"Her own thoughts and reflections were habitually her best companions." Mansfield Park – Jane Austen
Cynthia Nott holds no particular fondness for the chaos that encompasses Platform 9 3/4 the first day of each new school year. The students are always insufferably rowdy, reuniting with their friends after a long summer break. All of them giddy to overshare and likely overcompensate for, what she guesses, was a sub – par summer at best, spent doing absolutely nothing productive. All the parents are far too overly emotional, overcrowding their children with blubbering displays of affection. Some double and then triple checking that their children have packed everything they need for the new year.
Her mother does not do this thankfully. Cynthia had long learnt that her mother is not what one would consider maternal; far more of a cold woman than most. All pale skin and austere posture, with tight lines and sharp features that hold little emotion. The other parents dote upon their children, faces wide with smiles despite the melancholy feeling that weighs upon them at the goodbye. A few are even tearful, pressing handkerchiefs to their cheeks as they wave their children goodbye. But her mother merely smooths down the silken gloves adorning her hands. No smile in sight. Instead she looks almost bored.
"Well, I will see you at Christmas as always." Her mother turns to her first as the train pulls in. There is a noticeable sense of impatience rattled in her tone and an eagerness to be anywhere but here displayed upon her face.
"Of course." Cynthia replies.
"And I expect to hear from you often, especially regarding any potential"
"–suitors. Yes, I understand mother." She cuts in with a slightly exasperated sigh, having had this very conversation multiple times over the course of the previous summer. With her time at Hogwarts drawing to a close, the concept of marriage is becoming steadily more important. Securing a good husband is what girl's like herself live and breathe for. It's what defines their futures.
"Your father and I have already got a few options in mind, Corvus Avery and Adrian Mulciber being the most obvious, but we will have to see how the other parents respond before I inform you of anything more serious." She only feels a small shiver of disgust at the reminder of her predestined fate. It's cold and withdrawn, her mother's response to marriage, unfeeling in a horrible way. Then again reality has a tendency towards those harsher attributes she's learnt.
"Yes mother." She presses a chaste kiss to her mother's cheek, along with an embrace which feels far more like a sign of propriety than of affection.
"Remember the letters I gave you, no one must see them except you and him." Her mother whispers almost inaudibly as she presses her own kiss to her daughter's cheek. Cynthia doesn't answer apart from a discreet nod and small, slightly worried smile. How could she forget? They'd been one of the only things on her mind since her mother had asked her the favour a few nights previous. The damned letters.
"And lastly, I'm expecting you to play nice this year, Adelia. No more barbed comments or, Godric forbid, hexing your peers." Her mother raises a lone brow pointedly. Cynthia ignores it. Cyrus does not. Her brother takes the opportunity to cut in, looking down at her with his usual crooked grin, "Don't worry, mother. I'll make sure she doesn't hex Adrian again this year."
"He deserved it. He was being an ass."
Her brother scoffs at her reasoning, replying "He's always an ass."
Her family hasn't let her live her little temper tantrum down since it happened last November. She cringes every time it's brought up in conversation. And boy does Cyrus love to bring it up in as many conversations as possible. She thinks he must spend every evening reciting the Howler she'd been sent by her mother scolding her. How else would he remember each line of it so perfectly?
"Yes well I'm not gonna let him be a prick to Is." She adds.
"Language, Cynthia." Her mother interrupts with a displeased tone. All it takes is two words and a solitary glare to cut Cynthia's retort short. She quickly shuts her mouth and looks away. Her brother is all too smug about that as he receives his goodbye next. Likely some talk of his upcoming wedding and so forth.
Cynthia has heard that conversation had far too many times over the summer to bother listening in. Instead she observes the platform some more, catching glimpses of people she recognises every few seconds. She's yet to see Isadora, Katharine or Estella though. The latter is likely with Alaric somewhere but the other two she has no clue about.
"Do you think Katharine knows?" Cynthia flinches at her sister's sudden presence beside her. Evelyn isn't one for inconsequential small talk or any of that caper. Nor does she get herself involved in the back and forth Cyrus and herself often participate in. To be honest the sudden question startles Cynthia slightly. She hadn't expected to be interrupted nor does she quite understand what her little sister is asking.
"What?" She replies in a confused tone, prodding Evelyn to divulge the true meaning of her vague question. Her sister looks uncertain for a moment whether to continue, glancing over at their brother and mother.
He sister leans in to whisper, "Do you think she knows? You know, about the girls he sleeps with. I saw that one you snuck out of his room earlier while he was getting ready." Cynthia halts for second. It's common knowledge that pureblood marriages are far more to do with convenience than compatibility or love. And therefore it is only understandable that said marriages would breed infidelity. Most men she knows cheat on their wives. Be that with a mistress or a random outsider. Her own father doesn't hide his flirtations at events, even when their mother is the one stood beside him as it occurs. Her brother doesn't hide it all too much either.
"Yes…" she whispers back, "Kat knows. She'd be an idiot not to."
Her sister seems slightly taken aback by this, frowning at the idea for a short moment. She quickly schools her features into her usual complacent smile when she remembers her surroundings but Cynthia knows it's a mere façade. Her sister is upset by this, by their brother's actions.
"Why'd you ask?"
Her sister shrugs, "Just wondering is all." But Cynthia knows that Evelyn is lying though her teeth. She wants to offer something comforting back but realises anything she says will likely be a flowery cover up. Evelyn might be naïve at times but she hates being treated like a child. She's only three years below them after all. She'll soon learn that pretty facades are pointless when it comes to the ugly truths that they live by.
"Are you two done whispering? We're going to lose our seats." Her brother pushes the trolley past them towards the train. Evelyn quickly shakes her head at his antics before following after him. Her smile unfaltering as she whispers something in Cyrus' ear that has him smirking back. Cynthia watches them for a moment before turning to send her mother a final wave. But the space behind her is empty. Lucretia has already left. Her parents, ladies and gentlemen. Least her mother had bothered to come this year, something about it being only proper to see them off in their final year. Before today, her mother hadn't dropped come to the platform since Evelyn's first day. That was four years ago. Her father has never seen them off.
"Cynthia." She hears her brother call from behind and she quickly bites her scowl, flipping around to catch up. She doesn't care. Not when she's become so accustomed to the emptiness of their affection. No, she doesn't care at all.
"Cynthia" , a small hand reaches from behind her to tap her shoulder as she collects her stuff from the trolley. The touch is hesitant as though the owner is scared that the Slytherin won't hesitate to hex them on the spot if she deems them irritating enough. Lily Evans, however, is not at the top of that particular list, not like some of her much more aggravating Gryffindor housemates.
"Evans," Cynthia acknowledges the red haired girl," Or should I address you as head girl now?"
"Lily is fine." She responds, obviously realising that Cynthia is in fact not going to hex her. She quickly straightens her posture and turns her hesitant look into a more confident smile. Cyrus scoffs at the fake beam, before excusing himself and Evelyn as they leave to find their respective carriages. Little traitors.
"Evans it is then." Lily rolls her eyes at that but doesn't correct her.
"I just wanted to ask if you would round up the other Slytherin prefects for the meeting in the prefect carriage, I have so many to get through from different years and houses and it would really be helpful." For a moment Cynthia contemplates rejecting the rambling redhead just on the principle that she is a Gryffindor but instead decides to nod. Lily seems caught off guard by the reaction, speechless that she's gotten her to agree so easily. Cynthia has to stop herself from laughing at the head girl's slightly dumbstruck expression.
"Don't look so shocked Evans, I didn't get prefect for being a complete bitch, now did I?" Lily doesn't seem to know exactly how to respond for a moment, whether the question is a joke or not. She soon recovers, scoffing in a way that is quite impressive for a Gryffindor.
"No you must have got it for your charming personality and humour Cynthia" She feels her cheeks slightly lift at the jab. The awkwardness dissipates slightly between them and she can't help but raise her own brow.
"Well, at least I'm not boring." She smiles and tips her head in what she supposes is a silent request to leave. Lily smiles back and Cynthia takes that as the end of their conversation. That is until someone who is definitely at the top of her hexing list rudely interrupts her exit.
"I would strongly disagree with that statement, wouldn't you Prongs?" Sirius Black shoves past her, a glint of pride in his eye as she loses her footing slightly and barges into an unsuspecting Peter Pettigrew. The shorter boy goes stumbling across the platform to their right, his cheeks blushing vibrant crimson with the tell tale flush of embarrassment as he lays in his own crumpled clothes. Remus Lupin, quiet and sturdy, soon helps him up with a swift hand, and the few people that were looking at the mousy boy due to the fall quickly become disinterested. Peter looks rather relieved.
"That I would indeed, Padfoot. I'd assume she was joking really, but she'd need a sense of humour for that." Potter retorts, snickering as he does so and causing Black to break out into a deep rumbling laugh at her expense. She glares at them both, narrowing her eyes into a haughty look of annoyance at their prattling.
"And some manners evidently, I've not heard an apology yet, princess." "That's because I have nothing to apologise for Black. You were the one to push me into him in the first place." She huffs, edging forward to push past him in the entranceway. Sirius is rather adamant in his position however, and although one could easily mistake him as relaxing against the doorway Cynthia knows he is not hiding his strength when she physically can't push past him. It is not as though she is weak; her physique maybe slimmer and her height is rather shorter than Black's but she is not in the quidditch team for nothing. Yet despite a hard shove Sirius does not budge an inch, his smile only growing wider at her pointless advances against him.
"I wasn't just talking bout Wormtail, Nott." He says in the most irritatingly sing song tune. She waits for him to explain his statement, but soon realises that he will need promoting for such intelligence. Sirius Black is the most stubborn, bull headed idiot she has ever met, honestly.
"Don't be vague Black, I have prefects to round up for Potter's wet dream here." She mocks his tone, an irritated smile on her face letting him know his attempts at mystery were worth naught. She just ignores the whelp of annoyance that comes from Potter's mouth at the obvious insinuation and Lily's glare on her back. "That was unnecessary."
"I just meant," he elongates his words, "that it seems your family has a lot to apologise for recently. You know I read some pretty interesting stories in the Prophet about your father over the summer, very interesting indeed."
"I know it comes easy for you, Black, but can you try not to be stupid for a minute and get to your point please. I'm getting bored of your whiny voice." She eyes him up and down with a cool sense of satisfaction as he stiffens slightly at the insult. Sirius Black has always been so easy to read. Like a spell that she has revised over and over, knowing what words accompany what reactions. Almost as simple as an equation, just with more cockiness.
"It just seems that your father is quite devoted to his new master, I wonder if he had anything to do with the attack on those two Muggles in London last week. Wouldn't put it past you lot."
"Shut up, Black."Her voice is low and cold but her words are cutting, and she easily clenches her hand around her wand in her sleeve. The familiar touch gives her a sense of fragile reassurance. Grounding her minutely.
"Or what, you gonna hex me, princess, or worse, send your death eater daddy on me? I'm not scared of you Nott, you or your pathetic family." He spits in her face and she sees red, immediately pressing her wand tightly against his throat beneath the fabric of her robes. The sleeve acts as a buffer of sorts to everyone not close enough to see the scuffle. Her ears are pumping so loud with both their heartbeats that she barely hears Potter and Evans try to reason with her slightly. All she can focus on is Sirius's shallow breath that huffs against her cheek and the blinding fury that penetrates every bone of her body as she stands flush against his chest. His breathe is hot and heavy. She doesn't think too long on why she notices it so much.
"You should be scared Black. After all I'm certain blood traitors are at the top of the Dark Lord's kill list." He steps back. They both stare for a moment, a mixture of confusion and unbridled rage in their matching gazes. His misty glare is almost mesmerising though, magnetic in the way that only rivals can share, only they can share. It's mostly fuelled by a petty need to not be the first one to break and yet there is still that something else lurking in the shadows of her heart, that feeling she'd spent months trying to destroy. But that feeling, thankfully, only lasts a few fleeting moments before Sirius looks towards Potter and the oncoming group of Gryffindor girls that are making their way loudly towards the carriage entrance they are now blocking with their argument.
"That's a detention, Nott." James adds but his face is no longer stuck in its usual carefree smile. All his laughter from earlier has vanished and been replaced by a cold look of rage on his friend's behalf.
"That's not fair. School hasn't even started." She argues to Evans, seeing as trying to convince Potter is a rather lost cause at this point. His face is enough to know he is not backing down.
"Well he can't really take house points off yet. And you did draw your wand at a fellow student. It's against school rules." Lily shrugs as though in pity but her face is set, an unwavering force beside James. Great! Detention with Potter the Prick. Just great.
"Fine." She dismisses them both with an eye roll and a lovingly vulgar hand gesture at Potter. She doesn't further the argument though, knowing that the additional Gryffindors aren't worth any more of her time.
And yet as she pushes past a slightly dazed looking Sirius, who thankfully puts up no resistance, she can't help but feel suddenly cold as she walks away. A part of her is oddly upset with herself for the words she'd said. It's not all consuming. No it's just a slight pang of regret, somewhere deep in her heart that she hasn't acknowledged for over a year. The part of her that she can't let go. Her weak spot. And yet all her head can think of is that the returning chill is comforting in a way, a return to normality and reality, her heartbeat steadying and placating and her face returning to its' natural pale tone. She is not one who enjoys losing her composure. But Sirius seems to get under her skin like no other. She hates him, everything about him. Sirius Black is a conundrum of betrayal and foolish confidence with some victim complex that stems from years of pitying himself as the black sheep of his family. And if there is one thing she hates most in this world then it is pity. Pity and that he still gets to her.
"What's got your panties in a twist, Nott." Estella says as Cynthia walks into the seventh year Slytherin carriage. Estella and Alaric sit, unsurprising, beside each other. Her brother doesn't look entirely comfortable sat down next to Alaric. She can't blame him. Still, he probably thought it better than sitting next to Katherine. The two of them are rather awkward at times.
"Black and his insufferable friends, that's what." She mutters, arms crossing defiantly, as she leans against the doorway into the carriage.
"Ugh. That sounds painful."
"I was contemplating killing myself."
"Well that would be such a waste of a pretty face, wouldn't it?" Avery slings his arm around her shoulder in the carriage doorway, tucking her into his side with a possessive tug that has her squirming in mild discomfort. Corvus Avery is a disgustingly touchy bastard, always clawing at her sides with his dirty hands despite her determined protests for him to fuck off since 1st year. His family is rich though, pure blooded as-well, and despite her instinctive reaction to throw him the finger and grab Cyrus' arm and leave, she can't help but hear her mother's words in the back of her head. That he will likely be her betrothed soon enough. Godric help her.
"Avery." She acknowledges him with a curt nod. She then quickly turns away to face her brother but not before catching the pleased smirk that graces Corvus' slimy little lips due to her reluctance to move out of his grasp like usual. She wishes she could wipe it off him. Preferably with her fist.
"You've changed Cynnie, I see you finally hit puberty." Mulciber smirks from the seat beside Cyrus, eyes skimming over her figure as he says so. Cynthia doesn't know which she's more disgusted over, the wandering eye or the awful nickname. Her brother squirms at the insinuation too.
"I hit puberty years ago Mulciber… You however still have the mindset of a thirteen year old boy, you nonce." She retorts, sending him her best glare. He remains unaffected by it and merely grins wider. To be honest she doesn't expect anything less. He is a Slytherin after all, insults to them are the same as common conversation. Cutting remarks are in every Slytherin's predisposition, so much so that one cannot truly wear the green and silver of their house without having a little backbone and grit first.
"You love it." He raises his eyebrows challengingly.
"I also love giving detentions out now so I'd watch your mouth." He makes a biting motion to which she throws the finger at.
"Ahh prefect perks, you two better be getting us the most house points this year." Avery's fingers slide over her badge, pawing at her chest as he reads it in an obvious excuse to feel her up a bit more.
"Yes, well I already got given a detention from Potter so I'm doing just fab at that." Cyrus laughs at that, sending her a sarcastic thumbs up and she doesn't even attempt to stop her cheeks from lifting slightly at her twin brother's antics.
"What for?" Katherine asks from behind her book, eyes curious and slightly amused. The brunette sits tucked in the corner of the carriage backing onto the door, no one else on her row. She's often overlooked by the rest of them. A quiet presence but one Cynthia regards as necessary in their odd group.
She thinks to lie for a second but can't be bothered to carry it through. Instead she embarrassingly mumbles, "Threatening Black", under her breath. They all know about the ongoing rivalry between the pair, the constant bouts of insults and taunts that have both entertained her friends and irritated them for years.
"Still not over him, Nott?" Mulciber quips with a disgusted but smug look, and she can't even be bothered to deem him with a response beyond her usual pissed off glare. He never has quite learnt to shut his mouth.
"You should just shag more people." Isadora Griffins offers as she enters the cramped compartment from behind Cynthia, the eight of them finally all present. Cynthia rolls her eyes at her closest friend's lurid advice. "As I've said before, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else."
She presses past where Cynthia and Avery stand together, flopping herself down with an exasperated sigh besides Kat. Katherine doesn't bother to look surprised, and no one bothers to ask where Isadora has been. The options range from in the toilets with some guy to in one of the smaller train compartment with another. She gives Cyrus a run for his money with the whole sleeping around thing.
"That's not Cynthia's style. She's too much of a prude for such things."
Cynthia knocks Avery's arm off of her at his quip, saying, "That is not true. I'm not a prude."
"Kind of is true, C." Her brother shrugs. Issy cringes in agreement, nodding along from where she now lays sprawled across Kat's lap.
"I hate you all."
"We've heard." Estella drawls, inspecting her nails in front of her. In truth, Cynthia is rather frigid when it comes to boys at school. Her reputation as a bitch seems to precede her in that department, which she is eternally thankful for. The less distractions mithering her, the more she can focus on her prefect duties and studies.
"Well, I think I'm just gonna take as many points away from Gryffindor as possible. They can't stop me."
"You dictator." Estella muses in her usual self righteous and yet completely unbothered voice. Cynthia has heard the tone countless times over the years. It's a quality she almost admires about the other girl, how easily she can hide all her emotions without fault. Her temper is as cold as ice, not dissimilar to Cynthia's own mother's and she often wonders if Estella Burke truly has a beating heart at all under her many layers of careful composure.
"Well someone has to ensure we don't lose the House cup again." She shrugs as though that is the only reasoning behind her hatred of Gryffindors. It is definitely not. But no one questions it. None of them hold any fondness for their house rival and their unbelievable ability to always win the most house points despite how many points are seemingly taken away over the year. "Speaking of Gryffindors, Evans is calling some meeting in the prefect carriage. We're required to attend, Selwyn." Alaric sighs at the notion, jaw clenching as he slowly and rather lazily removes his arm from around Stella's waist. He places a cold peck to his girlfriend's head before he leaves to join Cynthia.
Estella looks slightly pleased by the show of affection but quickly schools her expression into an unbothered gaze. Cynthia finds the general moment to be rather out of the ordinary but doesn't question it. She prefers not to rile either of the pair up about their relationship if avoidable. Maybe the awkward feeling is stemmed from the fact that Cynthia has always seen Burke as a bit of a bitch, which is in no way an insult. The girl descends from one of the most powerful families to ever exist, and has a way of making others feel inferior to her. She's also been a rather staunch companion of Selwyn's ever since they began dating back in 5th year. She doesn't know whether the girl is weakened, strengthened or entirely unbothered by Alaric's large range of publicly unfaithful hook-ups over the last 2 years but she is sure Estella has heard of them all. Everyone has. She herself would be outraged at his illicit affairs but Stella is very different from her. The other girl has always been of the attitude that it's "better the devil you know"when it comes to things like this, preferring stability over risks.
And yet deep down they all know Alaric holds some affection for Burke. That he wouldn't prefer the company of any other over hers. Their relationship is thoroughly complicated. Originated from a pure blooded arrangement and a thirst for power and social rise but held together upon a sturdy foundation of general admiration for each other. Cynthia oddly can't help but feel slightly jealous of both of their good fortune. Her love life has always been rather unfortunate, consisting of either predestined heartbreak or, more recently, a futile array of flirts who would rather get their hands in her pants or on her money than talk more than two sentences to her. Not that she minds the second type. If her whole life is a planned out path then shouldn't she be allowed a few secret rendezvous'. It's the first type that she can't bare. But that was only once, and she has vowed to never let such a thing happen to her again.
"So what did Black and his friends want with you?" Alaric focuses his deep gaze upon her as they walk side by side, unbothered about looking where he is going due to the fact that almost everyone seems to move out of his direct path upon seeing him stride towards them. She can see the slightest sliver of concern deep within his stony gaze but it is gone almost before she can truly admire it. Alaric is good at fleeting feelings. But so is she.
"To question my loyalties, I guess. And give me a detention for no good reason."
"And where are your loyalties, Cynthia?"He vaguely replies with a foreboding, inquisitive tone. She can't help but flinch at the hidden accusation in his question.
She feels his words hit harder than expected. And all humour is relinquished from her voice as she coldly responds, "Where they have always been. With my family and with my house." The comment is true, and her words don't come out angered or hurt. Instead they are calculated, discernibly honest. Her loyalties remain as in tact as ever. Alaric seems to get the message when he merely nods in agreement and drops the conversation. Her tone say more than her answer. It tells him that her loyalties will not be questioned again, even by him. She is a pureblood, a Nott and a Slytherin.
"Anyways, Stella seems glad to see you," She diverts the conversation with the first thing that comes to mind, "although I can't fully understand why. You're rather boring, all brooding and serious." She mocks him but doesn't wait for a response as she nods at Regulus Black, the male sixth year perfect for Slytherin.
"Prefect meeting, Black." The boy merely glances at her over his hexes book with a fleeting sense of boredom before nodding, sliding the bookmark into place and turning it closed with a rather obnoxious thud. She grants him a sarcastic smile at the display before continuing down the hallway beside Ric, not bothering waiting for him. She'd once thought Regulus Black to be his brother's identical shadow, always lurking in rooms and trailing Sirius before… well, before he ran away. And yet in the past year she has slowly come to recognise the key differences between the pair in both looks and demeanour. Regulus is shorter and although handsome his much finer bone structure gives him an slightly softer and more feminine appearance. His eyes are just as piercing as Sirius' though. Both brothers have inherited the cold stone blue shade from their mother. But where Sirius' have always been bright with mischief and foolish hope, Regulus' give nothing away. Unforgivingly closed off, they always appear far more like a deep chasm of secrets than the watchful eyes they are. Regulus Black, she realises, is a brooding enigma that she is drawn to in an indescribable way. The boy who never truly speaks but always seems to be there. The watchful presence that never quite goes unnoticed in a room but is not openly acknowledged.
"Because she is my future wife, and unlike you, her affections are honest and noble. She understands the power we hold, and can appreciate the position I offer to her." Alaric's stern voice breaks her thought process. His words click vaguely and she adapts her answer for what she hopes sounds relevant.
"You sound like my father. And that's not a compliment."
Alaric rolls his eyes at that, and says, "Well you're brother seems to have paid heed to your father's advice and look where that has gotten him."
"In a pathetic relationship in which neither party likes the other?" She jokes, hating the particular turn this conversation has taken. Ric need not bother with another extensive lecture on her marital status or lack there of. She knows her predicament far better than any of her companions do, and she is not stupid enough to ignore what is needed of her. She just would rather internally contemplate such horrid outcomes than discuss it with the likes of bloody Alaric Selwyn.
"In a prosperous betrothal that raises both families social standing." He corrects her, disapproval consistent throughout his answer.
"Well, according to my parents I too will be betrothed before the school year is over. So no need to worry your pretty little head about such matters." She concedes, hoping that he will accept her admittance and drop the subject.
"I'm not worrying. I just think you lack an understanding of how precarious of a position you have allowed yourself to fall into. A good marriage will secure you a place in the new world." He says, and she's surprised at how easily he flits off such things as though his future marriage is nothing of great importance. She's almost impressed by how easily his face does not relent even under her studious gaze. It's a true talent really. His ability to hold steady under pressure, to never question anything his parents request of him but instead just do it. His secret is something Cynthia almost wishes she was privy to, she'd rather feel nothing than live a long, miserable existence spent questioning whether she could have changed her fate entirely if she'd just been brave enough to. If he had not left her to the world of pureblood high society when he ran. But she is not brave, at least not in the foolish and horribly impulsive sense that all Gryffindors seem to posses.
"Yes, I suppose you're right." She mutters under her breath to end the conversation, grabbing a few of the dawdling 5th and 6th year prefects as they walk through the carriages.
They arrive at the front carriage soon enough. Both herself and Alaric move to stand amongst the other seventh year prefects as Evans and Potter stand side by side in the centre of the carriage. Thankfully there is a few metres between them. She doesn't think Potter could contain himself if he were to stand any closer to his precious "Lilyflower" or whatever irritating nickname he has cared to dub her with for their last year. And so it begins, Lily trailing off with a rather long winded speech and plan for their duties and responsibilities etc etc. She muffles most of it out really, uninterested in listening and okay with just interrogating the 5th year Slytherin prefects once they get to the common room that evening about her patrols and such.
Potter is far too annoying anyways. Listening to him joke incessantly and compliment Lily's speaking technique is not something that she can force herself to endure. Instead she just rests her head upon the carriage wall and focuses on picking out any lingering dirt from beneath her nails. Anything is better than looking at Potter after all. Or Alaric for that matter.
Avery nudges her side as she sits back down beside him in the carriage.
"How was the meeting?"
"Same as always, except with even more added interference from Potter. I still can't believe he got Headboy. He'll probably end up burning Hogwarts down before the year has ended." She grumbles, irritated and bored. Her mind isn't focused on the question really, eyes instead directed towards the vague abyss of rolling hills outside the window. Each tree and field slowly blurs before her into an infinite smudge of green as she stares longer and longer. Her mind lulling with it.
"I wouldn't mind, as long as he saved me from it afterwards, if you get what I mean." Isadora Griffins pipes up from the other side of Avery, eyes gleaming with mischief at the thought and Rosier subtlety nods from her other side as she peers observantly above the pages of her book.
"Him or Black really, heard he's verryy good at mouth to mouth." She adds on with a wink, sensing Avery's anger increasing next to her and Cynthia has to stop her shoulder from tensing at the memories the other girls' taunts evoke.
Estella's face squishes slightly in disgust at the insinuation, and she remarks, "He's a man whore."
"And a blood traitor." Alaric's firm voice interrupts, eyes heavy with judgement as he slips in beside Stella and stares an unflinching Isabel down from opposite her.
"I wouldn't mind his mouth, even if he did taste of betrayal." Isadora presses, eyes alight with her usual fiery temperament. Kat seems less inclined to fight Selwyn on this though, bowing her head to continue reading her book and leaving the tension between the other two heavy and palpable.
"Too bad he would never go for you. Slytherins aren't really his type." Estella mutters, effectively ending the stare off between her boyfriend and her dorm mate.
"Heard he's never even kissed one, it's like a policy of his." Rosier adds with a huff but doesn't look up from her page. She has such a thirst for knowledge that even Cynthia doesn't possess. Sometimes Cynthia wonders if Katherine only got sorted into Slytherin because of her blood. Not that she minds all too much either way. The brunette girl is actually a tolerable roommate most the time and can have quite a witty sense of humour when the occasion calls for it. In fact she's almost sure the girl is her brother's opposite.
"Didn't he ever kiss you, Cynthia?" Isadora turns and asks, genuine curiosity written upon her face.
Cynthia halts momentarily, unsure of what to say. They had kissed once before, although that was a long ago memory. But none of them knew that. That she'd once grown to care for the fool, although it could be argued that the fool was her. Only an idiot would allow themselves to be blinded by him as she had been.
"I could barely force myself to stand next to him, never mind kiss the absolute prick." She lies through her teeth and everyone but her brother looks convinced. Cyrus knows that Sirius Black was not some passing boy her parents forced onto her. Had held her as she broke after Sirius had ran away that fateful summer night. He doesn't mention a word of such memories however. Either by some means of showing brotherly trust or in an attempt to forget Cynthia's moment of temporary insanity, she's not quite certain.
"That is a shame. I reckon he'd enjoy kissing a Slytherin, we do taste ten times better. Might even add it to my list of things to do before leaving this hellhole." Issy smirks again, popping a Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Bean into her mouth which quickly turns her smirk sour.
"Earwax." Isabel spits out. Her brother chuckles.
"I just want to pass my Newts." Katherine murmurs loud enough for everyone to hear. Mulciber's mouth tilts up at that.
He snickers,"Good job you have no social life then." His face fills with pleasure when Katherine's cheeks flush a deep red and her hand loses her page.
"Stop being an arse." Her brother swats his arm in defence of his betrothed and Cynthia is almost certain Katherine's blush increases ten fold at the display. Mulciber just laughs despite her brother's gaze, but does stop with his tormenting. Instead he turns his eyes towards Cynthia. Fuck sake.
"What about you?" Cynthia's eyes lurch away from her brother and Katherine at the question, meeting it with a slightly confused frown.
"What?" She raises a sharp brow.
"Just asking bout your plans for your last year, no need to get all bitchy."
"Like I said earlier, to take away as many Gryffindor house points as I possibly can." She smirks ever so slightly. He nods slowly in agreement at her answer, holding her gaze for a long moment. She almost thinks he sees through her pathetic answer, sees past the rest of her cool unfeeling gaze. Her fingers instinctively wipe across her skirt, clammy as they always are when she feels someone is analysing her too deeply. Especially someone so profoundly irritating and cocky as Adrian Mulciber. But he soon grows bored with their staring contest, relinquishing his gaze and turning to question Estella.
Cynthia immediately relaxes back into her seat at the lull, tuning out whatever swift answer Estella gives to the fool. His questions are just that, idiotic. She doesn't care what she does this year honestly, none of it will matter to her husband. She doesn't need perfect grades to be a housewife, although she has always felt the need to be the best. And it's not like she needs a list of boys to kiss in a broom closet to have a bit of fun. For a quick moment she can't help but wonder vaguely of him, just as she always seems to do when her mind is not otherwise preoccupied. Wonders if she'll spend the whole year ignoring him like last, only conversing in quick insults in class and nasty gazes across the Great Hall. Or whether she'll instead just try to forget all about him, which she knows deep down is the smartest thing to do.
But then again forgetting him has always been an obstacle she's never truly overcome. No amounts of loathing can erase the memory of the gentle press of his lips against hers nor heal the scars his broken promises tore into her heart so long ago. No, forgetting him is impossible she's realised. But she won't let him haunt her, not for another year. She leans further into Avery's arm with that thought, and tries to ignore the way his hands are too small and his arms too slender to be entirely comfortable. Avery is easy, he's not nearly as horribly judgemental as Mulciber as-well, although that isn't hard, and her parents would approve. Maybe Corvus Avery will never feel right, his touch will never send her brain into delirium or erupt a deep burning inside her chest. But she thinks that is probably better. His love had nearly destroyed her once before, had been red and vivacious in a way that was so very him. But then red was always his colour not hers. And Corvus is green, safe and easy, and maybe that's what she needs even if it's not what she wants.