In The Darkness
The hair was in the way again. Useless dirty blonde hair. Tainted hair. Tainted by blood. Her blood.
Move it. Remove it. Out of the way.
Carry on working, doing what you were doing.
Ignore the pain. Ignore the isolation. Ignore the ignorant. Ignore yourself.
"Miss Parkinson, name me one ingredient that you need to make the de- amnesia potion."
"Leaf of nightshade." The answer was automatic, robotic. But her eyes looked up. Looked at Professor Snape.
She vaguely wondered what colour her eyes were. If she wanted to be romantic, to feel special, she could say black. But eyes were never black, were they? What shade of brown were they, then? Not chocolate brown, not warm brown or red brown. Cold brown? Or maybe, out of spite, when she was dead, she'd find out it was only dark brown.
She looked back at Harry Potter. She'd stared at him for the whole lesson. Why? Why did she do it? She didn't know why. Harry didn't know why. Did God know why?
She stood up automatically, paired up with Dean Thomas. To improve relationships between houses. She moved towards him. Eyes bright? Did she look alert? She wasn't. She wsn't alert.
She glanced at Draco. Draco Malfoy. He had white-blonde hair. It looked like gold in the sunlight. It looked silver in the moonlight. He was special.
She looked at Harry. Draco's archrival. Were they enemies? Or only rivals? His hair was black. Darkness black? Perhaps. Possibly. Probably. His eyes were emerald green. He was special.
She looked at Dean Thomas. She didn't know much about him. But then, she felt like she didn't know much at all. In what way was he special? He was special. She knew it. But how? She'll have to find out.
"Hi." It was short, staccato. It seemed unsure. Strong intonations of suspicion. But hints of doubt. Did he think she wasn't evil? Or what Gryffindors thought evil was? He thought she wasn't evil.
Pansy Parkinson smiled in her mind. No outward signs of such thought were shown. It was a mask. A blank mask. A numb mask. But she replied. Automatically. Robotically.
"Hi." She said. And they got to work. Making the potion.
"So.erm.when is your birthday?" Dean was ready to smack his forehead against the wall. What a stupid question to ask. Oh well. He mentally shrugged, and then gave Pansy Parkinson a shy smile. It didn't matter. He was just trying to be friendly, and if people didn't like that, well.it didn't matter, anyway. He'd still be friendly.
"HHHH18th of June." He was surprised to receive an answer, and much less, such a calm answer. He had expected to smirk and start sniggering, or something like that.
"Oh.oh, mine's 29th of July. I'm a Leo. And you must be.a Gemini?" Seeing her nod, he smiled shyly again, and said, "I do astrology, you see, so, I knew." He knew he was being stupid, but he just wanted to explain his intention of asking. Although he hadn't exactly done that.
"I guess we'll be paired off in Transfiguration, too. That's what happened with the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws."
"Yes, probably." All said automatically. She didn't think about the question. She only answered.
Dean was puzzled by this Slytherin. She didn't seem particularly nasty, but she wasn't open, or very friendly. He thought about this for a while, through the lesson, and finally put it down to her being a Slytherin. She probably wasn't used to people being friendly, he mused.
And then, they had finished making the potion, and it was almost the end of the lesson.
'Have I just spend most of lesson thinking about Pansy Parkinson?' Dean was surprised, but not disgusted.
He turned to look at Pansy Parkinson, but she had already turned her back and was walking to her seat. Draco's eyes followed her.
[ominous music] what will happen next? Ooh, does this qualify as a cliffhanger? [snigger snigger] Please read and review. I haven't written a H.P. fanfic, in ages, so please remind, is Dean Thomas the Irish Gryffindor?
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, J.K.Rowling does, and that's about it really. (
The hair was in the way again. Useless dirty blonde hair. Tainted hair. Tainted by blood. Her blood.
Move it. Remove it. Out of the way.
Carry on working, doing what you were doing.
Ignore the pain. Ignore the isolation. Ignore the ignorant. Ignore yourself.
"Miss Parkinson, name me one ingredient that you need to make the de- amnesia potion."
"Leaf of nightshade." The answer was automatic, robotic. But her eyes looked up. Looked at Professor Snape.
She vaguely wondered what colour her eyes were. If she wanted to be romantic, to feel special, she could say black. But eyes were never black, were they? What shade of brown were they, then? Not chocolate brown, not warm brown or red brown. Cold brown? Or maybe, out of spite, when she was dead, she'd find out it was only dark brown.
She looked back at Harry Potter. She'd stared at him for the whole lesson. Why? Why did she do it? She didn't know why. Harry didn't know why. Did God know why?
She stood up automatically, paired up with Dean Thomas. To improve relationships between houses. She moved towards him. Eyes bright? Did she look alert? She wasn't. She wsn't alert.
She glanced at Draco. Draco Malfoy. He had white-blonde hair. It looked like gold in the sunlight. It looked silver in the moonlight. He was special.
She looked at Harry. Draco's archrival. Were they enemies? Or only rivals? His hair was black. Darkness black? Perhaps. Possibly. Probably. His eyes were emerald green. He was special.
She looked at Dean Thomas. She didn't know much about him. But then, she felt like she didn't know much at all. In what way was he special? He was special. She knew it. But how? She'll have to find out.
"Hi." It was short, staccato. It seemed unsure. Strong intonations of suspicion. But hints of doubt. Did he think she wasn't evil? Or what Gryffindors thought evil was? He thought she wasn't evil.
Pansy Parkinson smiled in her mind. No outward signs of such thought were shown. It was a mask. A blank mask. A numb mask. But she replied. Automatically. Robotically.
"Hi." She said. And they got to work. Making the potion.
"So.erm.when is your birthday?" Dean was ready to smack his forehead against the wall. What a stupid question to ask. Oh well. He mentally shrugged, and then gave Pansy Parkinson a shy smile. It didn't matter. He was just trying to be friendly, and if people didn't like that, well.it didn't matter, anyway. He'd still be friendly.
"HHHH18th of June." He was surprised to receive an answer, and much less, such a calm answer. He had expected to smirk and start sniggering, or something like that.
"Oh.oh, mine's 29th of July. I'm a Leo. And you must be.a Gemini?" Seeing her nod, he smiled shyly again, and said, "I do astrology, you see, so, I knew." He knew he was being stupid, but he just wanted to explain his intention of asking. Although he hadn't exactly done that.
"I guess we'll be paired off in Transfiguration, too. That's what happened with the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws."
"Yes, probably." All said automatically. She didn't think about the question. She only answered.
Dean was puzzled by this Slytherin. She didn't seem particularly nasty, but she wasn't open, or very friendly. He thought about this for a while, through the lesson, and finally put it down to her being a Slytherin. She probably wasn't used to people being friendly, he mused.
And then, they had finished making the potion, and it was almost the end of the lesson.
'Have I just spend most of lesson thinking about Pansy Parkinson?' Dean was surprised, but not disgusted.
He turned to look at Pansy Parkinson, but she had already turned her back and was walking to her seat. Draco's eyes followed her.
[ominous music] what will happen next? Ooh, does this qualify as a cliffhanger? [snigger snigger] Please read and review. I haven't written a H.P. fanfic, in ages, so please remind, is Dean Thomas the Irish Gryffindor?
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, J.K.Rowling does, and that's about it really. (