DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns the setting and everything that you see in the Harry Potter books. Thanks to Rowling for a brilliant world to write of. However, I do own a few original characters and ideas. If anything in here seems related to another story/fanfic, sorry! It's really not.
A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed!!!
I'm not telling: Hehe, I don't plan on stopping for a long time! It's really fun!
White-Lily-Blossom: Thanks so much for being so careful and giving me constructive stuff!! Yeah, I probably have some mistakes about Fiona, because at first she was supposed to be Faye's twin sister... and then the story underwent major reconstruction, so I wasn't as careful as I was supposed to be. THANKS!!
StudenWriter176: Lol, kellogs frosted flakes...? Sorry, but I couldn't resist trying Sirius's POV!!
I love CHEESECAKE: Yeah, I'm trying to get around to changing some things, but I can't seem to find the freaking time! -- Lol, you want someone to slap your butt?? I see where your mind lies.... Lol!
Joy: Glad you like it! If you didn't... bwahahahahahahaha!! Don't worry. I'd still go to your funeral!!
dewey: Er... about that... hehe... it won't happen for some time!! Sorry if I'm putting your happiness on hold!
lies!: Stupid, I totally did! I'm updating, aren't I?
EW4eva: Hehe, am I too predictable?? Maybe I shouldn't have made her diary so much of a deal.
Me: Yay!! I'm so proud that you're reviewing for me!! Hehe, yeah, the plot is the normal guy/girl, but I tried to make it as interesting as possible! Thanks—THANKS—for the constructive criticism! I love it when people really want my story to improve!! Ahh... I feel sorry for Severus... T-T Poor guy. But I still have my priorities straight! And sorry, I don't read slash. I LOVE your long review!! I LOVE IT!! And I like seeing Sirius squirm, too!! You've been a GREAT help!! Review for stories often! It really makes people happy! When I saw your long review, I was like, "WOW! I LOVE THIS PERSON!"
Jessie8159: Thanks for the review!!
Markella: I really hate it, too! It makes me think, "Oh, but that was such a good story!" I'm trying to update fast, but I can't seem to get around schoolwork and everything.
Amanda031: It's your favorite story!! Awww, thanks!
Aly: Ohh!! Hehe, aren't you glad I posted it there as well?
Nimbio: Yay!! You lost sleep over me!! Though it might seem a little gross from another perspective... lol!
Lauren321: THANKS for all your reviews!! I love people who really review for every chapter, because I worked so hard on each one!! I hope you post your story soon!!
Crystal-lightning41: Yup, that was a really long review!! Yay, people who don't think Severus is an entirely bad guy!!
Cain's snake: You brought up a very good point. I never saw that before... lol! And yes, I think you were the first one to say that! DD
Pyro-3289: Ohh, I like your name!! Ok, sorry. I like Latin. You read it at the other site, too??
Weirddog235: Hehe, I'm afraid you'll have to go insane... jkjk. Well, personally, I don't like it if there are too many mistakes in chapters, because it's thrown me off reading other people's stories, and I don't want the same thing to happen to mine.
Ok, that's it! THANKS to all of you who reviewed! Here's the chapter!!
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---Chapter Eight: Complicated Apologies---
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"Hey, Severus," I said warily, putting down my violin quickly, lest he laugh at me for playing.
He looked at me impassively from behind a curtain of greasy black hair. "Why are you up here? What got you so upset that you just waltzed right past me without noticing anything?"
I shrugged, not wanting to talk about, or I'd surely break out in anger again. "Black and his stupid antics, as usual. Why are you up here?"
Severus shrugged as well. "Troubles with my… associates." I didn't push him, since he hadn't pushed me. I didn't like it when people nosed and persistently tried to find out about my affairs, so I would do other people the courtesy of not nosing into theirs. Instead, we just leaned against the balcony rail in a companionable silence, staring out over the silent Hogwarts grounds and watching the sun slowly rise and spread a golden glow all around.
Just as the sunlight crept up to shine on my face, Severus moved.
"I should be getting back," he muttered.
"Leaving already?" I joked, trying to lighten the mood. "I'd almost think that you didn't want to be with me."
He looked very uncomfortable. I felt bad for making him feel so awkward and put on the spot.
"Oh, never mind. That was a silly question," I said, returning to gazing out over the grounds. "Could you at least do me a favor?"
"Depends on what it is," Severus said.
"Always the suspicious one, huh?" I laughed. "Don't tell anyone that I like to play the violin. It's sort of embarrassing, you know what I mean?"
"Yeah," he said, with none of the usual coldness in his voice. "But you're good at it."
I looked over at him, arching an eyebrow. "I don't take lessons, and I never had. I don't think I'm very good compared to a lot of other people."
"Playing an instrument isn't all about knowing and being able to play the notes," Severus said. "If you can put your whole spirit into doing something, and be happy doing it… then that is truly playing."
I gaped at him. Severus, of all people, spouting wise words? Well, at least that was more plausible than Black spouting wise words.
He looked away. "You're lucky you have something that you like so much. In fact, you're lucky you have all that you do," he said, his face inscrutable and his black eyes studying me. "I—" he broke off.
"You don't have to tell me," I said, deciding to help him out a bit. "And thanks for saying that. You're right."
Severus nodded at me curtly and turned to leave.
"Hey, wait!" I called out on impulse. He paused. "We're friends, right?" The question had been bugging me for a long time. Severus didn't seem to hate me, and yet he didn't seem to like me all that much either.
The question seemed to take him by surprise. He looked back at me, obviously trying to gauge what I meant by asking him the question. After a moment, Severus let a small smile escape onto his face.
"Yes, I suppose we are friends, Faye," he said finally, before exiting the tower. I turned my head back and closed my eyes, feeling the cool morning breeze against my face. I liked Severus Snape. I didn't get why most people harbored a dislike for him. He was perfectly decent, unlike some other people I happened to know.
And… I saw myself in him.
Severus didn't trust many people, and I had a feeling that his home life hadn't been very… pleasant. He had raised a wall around himself, a wall of indifference and coldness and bitterness… all to protect himself from any more pain. Would I have become as distant as him if Andrew hadn't been there for me? Most probably. That was why I knew that Severus needed a friend.
Convinced that I was doing some good in the world, I picked up my violin once again and lost myself in the music. I didn't want to think about Black for a very long time. I'd put it off as long as I could. I disregarded what Remus had said to me about Black being truly sorry. I had been violated! Just the memory of that… kiss… my made insides coil in shame and anger. Why had Black gone and done this? Why?
Later that day, while I was eating lunch with Grace, Sirius Black walked up to me. I had been dreading this.
"Can I… um… speak to you for a moment? In…er… private?" Black asked. Grace looked up at him in confusion, and then slowly looked back at me with a questioning look.
I glared at him, but I didn't want to make another scene in the Great Hall and have all the teachers swooping down on me to hand out waiting detentions. I grabbed my books and followed him, muttering a quick excuse to Grace.
He led me to an empty classroom, and he nervously shut the door. I glared at him all the while, daring him to make a move on me.
"This had better be good," I all but snarled. He winced and looked down at the ground; he was rubbing the cheek I had slapped the night before. I was glad to see that it was still red and slightly puffy.
"Um… listen. I'm… uh… about last night… I… I'm really sorry about yesterday," he said in a hurry.
"Oh, is that all you can say?" I spat out. "Apology not accepted!"
"But I am sorry!" Black said, looking up at me with pleading eyes. I ignored it. I suspected that that look had gotten him out of trouble loads of times.
"Look, Black," I hissed, striding forward and pointing a finger at his nose. "I thought you were decent, the kind of person who wouldn't take advantage of a girl. WELL I WAS WRONG, WASN'T I??" Black winced. "Now are you going to give me a better explanation than that?"
"Uh… well… I just… slipped," Black said uneasily.
"Slipped? Slipped?! As that all you can say?" I yelled, furious. "You—foul—! After I told you about my family, you still think I can stand the touch of another boy, let alone—what--what you did? I trusted you that far! Hah, trust. You asked me for mine, and yet you can never even hope to keep it!"
"Prewitt, listen—I!" Black tried to intervene.
"No! You listen!" I cut him off coldly. "You might be sincere about this apology, I don't know. All you have to do to win back my blasted trust is show that you are sincere."
"I'm sorry," he said immediately. What a dork. Did he think that that would win me over?
"That's what you would say!" I snapped. "I told you to show me! Actions speak louder than words, Black."
"Bu—!" he tried again.
"Just shut up," I said wearily. "I'm giving you a chance to earn my forgiveness."
"Why?" he asked. I frowned. It was a hard question. I wasn't exactly sure why I was giving him a chance.
"Because I think that you might actually be a person underneath, though your exterior can really throw a lot of people off," I finally said. "Don't blow it, Black." With that, I picked up my bag and strode over to the door, jerking it open and practically running out of the room.
I was so stupid. Why did I tell him to do that? What was I, crazy? And what did I want him to show me, anyway? I shook my head angrily. Oh, well. It was done. There was no way I was going to call it off now that I had started it. And I was still so angry at him! Besides, he would probably get tired of me and go off and chase his girls, forgetting that he had ever… kissed—ugh!—me. That was like him. He'd probably never go through the trouble of proving that he was decent, and he'd show me that I was right about him.
--- Sirius's POV---
I gaped after Prewitt's retreating back. The door slammed. She wanted me to show her that I was sorry? How was I supposed to do that? I already said that I was sorry. I had hardly ever apologized to anyone, even when I knew I was wrong! What more did she want?
Fuming, I spent the rest of the day sneaking glances at Prewitt. She didn't even glance my way once. Not once! Oh, tons of girls giggled and batted their eyelashes at me, but she didn't even bother to bestow one glance, however cold or calculating it might have been, at me. What made it worse was that she talked to Snape during Potions! Like, talked to him in a friendly manner! She couldn't stand me, and yet she could stand that slimy git! It made me wonder what the world was coming to.
But as I stared at Prewitt's back all throughout Transfiguration, our last class of the day, all those less-than-complimentary thoughts about her melted from my mind. She just looked so… captivating… sitting there and glaring murderously at the frog she was supposed to be turning into a newt, as if glaring at it would actually make it become a newt. The sunlight from the window shone on her dark hair, illuminating her face and the less-than-happy, almost murderous expression on it…. I couldn't understand how someone could look so angry and beautiful and enchanting at the same time.
"Oy, Padfoot," I heard James whisper, and a small note struck my forehead.
I winced and snapped out of my reverie to look at the note. I glanced at McGonagall cautiously before unfolding it.
Yo, Padfoot. You should really stop ogling at Prewitt like that. You look like your eyes are about to pop out of your head.
It was James's handwriting. I shot a glare at him, only to see that he was sniggering in his palms.
Indignant, I slung back an angry retort.
I am not staring at her. It's you who stares at Evans all the time like a moonstruck cow, remember?
Remus looked at me disapprovingly as I aimed for James's head. Giving Remus an innocent smile, I flicked the note towards James, and watched him grab it up. Reveling in the flush that suffused his face, I leaned back comfortably in my chair, seeing Delia White smile at me shyly. I grinned back at her, and she turned around abruptly in her seat, obviously embarrassed. Now if only Prewitt could have the same reaction….
The note struck me on the side of my head this time. I darted another glance towards McGonagall, and then I bent over the note.
I do not! And besides, I wasn't the one who made the mistake of kissing the girl that his hates his guts.
I glared at James while he smirked at me triumphantly. I heard McGonagall clear her throat rather loudly, and I quit looking at James and directed my gaze back to her innocently. After a moment, she went on with the lesson, allowing me to scribble on the note again.
You almost got me caught, you nitwit!
I flung it back at James despite Remus's accusing gaze.
Don't tell me you're afraid of an old bat like her. Come on, she's getting old and senile. I'll bet her hearing's as bad as a bumbling troll.
I grinned and hurriedly scribbled I reply. I loved insulting teachers.
Yeah. Not to mention
At this point, a shadow had fallen across my desk. I looked up hurriedly, trying to hide the note, but I knew it was too late. McGonagall was standing right by my next, staring down at me sternly.
I managed a cheeky grin. "What brings you to my desk, fair teacher?" I asked, trying on my puppy-dog face.
The face didn't work for McGonagall. Almost nothing did. She snatched up my note without ceremony, and I cringed as she read it.
"Well, now," McGonagall said finally, staring down at me. From the corner of my eye, I saw all of my friends fighting to hold their laughter in.
"Detention?" I asked.
"Detention," she confirmed.
"Ah, well," I said, "That makes it only forty-five more detentions before I break the school record! Thanks, Professor!" I grinned at her, feeling happy at the disgruntled expression on her face.
The whole class was laughing, and Prewitt even turned around in her seat to look on. I felt her golden gaze on me immediately. But as soon as I grinned at her, she lost her pretty smile and turned back towards the front. Girls. They're so impossible. And here I thought that I had most of them pinned down. I just couldn't pin Prewitt down. But then again, Prewitt wasn't "most girls." She was different.
As soon as Professor McGonagall dismissed us, I trudged back towards the Great Hall to have some dinner with my friends, barely listening to their conversation about Snape. I guess this was unusual for me, as I always love playing pranks on that slimy coward, and my friends noticed.
"Hey, Sirius," Remus said sharply. "What's up?"
"Nothing much," I sighed, sitting on a seat and letting my head fall with a bang onto the tabletop.
"Whoa," James said, looking alarmed. "Why are you so down today? Where's the playful, pranky, playboy, not serious Sirius?"
"I think Prewitt stamped him out," I grumbled, glancing down the table to where Prewitt was sitting with Grace, chatting away.
"Didn't you apologize?" Peter asked, frowning.
"Yes!" I said with renewed energy, fueled from resentment. "I did apologize! And you know what she did?"
"Er… no," James answered.
"She yelled at me a bit more, and then she said that I have to show her that I'm sorry!" I said with frustration. "What's that supposed to mean? How am I supposed to show her?"
"Well, it's obvious that she doesn't think you're sincere," Remus smiled. I sighed with exasperation.
"Well, show her, show her…" I mumbled. "How about I snog her again and call it love?"
"Yes!" James cried. "That's perfect!"
"No!" Remus said cuttingly with a disgusted look at us both. "You have to do sweet things!"
"What could be sweeter than a kiss?" I wondered out loud. "Besides, she said that 'actions speak louder than words.' Kissing is an action!"
"From her reaction to the last time you snogged her, I don't think that she appreciates that action very much," Remus said delicately. I winced at the memory.
"Than what do you suggest I do?" I asked Remus.
"Well, most girls like flowers," Remus said thoughtfully.
"If most girls like flowers, than she probably won't," I grumbled. "She'd probably like hippogriff dung instead."
"And I think if you make it flashy enough, she might actually be flattered," he continued without heeding my warning.
"She won't fall for anything like that," I scoffed.
"Then what would you suggest?" Remus retorted.
"I know!" I cried, a brilliant idea popping into my brilliant mind. "She's bound to keep a diary, right?"
"Oh, no. Padfoot, don't you dare," Remus groaned.
"Brilliant, Sirius, brilliant!" James cried. "She'll definitely put whatever she wants most in there! I'll sneak in with you!"
"No! If she catches you, then two heads will roll!" Remus said with exasperation. "And then she'll definitely forgive you! God, how many girls would appreciate you going through her personal diary?"
"Well, I could name quite a few," I said thoughtfully. "Kelsey Hadley."
"Leah Cricklin," James hopped in. "She's been drooling over you for ages."
I frowned. "Isn't she Prewitt's friend?"
"I don't know," Peter piped up. "It doesn't look as though they like each other much."
I shrugged. "Anyways, I know for a fact that Millie Henderson would. And that Hufflepuff… erm… Prissy Carlson."
"That particular worshiper would be more than happy to let you go through more than just her diary," James said while spooning potatoes onto his plate.
"My point is," Remus cut in, "Faye wouldn't appreciate it, would she?"
"But I'm only going to be finding out what she likes best so I can properly apologize to her? Maybe she likes chocolates… I don't know! That's what I need to find out!" I protested. "Where's the harm in that?"
"Hear, hear!" James cried enthusiastically.
Remus sighed in defeat. "Why do I even bother trying to talk sense into you…?"
"I dunno," I replied cheerily.
"Let's do it tonight," James whispered.
"You only want to go through Lily Evans's stuff," I rolled my eyes.
"What's wrong with that?" James asked indignantly.
I thought about it a bit and shrugged. "Nothing, I guess."
Remus shot us both a disgusted look.
The rest of the day inched away too slowly for my liking. At eight, once James and I had ascertained that every girl in the same dorm as Prewitt was down in the common room, we raced up to my room to grab James's Invisibility Cloak. We quietly snuck up the girls' staircase, cleverly putting a temporary Deactivation Charm onto the stairs so that they wouldn't turn into a slide and scream like a banshee.
"We're too smart," I whispered while James fervently agreed.
"Ahh! Keep your hands to yourself!" James hissed after a moment. I rolled my eyes.
"Well, sorry. It's a bit cramped under the cloak," I grumbled back. "It's not as if you keep your hands to yourself, you know. Like that!" I pushed his hands roughly away from a particularly private area.
We kept on bickering until we reached the sixth years' dorm. James pushed open the door and we piled inside while I closed the door securely. I didn't lock it; if a girl were to try to come in here only to find the door locked, she would know something was amiss and yell like a banshee, alerting all the other girls.
James whipped the cloak off me and excitedly went to inspect the beds, trying to guess which one was Lily Evans's.
"This one!" he cried, pointing to the unnaturally clean one. "It's obviously hers! She's got that neat thing going on!" I rolled my eyes at him while he started going to Evans's drawers.
"You aren't really looking for her underclothes, are you?" I asked, just out of curiosity.
"No!" James denied indignantly. "I'm only interested in the stuffing, thank you very much."
I, being the teenage boy I was, laughed. "Right you are, Prongsie."
"Of course," he replied, now going through Evans's bag. "Now… if only Evans keeps a diary… maybe she secretly likes me but doesn't want to admit it…."
That jerked me back to what I was supposed to be doing. I hurriedly spotted Prewitt's trunk—I recognized the trunk that she had brought with her while visiting her family. Now for that diary that I was sure she had. I'd seen her writing in a plain blue book before…. I suddenly felt slightly guilty for doing this. But then the more sensible part of my brain kicked in, telling me that I only wanted to find out what Prewitt liked so that I could apologize to her properly. That settled, I went back to searching through her trunk.
I spotted two plain blue books under her Divination book. Eureka! I glanced at James, only to see that he was sniffing Evans's bed enthusiastically. I glanced back at the two books. Which one was her diary? Taking a wild guess, I pulled one out randomly, grinning at the lock on it. I wasn't a wizard for nothing! I took out my wand and whispered, "Alohomora!" and the lock clicked open.
It was filled with Prewitt's curly scrawl. The beginning dates were almost from four years ago. The first page was filled with her handwriting, small and miniscule and cramped, looking as if it'd been formed with a shaky hand. My curiosity peaked. I had to see what had prompted her to keep a diary.
June 14, 1972Nobody knows me. Nobody can possibly understand what my life is like. I feel like the only one in the world I can count on is me, myself, and I. Faye Prewitt. That feeling gets so oppressive sometimes, especially when I'm all alone in my room. I'm glad that I at least have this diary to vent some of my feelings.
Sometimes, I wish I could crawl out of my skin and be someone else, if only for a day. Sometimes, even Andrew can't comfort me, because I have never told him about the darkest part of my life. Sometimes, I wake up in the morning wishing that I'd died during the night.
Correction: sometimes all the time.
And the people responsible for making me feel this way about my damn life are none other than my own family. My real mother, Susan Prewitt, died giving birth to me, so I've never known her. My father, Henry Prewitt, remarried after my mother's death, to a woman called Diana Cauldings and had another daughter, my younger, half-sister, Fiona. That must have been the day my life changed forever… for the worst. Because of Diana's influence or something unknown to me, my dad started to favor Fiona over me. They all did. I suppose it was because Fiona was the very image of an angel, with her blonde hair and blue eyes, while I must have been the perfect reincarnation of the devil, with my dark hair and weird, gold eyes. I must have gotten that from my mother; I saw one picture of her once, and I was glad to see that her eyes were as golden as mine.
When I was in fourth grade, my dad became in alcohol addict, coming home every night stinking of stale drink. That was when he started beating me for no apparent reason. None at all. I suppose he just wanted a vent to his feelings, and I was the perfect candidate. After all, Fiona was off-limits; Diana cared about her. After the beatings started… I started to lose faith in boys, lose faith in life.
I could feel my throat constricting with horror. How did she live through this? How had she survived, let alone turn out like the smart, intelligent, witty, beautiful girl she was now? When Prewitt had told me about her family, I thought I'd understood… but this showed that I was wrong. I didn't understand half of it. I had never really been beaten by my family, though we loathed each other.
The beatings were terrible… but I couldn't bear it if anybody found out. It was my darkest secret, my deepest fear. It was the shame overshadowing my whole life. I had a hard time hiding all my bruises and marks from Andrew… but no one else seemed to care about me. I've always had to look after myself. I mostly avoid my family, choosing to eat meals after them… but I can't escape from Fiona. We go to the same school, for heaven's sake. She's always holds me in contempt… I don't know why. She takes whatever chance she gets to make fun of me, taunt me, flaunt all my faults in my face….
Ah, my half-sister, Fiona. Ah, no one wants me, Faye, if they can have Fiona. I have wavy black hair, golden eyes (though I'd like to think of it as a light brown), and pale skin while Fiona has the brightest golden hair and the bluest of eyes. She takes after Diana, while Dad used to say that I took after Susan, my own real mother.
I'm so ugly compared to Fiona. My hair is just a horrible tangled, black mess, and my eyes are completely yellow… strange looking. I'm so horrid-looking that I'd scare the living daylights out of half-blind gargoyles. Maybe that's why everyone likes Fiona so much better. At school, at home… it's always the same. It makes me feel better that I am slightly taller than Fiona's 5 feet 7 inches; I can at least look down on her.
I blinked in surprise at reading this. I'd known that Prewitt's dad used to beat her… and it had taken a major toll on her… she'd told me all of this before. And yet… reading this diary gave me a true insight on what kind of hellish life she used to lead. It almost made me sick to the stomach. And how could Prewitt not believe that she was pretty when anybody with eyes could see that she was gorgeous? This was all her family's fault… all their damn fault…. And Fiona… I can't believe I actually went out with a git like her.
I had to read more.
Hah, Fiona always thinks that she's so brilliant. She puts on a very convincing façade of being a sweet little angel with everybody. She tries to pretend like she cares. It's all for show. All she's ever wanted is to be popular and well liked, able to get any guy she might fancy. But it seems as if only I can see through her fake shell. But it doesn't really matter to me. If those stupid sheep students can't see 'Fee' for the liar she is, then it's their problem.
I've always stood in Fiona's shadow. It seems as if wherever I go, I can't escape it. It won't leave me alone; it won't just let me go. I used to try my hardest to strive to break free… but it seemed as if wherever I went, whatever I did, people always compared me to her. Fiona is more talented, more lovable, more sociable, smarter, just… better. In every way possible. She's perfect, in their eyes, at least. And me… I'm always told that I'm nothing compared to her. That's why I stopped trying a long time ago. There's just no point, when I know that I'll lose. We aren't even really sisters—more like strangers. I don't call her Fee, the way her friends do. In fact, I don't really call her anything at all.
Fiona was this… despicable? And I'd gone out with her? I felt sick to my stomach. I'd thought I could pick out the bad types—obviously I was wrong.
At least I have one friend that I can always count on. Andrew Lin. He is my best friend, mostly because we are both outcasts. But that doesn't matter to me. When we first met in fourth grade, I thought he was the gawkiest kid ever, with his rail-rod thin frame and lanky appearance. But we became fast friends, and, as he is the only real friend I have, best friends. I almost broke off our relationship when my dad started beating me, but somehow we got over the rough waters and remained steadfast and loyal friends.
I know I can trust Andrew, and yet I've never told him about my beatings. I'm just too afraid of how he'd react, how he'd treat me. We both love music; he can play the piano and guitar, and I can play them, plus violin. It's great—we always spend hours at his place fiddling with music or making up pranks. Luckily, we both turned out to be a witch and wizard; both of us go to Drake's Institute for Witches and Wizards. We are basically the nerds of Drake's Institution, and plenty of people pick on us for that reason. But to make up for that, Andrew and I were always very good at magic and thinking up satisfying revenges, and we'd always pull fantastic pranks on those who bully us. For that reason, we've always gotten into a lot of trouble, but it's always fun and always worth it. Besides, if we were to just lie down and take all the crap we get… it would show that we have no backbone. It was too bad for Fiona that she turned out to be a witch as well. We'd always managed to play satisfying tricks on her.
Andrew… Prewitt had mentioned him before. I'd never really thought about him, but this diary made everything very clear. Prewitt obviously held him in very high esteem. She had spent hours with him, known him since fourth grade, trusted him. I felt a coil of what I refused to acknowledge as jealousy in the pit of my stomach. I turned my thoughts away from this Andrew and admired the fact that Prewitt had been a prankster as well. Great. We had something in common.
I hide myself behind an exterior of sarcasm and nonchalance… so people won't hurt me. It's an automatic defense mechanism. Only around Andrew do I let it drop. I've learned how to build up a shield around me… living around Henry and Diana and Fiona will just drive any person to build a wall. Sometimes, when I wake up in the middle of the night, I would get off my bed and go sit at my window, watching the night and wishing… just wishing that I were someone else. Of course, that wish was never granted to me. Sometimes… I just wonder about life. It seems as if there's no point to it, no point at all. People live to die. So where's the harm if I go a little early…?
She had wanted to kill herself before…? The very thought of that made me queasy and frightened and angry—all at once.
I've just always been labeled as Fiona's sister, just "Fiona's dork sister." But I want to be known as Faye. That's who I really am. I want my father to stop beating me. I want Diana to stop favoring Fiona. I want my family to love me, like families are supposed to. My list of I-want's has never been fulfilled. When I was younger, I've always kept a spark of hope alive for that list. But then I learned that hope was for the weak.
Faye
I shook my head and flipped towards the end of the diary.
June 17, 1976Today I was beaten again. It seems as if Henry never ceases to drink, no matter how much of a toll it takes on him… and me. I hate him. I really do. I hate how he comes back every night stinking of stale drink, his clothes messed up, sinking raucous songs…. His moods vary with how well his gambling's fare. Today, it was obvious that he had lost quite a lot of money. I wish to be back at Drake's Institution; even though I was bullied even there, at least I would be away from Henry.
Henry stumbled in through the door at around one in the morning… and crashed directly up to my room. I wish I had a lock on the door…. He beat me so badly today that I'm surprised I'm still alive. I hurt all over. It hurts to even write this. He lashed me with his belt, and now I have bleeding gashes all over my back. It hurts so much that I can't help but let whimpers escape me. Which just goes to show how weak I am.
I felt anger…rage… indescribably fury. How could her own father do this to her? Why? It was disgusting.
I try to be hard, unmoving, and unbreakable. I've learned a lot from the past years:
There is no sympathy for anyone.
Crying is a weakness.
She had never cried in front of me… I remembered how she had been close to it, but she had never given in.
There is no line between family and enemy. To me, it is the same thing.
I know all these things… and yet it never ceases to hurt me whenever Henry comes home and hits me, whenever Diana shouts insults at me, whenever Fiona makes a sport of me in front of all her friends…. I have to be harder, harder like stone. Emotionless, cold… that way no one can ever hurt me.
Right now, I wish I could just crawl under the covers and fall asleep… fall asleep and never wake up, ever again. I want to just turn myself off, so then I won't have to feel this pain. I can feel the blood trickling down my back… I ache all over… my eyelids are drooping with tiredness.
This is like an unending nightmare. I hate them all. Henry and Diana and Fiona… they aren't my family. I don't have a family.
Faye
June 22, 1976I made fun of Fiona today. I don't know what spurred me to do it. I know that Diana'll just punish me once Fiona runs to her like the tattletale she is. But… the thought of bending down to Fiona, acknowledging her superiority over me… it makes me sick.
I did get in trouble. Now I won't even have a dinner to look forward to, and they locked me in my room. But it's no big deal. I'll just climb out of my window and go to Andrew's house or something.
That Andrew person again! How close were they, really? Prewitt hadn't mentioned any boyfriend….
But I know he can't help me. No one can help me but myself. He can't help me, he doesn't know me, he has never known me, the real me. The part of me that's a coward, the part of me that isn't anything like what I put up on the outside to keep everyone out. So… this is me. I'm too afraid to tell him about my home life—I don't trust him. And what friendship can last when there is no real trust?
I just can't find the energy to do anything. It seems that no matter how hard I fight, my 'family' just puts me down. More like slams me down, actually, and every time is harder than the last time. I don't know how much more of this I can take. I just don't want to live anymore. I just don't want to face the world again, day after day, knowing that all I have waiting for me is pain and animosity.
I can't stand this for much longer.
Faye
July 24, 1976They found out. By saying 'they' I mean the authorities. My P.E. teacher in my summer camp saw my bruises from my last beating, and unfortunately, a scab on my back broke and blood seeped through my shirt.
It's almost a relief. Now, I don't get anymore beatings, yells, shouts, insults, screams… I get three square meals in my stomach, every day. Most of the adults are sympathetic towards me… and Fiona. I refrain myself from pointing out that Fiona didn't get one share of the abuse. Not once. It was all poured onto me. I know that the authorities won't understand, won't listen to me. They're like that.
Henry and Diana are in a lot of trouble now. I hope they don't worm their way out of this one. I'm going to testify in court any day now, and I'll make sure to tell everybody the truth… the truth of what Henry did to me. I still have the scars and bruises to show for it, all over my back and some on my arms. Henry and Diana are dead for sure. And they deserve it. I won't be sorry if they rot in jail for the rest of their lives.
Faye
August 1, 1976
The first day of a month used to be a hopeful day for me. I always used to imagine that something new would happen on the first day of a new month, that so many opportunities and chances would be thrown into the day. I've lost that hope a long time ago, but today it has been rekindled.
I went to court to testify against Henry and Diana. They are truly going to lose. Fiona had testified as well. She had witnessed many of my beatings and knew about it for a long time… and she had never reported it or tried to help me. But she made it seem as if she had been afraid. Maybe she had been… though I really doubt it; but that's me. That's one of the many reasons why I hate her. But I know I can't get her in for that.
The investigators will probably think that Henry scared her into silence… but I think that Fiona hadn't really cared, even when I was at my worst. There were times when I thought that she did care… every year, on my birthday, Fiona always gave me a gift, even when Henry and Diana didn't even remember. I don't know what to think of this, and I suppose I never will.
I met David and Tracy Prewitt today. David is Henry's brother, and I must say that he is much more decent than Henry. They offered me a home. I don't know what to say to this. I had never been welcomed or loved by Henry and Diana… but David and Tracy… they care. Or will they end up hurting me as well? I never place much trust in people now. They have to work hard to earn it.
What should I do? What will happen to me? Where am I headed? I wish someone… anyone… would tell me.
Faye
August 31, 1976
I just talked to Melanie. She asked me if I was sad that my family turned out this way. And I am sad… in some ways. I can imagine so many things that could have been, had Henry not become what he is. But right now, I'm just glad that I have a real family now, Tracy and David and Melanie. Not Fiona, though. Not ever Fiona.
If only Andrew were here right now. Then I could tell him everything, face-to-face. Then I could just spill out everything about how sorry I am that I hadn't told him before, that I had always shut him out. It just isn't the same over the telephone. I can feel this new barrier separating us, and sometimes I just can't find anything to say and have to make up an excuse to get off the phone. Sometimes… I feel like talking to Andrew is like talking to a stranger. And that scares me.
I'm headed off to Hogwarts tomorrow morning. Hope… I'm actually hoping again. Maybe my life will finally be looking up. I'm not going to be writing in this again. This diary is for my old life, and now I have a new one.
All I can do now is… hope.
Faye
I was… I couldn't find a word for it. I couldn't describe the turmoil inside me. Prewitt had undergone more than I ever had. The way I had treated her made me feel so small. I hadn't made her life any better.
"Sirius?" James asked suddenly. "What's wrong?"
I shook myself. "Nothing. Nothing at all." What a lie.
James opened his mouth to ask more, but we both heard footsteps coming up the stairs. We looked at each other in horror, and both dove for the Invisibility Cloak just as the doorknob turned. James and I managed to fully cover ourselves with the cloak just as Faye Prewitt came striding into the room. Breathing harshly, James and I backed up into a corner as she moved around the room. What the shit was she doing here? It was—I checked my watch—barely past nine! Did she suspect us?
I noticed the diary I had been reading lying on the floor… not where she had left it, obviously. Prewitt saw it the same time I did, and I saw her eyes narrow. James threw me a disgusted look.
Prewitt crossed the room unbelievably fast, and she scooped up the diary protectively. She flipped open the book, seeming surprised—and angry—that the lock was already undone. I watched apprehensively as her brow furrowed. Prewitt glanced suspiciously around the room, and I tensed as her molten gaze passed over James and me. Bloody hell, how could she still look so beautiful and bloodthirstily angry at the same time?
She obviously muttered some sort of curse under her breath, and she pulled out her wand. For one terrifying moment I thought that she was going to send Stunning Spells all around the room, but she only locked the diary again. She put it carefully down in her trunk, and pulled out the other diary to check it. Obviously satisfied, Prewitt straightened again, glaring around the room.
After what seemed to be a century, Prewitt evidently thought that no one was in the room anymore, for she walked into the bathroom. Dammit. She didn't close the door. That meant that James and I couldn't get the hell out of here! Prewitt brushed her teeth and washed her face, preparing for bed…. Oh, hell, she was going to sleep! We would never get out of here! I exchanged a terrified glance with James.
I tensed as Prewitt came striding back into the room. She glanced around suspiciously again, but went to stand in front of a mirror. She fingered a lock of her hair, looking at her reflection with distaste. Distaste? That girl was crazy! I knew that tons of girls would kill to have even a lock of her rich, dark, wavy hair.
Prewitt sighed sharply, and lifted up the hem of her shirt.
Holy shit! What the hell was she doing? I looked at James with horror, and he stared back at me with equally frightened eyes. James covered his eyes and ducked his head down. I followed suit, even though the teenage pervert part of my mind kept on yelling at me, asking me what the hell I was doing. Here was the golden opportunity to watch a girl undress, Prewitt no less, and I was missing out on it! I had never had the chance to see her undress—when we had been bonded, she had always gone into the bathroom and shut the door behind her.
I had to look. I couldn't help it! The teen side of me was demanding it. I gave in. I peeked. What I saw made my skin crawl and shivers run up and down my spine.
Prewitt was pulling a shirt over her head, and her back was to me. I had to admit that her… er… body was perfect. But as my gaze travel down to her lower back… I saw scars. Ugly, pale, grotesque scars littered her lower back, marring her flesh, forming a cruel pattern on her pale skin.
I nearly retched. How could anyone have done that to her…? It was horribly cruel, heartless, destructive…! I almost stepped out to comfort, talk to, or express my sorrow and anger on her behalf in any way possible, but my common sense rushed back to me (amazingly).
Prewitt would probably kill me for watching her, and she was already out of the reach of her father, who had done this to her in the first place. So, really, there was no immediate danger. I was just so angry! Angry beyond belief. Heartbroken and hurt, too; hurt because Prewitt had been hurt.
A second later, her shirt had settled over Prewitt's back, and she pulled her hair out. I stared at her in horror and shock and speechlessness, trying to contemplate what horrors she had gone through. Those scars… and that diary… had given me an inkling of those.
Even through my shock and horror, I noticed that Prewitt had interesting pajamas. She wore a small, tight shirt and baggy cotton pants that had black and red strips all over it.
Prewitt got into bed and pulled the covers around her, waving her wand at the lights, making them go out. James and I exchanged glances yet again, and we both sighed silently. We would have to wait a long time before we could get out of here.
After what seemed like the days, Prewitt's deep, even breathing filled the room, a sure sign that she was asleep. James and I looked at one another in mutual agreement, and we started moving quietly towards the door. But as I passed Prewitt's bed, another assault of girly emotions attacked me. I moved towards her bed, ignoring James's hiss, "Padfoot, are you crazy?"
I pulled back the hangings a bit, and saw her, frowning a little in her sleep. I felt pain, pain for knowing what she had gone through. I couldn't help myself—it was impulsive. I reached out to touch her cheek. James swore under his breath when Prewitt stirred slightly, and he hauled me out of there, deactivating the charm on the stairs and practically running all the way back to our dorm.
After James had shoved me inside—none to gently, either— and slammed the door behind us, he whipped off the cloak. Remus and Peter were already in the room, obviously just getting ready for bed.
Remus shot us a dirty look before asking, "How'd did your little immature jaunt go?"
"Why did it take so long?" Peter threw in. "You weren't… doing anything, were you?"
James sighed dramatically. "Even if we were to try to do something, those girls would have kicked our arses into the next generation."
"Did you find out anything about Faye?" Remus asked. I gave a start. I had forgotten that that was my original reason for going in there.
"Oh, no, don't tell me you spent all your time in Faye's underclothes!" Remus groaned.
"No!" I said hotly. "I'm with James; I'm only interested in the stuffing!"
"That's even worse, you pervert!" Peter cried in disgust.
I retired soon after. I didn't feel like joining James and Peter and Remus in their conversation, not when I had just found out in great detail about the darkest secret of Faye Prewitt's life. Long after my mate's snores filled the room, I lay awake, tossing and turning, thinking of Prewitt and what she had gone through…. I decided that I wasn't going to get any sleep anyways, so I got out of my bed quietly.
I would take Remus's advice on apologizing with flowers and such. Who knew, maybe Prewitt could act like a normal girl.
--- Faye's POV---
"I think I need an early night today," I announced to Grace and Leah. It was barely past nine, and yet I felt exhaustion dragging me down. After what I told Black when he tried to apologize… I felt embarrassment and anger and shame and a whole other bunch of emotions swirling around… I didn't think I could take much more of this. I hadn't had the nerve to look at Black all throughout the day. When he'd caught my eye during Transfiguration… I thought I might have died with embarrassment, even though he had been smiling.
"Oh, sure," Grace said from her game of chess with Leah. Leah didn't say anything at all. I sighed as I headed up the stairs. Sometimes I wished that was back with Andrew. At least there I truly knew who were my friends. Leah…I got the feeling that she didn't want to be my friend, and yet she didn't want to disappoint Grace… blah blah blah. And Leah had a long-time crush on Sirius Black… and I bet that she thought I was stealing him or something. Ugh. As if.
As soon as I entered the dorm, I knew that something was amiss. Our room wasn't as impeccably neat as Lily demanded. Frowning, I walked in. Someone had been in here, fooling around with my stuff. As soon as I saw one of my diaries on the ground, I rushed to pick it up. Oh, god. It was unlocked.
Someone had been looking at my diary. I flipped through it, my fear growing. Shit. This diary was the one with of my days back in California, of my beatings, of my old life….
Shit, shit, shit!
I pulled out my wand and cast every locking spell I knew on the diary, opening my trunk to put it back in its rightful place. I quickly checked my other diary to make sure that it hadn't been messed with. It looked as if it hadn't, but looks weren't dependable.
DAMMIT! Who the hell had been snooping around? I glanced around the room suspiciously. If that lowlife was still here… he'd wish he'd never been born. I was reviewing a long list of nasty hexes in my head… but no one was in the room.
Oh, damn. But there was no point in acting right now. I didn't know who that person was, or if they had read it. But I would be on guard. If someone so much as hinted about my diary, I'd make sure that that someone died a horrible, painful, slow death!
Anger boiling inside me, I brushed my teeth and washed my face quickly, feeling only slightly refreshed. As I walked out of the bathroom, I glanced around suspiciously again, but I didn't see anybody. Sighing, I walked over to a mirror to inspect myself. Hell. It was the first word that came to my mind. I looked like hell. I quickly changed into my pajamas.
As I got into my bed and drew the covers around me, I wondered what I was looking for when I told Black to "show me" that he was sorry. I didn't know what had possessed me. But I did know that I wasn't ready to accept his apology, not when he had… well… done that to me. He probably did that to tons of girls and never apologized. Well, I didn't want to be one of those brainless girls. I wanted to be seen as a person, not just an item, which was how Black looked at girls.
And what would I do about the sneak who had dared to read my diary…? Oh… I'd make sure I got revenge….
I fell into a troubled sleep full of restless dreams. I was sure that someone had pulled back my hangings and touched my cheek… but that was probably a dream. Sometimes I had trouble distinguishing dreams from reality.
My alarm woke me at promptly seven thirty. Stifling a yawn, I stretched luxuriously for a moment, working several kinks in my bones. I felt as if I'd gotten four hours of sleep instead of nine. I was still worried about the damn person who had read my diary. I didn't even feel like getting up; what if it was all over the school by now? Rubbing the tiredness out of my eyes with one hand, I drew back my curtains with the other and swung my feet out onto the ground.
Instead of feeling smooth carpet, I felt something slightly damp and cold and… leafy? Just barely mastering the urge to scream, I leapt back onto my bed and peered over the edge. There lay a huge pile of flowers, still wet with morning dew. All thoughts about the problem of my diary flew out of my head. The…er… dare I call it bouquet?… had all the hues of purple, from a light, almost pink lavender to a deep violet shade. I knew whom it was from.
I had to admit that it was all very pretty, but a part of me was disappointed. Was this all Black could think of? I mean, flowers were the oldest trick in the book. And I wasn't one to be impressed by unoriginal ideas. But I did love flowers. But I wasn't going to let Black off the hook this easily. I got off my bed and gathered some of the violets in my arms, smelling their sweet fragrance.
"Faye?" a sleepy voice asked. Grace's tousled head appeared as she pulled back her drapes. Her eyes almost bugged out. "Who are those from?"
"Uh… I don't know," I said hurriedly, dropping the blossoms I held in my arms. "You can have them, if you want!"
Grace was out of her bed and looking over the huge pile of flowers in an instant. She snatched up a card that I had overlooked. "I can't take them!" she cried with an evil grin. "It says here that they're for you."
I grabbed the note from her hand and looked it over quickly.
To: Faye Prewitt
From: You Know Who
o.
"Who is it, Faye?" Grace cried excitedly. "Who sent you these?! They're so pretty!"
"I don't know," I said a little too quickly. Grace looked at me suspiciously, but I was thankfully saved from an interrogation by the awakening of the rest of the girls in the dorm. I hurriedly went into the bathroom to take a shower while the girls pounced on the flowers. As I furiously scrubbed my hair, I wondered what Black was up to. Did he really want my forgiveness? Or was he just plotting against me…?
I trooped down to breakfast with Leah and Grace, both of which were wearing some of the flowers I had received. I had refused to put any on. To put on even one of those beautiful blossoms on would mean that I had accepted Black's apology… and I was still angry at him. Furious, in fact.
But even so, I did feel a guilty twinge in my heart when I saw Black's face fall as I entered the Great Hall for breakfast. How was it that he managed to make me feel guilty? Argh! I had to stop the guiltiness!
What topped my day weren't the flowers, but the fact that no one acted strangely towards me, except for Black, of course, but that was natural. Maybe the diary had somehow fallen out. I berated myself for thinking this. I was really going soft if I was actually going to believe that. The diary had been out of my trunk and unlocked! So I kept on guard.
It didn't stop there. The next morning, I woke up and just happened to glance out at the Quidditch field. Across the field's smooth, green length, white flowers had been grown to spell out the words, "FORGIVE ME." I had blushed beet red when I'd seen it. Really, how much trouble had Black gone through to do that?
And the day after that, a shower of fireworks had exploded right above the teacher's table, erupting to form the words, "I'M TRULY SORRY." It was quite an impressive feat, with red and gold bubbles and sparks flying, bouncing all over the place in frenzy. Wild rumors were flying around the school on who might have done all of it, and for whom? To my disgust, I'd overheard Fiona saying that Black was probably apologizing to her for breaking up with her… HAH! Black should have been glad he was away from that fag for good! Only Grace knew that it was from Sirius Black to me, and thought she had sniggered quite endlessly over it, she hadn't told anybody else, for which I was exceptionally glad. It had taken ages for me to even confess to her that Black had… kissed me.
On the fourth day, the hangings in the Great Hall had been changed to midnight blue hangings with silver words all over it, all saying, "I WON'T EVER DO IT AGAIN." And in Delaney's class the same day, a sparkling human-sized figure that seemed to be made of a thousand sparks and glitter had erupted right in front of Delaney, making her faint. The figure had then gone on to wreak havoc and mayhem on everyone in the classroom while it shot golden sparks into the air that spelled out, "YOU WERE RIGHT TO BE ANGRY AT ME!" I had to admit that it was very funny, watching everyone scream and try to scramble away from the sparks.
On the fifth day, I'd woken up to even more flowers, and this time I even received chocolates. I'd given them all to my friends, of course. While our whole class was tramping outside the grounds to go to Herbology, somebody had stepped some sort of mine, and it exploded in his face, leaving him blackened and surprised. The smoke from the explosion had coiled into the words, "JUST FORGIVE ME ALREADY, YOU STUBBORN OLD TOAD." That pleased me more than the rest of it, heavens know why. Maybe because it was a sign that Black was getting more or less back to normal.
My anger was starting to deflate by this time, when it became obvious that Sirius Black was really sorry and was doing everything he could to show it. And on Saturday morning, when I saw Black slumped over in his seat with his head down in a dejected manner, I felt another guilty twinge, this time stronger than ever. It was obvious that Black was really very sorry.
I didn't much like the idea of talking to him… but I didn't want him to go through any more trouble when I had already… well, forgiven him. Sort of. As long as I didn't remember The Incident. Oh, god, I was referring to the…um… kiss… as The Incident— with capitols! It was that bad.
I saw, out of the corner of my eye, Black get out of his seat at the egging of his friends. He walked over to me, with some of his former confidence showing in his countenance. And yet… I didn't feel ready to go talk to him. I tried to concentrate on eating instead, fervently hoping and praying that he wouldn't talk to me.
"Prewitt?"
My hopes were dashed.
"What do you want, Black?" I was unable to keep a bite out of my voice. Natural instinct when it comes to him, I guess.
"Could I talk to you for a moment?" he asked, and I could detect a trace of unease in his voice. Strangely enough, that made me soften.
"All right," I sighed. I shared a glance with Grace, who nodded understandingly. I caught a glimpse of Leah's downcast face; I was surprised to see angry tears sparkling in her eyes. What was she so sad about? I didn't have to think about it, though, for I gathered up my books and followed Black out of the hall. To my disgust, I heard Potter let out a wolf-whistle.
Black led me to the another empty classroom, where I closed the door behind me and took a seat at a desk.
He stood in front of me, shifting his weight uneasily. I was pleased to see that I made him so uncomfortable. I immediately scolded myself for that thought.
"So… uh… have you forgiven me yet?" Black blurted out, breaking the silence between us. I looked up at him intently. I was teetering on the edge of forgiving him…. I guess he was really sorry, but… The Incident was so—shameful and embarrassing and painful to remember.
"I…" Black's face—so full of anxiety—fell. It made my insides squirm with guilt. He had already gone through so much trouble to show me that he was sorry; what else did I want? What was I looking for?
"I'm sorry," I blurted out impulsively. He seemed not to have heard. He was staring at the ground. I cocked my head in amusement.
"Black," I tried again, and this time he jerked his head up inquiringly. "I'm sorry."
He looked confused, then glad, and finally disbelieving. "Sorry? You? Why?"
I laughed shortly. "I guess I drew it out too long. I was selfish; I didn't want to bring it up even when I saw that you were really sorry. But don't think I'll forget it. I'll forgive, but I won't forget. And you're acts of apology were great. In other words," I added, as Black was still gaping at me, "apology accepted. It was a good thing you didn't mention my name in any of your shows, or I really would have killed you."
I grinned at him, my heart feeling a trifle lighter, maybe because Black looked ridiculous right then, with his mouth hanging open slightly in incredulity.
After some time, I started to get a bit uncomfortable with the silence between us. I picked up my bag and got out of my seat. "Well, see you around. And Black?" He looked at me, his mouth still open. "Close your mouth." He snapped it shut, and I had to smile.
I exited the classroom, and I was almost back to the Great Hall when I heard him call my name again.
"Prewitt!"
I turned and looked at him questioningly.
"This means we're back to normal, right?" Black asked. I quirked an eyebrow.
"Yes, I suppose it does, Black."
"Cool," he said happily. After another moment's silence, he said, "Did I ever tell you that you have a shapely butt?"
I did what my instincts told me to; I slapped him.
--
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