Chapter Four
A small book hit the ground at Noemie's feet. She looked down at it, feeling her heart leap into her throat. No.
"Your mother found this today," her father said. "She was readying your room for your grandparents to stay, and happened upon it. Do you know what's inside?"
She did. She knew exactly what was inside the small notebook. Scribbled pleas for help, a note stating that if she died, her parents did it, and an account of every hit she faced the summer before she attended Hogwarts.
She'd only been eleven, barely eleven, and she hadn't known what else to do then, she hadn't known who to go to or who to tell that she was hurting. She'd planned on bringing the notebook with her to Hogwarts, on dropping it accidentally by a professor so they would open it and read and help her. Until the day she found out her father had accepted the teaching job. Then, all of her plans had gone out the window. Noemie had shoved the notebook so far under her bed that she'd almost forgotten it existed.
Her mother must have decided to rearrange the room for her grandparents. It was the only explanation as to why she would find the small book.
"Answer me, Noemie."
His voice was harsh, cold, and calculating.
"I do," she said quietly. Surely her parents knew that the book was years old by now? Her handwriting looked different, less sophisticated.
"Do you have anything to say for yourself?"
"It's old," she replied. "I will burn it right now, if you'll let me."
"What were your intentions?"
Noemie breathed, a lie quickly coming to mind. "Just-just to document, to see what changed from-"
He slapped her hard. Noemie gasped and reached up to cover the new mark, feeling as though flames were licking her skin. Her father towered over her, and Noemie felt him stand close, leaning down softly as if to emphasize how small she was. "How dare you lie to me."
She didn't know what to say, so she said nothing. In response, he took her by the throat, propelling her forward until she was pressed against one of the stone walls. Noemie struggled to suck in air as his fingers squeezed around her throat, lifting her until the tips of her toes barely touched the floor. "You are nothing, do you hear me?"
His voice was thunder and hers a weak umbrella attempting to shield herself from more anger. "I hear you!"
She was disturbed by how easily he could toss her around. With a fluid movement he pulled her out from the wall, and then sent her head crashing back into it. The room spun and Noemie let a startled scream escape her lips. She usually knew better than to scream, but it had been a long time since he'd thrown her head against a hard surface. Benji would be no match for him.
He tossed her to the floor, disgust on his face. At what exactly she couldn't be sure. Noemie curled into herself, head pounding angrily as her father ranted about how careless she'd been, and how she clearly didn't care about Benjamin if she was willing to write everything she had. Noemie couldn't really bear to hear it, so she tried to cover her ears, but that seemed to only infuriate him more.
Her father's favorite thing to do was use an archaic looking whip-like tool on her back. So, when he quietly said, "Remove your blouse," Noemie knew exactly what was coming. Her back was littered with scars that she wasn't allowed to erase, and by this point in her life, she was sure they would be there as long as she was alive.
"This is your own fault," he told her, his voice going from cold to gentle in a millisecond. Noemie felt tears pool in her eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks. Her father didn't like crying. "If you were better, Noemie…"
She unbuttoned her top, sliding it off. Back at home she didn't have to remove it. But here, when she had to walk through the corridors back to her dormitory, they couldn't risk her shirt being tattered. Plus, it gave him an extra level of satisfaction to watch her skin split and bleed.
When the first blow struck, she whimpered, putting her fist to her mouth to bite down on her knuckles, preventing herself from screaming.
She lost count of how many times he struck her when the pain became too much to bear, and she slumped forward on the floor, losing consciousness. Of course, this didn't stop her father from administering a few more blows, kicks, or spitting on her. But he did leave her on the floor after a while, looking at his watch for the team, breathing heavily and making a fresh pot of tea.
Noemie woke when the pot began to whistle. She blinked, her eyes heavy, her body sore. Pain throughout her body was almost better than localized to one spot, because she could almost convince herself that this was just normal, just how her body felt on any regular day, when in fact it felt like bludgers had been attacking her for hours.
It took everything in her to pull herself into a sitting position. She could feel blood drying on her back, sticky and thick. Carefully, Noemie pulled her top back on. Usually, once he'd stopped, he wouldn't start again in the same evening. Once she'd passed out, she was usually safe from future harm.
With her top buttoned and back in place, quickly getting stained red, Noemie gingerly approached her father as he sat at his table, head in his own hands. "Why do you make me do this?" he asked quietly.
Noemie wiped at her eyes, wincing at the pain in her head. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I-I don't know how to be any better."
He nodded slowly. "I understand," he said softly. "You're flawed. But you know that's why I do this, right? Because I do love you. I don't want to do this to you."
I love you. It was so rare for her to hear that she cherished the words. Sometimes, she felt so strongly that what was happening to her was wrong, that her parents were just built from evil, that she was born into the wrong family. But then, in moments like these, she could see the pain it caused her father to have to punish her so. If she tried hard enough, she could see the love on his face.
"I… I love you too," she whispered.
"Go back to your dormitory," he instructed her. Noemie longed for him to hold her. She had one distinct memory of being a small child with a skinned knee, and someone holding her tightly until she felt better. She was sure that person was her father, even though she couldn't remember the person's face. "You'll want to wear a higher necked blouse tomorrow."
"Father?" she asked, confused.
"I don't want you to heal those bruises," he said, putting one hand around her neck and squeezing slightly. "They'll serve as a reminder for you until they fade."
"But, if someone-"
He stopped her with another slap. "Don't let them see."
Noemie pulled a sweater over her top and nodded, backing away and hurrying out of the chambers. She ran then, not caring that her footsteps pounded on the stone floor. Who would catch her out? No one bothered to check near her father's corridors.
She ran until she found a small closet near the Gryffindor common room, which she threw herself inside as heaving sobs overtook her. Every time she saw her father, reality felt lost to her. She couldn't tell what was right or wrong, up or down, left or right. She couldn't tell if this was love, if love was supposed to hurt so much, if this was all she had to look forward to for the rest of her life. There was a tiny voice in the back of her mind, seemingly emanating from where her head had hit the wall, that reminded her it wasn't like this with Frank and Alice, but that kind of love was different. The same voice argued that she would never hurt Benji, but again, she could just tell herself that was different.
The broom closet was a considerably safe place to hide and cry, until Noemie realized the caretaker, Argus Filch, was likely to come around at some point. After all, it was his broom closet. She did her best to pull herself together, wiping the tears off her face. She knew she should go to a bathroom first to check herself for injuries, but it didn't occur to her that her father would let her go early enough for anyone to still be awake in the common room. Without checking her watch first, she went back to the portrait of the Fat Lady, who admitted her without much fuss.
Quiet laughter met her ears and she froze in the doorway. From her position she could see that most tables and chairs were empty. The laughter was familiar, but not Frank or Alice or James, the three she was closest to in the entire school. So carefully, trying painstakingly to keep herself as invisible as possible, Noemie put her head down and carefully started walking through the common room toward the steps to her dormitory.
"Poole?"
So much for that.
Remus Lupin's soft, gentle voice rang out in the nearly deserted common room. Noemie didn't immediately turn to face him, assuming that James would be with him. If James saw that she'd been crying, he'd tell Frank, and the two of them would go on a rampage. With her back to him, Noemie replied, "Yes?"
"Didn't know you had a rebellious streak in you," Sirius Black said, his own voice teasing and amused. "What were you doing out so late? Tsk tsk, Professor McGonagall will not like this, not at all."
James wasn't there. If James had been there, he would have shut Sirius up. Sirius was a teaser, playing with anyone in what was mostly a harmless way, but James always stopped him from teasing Noemie.
She wiped at the remaining tears in her eyes, hoping her cheeks had returned to their normal pale color and that whatever bruise her father had left on her neck wasn't immediately visible, especially by the dim firelight from across the room.
"Black, if you want to report mischievous behavior to Professor McGonagall, you'll need to start with yourself," Noemie said, turning around to face them, trying to act normal as her stiff and sore body protested additional movement.
Had she not just been beaten to a pulp, her own voice might have also sounded teasing. But now, it just sounded tired, and it shook.
She watched as Sirius's eyes widened ever so slightly, and as Remus stood up, mouth opening to say something. But the words didn't come quickly enough for Noemie. "Now if you'll excuse me," she said, turning around slowly and gingerly climbing the stairs up to her dormitory. Because it was a Monday evening, her roommates were asleep, with the exception of Lily Evans's empty bed. She must, Noemie realized, have been out with James patrolling the corridors as Head Boy and Head Girl.
Noemie slid into bed, not bothering to change out of her bloodied blouse. When she closed her eyes, she saw her father's infuriated face, and his hand coming to strike her. She whimpered softly, fresh tears falling from her eyes. She wasn't sure how much longer she could live like this.
She cried herself to sleep that night, trying to stifle her sobs so she wouldn't wake anyone else up. It had already been risky to face Sirius and Remus in the common room, and any further mistakes would arouse suspicion and make her father even angrier than he had been before.
