Roxy woke with a groan, glaring at the blaring noise coming from her alarm clock.
Or rather, her brother's alarm clock because, once again, the teen found herself waking on the floor of Freddie's old bedroom, squinting at the lightly shaking clock that looked like it came right out of an old cartoon, with two large gold bells that clattered noisily against the plastic circular frame of the clock.
This was possibly even more strange than finding herself in Freddie's bedroom—to be honest, the situation was becoming so common that she half-expected it every time she woke up, despite not finding a suitable explanation for why it was happening. But the alarm clock in Freddie's room had been broken for years; even before his death, her brother had tossed the alarm clock across the room in a bout of teenage frustration and had never gotten around to fixing it.
All of this meant that the alarm clock shouldn't have been going off, and certainly not at six in the bloody morning, which was when Roxy needed to wake for work but was much too early to have ever been set to go off for Freddie, a late riser his whole life.
Why me? Why here? Roxy couldn't figure out what was constantly dragging her to her older brother's room night after night. This had never happened before she came home after graduation, and since her return from the Burrow, her nightly wanderings to Freddie's bedroom only seemed to increase, but for the life of her, she had no clue why she kept waking up in here instead of where she had fallen asleep—torn away from her comfortable bed.
"Roxanne?" she heard her mother call. "It's six, time to get up for work. Are you planning on taking a shower today? I—" There was the sound of footsteps down the hallway, then silence, as Mum paused. "I could make breakfast."
"I'm fine Mum. Just let me get ready and I'll probably grab some toast on my way out. You can go back to bed." Roxy listened for the sounds of her mother's footsteps walking away and let out a sigh. Her mum didn't know that Roxy had been waking up several times each week in her brother's room, and Roxy didn't feel like dealing with how her mum might interpret such a behaviour.
When Roxy was certain her mum was gone, she let out a groan, pulling herself from the floor. Roxy wished she didn't have to work today, that she didn't have to Apparate to the atrium of Henrik's Potions—today or any other day.
She had been working for a grand total of two weeks, another clueless intern working for Henrik's Potions, which had—at least so far—consisted of running around the supply room to grab various ingredients for the older, more experienced potioneers to use.
There were sixteen interns at the company right now, four, including herself, who were straight out of school. Roxy made sure to check out the others, in case she recognised any fellow Slytherins, but everyone else who had been hired were Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, or Gryffindors. As far as Roxy could find, she was the only Slytherin that had been hired in the past six years.
Rose told her to give it time, that if she worked hard and showed herself to be a loyal and trustworthy employee, Roxy would soon be rewarded. "Just ignore anyone who gives you crap about your house. Just ignore anyone who gives you crap about your last name. Be you, Rox, and as long as you do that, you'll be successful."
Roxy thought it was all a load of crap. Be her best? How could she be her best when everyone sniggered and mocked her like they were still students—or worse, the older employees who were silent and distant and didn't care that Roxy was trying her hardest to prove that she was better than their expectations of her.
She had thought—foolishly, childishly—that these sorts of attitudes would cease after Hogwarts, that she would finally be surrounded by mature adults who didn't care who you were or what your house had been.
And perhaps Rose was right—perhaps things would get better with time. Perhaps she would one day be able to walk into work and not hear hisses from her co-workers, who thought they were funny and clever. Perhaps, with time, she would have the respect of everyone else that she deserved just as much as the other interns.
But for now, even after two weeks, she spoke to no one, took her lunch breaks alone, and was growing increasingly miserable. It wasn't that she hated her job—no, working at Henrik's had given her so much insight into the world of potioneering that she had never considered before—but her co-workers were making life more difficult than she felt was appropriate.
Was it bearable? Yes. After all, she had dealt with teasing and bullying and name-calling before; Roxy was old hat to a world that seemed set against Slytherins. She was not so weak as to quit because some idiots couldn't handle the idea of receiving a Billywig's sting from a Slytherin.
But that didn't mean she was appreciated or agreeable to their behaviours. Rose, when Roxy brought up the complaint after nearly being shoved to the floor by Horace Maldonado and Michael Kelly, suggested that Roxy approach the intern supervisor—a harsh-looking woman named Starsha—but Roxy shot her down. She wasn't going to whinge to their supervisor about something as harmless as stupid meat-heads thinking they could scare her.
"I'm fine, Rose," she replied when Rose again pushed her to say something. "If I can't handle some idiotic teasing, then I might as well just hide in my bed for the rest of my life. No matter where I try to find work, there's always going to be someone who tries to give me a hard time just because I was in Slytherin. You don't think I'm not used to this sort of crap?"
"But that's not okay!" Rose had said indignantly, hands on her hips. Her cheeks were flaming, and her body language screamed that she was ready at Roxy's word to fight the other interns. "You shouldn't be fine with—you shouldn't be used to it! You ought to say something, or else the situation will never improve."
Roxy rolled her eyes at the memory of her cousin, stepping under the hot water of her shower. Rose was just like Aunt Hermione. She found a cause to fight for in just about everything and rarely let it go until she felt the problem was properly resolved.
When she had finished getting ready, Roxy looked into the mirror one last time, wondering if today would be the day that her co-workers and fellow interns would finally leave her alone to work in peace, or if she would have to continue looking over her shoulder for leering faces and smirks.
"Hey, Weasley!" one of the older interns—a tall brunet named McGregor, who was flanked by two of his usual cronies, big guys who were smart enough—you had to be smart to get into Henrik's—but seemed fine with letting McGregor do the talking for them most days.
James McGregor was a senior, third-year intern—at the end of his contract, the company would decide whether or not to keep him on staff permanently. McGregor seemed to have no doubt that he would be accepted to the sounds of thunderous applause and praise.
He also seemed to think it was perfectly appropriate to call every female he saw—whether they were his superior or not—a "lass", and spent most his time hitting on girls and ordering the younger interns around like he was already a full-time partner; Roxy thought he was an absolute pig and hoped that the company didn't intend on taking him on at the end of his contract. The idea of being stuck with him for several more years—and as a full potioneer, no less, with the authority to boss her around any time he felt like it—was nearly unbearable.
Roxy ignored him, continuing to rifle through a box of Bezoars. McGregor was just another puffed-up egotistical male who had a stupid grudge against her because had been a Gryffindor during his days at Hogwarts. Four years Roxy's senior, he was the oldest of the interns and was supposedly sleeping with Starsha, if the rumours were of any value.
She had become adept at blocking out McGregor and the others like him, those that wanted to push her around and see how close to the edge they could get Roxy before she snapped. Luckily, unlike at Hogwarts, Roxy had finally realised that the consequences were a bit more severe than a detention should she take out her frustration on a dolt like McGregor.
"I said, hey Weasley," McGregor called again, louder this time. His two lackeys—David Tolti and Jamison Choi—leered up at Roxy as she clattered around on the shaky ladder. McGregor looked over at his mates, smirking. "Well now, don't you think Weasley's being a bit rude? She won't even acknowledge me when I'm talking to her. How insulting. I mean, here we are, her betters, and she thinks she has pride enough to ignore us?"
"Maybe she thinks she's too good for us, being a Slytherin and all. You know how those hissy little snakes are, spouting their stupid philosophies about blood superiority." Tolti smirked at Roxy, placing a hand on the ladder, making it tremble slightly.
"Or perhaps I think you're all a bunch of pompous, self-inflated arseholes who think this is still our parents' times, and that it was just Slytherins who were bad guys and Gryffindors who were good guys." She glared at Tolti, moving her shoe just over his fingers, which he quickly pulled away.
"When were there any bad Gryffindors?" McGregor asked with a sneer, making Roxy roll her eyes. The war hadn't been that long ago—there were still cells in Azkaban that housed known Death Eaters and their supporters. Was McGregor really so dull that he couldn't remember what they were taught in history class?
"Peter Pettigrew, for one, or did you never bother to pay attention in History class? And there were others—Shannon Carrey, Timothy Potts, Teresa Nomser. And good Slytherins? How about Astoria Greengrass? Andromeda Tonks? Though some might like to make the war black and white, things are not as simple as you—and others—would like to pretend it to be."
There was anger in her voice and frustration, that hearkened back to hours spent arguing with students of other houses that her house was nothing of any particular evil, only stigmatised by a few of an exceptionally dark nature who had pushed things too far.
Her hands shook as she hung off of the ladder, staring down at these boys who had been Gryffindors and Ravenclaws while at Hogwarts. These boys, who did not understand what it was like to be hissed at and teased because the Sorting Hat had placed her amongst the other snakes.
But she could not start a fight, not here at work, not when that was exactly what these idiots were expecting her to do. She had to be mature, as always. Responsible, as expected. Calm-headed, because getting into fights over a few insults was what Gryffindors did. And she was no Gryffindor; no, she was a worthy Slytherin, and she knew how to keep herself safe.
The ladder trembled beneath her once again, and she turned to see McGregor pulling on it, rocking it from side to side, a smirk on his face. Because he also knew that she was no Gryffindor and that Roxy would not fight back against him, nor tell their superiors about his behaviour.
She smirked right back at him, though, not at all thrown by his taunts or threats. Because she would not hit him or speak against him—but the day would come that Roxy's revenge would be ready, and McGregor would regret ever even speaking to her. They would all regret the injuries they had made her suffer through over the years, McGregor and everyone like him who did not respect Slytherins. All that was needed was time.
And she had plenty of that. She could be patient.
"Roxy?" It was Rose in the doorway, her cousin Rose, who was a full-fledged partner with superiority over them all, and a raised eyebrow as she took in the scene of the four interns crowded around a shaky wooden ladder. "What's going on?"
Roxy shook her head, confused. What had she just been thinking? The anger that coursed through her—she could barely even remember why she felt it, as the energy seemed to drain out of her suddenly. Her grip on the ladder was loosening, and Roxy could hardly even remember where she was at that moment.
Something about McGregor, feelings of frustration against him, and thoughts that were wholly Slytherin—but darker than anything Roxy had ever felt before. Had that really been her, contemplating revenge over a few stupid comments?
"Roxy? Roxy, what's going on? You're shaking, you're—" The next thing Roxy knew, her fingers uncurled from the ladder and she was crashing to the floor, hair spilling at the feet of McGregor and the other boys. And then her world went dark.
After work, Roxy—who was tired and wished she smelled a little less like dragon's blood—Apparated to The Witch's Brew, where Jo and Lily were already waiting for her, each with their own drinks in hand, chatting aimlessly as Roxy dropped heavily into the booth with them and signalled for the closest waitress to bring her a beer.
She had decided not to tell them about the incident that had happened in the storage room with her co-workers, and the strange feelings that had overcome her suddenly. Rose might tell Aunt Hermione about it—Rose was always telling Aunt Hermione about her cousins' issues, which was how it so often spread around the family—but Roxy herself would make no mention of it.
After all, she hadn't eaten breakfast this morning, nor dinner last night. Most likely, she had just been light-headed and hungry, which was why she had felt so strange before fainting. At least, that was what the matron at Henrik's suggested to her, and Roxy was more than happy to agree with her in order to get back to work faster.
She gave Jo and Lily a small wave as she scooted over slightly, letting her head rest momentarily on the table-top. The wood was cool and felt nice to her overheated skin.
"Long day?" asked Jo, hiding her smile behind a menu. "How's McGregor? Still treating you and the other 'young lasses' like you're incompetent? That's what he calls all the girls, right? Even people like Rose and such?"
"I didn't punch him, at least. That has to count for something, right?" Roxy joked. "Though that's not to say he wouldn't have deserved it if I had. He's so sleazy and lazy, I don't see how he even got accepted at all."
"Ah, well, they have a quota to fill, I suppose, and they must've been short on arseholes when they decided to hire him. If you do ever punch him, Roxy dear, make sure to take a picture afterwards of his face. I'd love to see how red he gets." Jo grinned, taking a sip of her drink with one hand while holding her other hand over her cheek as if she had just been hit.
Roxy and Lily laughed though Roxy noticed that Lily's laugh seemed emptier than normal like her head was full of something else. She wondered if Lily was feeling very well. The flu was beginning to go around work, and she hoped Lily wasn't coming down with it as well.
"He's a prick, alright. Him and those cronies of his. Merlin, I hate the lot of them. They're all so pompous, you know? It's stupid. They like to act like we're still at Hogwarts and they're a bunch of Quidditch stars that we ought to all worship." Roxy rolled her eyes.
The waitress came by with a drink for Roxy and took the girls' orders with a smile before leaving them once more to their conversation. Jo laughingly told a story about a dull brunette from her work who couldn't seem to figure out how to properly lock a door whenever she got into the mood to sleep with one of their co-workers.
"We've walked in on her nearly half a dozen times now," Jo said, laughing loudly and taking another sip of her drink, her face animated as she spoke. Roxy chuckled and replied at all the appropriate times in response, but she couldn't help but be distracted by how quiet her cousin was.
She glanced over at Lily, who continued to take swigs from her beer, and occasionally cracked a smile, but mostly seemed distant and withdrawn from the conversation. Roxy shot Lily a look of curiosity, raising an eyebrow in question, but Lily only shrugged.
Roxy remembered when—a month ago, following the pictures of them in the newspaper—Aunt Ginny had railed at Lily for several hours which led to a screaming match between two. Lily had threatened to move out; Aunt Ginny had told her that maybe that was for the best. But in the end, Lily had gone nowhere at all, and after swearing to her mum that it would never happen again, life had gone back to normal.
(Because, of course, Lily was almost a Slytherin in her ability to manipulate people—and the parties hadn't stopped for her yet, even though Roxy, like Jo and Kieran and so many of her other friends, had become hesitant to even be seen at an Ittermann party.)
Just as Jo finished up her story, the waitress returned with their food—steaming and hot, she warned, setting the plates down in front of the three girls cheerily. "Enjoy!" she told them before heading towards another table across the bar.
Finally, Roxy could take it no more, as she watched her cousin poke at her food. Roxy set her fork down, noisily clearing her throat to get the other two girls' attention. "Lily?" she asked carefully. "Has something happened recently?"
"I've been thinking about breaking up with him," said Lily quietly, staring down at her plate. "I thought he might be, y'know, 'the one' or whatever bullshit those romantics are always going on about. But recently..." She sighed.
"He doesn't hit you or anything, right Lils?" Jo asked. All three girls remembered Jo's boyfriend from when they were fifth years, who had slapped her and punched her until Jo cursed him, sending the boy to the Hospital Wing for two weeks. Jo was not a weak girl, but she had been only fifteen—and he was her first boyfriend.
"No!" Lily's eyes widened and she shook her head emphatically. "No, no, he's never laid a hand on me." Her shoulders slumped once more, all the energy fading from her as quickly as it had come. "But I feel like all we ever do is drink and party and do drugs and smoke. I don't feel like he cares about me—and I couldn't honestly say that I care at all for him. If he died," her voice dropped even more, so that Jo and Roxy had to lean in to hear her next words. "If he died right now, and they came and told me, I don't think I'd even cry. Does that make me an awful person?"
Roxy and Jo both told her no, that didn't necessarily make her an awful person—as long as she didn't do the killing herself, Jo said with a laugh, which at least got Lily to chuckle quietly.
"Maybe that's for the best, then," Roxy said, doing her best to sound comforting. She'd began to feel the same way herself towards Kieran. They hadn't seen each other in nearly a month, and the last time she had been on a date with him had been back in early July. She could understand not wanting to continue in a relationship that felt dead.
"Yeah. If you don't love him any more, it's just as bad for you to keep with the relationship. Worse, even, because all you're doing is punishing yourself for no logical reason." Jo gave Lily a comforting smile, taking a bite of her sandwich.
Sometimes, looking and speaking to Lily, Roxy could forget that she was the younger of the two cousins—Lily could be immature at times, and certainly in need of guidance more than Roxy had ever felt she needed. Perhaps it was because Roxy had been forced to grow up faster, but she occasionally could swear that it was her, and not Lily, that was two years out of Hogwarts, a successful and rational adult.
The conversation shifted to other matters, the three girls chatting about lighter subjects—Roxy still carefully avoiding the subject of the incident at work—until Roxy had to bow out, saying something about not wanting to stay out too late, not with work the next morning. The other two agreed, and they departed, each Apparating to their own home after giving each other friendly enough good-byes, promising to meet up again soon enough.
Roxy wandered into her bedroom, not even bothering to change her clothes, rubbing her head—where a dull throbbing had popped up out of nowhere—and hoped that sleep would come to her quickly.
She was only mildly surprised to hear, just two days later, that Lily and Tolkien had broken up; Lily called her in tears to tell her that they were through, finished, over. Roxy noticed that Lily, despite the tears, did not seem too terribly upset about it.
