Story Title/Link: Watching
School: Ilvermorny
Prompts:
(First Line) This is how it starts
(Weather) Snow
(Creature) Mrs. Norris
Theme: Relationships
Year: 6th year
Wordcount: 1091
This is how it starts, she thought. This is how it always starts; two heads, slowly, inevitably leaning just a bit closer together across the desk. Leaning, wanting; nervous and curious. I've seen it all before. Watching is what she was known for.
Mrs. Norris settled herself back into the shadows of the alcove she had taken over nearest a steaming heat-pipe beneath a window in the Library to clean her ears. She reveled in the whisper of paper being turned, the faint crackle of snow against the leaded glass, the quickening pulse of blood as it rushed to cheeks flushed with anticipation. Her golden eyes saw all; her tufted ears perked with the sounds no human could detect. If only they knew what she knew...
Magic held no thrall for Mrs. Norris; it was not part of her world. And it certainly wasn't necessary to life, as she saw it. Certainly, it had its uses. How much more convenient could it be than to just wave one's wand and have a bowl of vittles appear? Still, convenience wasn't necessarily the essence of life, was it? No, in Mrs. Norris' experience, the best parts of life were still firmly embedded in the mundane experiences.
A fresh tuna dinner. Falling asleep in Filch's lap by the fire. Stalking Hagrid through the castle, if only to set off his allergies. Simple pleasures.
And this, she thought, watching intently as the gangly man-boy with his messy mop of brown hair made his first attempt — a subtle caress of fingers as he reached across the book he shared with his wild-haired classmate. Their hands touched; and he turned his brilliant green eyes away from the page, if only for a brief moment, to see if his partner would, too.
Mrs. Norris flicked her tail impatiently, and almost gave away her position as she kicked up a dust bunny rivaling herself in size. No matter how many times she had spied this dance among the students, it still filled her belly with trepidation; a twinge of dread, but also excitement — much the way she felt just before she was about to pounce on a rogue House Elf. The hunt was far more thrilling than the kill; and yet, she still felt an almost human desire to know the outcome before the chase had hardly begun.
I've been living with a human too long, she reflected, flicking her long tongue out over her whiskers, wiping the last remaining bits of dust off her face and composing herself back into repose. Filch always needed to know; who? What? Where? When? His human frailty had been rubbing off on her despite her best efforts against it. Still, he was a good friend to her; and that's what mattered most.
That, and timely meals.
Resuming her observations, she was relieved to realize she had not been discovered. Her prey only had eyes for each other. Smug would be the only way to describe how Mrs. Norris felt. I told Filch so.
She'd been watching this particular pair for years; or so she assumed — human time was ever so hard to keep track of. Be that as it may, she knew these two well; had watched them arrive as mere kits, and now, as they sat in the silence of the library, their eyes affixed on each other, their maturity was evident. As was their separateness; a quality, no doubt, that drove them even closer together. Battle-scarred and world-weary, their youth notwithstanding — they were some of the few who had chosen to return after the castle had been rebuilt. To put off the inevitable, if only for one more year. To finish their studies, she purred. And maybe to start some.
"It's been snowing quite heavily," he whispered into the space that was left between them. "Perhaps we could take a break? Maybe head into town for a butterbeer and throw a few snowballs?"
It would have been impossible to have missed the smile that crept across the young woman's face; or that their hands remained touching. "That sounds lovely," she answered as her smile widened. And they sat there, frozen in time, for just a moment.
And then it was over, and the next phase began. The young woman stood, quickly, grabbing up her companions hand firmly; there would be no doubt in her acceptance of his advance. She stepped close and kissed him; fast and hard, their hands never broken.
"Although, maybe we could skip the snowballs," she whispered. "I'm not sure I feel much like playing right now, Harry."
In this way, the humans are much like us. Once the decision is made, they go, headlong, with abandon.
And they departed, leaving the book open on the table behind them. And Mrs. Norris purring contentedly to herself in the shadows.
The argument could be heard from down the hall; even by a human. The new arrivals had some sort of mishap with trunks being misplaced, and, somehow, there were now human belongings strewn everywhere. Clothes and parchment, books and spectacles; the winding stair up to Ravenclaw Tower was suddenly a riot. There weren't too many perches for Mrs. Norris to cling to along with narrow staircase, but she had nestled herself into a corner near the bronze Eagle statuary earlier in the day to enjoy the sunshine — and now she found herself in a prime location to observe the tussle.
"I told you that the trunk with the Chudley Cannons sticker on it was mine!" A flushed and tousled red-headed newcomer cried as she picked up and shook out a blue blouse; in her other hand she held just one brown loafer and her eyes darted about as if in search for its mate.
The sun glinted off an absurdly large broach pinned to the robes of the red-heads ire; a small First-Year with a overly inflated sense of self. She drew herself up with an air of importance and leveled her gaze. "Well, I saw it from the other side, didn't I? So, I thought it was my phoenix emblem, you ninny. You didn't need to wrench it out of my hands so violently. Look at this mess!"
A Prefect peered over the bannister above at the commotion, and shouted down at the milling and gawking crowds to move on. Students slowly dispersed, sniggering and staring while the two unfortunate novices continued to trade mumbled insults while gathering up their wrinkled and scattered belongings.
Mrs. Norris just swished her tail and smiled. This is how it starts...