magic is. I'm not sure of that, but it sure does sound interesting."

The two of us shared a silence. I could not think of anything else to add. I had never imagined Nott would have been interested in such a thing. Magical Auras were a higher level course than what was not offered at Hogwarts, so I never really experienced it. I wonder if it changed Nott's perspective at all. If he could feel things differently, what would that change?

"Can I ask you a question?" I asked.

"Sure," he replied.

"You always seem so self reliant. Like you don't need other people. How do you do it?"

Nott lowered his voice, barely to a whisper. "Okay, but on one condition. First you tell me what this is about. You still haven't told me why you called on me." His words were tense and drawn out. The exhaustion covered his face, but he the confusion must have been overwhelming. What had I meant? Even I did not know that, truly.

"I'm sorry about this." I answered. "It's just that," I struggled to articulate my problem. "You know how you asked me if I've been asked out a lot?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I've always turned them down, because, I don't know. Because they always seem to be in love with what they think I am, instead of who I actually am. They think I'm this cool hip girl, who's pretty, and will solve all of their problems. But I'm not, I'm not, I'm not. I've always been afraid of getting close to people, because every fucking time it turns out this way. And fucking Cedric, goddammit!"

"What'd Cedric do?"

"It's just that he's the same as all of them. Of every boy, I thought he'd be different. I've had this crush on him for so long, but I've repressed it. Tonight, he surprises me by asking me out, and all of those feelings came rushing back. And then he stabbed me in the back, by just being like all of those others. Why can't any of them see me? See me for who I really am? Is that too difficult? But also, why do I care so much? Why do I care so fucking much about what others think of me?"

"So why me? Why did you call on me, and not Ernie?"

"Ernie's passed out, he wouldn't be any help." I answered. Nott frowned at the explanation. He was hoping for something more. It sounded as though there was nothing special about him in particular; like he was only the choice out of necessity. I struggled for more reasons. "And, and, it just seems like you have it together. Like you don't need other people, and that's cool. You're cool. And out of everyone I know, you're different."

"Hannah, stop." Nott's voice sounded firm. He dragged out the last syllable, as if it were difficult to say. The words cutting into his throat as he tried to speak. "Don't say things like that. I'm just as bad as those other guys."

"Don't say that Nott." I tried to assure.

"Hannah, Hannah," Nott repeated as if pleading. Catching himself before he said any more. Like his was begging to be able to say what he wished, but was faced by some great wall. The tone of his voice descended into a weep, before it turned stern and stoic. He talked without emotion. "I've had a crush on you for a while. But I just keep thinking about how you're so cool and hip. You'd help me make friends, or stop my need for friends." His voice started to crack, as if he were about to cry. "I'm just as much of a piece of shit as those other guys. I'd only hurt you."

"Nott," I started, but I could not finish. He sounded fragile. Close to breaking down. I leaned close to him, wrapping my arm around his. I felt mean. What was I doing? I did not mean to do this. I did not want to break his heart. Was I so heartless and cold? How could any of this help?

Nott slowly pulled his arm out of my grasp, but continued to lean on me. "I may seem all calm and collected, but, fuck. You know why I decided to dress punk rock this year? Last spring i decided I would try to make friends in Slytherin. I started to hang out with the cool kids, going to all of their social functions, drinking and the like. But it was awful. I hated all of their conversations, and all of their beliefs. They were just such ugly people. And yet, I kept hanging out with them. Putting up with their shit. Cause I wanted friends. I wanted friends so fucking badly. I've been alone, in this room, for so long. For so many years, here at Hogwarts. Like I was missing out on the experience. Like I was hiding from everything. Letting years pass by, empty."

"Then on the last day of class last year Draco came up to me." Nott continued. "And he told me that I was better than those kid's shit. That I was trying to transform myself into something that I was not. Hanging out with them was not me, and that I should not put myself to their level, just in some vain attempt to be cool."

"I don't think I agree with Draco's idea that I'm better then them, but there was definitely some truth to his words. And I took that to heart. But it led to the important question: who am I? I spent my whole summer thinking about the question. There were whole days I lied in my bed, wondering. I don't think I have an answer, but I think I'm closer. I realized there were a bunch of things I was doing, not because I liked it, but because I though other people would like it. And there were other things I was afraid to do too, for the same reasons. So I became who I am now."

"Nott," I tried to start, but Nott cut me off.

"I'm not better than those other boys. I'm no different. I'm just who I am. I'm sorry Hannah"

"Nott." The words were escaping from my lips. I had nothing really to say. There was nothing I could communicate. Anything I could add would just be words, empty words. I was an empty shell. Exhausted and hurt, and hurting. I'm sorry Nott, that's what I wanted to say. I wanted to say it so badly. My lips quivered, but I could not get them out of my mouth. I'm sorry Nott.

"We should probably head back. It's getting really late." Nott said. His words were weak: about to crack. The firmness in his voice was gone. All was left, was a boy trying to balance himself on a world that kept trying to throw him down. I was on the world too, but it felt like I was falling, after trying to push him off.

"Yeah." I was barely able to say. My skin felt numb. I tightened my fist until the nails cut into the skin of my palm. Part of me wanted to kiss him, the other part wanted to cry. The emotions were pushed to the front of my face. I felt torn and stretched; the skin pulled. Pressure built excessively. My steps were only a few before a nervous break down. Keep it together Hannah.

As the two of us stood up, Nott brought me into an embrace. His cheek rested on mine. "I'm sorry I couldn't be more of a help Hannah. If you want my suggestion: try to find yourself. More than that, show yourself. Make it abundantly clear who Hannah is. Then the boys won't be able to mistake you for something else. Don't hide who you are."

We exited the room, and headed back towards Slytherin. Nott walked me to a stairwell which would take me to the main floor. I thanked him, and we hugged once more. The rest of the walk I was mostly in a daze. I was confused, and empty, and filled, and tired, and scared, and excited, and sad, so fucking sad. It only took a few minutes before I was outside of HufflePuff, but instead of entering it, I kept walking by it.

I walked into the nearest girl's washroom, and stood in front of the mirror. My fucking reflection stared back at me, with its awful tangle. I took out my wand, and pointed it at my head. I'm not sure which started to fall first, the tears or the strands of hair.

...

Author's Notes: Aren't those two cute? I always enjoy writing such a happy chapter! Sorry for making it so dark, I hope you liked it anyway. There will be one more chapter in Hannah's story, which will mostly serve as a resolution. I'm pretty busy in the next couple of weeks. It may take a while for me to write it. Hopefully it should be short, so I can write it quickly when I have a moment to spare.

I'm starting to think about where I'm going with this story, and I was wondering if you could give me some feedback. Should I keep with the current format? Are you liking the individual, personal story? I realize that's hard to gauge considering there is only one at the moment. Whose story would you like next? Hermione's or Terry's? Where would you like the story lines to go? They'll all probably be similar in tone and structure as Hannah's. This story is just as much about the loss of proximity and friends, as it is about gaining them.

Please Leave a Review.

Thanks. BJ.