Chapter 4 – That Girl

1st September 2019: Seb

When the redhead left the compartment, I finally felt like I could breathe again. I could see her friends, as yet not introduced to me, sharing confused and annoyed glances with each other. Dana kicked me across the compartment and raised her eyebrows. I knew what she was getting at. I never spoke to strangers, ever. I rarely spoke to Dana so freely, let alone some sixth-year who I'd never met before. I don't know what came over me. Looking at her, that Weasley girl, had made my heart leap into my mouth. It had made my stomach flip upside down; it had made me want to grin endlessly. I shook my head, feeling my hair fall into my eyes. Dana sighed audibly, attracting the attention of Molly's friends.

"She has a boyfriend, you know," the guy said. I looked slowly across to where he sat beside me. I raised my own eyebrows at this. It wasn't so much what he said but how he said it. His blond hair had a bright blue streak through the fringe and he was skinnier than Adam. I looked down at him, trying to be as condescending as possible.

"That's nice for her," I drawled as slowly as I could. I glanced from his checked shirt to battered Muggle trainers, then back up to his face. His nose was sharp and his eyes a bit too close together, "but I don't see why Molly's relationship status should affect me." If I wanted her, I would get her, regardless of whether or not she had a boyfriend. The boy looked slightly taken aback by my comment and I cocked my head to the side, wordlessly willing him to continue. His lips formed a tight line and he turned his head to look out of the window. I turned to the two girls, both of whom were staring at me. "Problem?" In perfect unison they shook their heads. The chubbier girl, with brown curls, moved a little closer to the girl who resembled a mouse and they both followed the boy's gaze out of the window. I knew they were in fact looking at my reflection and had the urge to pull a grotesque face at them but resisted the immature action extremely easily. "What time is Adam finishing up?" I politely asked Dana, in reference to her boyfriend, the seventh year Prefect for our house. She checked her watch.

"Twenty minutes or so," she replied. I nodded slowly, breathing in my surroundings. The girls were sat in silence, stony glares aimed at my knees. The boy had his arms crossed tightly, glaring at me in ten second intervals. I pulled a book out of my bag and began to read it. I could sense three pairs of eyes on me but was determined not to give up and give in. After a few minutes, they ceased yet the carriage was still silent. Occasionally, I sensed a gaze on me as the girls pored over a copy of Witch Weekly or as the guy picked at a piece of fluff on his jeans. I wished I was as skilled at Legilimency as my grandmother. I would love to hear their thoughts. Instead of risking it, I turned the page in my book, praying the next twenty minutes would go faster.

I finished the book in ten minutes. Dana was playing with the sleeve of her shirt, and nibbling on a biscuit. I put my book back into my bag and stood up. Dana looked at me both questioningly and threateningly. I stretched my arms, feeling my muscles tauten underneath my shirt. I relaxed with a small groan and shook my head so my hair fell in my eyes.

"I'm dying for a fag," I murmured, quietly enough that only she would hear, and reaching into the pocket of my jeans. It was true. I'd gone forever without smoking – my father gave up trying to get me to stop years ago, and as long as I don't do it in front of my younger siblings, he doesn't care anymore. Dana sighed and waved me outside. She hates my habit as much as my father. For someone who has no problem in having extremely loud sex in the bed next to mine, she's shockingly prudish about things like smoking. I shrugged and wandered into the corridor.

As every year, it was heaving out there. Children were running up and down the passageway, bumping off others to slow themselves down. I was planning on hanging out of a window on the corridor with my cigarette but seeing the chaos, I changed my mind and headed down to the other end of the train to where I hoped I'd find some younger kids to force to leave their carriage. Finding it unbearably claustrophobic, I walked quickly, twice the pace of the third-year beside me who was running from his friend…or a bully; it didn't make a difference to me.

I think it was my speed that caused it. I was so desperate to get away from the small children that I nearly knocked over someone as they backed out of a compartment. Whoever it was only came up to my chest and I grabbed their arm before they could fall back any further. It took me a second to recognise her, but in my hand I was holding the forearm of Molly Weasley, the very girl who had made my heart beat twice as fast as a human's should. As soon as she was steady on her feet, I let go, feeling the electricity charge up and down my arm like there were fairies in my blood stream, tickling my insides. She blushed that brilliant crimson colour again and stepped to the side of me, trying to get past. I grabbed her arm again, not tight enough to hurt her but with enough force for it to be evident that I wanted her to stay with me.

"Molly." Her name rolled off my tongue so sweetly and so naturally that it shocked me. My throat, painfully dry, closed up. I felt that uncontrollable urge to smile again as she stopped opposite me, the two of us forming a wall against the crowds of people. We were almost touching, until she turned and pressed her back to the window. She seemed to glance across to my right, looking through the door of the compartment beside me and then she visibly relaxed.

"Yes?" She sounded so cool and confident. Her blush had died down and she pushed a lock of short, red hair out of her eyes. I thought I caught her hand shaking, but as it dropped to her side, I knew I must have imagined it. She looked up at me expectantly and I realised that I was now meant to say something. I could have kicked myself. I was always prepared, always. I heard myself give a light chuckle at my own stupidity. I let go of her arm, realising I was still holding it quite tightly. I nervously rubbed my chin, feeling the rough stubble graze my fingers. She looked at me bemusedly, her brown eyes dancing, her gaze tickling my skin. I shook my head letting my hair fall into my eyes. She continued to stare at me enchantingly. My mind went blank. I had no idea what to say, what kind of lie to spin.

"I didn't think about what I was going to say after 'Molly'," I admitted. I felt my mouth contort into the smile that I'd been working so hard against showing and cursed myself. She smiled sweetly back up at me and her lips parted as if to speak, but I got there first with the question that had been bugging me since I laid eyes on her for the first time. "Why haven't I seen you before?" She frowned, her forehead creasing and eyes searching my face quickly. She seemed to go into a daze for a second. "Molly, are you okay?" I had no idea where this compassion, usually reserved only for Jules and Ariella, had come from. "If it's a difficult question, you don't need to answer it." Being a Weasley meant she was bound to be magical, and equally bound to be a Gryffindor. Maybe she was a distant relative of those idiots in fifth-year, not one of the Prewett-Weasleys like they were. All these things crossed my mind. What if she had problems? She could have been home-schooled, gone to another Wizarding academy? The list went on. I looked at her, searching for an answer, any clue in her face. She shook her head.

"Sorry. I'm…" she started. As she did so, two Hufflepuffs ran past, shouting and screaming. One stood on my foot and I glared after him, resisting the urge to swear loudly. She stopped and took a breath, along with an apologetic smile. "It's just that I was going to ask you the same thing." My smile came again. I wished I had more control over this involuntary reaction every time she so much as glanced at me.
"I…I suppose my response is that I didn't exactly look like this –" she stopped midway to gesture at herself. It was true, she did look amazing. As well as her short, poker-straight red hair that brushed her pale chin, her clothes hugged her slim figure perfectly too. The dark green complimented her skin tone, and brought out the freckles dashed across her slightly chubby cheeks, "- you know, decent, last year." She was stumbling a bit now, losing the confidence that she'd initially begun with. She softly cleared her throat and started to tell me briefly how her cousin had taken her into Muggle London to change her look. I noted that she was careful not to mention how she had looked before, and wondered whether she thought I was that shallow. At the mention of her cousin, the eldest of the Weasleys and giving me the hint that she certainly was Prewett-Weasley spawn, I came over all funny. As little as I knew about other people in the school, Victoire Weasley was one girl that no-one could not know. She was tall, skinny and beautiful, in an extremely stereotypical way, yet the strength of the Veela gene in her, no matter how small the percentage, made every boy in the school turn to jelly at her feet, and although I hate to admit it, I am included in that majority. Molly scowled a little, her brow furrowing and she seemed to be thinking of something to change my dreamy expression. I snapped out of the memory as quickly as I'd fallen into it and coughed.

"She's with that Lupin guy now, isn't she? Victoire?" I threw in as nonchalantly as I could. Molly relaxed a little and nodded. I began to nervously play with the ring I got from my grandmother for my seventeenth birthday: a family heirloom, priceless. Again, she seemed to be having a mental debate before speaking, her eyes flickering, not knowing where to look.

"So do I get to hear why I've never seen you around?" She smiled once more, and I cursed her internally. She was obviously intrigued, as she looked up at me from under her eyelashes, playing with my emotions. I'd hoped that talk of herself would distract her, as with most girls, but no: this one was genuinely interested in me. I racked my brains thoroughly. Tell a lie or face the truth? Old me versus new me. It was difficult; I hadn't even decided when my mouth started to spew out the Merlin's honest truth.

"I'm a bit of a loner, really. I keep myself to myself," the new 'honest' me began. I could feel the old me pressing down, smothering the new figure, trying to keep the information to a minimum. "I'm not totally friendless, obviously." I was making reference to Dana, who would now be entwined in Adam's arms. I suppose to an outsider, they'd seem like my friends and it was best to keep that façade rather than admit that I couldn't tell you their middle names or their mothers' jobs. "I go to my lessons, I eat dinner, and I sit in my Common Room. That's it really." That was all she needed to know. The lies and deceit had managed to seal the honest part of me up in a box and shut the lid firmly.

"Quidditch?" she asked, slightly surprised. I suppose that coming from a family that spawned generations of good Quidditch players, it was hardly surprising. I shook my head and knew that my face had contorted into a look of disgust. She dropped her gaze from me. "Fair enough." She glanced at her wrist, her watch-less wrist, I might add. "I should get back. Max'll get worried." She seemed to shrink, looking almost scared of me: the way I like it. I nodded at her.

"I'll be back in a minute." I was dying for this cigarette now, and began to hurry off. If I turned around, just for one last look, it could give it all away. Some sixth-year idiot backed out of a carriage and I narrowly missed bumping into him and sending him flying. His friends blocked the corridor behind me and I took the opportunity to glance back swiftly. I could see the flame of red hair dancing down the corridor, away from me, back towards her friends. My heart relaxed again. My lungs were screaming for the smoke. I glanced to my left, saw my younger brother's compartment and dived inside.

--

"Tell Mother about this and I'll make sure you never talk again," I spat at him, hopping up onto the seat, narrowly avoiding stepping on the hand of another first-year. I pulled from my coat a packet of cigarettes, opened the window enough for me to stick my hand out and took one from the packet. Stephen's friends seemed taken aback by my actions but a snarling lip took their attention away. I lit it with my wand and inhaled deeply, instant relaxation. I leant back against the side of the compartment. My knees were crouched: I wasn't tall enough to lean out of the window without standing on something, but if I stood up straight here, I'd go through the ceiling. With my free hand, I pushed my hair back from my eyes and scrutinised the four people my brother had befriended. There was a girl looking terrified, with dark hair cut into a bob and a pair of thick, round glasses on her nose. Beside her sat a boy with curly brown hair and crooked teeth. He was staring up at me half in shock and half in awe. Either side of my brother was another girl, this time with long, red hair, and a podgy blond boy. I yearned to make a comment about his size but to upset him would be to upset Stephen, and that would mean an owl straight home to tell my parents that I'd been smoking out of the train in a compartment of eleven-year-olds. I took another drag.

"How far away are we?" Stephen asked, looking up at me, torn between curiosity and disgust. I checked my watch swiftly, bringing in the smoking tobacco. The girl beside my brother coughed dramatically. She was at my feet. A sly kick would seem accidental, totally without malice, but nonetheless, I thought better of it. She realised quickly that the cigarette had been modified to allow the smoke to smell not of strong tobacco but of cherries, and stopped her act with an apologetic smile. I took my gaze from her with a shake of my head, and lay it on my brother, who shrunk against the seat. He held my glare, but his shaking hand told me I was making him uncomfortable. The podgy boy coughed and I broke my stare.

"You've got hours yet," I muttered, feeling the smoke cover my throat, letting my voice become as raspy as ever. I tapped the ash out of the window. "Someone will come by and tell you to get changed." All of our family, except my grandmother, wear Muggle clothing during the day. It's much more comfortable and in the insane heat that we had over summer, it was more practical than the robes. I took one last drag and threw the cigarette from the window, watching as it somersaulted through the air. I exhaled, covering each child in the cherry fumes, and hopped off the seat, landing so softly that I barely made a noise. "Later, kid." I gave my brother a shove on his shoulder and left in a breeze.

I didn't have much choice but to return to the compartment I was in before. Knowing that I'd be alone with Molly and her idiotic friends, I hung around outside for a second, trying to get a gist of the conversation.

"…defending a guy you've known for all of five minutes, Molly," the boy was saying, clearly trying to sound rational but spite filled his voice. "Like Nina said, he may be easy on the eye, very easy on the eye," he added dreamily. I felt sick for a second at the thought of that child leering at me, imagining what he'd like to do to me, "but there is no way on God's Earth that we wouldn't have seen him before." Molly was silent. It was though she knew he was right but didn't want to admit it. They were telling her to stay away, to be wary of me. They were denying her of her own happiness. There was another second silence before -

"Fine. Whatever." Her response was barely audible from through the glass door. The silence cloaked them once again: my cue to enter.

I took a deep breath, ran a hand through my hair, ruffling it up, and drew open the door as slowly as possible. I stepped inside slowly, carefully, so that only my foot was visible to Molly and her male friend. The two girls scowled at me from their side and I glared back. I stepped fully inside to see the object of my affections trapped between the boy and the window, twisting a piece of her hair into a plait. She looked up under her eyes and, seeing it was not one of her cousins or friends but me, the guy she had shown fear of not ten minutes before, she smiled. I resisted the need to smile back, instead thinking of the boy's disgusting assessment of my appearance, which I hoped would give me a look of utter repulsion upon my face. I was obviously right because her smile dropped and she sat back in her seat. Feeling a little bad for making it seem like I didn't care, I sat down beside the girls this time so I was facing her male friend, who made no sign that he was going to move up to give Molly some air. She stared out of the window, pouting slightly. I waited for her gaze to switch, for her eyes to glance over mine, for her to understand that I didn't mean it. I opened my mouth a little, the unspoken words jarred in my mouth and I shut it quickly. I wasn't going to be broken by this girl, this young girl. She was nothing, in all reality. She was just another passing fancy, just as her cousin had been before her.

"So…" the boy said, his voice cracking a little in nervousness, "did you have a good summer?" It took me a second to realise it was not his friends he was talking to, but me. Taken aback by his show of friendliness, both Molly and I looked up at him quizzically. "Just being polite!" he protested when Molly shot him a glare. She glanced at me, at last: 'passing fancy' my arse. At her gaze, looking at me expectantly and waiting patiently for a response, my heart raced on. It made no sense.

"It wasn't too bad, thank you," I spoke slowly and deliberately, trying to keep my indifference to his question suppressed. "Yours?" He seemed more taken aback by the question than I had been by his. He stammered some clap trap about a holiday to Kenya and quietened. Molly seemed mildly impressed by the conversation, no matter how trivial and forced it was. I cleared my own throat. "I'm sorry. I didn't catch your names." I looked to the girls first; the one nearest to me flinched. The darker haired one poked her much less attractive friend who stuttered a little.

"Rainen," she murmured so quietly that I barely caught it. I looked to her friend to translate the word.

"Rhiannon," the girl replied to the unspoken question. "But she prefers Nina, don't you?" It was like she was talking to a child. The chubby girl nodded, curls bouncing on her shoulders. "I'm Anna. That's Max," she pointed to the boy who gave me one, curt nod. I imitated him, "and you know Molly." The seemingly most confident of the four pointed to the redhead who blushed again. I felt one side of my mouth turn up and fought to bring it back down.

"Nice to meet you." It was such a lie, such a generic response. It meant nothing to me, though they all seemed to take it as being the truth. I glanced to my watch. I'd only returned fifteen minutes before but it felt like an hour. I excused myself, claiming I was going to visit my brother and left. I considered hanging around outside the door for a second, just to hear the conversation, but thought better of it and wandered down to the front of the train to separate Dana and Adam and to continue with more forced conversation and fake smiles.

A/N: I adore Seb. This is one of my favourite chapters too. Review and I shall send you biscuits :)