A/N: My sincerest apologies that this has taken so long to update. I'm in France at the moment, and have been for the last four months, and what with everything here, and my pitiable lack of internet access…So, sorry. The change in characters (in the blurb thing) is to try and attract more readers. Sorry for lying.
An Insult
September 9th, 1936
Charis entered the library, a bundle of parchment and textbooks clutched against her chest, feeling rather uncomfortable. It was not the way she was used to feeling, as she considered herself a confident, popular person, able to handle almost any situation. But the library was not her usual territory. And she couldn't remember the last time she'd been here by herself.
Lucille and Octavia were in the Slytherin common room, discussing the advantages of English wizards versus French ones. Normally she'd be more than happy to join in, but lately she'd been finding it all a bit trivial. So she'd left, using her enormous pile of homework as an excuse. If she was honest with herself, she knew that things had changed between them all. It was Ella's fault, but they were more wary of her, and not quite as warm as they once had been. It wasn't just them either. She noticed the way people looked at her when she entered the classroom, the way they whispered when she slid onto the table at breakfast. But it would pass. She was a Black, and in the end people would remember that.
She looked around the library. Every table was occupied. It seemed as if she wasn't the only one who'd spent too much of the first week catching up on her social life, and not enough on homework. Well, she'd just have to sit with somebody else. She glanced around, trying to see someone she knew.
There were only three tables of Slytherins. Two were groups of first years looking rather petrified by their workload, and the third was several fifth year girls who seemed to be trying to attract the attention of a table of Ravenclaw boys. There was no chance she was sitting with them.
So that left somebody in Ravenclaw, as she was not in the habit of associating with Hufflepuffs or Gryffindors. Luckily, the library seemed to be virtually a second common room for Ravenclaws. Mentally she crossed off all the first, second, third, and fourth years, all the muggleborns, all the tables already full, all the people she knew to be unbelievably boring, and anybody who was looking at her strangely. This left her with….Charlus Potter.
Charlus Potter. Head Boy, model student even for a Ravenclaw, keeper for his House Quidditch team (and held wholly responsible for Slytherin's loss in the championship the previous year), charming, witty, handsome, and a pureblood. She had two classes with him, but she couldn't think of a single time she'd ever had a proper conversation with him about something other than homework.
"No time like the present", she said to herself, and taking a deep breath walked over to his table.
"Mr. Potter? Do you mind if I sit here?"
He laid down his pen, and looked up at her, his light brown curls flopping in front of his chocolate eyes.
"Not at all. But I really wish you'd call me Charlus. We have been at school together for over six years."
She hid her smile with a practised flair.
"Only if you call me Charis."
"Nothing would please me more."
He grinned at her, and Charis suddenly understood why so many girls fell in love with him.
"Are you working on the Transfiguration essay?" he asked as she unpacked her books.
"Among other things. I sort of forgot about homework last week."
"I know what you mean."
"I don't believe you. Charlus Potter, not doing his homework?"
"I'm not as perfect as you think, you know."
"Who said I thought you were perfect?"
She raised an eyebrow, proud to think she'd caught him out.
"Reading minds is one of my many talents", he said with a grin.
The problem was that he was right.
"And what do you do when you're not reading minds?"
"My homework, of course."
"Of course", she mocked, and for a moment she thought that this was what it would be like to have real friends. Lucille and Octavia were both very nice, but she couldn't imagine joking with them the way she was with Charlus. They wouldn't understand.
Carefully she began to ink her quill, trying not to care whether or not her hair was in place.
"So", he said, "What brings you to the library?"
"Homework", she said, thinking it was rather evident.
"Obviously, Charis. But I meant, why the library? I don't think I've seen you in here before, and I come fairly frequently."
"Oh. Well, the common room was too noisy."
He raised an eyebrow and she knew he didn't believe her. But what was she supposed to say? That she found her friends a bit immature, and that everybody else seemed to be avoiding her? Not one of her favourite conversation openers.
"And you?" she asked, not having anything else to say.
He shrugged.
"Its easier if I need to look something up. And I can concentrate better here. And I guess…" He hesitated. "I guess here I don't have to put up with my friends discussing the latest Quidditch statistics either."
He looked back down at his parchment hurriedly, and began to scribbling across the page. She regarded him for a moment.
"I know what you mean."
He looked up.
"Sometimes I get sick of hearing about the latest dress robes too."
He looked surprised.
"Really?"
"Yes, really." She narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
"Oh", he said quickly, "I didn't mean it like that, I just meant -"
"It's alright. I understand. You didn't think there could ever be more to Charis Black than her gang of friends and the latest piece of gossip."
She stood up and began packing her books away. It had all been too good to be true.
"And here I was thinking Charlus Potter was different from the rest. But no, just like everybody else the only reason you're interested in me is because my sister ran off with some blood traitor scum."
"That's not true. Charis –" He put his hand on her arm to stop her as she turned to leave.
"Don't you dare touch me", she hissed. "Don't you ever dare touch me. You think you're so high and mighty, but you're no different to anyone else."
He drew his hand away, and his expression was what one might have called hurt. Charis was past caring. She wanted to run from the library, but that would not have been very dignified, so she settled for a haughty march.
Of course, by this stage, most of the other students in the library had heard what was going on and were watching, eager for more gossip. Wonderful, thought Charis. Let's give everybody another reason to hate me. It was Ella's voice in her mind that told her she was being overly dramatic. And she detested that.
