Rain hammered against the windowpane, it's dewy scent washing over the young witch. They had their head leaned against the pane of glass, a mug of rapidly cooling tea cradled in their palms as they gazed out at the grey darkening landscape.
Bright eyes flicked to the book lying forgotten in their lap, its broken spine almost totally flat, showcasing heavily annotated pages.
Their eyes slid shut and with a sigh Dessie's back slid down the wall to further curl up, pulling the wool blanket tighter about their chest. There were very few times in the week where the Gryffindor dormitory was totally silent, and this peace would be savoured for as long as possible.
As if hearing their thoughts, Dessie's ears pricking at the thunderous sounds of footstep, their dorm mates bursting into the room with whoops and shouts. Cringing from the noise, the ginger slid from the alcove to their bed, just narrowly avoiding bumping shoulders with a drunken Marlene as the blonde girl flung herself into her own bed.
Lily Evans, a tall redhead with a large personality, rubbed the dramatic blonde's shoulder soothingly, "Come on, Marlene, he's a prat, he doesn't even deserve your tears!"
Dessie quirked a brow and in response Lily just shook her head in exasperation. 'Black,' the redhead mouthed, and Dessie rolled their eyes. Black was Marlene's on-again-off-again beau, and far more trouble than he was worth, in Dessies opinion. According to Marlene he was the sun to her stars, the bacon to her eggs, the Oberon to her Titania-
You get the point.
But if you were to ask Dessie, they would say he was a rude, self-obsessed, vain twat who valued women for nothing but the explicit purposes of stroking his ego. She had heard far too many horror stories about his and Marlene's numerous breakups- and quite frankly the young Irishwoman was getting sick of them.
They were at Hogsmeade, how on earth did they manage to stir up drama? Dessie had thought, shaking their head in astonishment. Well, according to Dorcas, Black had been in The Three Broomsticks with his mates - the usual bastards - with his arm around some Hufflepuff girl-Amos Diggory's younger sister, you know, the one with the eyes too far apart?-, as he had got up to grab another round of butterbeers he had blown a cheeky kiss to the girl- a kiss, Des! Merlin, he's such a prat!- and he had walked right past Marlene afterwards- as if to rub it right in her face!
Dessie blinked. It was a rather tame scenario. From Marlene's reaction, they had expected much worse. Her eyes floated across the room to where the blonde was sobbing into her pillows, the shimmering gold of her duvet becoming dull from the wet, and they felt the corners of their mouth drag into a scowl. In their mind, they imagined stepping forward, hands on hips, and telling off their roommate for her appalling behaviour- telling her how her disrespect towards that Diggory girl was totally uncalled for, as she had done nothing wrong, and had simply made the mistake of fancying Gryffindors resident heartthrob (a crime that 75 percent of girls in Hogwarts were guilty of, even if they didn't fully understand the appeal of it). They would tell Marlene to get a grip and grow up, as there were far worse evils in the world than Sirius Black not returning her affections. They would even scold the other girls for encouraging this utterly atrocious, juvenile behaviour.
Instead, the short haired ginger pursed their lips and climbed into bed, retreating behind the heavy velvet canopy curtain. They sighed as they fell backwards into the soft sheets. Throwing up a silencing spell with a flick of their fingers, they curled into the blankets, returning to the battered copy of Pride and Prejudice and ignored their roommates' whispers.
The next few days were quiet- thank Merlin- But Dessie should have known that peace would eventually run out. This happened in a rather explosive fashion- in a damned Divination class, of all things.
"Morning Des." Dessie returned the greeting, smiling at the blonde boy. Peter Pettigrew flopped into the beanbag beside them, stretching his long legs and flinging then into their lap, ignoring their disgruntled huff.
James Potter and Sirius Black collapsed around the small table, taking no heed of their narrowed eyes and frown. They never normally sit with Dessie, instead commandeering the comfortable booth at the top of the room, so this was highly suspect behaviour.
"Alright, Grey?" Sirius flicked his hair from his eyes with a pearly white grin. They surveyed him before smiling politely, forcing the tension in their brow to smooth and returning the greeting whilst slapping Peter's bare ankle. He wasn't wearing socks again. Gross, they thought light-heartedly, pinching the boy's ankle. He responded with a yelp and slapped their hand away, however he stubbornly didn't move.
James slung his arm over his blonde friend's shoulders and leaned across the circular table, his chest brushing the table top as he grinned at them. He rubbed his bare chin contemplatively. "Y'know Des, I don't think we've ever really talked."
"We sure haven't," they replied hesitantly, raising a brow. "What's your point?"
"Well I think we should fix that!"
"Why?"
"Well, for a start, we're on the same Quidditch team, we have been since second year! We don't hang out much outside of it though, which I think is a pity!"
They stared blankly at him, totally gobsmacked.
"You just seem like a fun kind of gal," Dessie's nose wrinkled, but James ploughed on. " I'm friends with the majority of your roommates, I thought it'd be nice to get to know each other."
"Which is why, you're being invited to our Halloween afterparty!" Sirius threw in, boredly flicking through her textbook. Their heart dropped, a sense of unease slowly started to bubble behind their ribs. "Wow, you're as much a nerd as Remus is, you've annotated at least half of these pages!"
"It's a lil' more intimate than usual, just a few of us. Drinks, music, good company." Peter piped up with a grin before they could respond to his friend, nudging their stomach with his foot.
Unamused, they pushed his feet from their lap, yanking their book back with a frown. "I'm not going to be passing on a good word to Lily purely because you're being polite to me, Potter. I'm not even that close to her."
The bespectacled boys face crumpled comically as Peter and Black's froze. Peter guffawed awkwardly, spluttering an excuse of "No, Des, that's not what's happening here at all-" only to be shushed as their Professor arrived.
A smirk grew fixed to Dessie's face as the class carried on. Divination was quite a controversial class, both muggle born and pureblood alike thought it to be a useless craft but an easy grade. The Gray's, however, went against the grain in regards to the subject. Dessie was taught to respect the naturalistic, traditional craft just as much as the practical, wand-wielding part. Their family had quite a history with that kind of magic- a history that warned them to be wary of it.
Nevertheless, she adored the class, their respect for the topic only fuelling their curiosity. The intuition of magical folk was an interesting thing, often overlooked and poorly understood. It was based on the connection of the elements to magical folk, if performing magic was the manipulation of these elements, intuition, and by extension Divination, was the raw unfiltered connection with the surrounding environment.
They shuffled the cards as the tea brewed, vaguely paying attention to the boys' conversation. The crystal ball glinted in the centre of the table, and Dessie's shuffle halted, head cocked curiously as the crystal glinted again. They glanced to the still chattering boys, it seemed they hadn't taken notice. It was probably just a trick of the light.
Professor Goodfellow - a rather nervous man who's calling was most certainly not teaching, in Dessie's opinion- hushed the boys again.
Goodfellow droned on about moon phases as another glint caught their eye. This time, it originated from Black's pocket. He knocked his fisted hand against James's, discreetly passing something along the table until Peter held it. Eyeing the boy nervously, they continued to shuffle, pulling the three of cups and with a raised brow, shuffled it back in.
Peter leaned far over the tiny circular table, as he grabbed a teacup he surreptitiously dropped something into the teapot.
Dark brows hiked as the tea instantly began to bubble, and then turn a bright pink colour. The three boys had grown pale, and were wildly trying to prod the pot, only to pull their hands back with a pained hiss. Dessie grabbed Peter's wrist.
"What did you do?"
"It wasn't supposed to happen like that! We were just testing a new heating capsule! Its only meant to-"
The pot shattered into pieces, exploding all over the table. Apparently, that wasn't dramatic enough, as the intensity of the heat caused the crystal ball to explode too.
Screeches rang out across the room- the boys leapt back, tripping over chairs but Dessie stood frozen. Scalding water soaked through their uniform shirt. Something warm and thick dripped down their face into her gaping mouth. Blinking rapidly, they raised their suddenly trembling hand to her eye. It came away bloody.
"Miss Grey, let's get you to the Hospital wing."
Dessie gazed blearily at Professor Goodfellow, who was now grasping their stinging pink wrist. They were surprised to find that the more Goodfellow pulled on their wrist, the hotter their skin felt. They lurched forward, emptying the contents of her stomach onto his shoes.
Dessie loathed the Hospital Wing. It was always draughty, every little sound echoed loudly, and it didn't give any privacy at all.
The only other occupant of the large hall was Remus Lupin, who she would normally have been over the moon to interact with, as he really was such a lovely young man, but now she stubbornly ignored him just as she did his friends who now sat at the ends of their beds in transfigured armchairs.
"We are really sorry, Gray," Their jaw clenched, her eyes fixed on the book in their lap as they ignored Potter's existence. "Mum's dabbling in the cosmetics business, we can give you something to hide the scars!"
They snapped her book shut, wincing as the cloth cover rubbed against their still raw hands. "I don't need you dabbling in anything else, thanks."
After that, Dessie wallowed in silence, glaring across the room with their arms crossed over their chest. Yes, they was sulking, but they definitely had a right to be. Due to that exploding crystal ball, they now had a pretty sizable jagged scar on their right eyebrow from where a shard of the crystal had been lodged, which trailed below their eye as far as their cheekbone. The rest of the boys just had small scrapes on their hands and arms from where they attempted to shield themselves, wounds which had been healed promptly. In Dessie's, eyes, that was un-fucking-fair. On the other hand, Madame Pomfrey had tried her best to close the scar up and make it as small and neat as she could- but wounds attained from magical objects can't be totally healed.
Muggles can transfer entire organs from one body to the next, Dessie scowled, but magic folk can't heal some damned scars?!
Professor Goodfellow entered the hall, wringing his hands behind his back he came to a stop at the end of the cot.
"The incident that happened today was awful, and I'm very sorry it happened and that you all got hurt, however in the wreckage I found this," he opened his palm, revealing a tiny pill sized stone. "One of you slipped an enchanted heating rock into the teapot, and that is completely unacceptable. You'll all have a month of detention, three nights a week, starting tomorrow night." Dessie's mouth dropped open as he bid them all a good evening, retreating from the room. They turned a sharp glare to the muttering boys.
"Christ, how did you all manage to do that?" Remus breathed, totally flabbergasted. Dessie felt a blush creeping up their neck as he made eye contact. They scowled, both at themself and at the situation, and snapped at the boy, "Your genius friends here did it, keep me out of it!"
"I definitely don't envy you." The sandy haired boy shook his head, hair falling into his eyes.
"Sorry Des," Peter said sheepishly, "but it looks like we're all going down together."
"I shouldn't have to 'go down' for something I didn't do!"
"Well, look on the bright side!" James cut in, and Dessie turned their glare to him.
"What exactly, is the bright side in this situation?"
James opened his mouth, then closed it. This floundering continued for a moment until Black, of all people, spoke - leaning forward to rest his arm on his knees while surveying the ginger. He winked, a crooked grin forming as Dessie's lip curled into a snarl.
"The bright side is that we'll be getting to know each other pretty well, Gray."
Dessie sorely wanted to wipe that smirk off his awful, stupid, handsome face. Prick.
Do I have two other ongoing stories AND final exams to study for? Yes.
Did I decide to dust off a story that was started and buried within my document drafts almost two years ago? Also yes.
Also, if you haven't noticed, Dessie Gray uses they/them pronouns. They will eventually have a conversation about it with some characters, but it will not be a vital plot point.
Thank you for reading!