"You look terrible!"
"Cheers, Neville." Marjorie grinds out, reaching for a plate of sausages. She feels terrible; despite her best efforts, sleep did not come easy to her last night. In the light of the morning it all seems ridiculous, but she could have sworn last night that there was a very tall, shadowy figure standing in the corner of her dorm room all night long. The draft that kept blowing through the room didn't help, sounding like whispered words just beyond the edge of her comprehension.
"I mean," Neville hastens to say, "That is, not terrible, exactly, but, er- a bit tired, maybe."
Marjorie huffs a weak laugh through her nose as she butters her toast. "Yeah." She murmurs, tearing an enormous bite of and chewing it lazily. The thought of going to double Charms this morning feels almost physically painful, so she finds herself shoveling food into her mouth in an attempt to fortify herself for the day ahead.
Neville watches her cram food into her mouth at a borderline insane pace, looking extremely concerned. He's very obviously about to say something, but then Seamus Finnegan throws himself down onto the bench next to them and begins questioning Neville about Potions homework, successfully distracting him.
Marjorie gets to her feet and grabs her bag while Neville's attention is taken up by his friend, and leaves quickly for class before her cousin can ask her any more questions. Maybe it's silly, but she just can't bring herself to tell Neville about the difficulties she's been having with sleeping. She far prefers the idea of him putting her exhaustion down to insomnia than to him knowing the truth. The thought of his horrified concern upon hearing that she's seeing things watching her in the middle of the night is just awful.
Breakfast hasn't quite finished yet, so Marjorie ends up being early to Charms. She doesn't mind, really; the Charms classroom is peaceful so early in the morning, before it's disturbed by excited yelling and flashes of overenthusiastic magic. As the only person in the classroom so far, she relishes the quiet and takes a moment to rest her head on the top of her desk.
She's so tired that she almost doesn't notice when the door to the classroom swings open again, but the sound of a hushed conversation and quiet laughter clues her in to the fact that she's no longer alone. She lifts her head, curious, and nearly flings herself under the table at the sight of Fred and George Weasley. Because of course, on the one day that she arrives to class early, the twins also decide to be early for the first time ever. They're snickering together, and apparently haven't even noticed her presence yet. That's just perfect, really. Marjorie's eyes dart around the room, trying to figure out how to escape from the classroom before they notice her and she becomes a target.
Unfortunately, she's too slow. She's only just started to slip out of her chair when one of them (George, perhaps?) looks around, and his gaze falls directly on her. She flushes as his eyebrows creep slowly up his forehead, and whatever he's in the middle of saying cuts off short as he nudges his brother in the ribs.
Fred looks around too, and blinks when he spots her. They both look confused, which throws Marjorie off completely, although she supposes it's better than being on the other end of one of their mischievous looks. "What are you doing here?" Fred asks, frowning. He's speaking at a normal volume, but it almost seems to echo around the empty classroom. Marjorie thinks he might not mean it, but his tone is so blunt that it's almost rude.
Marjorie straightens in her seat and tries not to look as though she'd been planning on running. "I'm waiting for Professor Flitwick."
The twins tilt their heads in mirrored confusion, the timing so perfect that Marjorie wonders if they've actually practiced it. "Why didn't you wait at his office?" George asks.
"Er-" Marjorie frowns, unsure of what they mean, until it abruptly clicks and her jaw clenches in irritation. "I'm in this class."
"Are you?" The twins say in unison; Marjorie might have been impressed if she wasn't so busy feeling insulted.
"Yes. I've been in this class with you for five years." She points out as the twins share a glance, obviously flummoxed. Marjorie stares back at them for a long moment before breathing out a sharp puff of air. "Unbelievable."
Smiles turning sheepish, the twins opt to claim the desks directly in front of her. Marjorie straightens in her seat yet again, startled. The twins ordinarily sit on the other side of the classroom from her, and have done ever since first year - she knows this because she makes sure to sit as far away from them as she possibly can. The idea of them abandoning their regular desks to sit closer to her fills her with an acute kind of anxiety. "What are you doing?" She asks, her voice at least an octave higher than normal even to her own ears. "Your desks are over there."
Fred laughs as George leans forward, pretending to be wounded. "What, you don't want us sitting near you?"
Marjorie looks back and forth between them, suddenly at a loss. If she tells them that she truly doesn't want them anywhere near her, will they be angry enough to retaliate with another nasty prank? They're smiling now, but who knows how long their good humour will last? She's pretty sure they've pranked people for less. But if she allows them to stay near her, what kind of precedent will that be setting? What if they decide to sit next to her all the time?
After a brief moment of thought, she considers the fact that no one has ever made the conscious decision to sit next to her for more than two lessons in a row. Combined with the fact that the twins seem to have rather short attention spans, she figures that by next week they'll probably have returned back to their usual spot in the classroom.
"It's fine." She says, only noticing how long the pause has stretched once she finally speaks again.
The twins share another look, visibly trying to hold back laughter. Marjorie flushes in embarrassment and looks away, trying not to curse herself. She's an actual idiot. Why can't she just act natural?
"Hey," says Fred, tapping his knuckles on the desk to get her attention. "What's your name again?"
Marjorie's head snaps up at that, disbelief contorting her face. "What?"
Fred leans back, apparently startled by the force of her exclamation. "Er-" he starts, apparently at a loss as he shoots a look at his brother, who shrugs looking equally as nonplussed.
Marjorie glances between the two of them, searching for a sign that they're joking around. Surely, after five years of being terrified of being on the receiving end of one of their stupid pranks following that awful encounter in first year, they would at least have the manners to remember scarring her for life. Even if she had been so good at avoiding them that she managed to completely escape their notice- "We've been in the same class for most of our subjects since first year!"
Judging by the looks on their faces, this is news to them. Marjorie clenches her jaw and breathes deep, forcing her attention back down to her desk as the classroom door opens and students begin filing in at a steady rate. She's beginning to feel like an utter twat - what does it matter if the twins don't know her name? Apparently, she's managed to make herself fade so far into the background that she's just about invisible. Which is fine. That's fine.
George leans over to say something, but then Flitwick bustles in and Marjorie straightens up and very determinedly does not look in their direction. It's more difficult than she anticipated, considering both of them keep glancing back at her and their attention is making her nervous. Eventually, they seem to pick up on the hint that she's ignoring them as class goes on, because they put their heads together and begin to whisper instead.
By the time the class finally, finally ends, Marjorie's nerves are frayed and she hasn't retained a single scrap of information from the entire double period. She can see Fred and George beginning to turn around in their seats to face her again, but she jumps up out of her seat before they can say a word and makes a beeline directly for the door.
She's in such a rush to leave the classroom that she manages to walk directly into the door-frame, ricochet violently and stagger back, before making it out of the room on her second try. She marches down the hallway with her ears burning, struggling to pretend she doesn't hear the laughter echoing from the classroom behind her.
At dinner that evening, Neville nudges her side sometime around dessert. "Maggie, are you alright?"
Marjorie, whose attention is so deeply taken up by her lemon meringue pie that her head is practically buried in the bowl, startles at the elbow that abruptly jabs her in the ribs. "Ow! Damn, Nev, what?" She scowls, before the question actually registers and she rubs her ribs a little resentfully. "Oh. Yeah, fine. Just had a long day, you know. Why?"
"I just thought that something might have happened today." Neville says slowly, with the air of somebody that's picking their words very carefully. "Because Fred and George keep staring at you."
Startled, Marjorie whirls around just in time to catch the twins looking her way before their heads duck away and they begin peering rather unconvincingly in the other direction. She scowls at them, but since they're not even looking her way anymore she turns back to Neville. "They're just curious because they don't know who I am."
Neville looks like he doesn't believe her, and glances over her shoulder at where the twins are sitting several places down. "But you've been in the same year for five years now."
"I know!" Marjorie cries, feeling vindicated now that Neville is on her side too. "But apparently they don't even know my name. Even though they played that awful joke on me in first year."
"When they stole all of your left shoes?"
"No, that was Peeves." Marjorie scowls at the memory of having to hop around the castle wearing two pairs of right shoes until Professor McGonnagal found where Peeves had stashed the stolen left ones. "They nearly killed me on the changing staircase."
"Oh." Neville murmurs, looking worried around a spoonful of custard. "I suppose they play a lot of jokes like that on people."
"Well, I didn't think it was funny." Marjorie responds archly, taking another forkful of pie. In an undertone, she adds, "I should have pressed charges for emotional damages or something. Could I do that?"
Neville hums, obviously not listening. His attention has been drawn to the teachers table at the top of the hall, where Professor Moody is making a spectacle of conspicuously inspecting an enormous platter of profiteroles. "Hey, did I tell you that I got an E on my Defence Against the Dark Arts assignment today!"
"No," Marjorie says, allowing her frustration to melt away in the face of her cousin's excitement. "That's incredible, Neville! Well done!"
Neville beams, his round cheeks flushed with pride. "He's a really great teacher, isn't he?"
"Yeah." Marjorie says, trying to sound convincing. Truthfully, she doesn't much care for Professor Moody at all - she hasn't quite forgiven him for upsetting her cousin with his careless display of the Unforgivable Curses at the beginning of term. Neville, it seems, has quite forgotten that he was ever upset with him; probably because Moody keeps supplying him with books on rare and mystical plants. "I miss Professor Lupin, though."
Neville hums again, his eyes gone slightly glazed over. "Hey, I think I'm going to ask Professor Sprout for an extra assignment. Reckon I can't go wrong with getting some extra credit, right? Might make up for Potions."
"Hm." Marjorie nods thoughtfully. She wasn't particularly good at Herbology, so an extra assignment in it wouldn't be of much benefit to her, but she supposed she could look into an extra assignment for something else. It might make her Christmas report look a little better, at the very least. "Maybe I could ask Trelawney for something?"
"Yeah, why not." Neville says, though his nose wrinkles a little. He still hasn't forgiven the Divination professor for incorrectly predicting that their grandmother's health would fail.
Marjorie nods decidedly. "I'll do it tomorrow, then." With that, she pushes her plate back and stands from the table. She gives Neville a little wave, and as she walks out of the Great Hall she has to consciously pretend not to feel twin gazes boring into her back.
