[This chapter was really interesting to write, it's so dark and mysterious.
I think so anyway. Marcus is comes into her room looking for her that
night.]
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Ch. V: Disappeared
The hallway was dark, not lit at all. Why would it be, it was four o'clock in the morning? The portraits on the walls were snoozing in their frames; a few of them were snoring quite loudly. As Marcus passed the doorways he looked in each one, enjoying the peacefulness of the girls dormitories. The first years were clutching teddy bears or stuffed unicorns under their arms as they dreamt dreams of their friends or the little boy that sat next to them in Potions. He thought it was a darling sight, but would never let anyone else know he had felt that way. The fourth years were asleep in their four posters also, probably dreaming about the first kiss they had shared in the Astronomy tower with some quidditch-obsessed boy from their house. The fifth year girls were silent also; probably fresh from primping their hair or buying sleek black robes to make them look older. He came up to the familiar sixth year dorm and walked stealthily inside. The third bed on the left, by the window was Xanne's. He walked nearer to it and drew back the curtains slowly.
Instead of finding his girlfriend sound asleep on her side as she normally was, he found a crisply made bed that had not been slept in. His first thought was not of rage, but of worry. He sat down on the bedspread and breathed in her scent, cinnamon and broomstick polish. He knew it well and sat there for moments, taking it in.
The curtain of one of the beds opened and a small wand-light was pointed at him. A girl's face was visible, clutching a book, what looked like a diary. She saw Marcus and was a bit startled, but she knew why he was here, as he normally came in the night to visit her dorm-mate.
"Xanne isn't here," she whispered as quietly as possible, drawing her dressing gown closely around her shoulders. It was Leanor de Sade, Xanne's roommate that was so taken with the onyx necklace. "She never came back tonight."
"She didn't!" if he was previously worried, it was nothing to what he was feeling now.
"Shhhh!" the girl put her finger up to her lips and hissed at the older boy. "Last I saw her, she was leaving the dorm after dinner."
"Thanks," Marcus said in a gruff whisper before standing up and turning toward the door. Before he left, though, he walked over to her chest of drawers and pulled out a warm black cloak. It was completely useless to him, being too small, but if he found Xanne, she would probably be dreadfully cold after being around the castle. He left the dorm, casting one last look at the empty green bed he had wrinkled slightly by sitting upon it.
The hallway was just as caliginous as it had been when he first entered the girls' section of the Slytherin dorms. The portraits were still dozing in their frames and the torches still unlit.
Just as barren and dark as the hallways, the common room was abandoned also. The black leather couches were shining in the moonlight that peeked in from the small windows high above. The common room had none of its usual liveliness and devious plotting in it, only the fire, which was nothing but a few orange embers, made little noise. He slipped quietly out of the stone wall that concealed the house and made his way down the dark dungeon corridor, pondering incessantly as he meandered.
If she had left after dinner, she was doing one of three things. He knew her fairly well and her habits gave her away. She was either in the library, studying for something or other, or even just reading up on her dark fiction she favored so much. If not the library, she was out flying on the pitch. It was strictly forbidden for her to be out there at this time of night, but she had never been caught as she raced around the goal posts and stands. She had forlorn this habit this year, though. The dementors of Azkaban were patrolling outside, and no matter how far away from them she was, they simply made her feel weak, or so she said. Another after dinner habit of hers was to go to the prefect's bathroom and swim in the gargantuan pool that was known as a tub.
The first place he would look would be the library. Her studious nature preceded her and to tell the truth, this was where he assumed she would be. The library was quiet and deserted, the air smelling of old, dusty, moldy books. The hundreds of volumes littered the walls, titles of which were visible in the darkness, the golden etched bindings glowed in the darkness. Her usual table, the one closest to the restricted section and out of the view of the overgrown vulture, Madam Pince, was empty.
Now he began to get angry. Didn't she think of anyone beside herself? She knew she would be missed and yet she still decided to leave. He clutched the limp cloak he held in his hand, feeling the soft material compress under his fist. He walked quickly out of the library and out into the corridor.
She was most certainly not out on the quidditch pitch, he knew that for sure. She might have been in the prefect's quarters, but she normally avoided them. Even the other prefects frowned upon the Slytherins and she avoided the ridicule, not that she couldn't handle it of course. He headed for the only other place he thought she would be.the bathroom.
The corridors were almost peaceful that night, but the stomps of his dragon- hide boots broke the silence. The portraits all frowned and shook their fingers at him as he glided through the dark halls. A few suits of armor decided to tell him off, but he shut their visors and muttered furious swears in their helmets. The bathroom was near, he knew it, but he was not sure what the password was. Probably something in Latin, the prefects loved to seem smarter than the other students, so they thought up encouraging passwords in languages people rarely knew. The previous month it had been in Gobbledegook, something about the sun never setting on some bloody day.
There were two statues, across from each other. One was an odd looking man who looked like he was lost, the inscription read 'Boris the Bewildered.' The one across from Boris read 'Armando Dippet, headmaster.' Assuming it was the statue of Dippet, he walked slowly up to it and muttered a few of the Latin phrases Xanne had ever told him.
"Er.Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus," he quietly recited the school motto. The statue did not budge. "Tempus Fugit, Cave quid dicis quando et cui.Fluctuat nec Mertigur."
On the last quote, a door behind him creaked open. He looked at the door, chuckling slightly. Boris the Bewildered, who would've thought the prefects would house their bathroom behind him. It seemed as if it was beckoning to him and that's when he knew that she must be in there.
"It is tossed by the waves but does not sink," he muttered under his breath, it was the translation of the password in English. It was not a wise decision on their part to use it. Xanne even had it tattooed on her left forearm, where a Dark Mark would be on a death eater. She thought it was rebellious, he thought it was sexy and often ran his fingers over it at intimate moments.
In his pondering, quite a bit of time had passed and the door closed once again. He scowled, hoping he would actually find her in there and muttered the password one more time before peering into the dark Greek fashioned bathroom.
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Ch. V: Disappeared
The hallway was dark, not lit at all. Why would it be, it was four o'clock in the morning? The portraits on the walls were snoozing in their frames; a few of them were snoring quite loudly. As Marcus passed the doorways he looked in each one, enjoying the peacefulness of the girls dormitories. The first years were clutching teddy bears or stuffed unicorns under their arms as they dreamt dreams of their friends or the little boy that sat next to them in Potions. He thought it was a darling sight, but would never let anyone else know he had felt that way. The fourth years were asleep in their four posters also, probably dreaming about the first kiss they had shared in the Astronomy tower with some quidditch-obsessed boy from their house. The fifth year girls were silent also; probably fresh from primping their hair or buying sleek black robes to make them look older. He came up to the familiar sixth year dorm and walked stealthily inside. The third bed on the left, by the window was Xanne's. He walked nearer to it and drew back the curtains slowly.
Instead of finding his girlfriend sound asleep on her side as she normally was, he found a crisply made bed that had not been slept in. His first thought was not of rage, but of worry. He sat down on the bedspread and breathed in her scent, cinnamon and broomstick polish. He knew it well and sat there for moments, taking it in.
The curtain of one of the beds opened and a small wand-light was pointed at him. A girl's face was visible, clutching a book, what looked like a diary. She saw Marcus and was a bit startled, but she knew why he was here, as he normally came in the night to visit her dorm-mate.
"Xanne isn't here," she whispered as quietly as possible, drawing her dressing gown closely around her shoulders. It was Leanor de Sade, Xanne's roommate that was so taken with the onyx necklace. "She never came back tonight."
"She didn't!" if he was previously worried, it was nothing to what he was feeling now.
"Shhhh!" the girl put her finger up to her lips and hissed at the older boy. "Last I saw her, she was leaving the dorm after dinner."
"Thanks," Marcus said in a gruff whisper before standing up and turning toward the door. Before he left, though, he walked over to her chest of drawers and pulled out a warm black cloak. It was completely useless to him, being too small, but if he found Xanne, she would probably be dreadfully cold after being around the castle. He left the dorm, casting one last look at the empty green bed he had wrinkled slightly by sitting upon it.
The hallway was just as caliginous as it had been when he first entered the girls' section of the Slytherin dorms. The portraits were still dozing in their frames and the torches still unlit.
Just as barren and dark as the hallways, the common room was abandoned also. The black leather couches were shining in the moonlight that peeked in from the small windows high above. The common room had none of its usual liveliness and devious plotting in it, only the fire, which was nothing but a few orange embers, made little noise. He slipped quietly out of the stone wall that concealed the house and made his way down the dark dungeon corridor, pondering incessantly as he meandered.
If she had left after dinner, she was doing one of three things. He knew her fairly well and her habits gave her away. She was either in the library, studying for something or other, or even just reading up on her dark fiction she favored so much. If not the library, she was out flying on the pitch. It was strictly forbidden for her to be out there at this time of night, but she had never been caught as she raced around the goal posts and stands. She had forlorn this habit this year, though. The dementors of Azkaban were patrolling outside, and no matter how far away from them she was, they simply made her feel weak, or so she said. Another after dinner habit of hers was to go to the prefect's bathroom and swim in the gargantuan pool that was known as a tub.
The first place he would look would be the library. Her studious nature preceded her and to tell the truth, this was where he assumed she would be. The library was quiet and deserted, the air smelling of old, dusty, moldy books. The hundreds of volumes littered the walls, titles of which were visible in the darkness, the golden etched bindings glowed in the darkness. Her usual table, the one closest to the restricted section and out of the view of the overgrown vulture, Madam Pince, was empty.
Now he began to get angry. Didn't she think of anyone beside herself? She knew she would be missed and yet she still decided to leave. He clutched the limp cloak he held in his hand, feeling the soft material compress under his fist. He walked quickly out of the library and out into the corridor.
She was most certainly not out on the quidditch pitch, he knew that for sure. She might have been in the prefect's quarters, but she normally avoided them. Even the other prefects frowned upon the Slytherins and she avoided the ridicule, not that she couldn't handle it of course. He headed for the only other place he thought she would be.the bathroom.
The corridors were almost peaceful that night, but the stomps of his dragon- hide boots broke the silence. The portraits all frowned and shook their fingers at him as he glided through the dark halls. A few suits of armor decided to tell him off, but he shut their visors and muttered furious swears in their helmets. The bathroom was near, he knew it, but he was not sure what the password was. Probably something in Latin, the prefects loved to seem smarter than the other students, so they thought up encouraging passwords in languages people rarely knew. The previous month it had been in Gobbledegook, something about the sun never setting on some bloody day.
There were two statues, across from each other. One was an odd looking man who looked like he was lost, the inscription read 'Boris the Bewildered.' The one across from Boris read 'Armando Dippet, headmaster.' Assuming it was the statue of Dippet, he walked slowly up to it and muttered a few of the Latin phrases Xanne had ever told him.
"Er.Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus," he quietly recited the school motto. The statue did not budge. "Tempus Fugit, Cave quid dicis quando et cui.Fluctuat nec Mertigur."
On the last quote, a door behind him creaked open. He looked at the door, chuckling slightly. Boris the Bewildered, who would've thought the prefects would house their bathroom behind him. It seemed as if it was beckoning to him and that's when he knew that she must be in there.
"It is tossed by the waves but does not sink," he muttered under his breath, it was the translation of the password in English. It was not a wise decision on their part to use it. Xanne even had it tattooed on her left forearm, where a Dark Mark would be on a death eater. She thought it was rebellious, he thought it was sexy and often ran his fingers over it at intimate moments.
In his pondering, quite a bit of time had passed and the door closed once again. He scowled, hoping he would actually find her in there and muttered the password one more time before peering into the dark Greek fashioned bathroom.
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