Chapter Five: Cigarettes and Foul Play (Hell WEEK!)
"Yeah, you showed up!" Tara shouted, she stood in Dante's embrace at the top of the North Tower.
Annie pulled out a box of cigarettes, a lighter, a bag of pretzels, and her incense case (which held vanilla incense). Dante and Tara both took a light, while Tara mouthed "thank you".
"No problem." Annie said leaning back on the edge of the tower.
"It's sort of funny," Tara spoke shattering the silence as Dante managed to light the incense with one hand.
"What?" Annie asked.
"Us, well not you, they already expect the worst from you, Nie, but me and Dante, well they'd have a huge laugh." Tara finished, staring into Dante's purple eyes. Complex spell, he says, contacts, more like it.
"Ah well, you two, do make an adorable couple though." Annie said, watching them. It reminded her of Toni.
"That brings up another question." Dante said softly.
"What?"
"Has Toni written you lately?" He had something up his sleeve and Annie wanted to find out.
"Why?"
"Because Annie its time to find you a new guy." Dante remarked his purple eyes sparkling.
They've got to be contacts.
She looked to Tara, for some help as she sucked on her cigarette. She just nodded her pretty little red head.
"Oh shit."
Professor Flickwick's Charms classroom was full of excitement and laughter, and even Ron had come out of his unusually low spirits at the moment to mutter a joke or two.
"Oh look!" Hermione exclaimed,"Here come our tests."
Papers fluttered to the right person, as Professor Flickwick magically passed back all the tests.
Ron absent mindedly picked up the paper, that had landed in front of him.
*F*
I failed my charms test, and it's my best class! Can this day get any worse?
It was one of those nights that one particularly didn't want to be out in, because of the things that are known to dark corner. A light breeze drifted through the stone castle making a whispering, moaning sound. This was Annie's favorite time of the day. She sat at a desk in the Common Room, with a manuscript, notebook, ink and quill. The wind and the scratching of her quill, were the only sounds to be heard.
The Phoenix Dawn Star
To the Beholder take note:
Defixus
Annie furrowed her brow, had she found something worth while, it sure seemed like it. She still had the history to translate. The words intrigued her. In the beholder's note it was written, as if a warning; it was the most powerful spell in the world. But if that was the case why had it been forgotten? She really didn't want to think about it anymore, it made her head spin. It made her feel, so damn fucked up she wanted to scream. But, I am so damn fucked up. She picked up the glass, downing the water and the pill with it. She had the day to deal with in the morning.
The Potions classroom was unusually quiet as I took my seat next to Harry. Snape was looking quite happy with himself. It looked like another lecture day which would probably ended with them actually having to do something. So I took out some parchment for some notes. Snape started class just as the last of the students entered the classroom. Snape started in on a long winded lecture of Antidotes. I hate this class. I hate it more than anything. Did I mention I HATE this class. Taking notes is not my thing, so after the first five minutes I was soon bored out of my mind and started to show. When I was finished, seeing what I had drawn, I cursed.
"Merlin fucking hell!"
Before I had realized I had disclosed it out loud.
Snape eyed me madly, "Mr. Weasley that language is unexceptable, sixty points from Gryffindor. If I hear that language again, out of any of you, I'll double it."
I could feel my face beat bright red, blending with my hair. I tried to buried my self in my chair. I slid as far into my seat as I could. Damn it.
The rest of class was a nightmare, or for that matter the rest of the week.
"Another Sixty Points from Gryffindor!"
"But Professor...." Hermione was the first to speak, I was too swelled up with rage.
"He didn't blow it up." she muttered but what was the use.
How come I got the unlucky card. Being yelled at by Snape two times in one day really makes you feel good, doesn't it. Why?
The haze of the next three days, melted into one. I don't remember details, all I do remember is that I felt sick, weak, ill-fated and ineffective. I think McGonagall yelled at me once, it sounded sort of like this. "Mr. Weasley it is supposed to be a butterfly not a cat fur coin purse. Where is your brain? I daresay you've miss placed it." Getting yelled at by Snape is okay, because it's expected but by McGonagall, I really must be horrible. I tried to talk with Hermione, but she had secluded herself in the Library and every time I caught up to her, her answer was somewhere along the lines of, 'Ron, I'm sorry but I do actually do my homework.' Thursday, night I found Harry alone in the Common Room after Quidditch Practice. We needed to talk or rather I needed to talk to someone.
"Harry," I said tentatively.
One light was one hanging directly over the desk, illuminating just him. His nose was buried in a large book, rather half his face was, which was piled on some more large books. His untidy hair was covering his face, but I could her him mumbling to himself.
Finally after standing there for what felt like ten minutes (probably two), he looked up.
"Oh...hey Ron." And plasted himself to the book again.
"Can we talk Harry?" I asked, wanting to grab him by the next and yank his brain back to the now.
"Umm...sure." He didn't even raise his eyes, it was if he hadn't really heard me and was on default. A few more uncomfortable seconds past between us. I shifted tedious from foot to foot.
"Can we talk NOW." I pleaded, emphasizing the NOW.
"Now...uhh. What exactly do you want to talk about, because I am trying to figure out a game strategy against Ravenclaw. They got quiet a good keeper, so...." I left him there muttering on and on about Quidditch. I don't even think he knew I left, or was even there.
I trudged up to my bed, plunging face flat into.
Hermione doesn't talk to me, my teachers constantly are yelling at me, and even Harry is not talking, but going on about his stupid Quidditch as if nothing was wrong, as if I didn't exist. I should just kill myself now, and get it over with.
Professor Snape had asked her to come down to the dungeons after her last class. But her last class just happened to be Quidditch practice. So at a frantic run, Annie ran and slid through the hallways, until she found herself in the Potions classroom. Three hours late, well at least three hours later than expected.
"Professor."
The classroom was still lit, but the door to his office was still open.
"Professor, sorry I was late. Quidditch practice is suck a waste of time."
She looked curiously around for the tall, black haired, long nosed teacher.
"Are you always this late." Professor Snape appeared out of his office, looking quite different. You could almost say it was bordering on friendly.
"I'm afraid I am, it's a ghastly trait I know. But as they say time flies when your having fun." She leaned back against one of the desks.
"You are probably wondering why you are here." Snape stated, wiping his hands off, on a clean towel, probably the only clean thing in the place.
"Yes..., that would be one thing I am wondering." Annie wanted to get to the bottom of whatever it was and go up to the North Tower, she hadn't been there all day, and she was close to verging on withdrawal symptoms.
"Well, don't take this to heart to much, I am not a patronizing person. You are a very good potions student, actually one of the best I've had, and not to mention you resemble an old friend of mine. Well, what I am trying to say Ms. Whiting, is that I give you free reign of my potion's classroom, as I am sure you would like to do some experimenting." Snape explained, but instead of seeing a young girl with dark hair and eyes, he saw a boy with long dark hair and eyes with a smirking smile playing on his lips. Mordry...why does this pretty girl remind me so much of you.
Luckily, Annie spoke first, Snape couldn't find his voice, and even if he wanted to, he wouldn't know where to look for it.
"Well, thank you Professor. I assure you, this privilege will come to great use. Well, I am off." And she turned and fled fleeting down the hall, leaving Snape with his thoughts of two young boys, brothers almost, laughing about a new potion they'd discovered, or a new trick, or a new gadget, new spell, new curse, new life, new anything.
It's Friday and it's Potions, once more. Did I mention I hate this class? I feel totally miserable. No one talks to me, not even Harry. Plus, on top of that, I can't get anything right. My eyes begin to prick, as if I am going to cry for my uselessness. In the pit of my stomach, I can feel a sour churning swelling even into my mouth. I am useless and this class is useless. Falling asleep is the better alternative. My face lays sideways against the rough parchment, and my arms are covering my head. I didn't even know I had actually fallen asleep, until a few minutes after the fact. It is so much better than listening to Snape rattle on, about something I don't know or care to think one, solitary moment about. Life is not a box of chocolates, life is not a bowl of cherries, life is hell, or rather purgatory depending on how you look at it. And right now I am in the deepest pit of hell and wanting to sick lower into its quagmire. My brothers are all stars, my parents adore them. Harry's got Voldemort to watch out for, Sirius to talk to, and Quidditch, Hermione's got school, Seamus and Dean, well forget about them, Ginny too busy with her own life. No one really cares, do they.
"Mr. Weasley, wake up! Sleeping in class, I see."
I started at the sound of Professor Snape's savage like voice.
He caught me, damn my asinine luck.
I felt my face start to blush, I didn't care. I was too mad at the world and him, to truly care, that it was the third time Snape had yelled at me in the last week. Third times a charm, right? Yeah, hell, who cares for phony aphorisms anyway.
Snape stared at me for a few moments, before a wave of fury flashed in his eyes.
"Detention I think..."
There was no use arguing, but that didn't mean that I didn't want to bash his head in.
"and...fifty points from Gryffindor for SLEEPING." I cringed and did the stupidest thing I had done all week. I bolted.
I don't know how I found this room, but it is large, empty and quiet. Quiet is always good. I don't know how long I have been up her, more like five hours, since I fell asleep as soon as I found it. I feel the sharp pricking of the tears, that threaten to spill. Before I fell into unconsciousness again, I thought. No one really cares.
A flood of emotions fill me and they are all damning. I am idiotic, not wanted, stupid, careless, and extremely messed up. Why can't I just do something right. A wave of fury with myself spill over with the frosty tears that have now begun to flow. One main thought sticks and congealates in my mind, I am not wanted by anyone or anything. This agonizing ache in my heart grows each second, I have no control. Yet there must be some way out some way I can end this horridity. I just want to end it, somehow, some way. It's funny, and I laugh. Because there in the boy's bathroom. There is no turning back.