Chapter 16: Somethings
In a sea of black James stood out in the scarlet and gold Quidditch sweater that screamed his famous name across the back. He wasn't seeking attention, although that was something he was wont to do, but wanting instead to be surreptitious as he browsed the library's book-lined shelves. That was the thing about school, the senior years especially, sometimes the less fun aspects such as, well, schoolwork, demanded attention.
It may have been the colourful clothing or perhaps the novelty of him being in the library at all, but it was just as likely not any of that because there rarely was a time that they wouldn't giggle and greet and wave and there never was a time that James wasn't anything but friendly in return. He knew no other way. However, underneath the calm exterior grew a rising sense of agitation, because this assignment was due so soon and he'd left it so late and where in the name of Godric's Galloping Geese was this bloody book?!
Then all good intentions vanished in the wake of something so much better than particularly difficult transfiguration.
It wasn't every day that you stumbled upon a secret meeting. Such happenings were a personal favourite of James's, and he conducted them himself at times, with much dramatic flair. There was something about this one, however, that filled him with a wicked glee. What was better than a secret Quidditch meeting? Well, one held by the enemy, with him right there in earshot.
This was a secluded study space, tucked behind some of the tallest shelves. James hadn't realised it existed, his lack of knowledge of the library only now feeling like the flaw in the knowledge of the castle and its secrets that he prided himself so heavily on. All the tables but one were empty. The occupied table housed a suspicious looking group, or maybe James just thought of them as such as he recognised them on sight; the Ravenclaw Quidditch Team.
Matthew Davies sat at the table's head and tipped back on his chair with a smug arrogance that had James gritting his teeth. You'd think he were captain of the whole world, not just his house's Quidditch team. When he spoke he didn't bother to keep his voice down and his brag was evident in the way he flicked back his fringe and smiled this punchable little smile. "So I'm taking Lucy Weasley to Hogsmede, right-"
The sound of his little cousin's name from the mouth of this absolute prick stilled James's heart's for the merest moment and his hands gripped even tighter to the shelve he peered through. Already he wanted to reach for his wand and curse the lot of them. And he could have, it was so close...
A scrawny little fifth year asked, "There's a Lucy Weasley?"
Davies laughed. "Yeah, I know, right? I had no idea either. Anyway, she's into me, of course..."
James's hand was on his wand.
"...and I want to be in on whatever she knows about her cousins' teams." He smiled so wide the corners of his mouth almost touched his ears, a grotesque sight. "Gentleman, the Cup is ours."
James pulled the wand from his pocket and, carefully, aimed it.
Somewhere along the way Lucy lost focus. While she was both studying and skipping class she was neither absorbing information nor worrying over getting caught. Instead she was smiling at the vines that threaded in twisting green masses overhead, at the beauty of the flowers in all array of colours, and at the warmth she felt when Will's hair tickled her face as they leaned in so close together. He listed off characteristics of the plant like an expert, a much needed help in this class where she skimmed by with barely average marks, but Lucy couldn't hear what he said, see what he demonstrated. The spark of possibility was blinding.
Couldn't he see how perfect this was? The greenhouse walls were an invisibility cloak against the world, coated in condensation and covered in plants of all colours and sizes and temperaments. It was cozy, it was warm, and both their cheeks were tinted with red.
The day, although almost over, was alive with potential, infinite with possibility. The scope of Lucy's vision, however, was so much narrower, and where it really mattered, she was as good as blind.
Hand in hand Louis and Rorie walked the halls together after class, for all to see. People whispered and pointed and Louis tried to shrug off the attention. Rorie ducked her face shyly, but was smiling. Louis, who could be really quite decisive and convincing when he put his mind to it, had been the one to take her hand after class, and now he turned on the charm. It was like a switch. He just closed his eyes for a moment, breathed in a deep breath and then he was chatting and smiling and shoving the weight that pushed down on his chest further inward (it was just the stares, he told himself, the attention).
Louis's cousin Al had stopped mid-corridor, an expression of disgust twisting his features. Louis followed Al's gaze with his own to where everyone was now looking, with a range of different reactions, to the very public show that Scorpius and Rose made of their feigned affections. Rose looked surprised and awkward, her neck at an unusual angle and her hands placed so uncertainly upon Scorpius's arms, of all places, and Scorpius looked too intense and Louis found the whole thing entirely off-putting and not the least bit convincing.
"I think my eyes are burning," Rorie announced, rubbing them as though to clear the image.
"They're ...not subtle," agreed Louis, then fell silent, wondering if there was anyone here who felt genuinely at all. He couldn't even count Rorie, as much as she seemed to like him, for that wasn't him that she was seeing. She couldn't like someone she didn't know. "Let's go far away," he suggested, thinking of the ocean but settling on the lake, the forest, the greenhouses, the Quidditch pitch... anywhere with fresh air and no one else around.
Rose had always been very sure of who she was, what she wanted, what she was going to do. She was confident and competent, individual and independent. Basically she was more than capable of getting stuff done for herself, by herself.
But sometimes she had to ask for help. There are only so many hours in a day and secret boyfriends aren't secretly met on their own. Hugo wouldn't usually be her first choice for such assistance, he was a little too prone to sarcasm, teenage angst, and thinking his older sister was a whack-job jock, but he was family and this was a family matter and a little responsibility couldn't hurt the slacker.
As expected, Hugo was less than compliant to her demands. "I'm not your owl."
Rose only had eyes for the clock above the fireplace. "I don't have time for owls, there's too many letters to write. Just tell them, will you?"
He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure, whatever."
He was probably just trying to get her off his back but Rose would take what she could get. "Thanks little bro," she grinned, ruffling his curly locks.
Hugo winced at the show of affection. "That didn't just happen," he announced to the common room at large.
"Yes it did," smirked a very pretty little blonde girl, just one of the many people who Hugo would rather not have see his older sister treating him like a pet.
Unfortunately the girl was right, however, and all Hugo could do was blush quite obviously and remind himself that when he ruled the world, or whatever was in store for him (he was yet to work out the exact nature of The Plan) there would be no condescending looks nor ruffling of hair.
Heavy boots slammed into the ground, scattering the flakes of snow too freshly fallen to already be beaten rock hard and dirty brown. Feet pushed off, broomstick taking flight and the feel of the wind, fresh and ice cold against his face. Al flew for the sheer breath-taking adrenaline rush of it. This was healthy, this was always an option. The sky was always there.
He repeated it over and over again, but down to his stomach he still felt ill and his mind was a buzzing hornet's nest and they were after him, swarming and swarming andmake it stop.
Around the pitch he flew. Lap after lap after lap. Not a challenge; almost boring.
Over the lake, skimming the surface with his hands, thankful it wasn't entirely frozen.
Through the trees, dodge and duck and roll.
Hurtling, speed less than safe.
Al didn't consider himself over-confident in his skill, just aware of what he can do.
Back into open land, hovering mid-air, for a moment lost without purpose.
In the distance a figure materialised, flying so fast and right towards him. Al paused for just a second, long enough to register just who it was. He shoved that information aside and he sped off in the opposite direction, because for once he wanted to be running from someone less evasive than himself. He wanted a race he could win.
Rose didn't quite know how to identify herself along with someone else, and she wondered if she'd changed, now her thoughts were entirely consumed by another.
She loved everything about Teddy, from the way he smiled to how he always looked just a little lost, but he knew where he wanted to go. She wanted to help him get there.
"I shouldn't be so consumed by this place," he said, motioning at Hogwarts and all it entailed. "I shouldn't be so consumed by a time I never knew. It wasn't my past, it was my parents' and their friends' and I never knew any of them, but I can't escape it nonetheless, and all I want is to find out more."
They both did, but Rose's interest was more curiousity and quite likely fueled by her desire to be close to Teddy, while Teddy's fascination was less an idle interest and more of an obsession. Rose stroked his hand and listened as he shared things with her that he'd never speak of to anyone else.
"Sometimes," Teddy said, his voice so quiet Rose had to strain to hear it, "I just feel like I should have been there, like I could have done something, changed things."
Rose knew not to point out the impossibilities, the lack of reason connected with the desire to effect events that had occurred before you were even born. Rose was a deeply practical person, but Teddy had dreams and she'd never let herself be the one to shatter them. He may have been older and physically stronger but that didn't change how fiercely protective she felt of him. Even these past injustices that Teddy mulled over felt like very real threats but, unfortunately for Rose, not one's she could punch or curse.
"You have your own reason for being here now," she said eventually, unsure though whether she believed it. "We have our own purpose, there'll be something for us."
"Will there, though?" His voice was heavy with melancholy. "Because I've been alive for what feels like a very long time and my life has amounted to nothing."
"Don't say that," said Rose, voice sharp with a stabbing pain. "You're not nothing to your grandmother, to the Potters. You're not nothing to me."
"I'm sorry," said Teddy, but he still sounded distracted.
Rose gripped his hand so he'd look at her, look at her properly. She fixed her eyes on his, willed so hard that he'd listen and believe. "Your parents died so we could live in peace. Don't ever think it was for nothing."
The Hogwarts gossip mill was a fascinating thing.
"Everyone's talking about it," Isabelle Griffin said, running her fingers along Scorpius's arm in a way that made his hairs stand up on end. "Well, not as much as you and Rose, that was truly scandalous." She had a habit of accentuating certain words, her voice dripping with melodrama.
No, thought Scorpius, that was a yawn at best. "Rose?" he asked. "Your good friend?"
"We're not friends," explained Isabelle in sultry tones that still somehow sounded like she was schooling a young child. "We're just housemates."
"She thinks you're friends." Scorpius placed his own hand upon Isabelle's, and removed her's from his arm.
"You're so boring these days, Scorpius." Under the table her other hand moved to his leg.
Scorpius fiddled the quill she'd abandoned when he'd sat down beside her and apparently encouraged her once again. Whoops. "We're in a library," he reminded her curtly. "Also, do you like to collect the gossip or start it?You seem to be aiming for the latter."
He felt nothing at the sight of her sulking bottom lip, unable even to bring himself to be thankful when she removed her hand from his leg and folded it modestly in front of her. "Thank you for your information," Scorpius told her formally, getting to his feet.
He didn't look behind him as he exited the room.
"Tell me something about yourself," Rorie said, hair glistening red in the sunlight. They walked side by side along a cobbled path that curved alongside the greenhouse where experimental flowers grew unnaturally big and stunningly bright, their hands almost touching.
I want to like you a lot more than I do, Louis thought. "I like the way your hair changes colour with the light, and your eyes with your mood," he said. His lips twitched but it wasn't a smile because this was cruel of him, this didn't feel right. But he didn't feel right himself and he just wanted to be happy in this moment, with her, and it wasn't as if he were trying too hard or pretending to much because, really, charm did come easy to him and he noticed things like this but, not even that deep down, he still felt like a fake.
"That's not about you!" Rorie scolded but she couldn't hide her smile.
"See," Louis smiled back, "They look brighter already. Less like honey, more like molten gold."
In that moment Louis's mind was focussed on a couple things. One, he noticed they'd stopped moving. Two, a gigantic spider on a greenhouse's outer wall, and Three, beyond that spider that there were people, misty shapes through the greenhouse walls. He noticed all that yet failed to see how it was that Rorie leaned in to kiss him.
He was more than aware, though, when it happened. Her hand clasped his thin wrists and her lips were soft and the kiss was gentle and afterwards she blushed prettily and looked at the ground then up at him and she apologised and he told her no, don't apologise, and this time he kissed her, like she was a wishing well or a shooting star and if he hoped hard enough he'd get what he really wanted.
Will was distracted and it was all that Lucy could notice. Just look at me, she thought, so hopelessly.
But his eyes remained upon the plants and when he did look at her he wasn't truly looking at her but past her, or he would look at her but it was like he couldn't see- Lucy didn't know how to describe it. All she knew was this sinking feeling of disappointment, a gradual growing despair that pooled in her stomach and confirmed what she'd already known, that there never would be anyone who was interested in her, really interested in her. Why should there be? She thought of all the other people, and all the ones who could take a moment like this and make it something, then she pictured how it was going to be, how she'd let this moment pass right by, be a nothing in a life where only somethings survive.
So she tried even harder. She smiled and she spoke and she joked but she couldn't keep the panic at bay. She had to do something, she had to make some impact. How many people did he know? Would this moment remain even an extra hour in his memory? She just didn't want it to get lost. She didn't want to look back and feel only regret.
But nothing came to her. She had no wild urges, nothing truly interesting to say. She wished she could be like her cousins, who never struggled in the way she did. She thought how Will would be used to the excitement of James and she thought of the way everyone talked about Al and Rose and all the rest of them, everyone else but her.
Things were meant to be getting better. She had a date with Ravenclaw's Quidditch Captain and she'd been so happy, she should be so happy, but she wasn't and she couldn't understand why, and now here she was, greedily wanting more. What was wrong with her?
Will froze, eyes suddenly focused beyond the frosted glass. Lucy followed his gaze and upon seeing the embracing couple, blushed and looked away before she could tell who they were. She felt awkward. Would her and Will have to kiss now? It was this new pressure, heavy in the air, and although she spent every day just hoping, this didn't feel right.
There were many conflicting feelings jolting about inside of him in that moment, but James honed his concentration. He tried to shove it all aside and for the most part he was successful, which led to the pride that swelled in his chest. He only hoped Al would be as proud of him as he was of himself.
Except his brother was accelerating away from him like hell itself was snapping at his heels. James watched him for a moment before tilting the nose of his own broom down and speeding after his little brother. Al maintained the lead, twisting and turning and dodging and moving like the bloody good flier he was.
But when you've been competing against someone for as long as either of you can remember, you know their tricks, their strengths and their weaknesses. And when it came to flying, James wasn't so bad himself.
It took James less than five minutes to catch up and cut Al off from the front. There they hovered, suspended above a carpet of rocks and scraggly trees. Their hair was the same black windswept mess and if you were at a distance and didn't know either of them you may be unable to tell them apart. If you knew them at all, you'd struggle to spot similarities.
"What do want?" Al didn't bother to hide his annoyance.
James was silent for a moment. "Are there more important things in life than Quidditch?"
"Have you chased me down just so we can philosophise?"
James crossed his arms over his chest. "Answer it."
"Yeah. Yeah, there is." He sounded uncertain, or maybe it was suspicion in his voice.
"Like what?"
Al shrugged, looking sullen with his moody eyes and wisps of dark hair blowing across his freckled face.
"I'd say family would be one, wouldn't you?"
Al's nose crinkled, possibly with disgust. "You're not here to complain that I don't spend enough time with you, are you?"
"Ew, no. Your ugly face plagues me enough."
"I am charmed."
"You should be. Anyway, I need your help."
Al's eyes widened and his voice was flat with disbelief. "You need my help?"
"Yes."
"Are you okay?" Al asked, peering at him closely. "Not because you're actually asking for my help, but you seem ...off."
James's gaze darted across to the horizon. "I'm trying to contain my rage, Albus."
"Your rage? Shouldn't you be off cursing someone, or however you Gryffs deal with your problems?"
"Well, that's why I'm here, isn't it?"
Al's voice raised an octave. "So you can curse me?!"
"No," said James, with a flicker of a smile. "So you can curse someone with me."
