A/N: I'm currently watching Desperate Housewives while writing...so this chapter may be bad on your psyche. (There's a dead husband in the freezer!) (Update: started this a while ago, why that episode was so long ago... . )
Ginny turned on the water which came out steaming. She felt the hot water run down her back and she glared at the bathroom tile. Fucking idiot, he was. After a while, though, the sound of the running water and the thick steam began to calm her, and she stepped quietly out of the shower. She dressed quickly, dried her hair using a charm so it would be done quickly, and went back to the common room to retrieve her school supplies.
As she walked towards the Gryffindor Table she noticed Hermione already sitting between Carrie and Ron and across from Harry. Walking towards the opposite side of Hermione, she sat next to Harry and across from Carrie. "So, Carrie, Quidditch tryouts are today. Are you going?"
Carrie shook her head apathetically, her voice lazy and bored, but Ginny noticed the slight emotion that showed in her eyes no matter how hard she tried to pass off as indifferent. She noticed that it was always there... "Don't play Quidditch, remember?"
Carrie heard Evlyn's ringing voice from behind her at the Slytherin table. "She better as hell not." Carrie spun around at her, matching Evlyn's gaze with her own. Did she really want to play at that? Fine.
"On second thought, what time?" she asked, her eyes still flashing dangerously.
"After morning classes," Ginny responded, her eyes wandering over to where Evlyn was standing. The pale, dark haired Slytherin had her arms lazily crossed over her chest. A dark green belt with little black skulls was wrapped around her thin waist underneath her school robes. Her face held an oddly satisfied little smile, and she raised her eyebrows menacingly when she caught Ginny's gaze. Ginny held out her middle finger, and looked back at Carrie, hearing Evlyn break into a fit of rather immature laughter. "Really," she continued, ignoring the Slytherin, "You should come."
Carrie nodded, glancing back at the Slytherin table, then turning back to face Ginny. "Sure. I'll be there, I guess." She glanced down at a watch that was on her wrist, just visible under her long sleeve black shirt. "Um, I have to go meet with Dumbledore to discuss my schedule for the rest of the year. There was a bit of the mix up. I'll see you in classes, and if not, at try-outs," she smiled one of her convincing but superficial and fake smiles. It nearly hid how melancholy her eyes were, but not quite, "bye," she said as waved, backing up a few steps before turning on her heel and walking in the opposite direction.
Ginny watched her go, knowing that not everything was quite alright with her, though she'd only known her for a few days. She also knew that nothing had been alright for quite sometime before she met her, and also knew, or speculated rather, that asking her what was wrong wouldn't do anything because Carrie wasn't the type of person who would tell, much less to someone she hardly knew. Ginny felt selfish and cruel for it, but a part of her, however small, was glad for it. She was confused enough with her own life, and didn't understand her emotions anymore, not that she ever did.
Carrie stopped outside the entrance to the staircase that led to Dumbledore's office, muttering yet another candy-themed password, rolling her eyes at the Head's predictability, even if she had been informed of it. It wasn't as though she wouldn't have been able to guess; that no one else would have been able to. Then she reminded herself it was only an extra precaution, Dumbledore didn't need any protection. Not that she thought, anyway. Wasn't he the only one the Dark Lord feared? His only solid and breathing insecurity? Carrie remembered, scoffing at herself, how she had thought that had only been a myth. Voldemort was younger, re-gaining power, and far more powerful than Dumbledore could ever hope to be. How could he fear anything? Anything holding that much power had no fears. Oh, how naïve she had been.
Then she remembered wistfully at the times when none of that mattered to her. Before it all started. When it was just her and Evlyn, laughing and joking, not caring about their future because they were living the present. Both their families forcing such high and dark expectations unto them that their only dream was to rebel and piss them off. Her finely shaped mouth hardening into a tight line that could have rivaled McGonagall's as she continued up the winding staircase that led to Dumbledore's office. She stood outside the door, waiting for the meeting to end. She heard hushed voices, Dumbledore's and Snape's, maybe Aurelia's, too. She had only seen Aurelia DeCarte from a distance when she had been introduced during the opening feast as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, but she knew her voice well enough.
All at once, she heard Dumbledore's voice become louder, "I think we shall cut this short. I have a visitor," and the door flew open, revealing the teachers to Carrie and herself to the teachers. Every one of them was looking at her, and not one of them looked surprised; more like they had been expecting her. Snape left the room without a backward glance, while Aurelia nodded her head at Carrie while she did the same. It was a supposed courteous gesture, her thin line of a mouth and distrusting eyes telling Carrie otherwise. She knew the teacher didn't like her. Actually to say she didn't like her would be the understatement of the century.
It wasn't quite hate, either. It was more of a paranoia, suspecting the worst from her. Slightly beyond suspecting, as far as DeCarte was concerned, she was going to relapse into her old ways. Seasons and weather change, but people generally don't. Carrie knew she wasn't much different. She was just smarter.
Dumbledore motioned her forward. "You can come in," he said, his eyes void of their usual sparkle. His voice was all business, and his expression didn't show any different.
"I hear you've decided to tryout for the Gryffindor Quidditch team," the professor observed, his voice thoughtful, and she knew he was still weighing out the sides and what his opinion on the matter was.
Carrie's eyebrows instantly raised in an out of character look of surprise. How in hell could he possibly know that already? She nearly asked it, too, but bit her tongue. It would be too off topic, opening up another conversation when she already wanted this one to end.
"Yes," she began, her voice no less detached than when she spoke to anyone else, "Is that a problem?" she asked, a part of her hoping it was. That it was much too dangerous, that he couldn't risk the other students, that he didn't trust her, anything.
Instead he stroked the top of his beard, "Hm," he replied, "Well I wish you luck in tryouts."
That was it.
She was throwing the whole thing.
She'd go, as she promised, she just wouldn't try. It's not like it would actually be fun, anyway.
Carrie dragged her mind out of the future and back to the present. She nearly asked why Dumbledore requested to be here, but she already knew. And he knew she knew. She just wanted to get back on topic, discuss what they had to discuss, and then leave.
Dumbledore motioned for her to sit. "I hear you've befriended a few students. Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione?"
Carrie sat and looked directly at him. "Not exactly. I've never really spoken to either Harry or Ron, but they don't exactly stray far from Ginny and Hermione. I've spent most of my time with Evlyn, though," she replied, using all her power to prevent herself from sneering it. Evlyn may not be a saint, but she wasn't a bad person.
Dumbledore nodded, "That would be rather predictable," he said, his tone a little less distant, his eyes sparkling again, "I heard she gave Ronald Weasley quite the bit of trouble in Potions before."
Carrie nodded, "I know this isn't what you called me down here for, though, is it?"
Dumbledore sighed in a rather tired way, clasped his hands together and peered at her over the top of his half moon spectacles. "I decided it wise to check in on you from time to time, given the circumstances," he said. "But I have nothing more to discuss with you unless there's something you need to tell me," he raised his eyebrows, and when she didn't say anything he continued, "If there isn't, then you're welcome to leave and get back to your classes now."
Carrie nodded, and left his office without another word.
Classes passed in a boring haze, where she couldn't quite bring herself to think. What was the use, anyhow? She knew most of the material, and it wasn't as if she would need to actually pay attention to it to be able to pass the class. So she settled for alternating between sleeping through Binns' class and zoning out through Transfiguration. By the time lunch rolled around, she gladly retreated to the Great Hall, content to listening to Ginny and Hermione chattering away.
Five minutes until lunch ended, the students began clearing out. Ginny's face drained of color when she pulled herself out of her conversation. She grabbed Carrie's arm, painfully dragging her out of her reverie and down the Hall. "Damn, Gin. You're making my arm bleed," Carrie said, wincing.
"You say that like I mean to. We're going to be late for try-outs."
"Well, maybe your nails shouldn't be so much like claws. I think I'm going to scar from this," Carrie said, a hint of a whine in her voice.
"Maybe you should move quicker. Quidditch. Tryouts. Do those words mean anything to you?" Ginny responded, sounding far too obsessed with the sport for it to be healthy.
"Inflicting severe pain upon me. Do those words mean anything to you?" Carrie sneered lightly, trying to get her arm out of her grasp, but that just increased the pain, so she took Ginny's advice and sped up into a slow jog to keep up with Ginny's pace.
"I'll inflict some more pain if we don't get a move on."
Carrie sighed. It was rather unnerving how much she reminded her of Evlyn.
The Quidditch pitch was stone quiet when they ran onto the field. The instant they saw the reason, they dropped their jog and stood, then slowly continued. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy stood in the middle of the pitch, looking as though they were attempting to stare each other down.
"I'll say it again, Potter," Draco said, his captain's robes blowing slightly in the breeze, the green and silver the only difference between his own and Harry's, "I have a signed note, right here, from Professor Snape. We were scheduled for the pitch for today."
"Save it, Malfoy. I have one from McGonagall. We reserved it weeks before you did," Harry replied through his teeth, lacking the same casual and indifferent air that Malfoy's voice had.
"Lucky for me, Snape doesn't see it that way. Get your ass off the field." Draco pulled out his wand, "Unless, of course, you'd rather fight for it."
Harry did the same and Carrie noticed Evlyn on the far side of the pitch looking pleased and lazily excited, her small mouth twisted into a smirk. "You might want to back your smug ass down, Malfoy. If you know what's good for you."
Malfoy smiled, raising his wand at the same time as Harry. Hermione had walked out to watch the try-outs, but the second they were within eyesight from her, she broke into a run. Her wand was out, pointing at both of them. "Stop this, now. Before I get a professor."
"'Before I get a professor'," Evlyn mimicked, moving closer to the ordeal, throwing a smirk over at Granger.
Ron's eyes narrowed, standing stiffly behind Harry. "Get out of the way, 'Mione."
"Listen to the weasel," Malfoy drawled shooting a look of disdain down at Hermione, "he just may be onto something."
"Stop this," Carrie spoke up for the first time, "What's the big deal? We can each just use separate halves."
"Shut up, Everine," Malfoy snapped.
Carrie pulled out her own wand, and pointed it at Malfoy, along with Harry's. "Have it your way, then."
For the first time, Malfoy's eyes showed a glint of uneasiness. Just a flash, but it had been there. It may have been because he knew she wasn't lying. He also knew that she wasn't like Harry. That she could hurt someone else, and didn't lie to herself about it.
"Alright, fine," he sneered.
The circle of students now consisted of Ron, Ginny, Harry, Evlyn, Draco, Hermione, and herself. The rest of the Quidditch players stood back, but they were all watching intently.
"Stop," Hermione said quietly, but desperately. She wasn't looking at them. Her eyes were up on the sky.
"They're not going to stop," Evlyn singsonged, but was instantly spoken over by the other girl.
"No. Look up. Now," Hermione said, louder this time. Her voice beyond fear, and in no way could the sound of a voice like that ever be put into words.
They all looked up. Carrie's eyes widened. The clouds were like pure darkness, like a swirling shadow descending upon them. It became lower and lower until Carrie knew that if she reached up she could touch it. It smelled like a musty cavern. If she closed her eyes she knew she could imagine she was in one, the wetness of the cloud touching the air lightly caressing her skin. It's descent instantly quickened, like fast-forwarding through a movie. It consumed the seven students completely, and Carrie felt herself being pulled up like this cloud, this dark fog, was a vacuum of a sort.
For a moment, a timeless moment, everything was gone. She was there, and she was conscious, but she couldn't feel anything. Or, rather, there was nothing to feel. She felt her body fall on something solid, which she assumed was ground. She felt a sharp pain run through her side as the world slowly came back into focus.
A/N: So sorry that took so long. But I've been trying to not fail all my classes. Long and boring story, so I won't get into it. And then I started reading City of Bones, which didn't help. It's written by Cassandra Clare- sound familiar? Cassandra Claire wrote the Draco Trilogy, though the names aren't completely the same, I have a suspicion. It definitely is similar to her writing style. Oh, and the main character has red hair, and there is an egotistical and arrogant blond main character named Jace. He doesn't lie. (Sound familiar again?) And Clary is jealous of his skill of being able to arch only one eyebrow. (How about now?)
Yeah, so I'm going to go back to obsessing over this book. You should definitely join me. It's completely and utterly amazing. Even if it's not the same skilled author (which I highly doubt) it's still great.
Review, please? It'd make my day.