Chapter 20
I hurt all over.
My neck was stiff, my body was cramped, and my head was pounding. I laid in my bed, staring at the ceiling restlessly, studying every indentation and mark on the roof and thinking about small, random things.
And how much I fucking hurt.
Georgiana was snoring like a cow. I was surprised I'd managed to sleep that far into night with her obnoxious rumblings and snorts. Veronique was sprawled on her bed, most of her limbs hanging over the side.
I hadn't really talked to either of them since we'd returned to Hogwarts. The whole situation with being disowned and everything obviously stood in the way and, of course, I had never liked either of them in the first place. I didn't want to talk to them, and they didn't want to talk to me. I was tempted to ask McGonagall about switching to another dormitory, but I was pretty sure nobody else wanted me, either.
Stretching my arms, I winced as I heard a sickening pop. The aches and pains were overbearing at some points of the night, and even though I had taken a pain-relieving potion, no significant change had taken place.
The Quidditch season was taking a toll on me; there were blisters on my hands from gripping my broom, bruises in between my legs from flying, and scrapes and more bruises from buldgers and aggressive opponents. Not to mention that the rough night on the muddy Quidditch pitch with Mariette had left me so sore.
Finally, I slowly sat up in my bed and gingerly got up, slipping my feet into a pair of slippers, throwing my blanket over my back, and escaping to the Slytherin common room. The large clock by the bookshelves read 4:32 am, but I knew that any further attempts at sleeping would be futile.
I sat myself down on the empty couch, wrapped up in my blanket and leaning against the back cushion, letting the mellow fire warm me up. I shut my eyes as I listened to the quiet crackling of the fire in the hearth, the sound comforting me and the smell making me drowsy.
At 5:27 am, I decided that a cup of strong, black coffee was necessary. Lumbering through the dungeons and over to the basement area, I found the kitchens and discovered ten to fifteen house elves preparing breakfast for the sleeping students, who would be awake in two hours or so.
"Miss Flint," Polly the house elf squeaked. "What cans Polly do for the young lady?"
"A cup of coffee would be nice, thank you Polly," I said politely as she worked on fetching me a mug of coffee.
"Would the miss like Polly to puts anything in her coffee?"
"No, thank you."
In a minute or so, I was holding a scalding cup of coffee and making my way back to the dungeons. I tried to concentrate, doing some homework in my free time and reading some novel off of the shelf, one I'd already read twice. But my mind wouldn't focus. It was like a hive of bees, buzzing and thinking two hundred different thoughts at once, but all mushed together.
I did have a lot to think about. First of all, I went all out crazy on Mariette the other night, revealing all of the secrets I'd worked so hard at trying to keep to myself. I flushed that down the drain. Then, there were all of the enemies I had made in just over a short period of time. I was suddenly lacking followers and acquaintances, and in their place was a hoard of people who hated me. And that was just followed by questions like, "Where am I going to live this summer?" or, "How will I pay for my school supplies next year?" and also, "What will happen to me after Hogwarts?"
That was the moment that I decided that I needed a job.
Suddenly, I found myself knocking on the door of McGonagall's study at 7:15 am anxiously. I heard her beckon me in and I pushed the door open quietly.
Professor McGonagall's gray hair was pulled into a tight bun and her spectacles were wedged on the tip of her pointy nose. She wore a stern expression on her elderly face as I came to a halt in front of her desk.
"What can I do for you this morning, Miss Flint?" she inquired.
"I'm sure that you've heard about me being disowned this winter?" I asked bluntly, getting to the point swiftly.
When she didn't make any sign of confusion, I continued.
"Well, you see, I don't have enough money to support myself this coming summer and then after Hogwarts, and I was wondering if it would be possible for me to get a job in Hogsmeade," I said to her.
I had never had a job before. I had never even thought of it. But earning a sufficient income now seemed vital if I was going to survive on my own.
She took a deep breath, sitting back in her chair and putting her quill down by her parchment. "That is a very big responsibility, Miss Flint, I hope you are aware of that. It would be very difficult to work around, and there aren't many jobs available in Hogsmeade."
"I know, and I think I know of a place where I could earn some employment."
Everyone at Hogwarts had heard about the waitress at The Three Broomsticks who had come down with an awful case of spattergroit, and then got one of the bartenders and two other waitresses sick. They were desperate and they knew it.
"There is no doubt in my mind that you will be able to juggle your school work and your job at the same time, and I think you're very logical for coming to me about this," she stated.
"But?"
"I don't want the other students getting any ideas."
"I'll keep it a secret," I said solemnly. "I won't tell anyone. I'll just come to your office every evening and floo to Hogsmeade. Please, Professor. This is extremely important."
McGonagall looked at me from her desk with her sharp eyes. "Alright, Miss Flint. I will allow you to go job hunting this weekend in Hogsmeade, and if you return with a job offer, we will continue with this plan. But, if you do not, I'm afraid that you will have to find other means to survive this summer."
I stood in front of the small inn, where a warm light shined through the foggy glass. I gently pushed the door open, entering the pub swiftly and avoiding eye contact with anyone inside. I hurried up the stairs and knocked on Madam Rosmerta's office door.
"Enter," a low, feminine voice mustered.
I walked into the large room, where a desk covered in papers and empty tea cups littered the surface. Behind the desk was a thin, tired woman with light skin and messy hair sat.
"Can I help you?" she said, exhaustion lacing her words.
"I'm looking for a job," I said quickly, the words spewing out of my mouth. I was rarely ever nervous, but so much depended on this meeting and I couldn't help but feel a little anxious.
She looked up at me, her face a little surprised. "You're looking for a job?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Aren't you a little young? Are you a student at Hogwarts?" she asked.
"Yes, I am. I'm sixteen."
"Does anyone know you're here?" she asked skeptically.
"The headmistress does know, and has given me permission to search for a job," I told her honestly.
Madam Rosmerta rubbed her hands together. "What's your name, girl?"
"Rosalie Flint."
"And you said you were sixteen?"
I nodded.
"Are you completely aware of the responsibility holding a job requires? Especially when you are young, and when you have school on the side, too."
"Ma'am, I am completely aware of the circumstances. But I'm desperate for a sufficient income, and I need a job," I tried to explain.
"You're too young," she decided. "Especially to work at a pub."
"Please," I said. "This job is vital!"
She scanned my expression with beady, dark eyes. "But you're only a child."
"A child?" I snorted. "I was disowned this winter. I have no money, no place to live, and I'm running out of time. McGonagall gave me permission to search for a job, and is absolutely fine with the idea. And I've heard that you are quite desperate for employees. I see no reason why you shouldn't hire me."
She scratched her chin thoughtfully. "Do you even have any experience?"
"No," I admitted. "But I'm a fast and hard-worker. I can do whatever job you offer me, even if I am stuck with mopping the floors and changing dirty sheets."
Madam Rosmerta watched me curiously. "You are very determined."
"Yes, ma'am."
"You know what you want, and you won't stop until you have it. You're ambitious. And I do have my back against the wall." She paused, and I held my breath. "Miss Flint, when can you start?"
I gave a sigh of relief and let a tired smile cross my face. "Thank you, Madam. You won't be disappointed."
"I sincerely hope not."
The library was empty and dark when James entered it, with the exception of a few lights on here and there. One or two students littered the area, their noses stuck in a book or a magazine. Why anyone would visit the library at this time of night by their own free will, he didn't know. It sounded like something Lucy or Louis would do.
His fingers scanned the shelves, gently caressing each binding as he strode slowly down each hall. He searched for the bloody Transfiguration book, eager to exit the library as soon as possible. There were so many books, it was starting to creep him out.
James had always despised reading. He much preferred to be outside riding his broom or doing something that required physical action. He was full of energy, and reading didn't require any. And why stick your face into a fictional book when you could be out, living in reality?
He grabbed a green book with many brown stains on it, the title reading: A Wizard and Witch's Guide to Intermediate Transfiguration.
It contained a very detailed step-by-step list of instructions on how to change an owl into a pair of opera glasses, something James needed to know for his Transfiguration homework.
Failing Transfiguration was not something James could afford. McGonagall had promised him that if he received an O in Transfiguration with Professor Clidona, she would help him become a registered Animagus. Becoming an Animagus was one of his wildest dreams. He wanted to become just like his grandfather and his namesake, James Potter, who was also an Animagus. But the training was tedious and extremely difficult, and only someone talented in the art of Transfiguration could complete the training.
A fake cough interrupted his thoughts, and his head turned to find a very flirtatious Kimberly Snow, batting her eyelashes and grinning at him. Kimberly had been chasing after James since second year, and the number of times he had turned her down were countless. She just wouldn't take no for an answer.
"Hey James," she said, her voice coated in false sweetness. "What are you up to?" She flicked her blonde hair over her shoulder.
"Nothing," he replied uneasily. "Just getting a book for my Transfiguration essay."
"Want to take a look at my essay?" she said, overly innocent. "It's back in my dorm..."
He shook his head. "No thanks, Kimberly. I've got it."
She approached him slowly, sauntering up to him. Her eyes were outlined with black make-up and she was wearing the skimpiest top that flaunted her large breasts. Her skirt barely reached mid-thigh. James wasn't going to lie: she was seriously hot. But something about the fake aura surrounding her was a huge turn-off.
"Are you sure?" she whispered, her hands touching the buttons of his shirt. "We could hang out for a while."
Something in her tone of voice suggested that she wasn't interested in just hanging out.
"I don't think so," he said, taking a step back. "I've got to get going-"
"Fine," she stalled, pursing her lips. "We can just hang out here for a while."
"Kimberly," he said, looking her straight in the eyes. "I don't want to hang out with you. Anywhere, for that matter."
"Playing hard to get?" she said, quirking a smile. "I like it."
"I'm not playing anything!" he denied. "I really want you to leave me alone!"
She had him cornered against the wall now, in the darkest part of the library. She was inches away from him, and really starting to creep him out. She eyed him carefully and seductively, raking her eyes up and down his body.
Could a girl rape a guy? Because if it was possible, he was sure that was what she was plotting.
"Aw, Jamsie!" she said, pouting her lower lip. "Don't be like that! You know you want me."
She was pressed up against him, literally feeling him up. He tried to push her away but she was so damn persistent! He was about to scream for help or something when a voice broke the tension in the air. Kimberly jumped back from James and he let out a relieved sigh.
"The library is not the place for sexual conduct," the dark-haired girl said, eyeing James and then Kimberly. "Break it up. Five points from Gryffindor."
James tried to thank Rosalie with his facial expressions. Staring at him with a mixed expression, she rolled her hazel eyes and turned her attention back to Kimberly.
"Whatever you say, Flint," Kimberly sneered, flipping her gorgeous hair.
"You can go now, Snow," Rosalie hissed, waving her hand dismissively, pointing Kimberly towards the exit.
Kimberly stalked off, a pout on her lips. She waved goodbye to James, making an obscene gesture with her hands and then blowing him a kiss.
"Five more points from Gryffindor for lewd gestures!" Rosalie called after Kimberly, who screeched something indecent back at her. "Do I need to take away more points? Because it doesn't bother me!"
The black-haired girl turned to face James, her expression suddenly tired. The darker features of her face, like the circles under her eyes and the hollowness of her cheeks, were exagerrated and she looked simply overworked and exhausted.
"It's only Monday," James joked. "You look like hell."
"I feel like hell," she said miserably. "Rough weekend. So, you and Kimberly? You guys make an adorable couple." She offered him a thumbs up and started to walk back to her table.
"Me and Snow? You're kidding me, right? Snow's a freak! I'm pretty sure she just tried to rape me," he said defensively, following her.
"She had this obsession with Matthias back in fourth year. It ended badly. So, what are you doing in the library?" she questioned. "Did you enter the library on your own accord or did Snow force you into here, too? Because you and the library don't click together in my mind exactly."
His nose wrinkled and he held up the Transfiguration textbook for Rosalie to see. "Actually, I was looking for this book here."
"I've read that book," she said, taking a seat at the dimly lit table. James sat across from her. "It's incredible, no doubt one of the best step-by-step Transfiguration books I've ever seen."
"You read a textbook?" James asked incredulously. "You're such a dork!"
She shrugged, looking down at her own book.
He waited and waited, until finally asking, "So what's your secret, Rosalie Flint?"
"What do you mean?"
"You've just been so calm lately. How do you get rid of all of that stress?" He folded his hands, trying to look like a professional.
"It's still there," I said, rubbing a hand over my face. "I'm just so tired. I haven't been sleeping to well lately, that's all. And with Quidditch and school and everything weighing me down, no sleep hasn't been exactly beneficial."
"I guess, as the captain of an opposing Quidditch team, I should be ecstatic," he said, his voice light. "But... I'm kind of, you know."
"What?" I asked, looking up from my book.
"Worried."
Processing what he said, I couldn't help but snort. "You? Worried about me?"
"What's so ridiculous about it?" he asked, agitated.
My palms started sweating, but I didn't know why. My face screwed up as I started sputtering nonsense. "Worried? Can't... But, you are- were, um, you're James Potter."
"I kind of already knew that," he said, unimpressed. He crossed his arms, looking at me with slightly amused eyes but there was something else there. A faint spark of... something. I couldn't put my finger on it. But it was starting to freak me out.
Maybe I did know what it was. Maybe that was why I was starting to get jumpy. Maybe I didn't want to know what it was. But nonetheless, I was going into hyper drive.
It was a combination of things: a lack of sleep, tons of school work, the stress of getting a new job, and then working on homework at night. I wasn't eating, I was barely ever talking with other people... I was literally falling apart. It hurt, but there wasn't a bandage big enough to help me heal. There was nobody to help me carry the load. Gods, I sounded cliche. But it was true.
"I need to go," I mumbled, packing up my things in a flash.
Shocked by the sudden change of events, Potter jumped up and stood in front of me, grabbing my shoulders and looking at me like I'd gone mad. Which I probably had.
"What's wrong? Why did you react that way? Is it wrong to care?"
"We're supposed to hate each other," I choked out, my head starting to pound.
I couldn't tell you why I was acting like that. Honestly, I had no idea myself. I couldn't explain to to James Potter why I was shoving his words back down his throat and tossing him to the side. He had just totally stripped out of his pride to tell me he cared about me, and I was telling him that he was supposed to hate me. What was wrong with me?
I felt like my insides were melting.
"Do you want me to hate you?" he asked incredulously.
"It's easier that way! Just let go of me."
"It's easier than what?" he persisted, not letting go of my forearms.
My shoulders were starting to burn from his touch. I grew flustered as I tried to get out of his grasp. "It just is."
"Merlin, Flint, just calm down! I don't understand!"
My eyes flared. "Maybe I don't want you to understand."
"I don't care what you want! You're going insane and you have every right to! Why won't you let me help you? Can't you see that I've been trying to help you?"
"Because if I let you help me," I began. "If I let you in, you're just going to hurt me like everybody else."
And I broke away and left the library, hurrying back to the dungeons with this awful, churning knot in my stomach.
A/N: I really hope this chapter doesn't sound weird, especially towards the end. I'm a little bit unsure of the way I ended... tell me what you think?
Thank you everyone for all of your reviews!