A/N: Dedicated to my darling Wynni, and a tinsy morsel there for you, love! Since you liked the joke in another fic, I'm putting it in again. How puffed up am I to quote myself? O_o
Thorin quickly walked to the castle, pushing the skanky episode from the Three Broomsticks to the back of his mind. He was still dischuffed, but he already started recollecting the spells he needed for that homework he still hadn't finished, when he realised that the castle was buzzing, all queer street and manky.
Portraits were rushing in between canvases, he saw the Grey Lady crying in the corner of the Entrance Hall, Sir Nick consoling her, and a grotty feeling clenched Thorin's stomach. Students looked pale and gutted, and he grabbed a sleeve of some first year yob.
"What's up here?" The kid stared at him with wide open eyes, apparently never previously having been addressed by a seventh year student, to say nothing of a Durinson, and Thorin gave him a proper shake to put him noggin right. "Well?"
"A girl… A Ravenclaw girl… She jumped out of the tower, everyone was away... And she..." The plonker was still staring at him, but Thorin already released him and walked towards the crowd.
He quickly noticed a few familiar faces of the people from the Ministry, his father was towering above a small group of Ravenclaw students, girls were crying, Thorin saw Rivendell's blanched face.
"Thorin," his grandfather's voice made Thorin turn sharply. Thror Durinson, in his usual dark robe, long beard neatly brushed, stretched his hand, and Thorin shook it.
"Grandfather," Thorin felt uncomfortable under his grandad's one-eyed stare, "Is it true? Did someone…?"
"Your father will make an announcement before all school, but most unfortunate… Most unfortunate… And a colleague's daughter no less..." Thror shook his head solemnly, his bushy grey hair in a long thick ponytail, clasped with the family crest bearing ring, and left towards several Ministry workers standing by the window.
Thorin stood for a while more, watching Professor Flitwick, who was rubbing his hands shakily, Professor McGonagall telling him something in a quiet voice, her thin lips pursed in a distressed line from time to time, and then Thorin met his father's eyes over the heads of the students. Thrain's bright eyes roamed his son's face, and Thorin suddenly remembered that one time when he was seven and tried to ride his Dad's broom in the attic of their mansion. At the moment the same mixture of worry and apprehension could be seen in Thrain's eyes, and then he nodded to his son solemnly.
Students were ushered to go to their common rooms and dormitories, and Thorin returned to the Slytherin Dungeon with a few familiar students. Everyone was havering in hushed voices, some were greedily discussing details, some were whispering gossip, a girl was quietly crying in the corner. Gloin and Dwalin returned from the village, the B Brothers apparently stayed behind to get some quills, and Thorin dropped on a sofa.
"So what did your granddad say?" Some sixth year student came up to him, and Thorin gave him a heavy butcher's. Some wankers apparently were forgetting subordination! "Common, Durinson, he talked to you. Did he say anything?"
"Sod off, Greengrass," Dwalin snarled, and the student quickly fucked off. Fundinson turned to Thorin, "Alright, mate?" Thorin realised he had been staring at the opposite wall for quite a while. he shook off the grotty stupour and jerked his chin up.
"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"
"Well, you knew her," Gloin mumbled, his mouth full of biscuits he was gobbling in a tall armchair to Thorin's right. "You know, your usual way. A brunette, small one, you knobbed her last year. Around Christmas time."
"What?" Thorin gave the ginger an disbelieving look. And then he realised in all this aggro he hadn't asked for the name of the girl.
"Entwistle, Susan, her name was, everyone says so. That wee," Gloin gestured around his shoulder with a biscuit, "Got pissed legless at the Christmas party, chatted you up, do you not remember?" Gloin shook his head, and suddenly Thorin felt like he was bloody suffocating, as if sick was rising, and he jerked his tie. He rushed out of the common room, ignoring Gloin's 'we are s'posed to stay in the rooms.'
He returned to his senses near the Herbology Store, the storage room with herbology equipment he had a key for as a prefect and the dux in the Herbology class. He rushed in and sat on one of the empty toppled crates dropping his head into his hands.
He remembered the girl, vaguely though, she was titchy, the hair was soft, he couldn't recall anything else. He apparently shagged her, but they were all in blur after a while, after all he didn't spend that much time with any of them. This one he remembered from classes, she was good at Charms, like many Ravenclaws.
In the common room he had just overheard the gossip that she had left a note. Something about not managing her classes, and the pressure from parents. No one had mentioned his name, and why would they? He wasn't the first, and of course wasn't the last. Had she even remembered what happened at the party? He didn't.
Could he have noticed anything? The question bounced in his head, and he gritted his teeth. It was bloody mental. He wasn't her friend, he wasn't her boyfriend, it wasn't his job! When he was a healer, he'd have patients, he'd be able to help them, the chick wasn't his responsibility! He had nothing to feel guilty about!
He leaned back onto the wall, dropped the head back, and then banged it to the wall, and then again. It was just a bodged up day, it was woolly from the start, nothing was wrong. Someone died, it was bleeding sad, but otherwise it was a day like any other. Another weekend in Hogsmeade, another pull, another shag. Everything was the same.
It just hurt, and he repeated the same thing he kept on saying to himself so bloody often. Sometimes living hurt. Everything seemed harsh, everything moved fast. He exhaled sharply and got up.
He stood for a few minutes, staring at the shears and pots and not seeing them. Something felt wrong, but he just couldn't fucking put his finger on it. He needed to go back and couldn't. There was no choice, not for him, he had to saunter back and be the bloody King of Slytherin he knew they called him behind his back, but sometimes it felt like his head would explode. He swore loudly and kicked the nearest box. It didn't bring any release, and he exhaled. He was behaving like a mooncalf, boggling his eyes and running around in hysterics, it had to stop. He gave himself a mental slap and dragged his sorry arse back to the common room.
After dinner his father got up from his seat at the High Table and made a short speech. In a few formal words he informed the students of 'the tragedy that took place in the school, when one of the students decided to take her own life,' no details were provided, but a few announcements were made. Firstly, healers were to be brought to school to evaluate students' mental health. The news was met by quiet whispering and murmuring between students, and alarmed looks exchanged between Professors. Thorin noticed that Professor Flitwick was absent, while the rest seemed jolly uncomfortable.
The second announcement was met with much more dramatic reaction, the points systems was to be abandoned for this year, as according to the Headmaster it 'seemed to impose unhealthy strain on students and promote hostility between Houses.' Thorin shortly wondered whether something was said in the girl's note that caused these changes. Most of the students seemed properly dischuffed by the news, competitiveness between the Houses a long standing tradition, but Thrain cleared his throat and everyone shut their gobs.
And thirdly, after the evaluation was to be completed by the healers, classes as well as extra curriculum activities were to be reorganised. The speech was short and to the point, and Thorin caught a few looks at himself. How would he bloody know what those changes were? He kept his face cold and detached, and then he caught the Leary chick's eyes at himself. She looked totally gutted, and he wondered if she had been mates with the Entwistle girl. Leary quickly dropped her eyes into her plate, her food hardly touched. No one seemed to eat much to be honest, except for Gloin who seemed to never lose his blinking appetite.
Thorin glared at the ginger in disgust, Gloin was finishing the third slice of meatpie, and Bofur whispered, "Nice to see we are all affected by the tragedy, mate." Gloin shrugged, and Thorin turned away from him. That was the healthy attitude, and Thorin felt he was being bonkers. Why couldn't he bloody chill down?
The next day it was a Quidditch practice, and Thorin assume they would cancel it, but there he was on the pitch, pulling on his helmet. That was the first practice since the start of the year, and he couldn't wait to get on his broom. He was competitive, and besides there was no distraction more effective than a Quaffle in the bollocks.
"Thorin, Thorin!" He saw his small nephews waving madly from the stands, and he flew down to them, since the rest of the team was still warming up. Kili and Fili were grinning from ear to ear, jumping like Bouncing Bulbs. That was their first year, and he assumed they were allowed to come only because they were his kin. Sprogs weren't allowed at the practices.
"What are you two wallies doing here?" He ruffled Kili's dark curls. Technically Fili was a year older, but Thorin's sister let him stay home a year longer so he could go to Hogwarts with his brother. Thorin thought she was bonkers, they were already like conjoined twins, way to molly-coddle the weans.
"Grandda told us we can watch with him," Kili's smile was blinding, and Fili nodded decisively.
"With him?" Thorin didn't notice Thrain around but then he saw him walking up the stairs. He tensed, Thrain had never dropped by before, and then Fili pulled Thorin's sleeve.
"When I grow up I'll be the Keeper like you, I already have the muscles!" He tensed his titchy arms, honestly speaking nothing bulging under his tee, and Thorin patted his head.
"You have the Durinson build, bairn, you'll be an ace Keeper." One could charge batteries from the smile that shone on Fili's clock. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your presence, father?" Thorin met Thrain's eyes, frowning and clenching the broom. He was suspended in the air in front of the stand, and still he felt as if he were looking up from somewhere at the level of his father's knees.
"If you, lads, don't mind, I'll watch you train today. I haven't seen any practices for years, just wanted to remember the feeling." At his time Thrain was a Beater but had never been especially good. Thorin shortly wondered what it was all about but then he got called to join the others. He waved to the weans, they cheered enthusiastically, and he swooshed to the hoops. Thorin wasn't dozy, it was all very woolly, and that gave him collywobbles, as his sister loved to say.
At dinner that day he was poking at his nosh, when he noticed Thea Martin come up to the Leary chick and under Thea's demonic stare, and blimey, the chick could be terrifying for wimps, a few Ravenclaw students previously chin wagging with Leary disappeared as if having Apparated away. Leary was still riding the wave from her new girl status, peeps would gather around her, asking questions, although yesterday's events scaled the enthusiasm down a bit. Still, the birds Thea scared off had been quite obviously harassing Leary for details of her life. Apparently she had switched around dozen schools by now, had seen almost every country possible, and judging by grabbing and squeals there was something special about her Tom Foolery, the chicks kept on ooh'ing and ahh'ing over her bracelets and earrings.
And then he noticed how ropey she looked. She was paler than normal, as if it were bloody possible, bright purple shadows under her eyes, and the plate in front of her was empty and clean. She was fidgeting with her glass, and the Martin chick patted her shoulder and was telling her something, obviously cooing at her, while Wren was nodding and chewing at her bottom lip. That was a habit of hers, when she'd be concentrated or worried, she'd been in one of the states at all times to think of it.
And then she raised her eyes and caught his staring. He could drop his eyes as she did last night, and he wanted to, but bloody hell he was no bubtion to get muddled by some chick! He lifted his glass and gave her a wide smile as if saying he didn't share her po-faced tude these days. She blinked frantically several times, and suddenly it took a lot of willpower to keep up with the pretense. The gesture looked so bleeding similar to how she reacted when he came up to her at the King's Cross, the same vulnerable wide open eyes, slightly open lips, and to make matters worse, she tucked a curl behind the ear in the exactly same gesture.
And then he realised he was being a massive fucking idiot. Was he actually keeping track of her gestures?! By Merlin's pants, he needed his noggin checked! She was still staring at him, and then Martin touched her shoulder, and she turned her head away from him slowly. The Gryffindor chick picked up Wren's hand, got up and decisively marched from the hall, pulling the redhead after her. Leary was following passively.
Adding two to two and getting four, Thorin quickly looked at the Gryffindor table and found the Quidditch Captain. And surely enough, that wanker Anderson was sitting eyes into his empty plate, unblinking stare and gormy dozy facial expression. That's the face of a bloke who had been dumped cruelly and unexpectedly. Interesting… Yesterday they were getting off in the inn, today it's already drama, tears and shite. Thorin suddenly felt much better, and picking up a lamb chop from the platter he smirked. She could be a much better distraction than Quidditch, and after all nothing made a chick more slaggish than a nice period of rebound. One more try couldn't harm.
