Eve and the Serpent
My name is Al.
I have an brother named James and a sister named Lily. I'm shorter than James and taller than Lily, which makes sense because James is older than me and Lily is younger.
I am sitting on a stool in front of at least one hundred people. They are all staring at me like I am about to do some sort of spectacular magic. One time dad taught me a spell using his wand in the backyard, but mostly I don't know any magic at all. If that's what they want, they'll be waiting for a while.
But that's not actually why they're staring at me. They're staring at me mostly because I have the Sorting Hat on my head, and because they want to know what House I am going to go in. They care about what House I am Sorted into because I am Al, and not just Al but Al Potter, son of Harry Potter, who killed Voldemort back when he was only seventeen. My dad's famous, so that means I am too.
I feel everyone's eyes on me, staring. The Hat whispers things into my head but I don't listen. I know where I will go.
It doesn't matter what my dad did or what my dad will do. It doesn't matter than James probably won't talk to me for at least a month. It doesn't matter that Lily will cry because she's heard scary stories about Slytherins from here and there. It doesn't matter than my whole family's only ever been in Gryffindor. I know all that already. I've thought a lot about this.
"SLYTHERIN!"
I slip off the stool and everyone looks torn between cheering and crying. James is glaring bullets at me.
I slip in between two other first-years at the snake's table and wait for the Sorting to end so I can eat my dinner. I'm hungry and I think this might be my last meal.
- 1 September 2016
I am staring at her.
Silently, I think I want her to look back at me. I want her to move her hair over her shoulder and glance back at me, because I know if she did then she'd have just this certain look in her eyes. She'd smile, but I'd only see part of because of how her head was turned. I'd see one dimple, one half of a face full of freckles, and one green eye under long lashes. Half of a whole, part of a perfect face.
She's not concieted; she doesn't spend time with the mirror like the other girls do. She's got her hair knotted up and fly-away most days, coming into class one big flurry of papers, and she's absolutley nothing like anyone else.
She always seems to hang desperatly on the edge of the girls' groups, with a vauge, worried smile on her face as they laugh at something she doesn't understand. And there is a way about her, like the way her skirt lays, rumpled, of how she blows hair out her face like it's the most amusing game in the world. I am entertained by her. She's like some sort of train wreck, only pretty. I can't look away, and she's a mess, but I l- but I'm still going to ask her out on a date.
- 4 February 2019
She pushes a muggle pen into her bun and blinks her eyes at me. "What?"
"I was wondering if you wanted to go to Hogsmeade with me."
Still, she seems confused. Today she is wearing muggle clothes under her robes; a flowy skirt and grey stockings and a red blouse. Her hair is a knot, coming undone already, at the base of her neck. I really wonder how she manages to tame that thick hair of hers at all; it's worse than Aunt Hermione's.
"Y-you're asking me? Why?"
Now I feel absolutley idiotic. Of course she wouldn't want to go anywhere with a nasty, slimy Slytherin. She's a Hufflepuff and I've already made a name for myself even without dad's help. I've been too confident. I thought she'd be happy to go somewhere with me - we're both quiet; she knows that. I thought she liked me because of the whispered words I've heard through library shelves. I thought she'd be too flustered to reject me.
I thought I'd be safe. Now all my arrogance (built carefully from years of telling myself that what people think doesn't matter, that what James thinks doesn't matter,) is coming back to slap me in the face. And it stings.
I open my fat mouth and hope to God that I can get myself out of this mess. "Yeah. Like a date." There. Expressionless. Now I've stated my terms and can act like it doesn't matter if she says no. I'll ask Delia Greengrass if it doesn't work out; as much as the girl is a slut, people will think that I don't really care. It will be easy to slip it into my already warped reputation.
She still hasn't sid anything and I'm half turned away when her small hand reaches out to grab my arm. Her fingers are cold, like she's had them in ice. "Wait!" she squeaks. I hate myself for the way my heart melts at her voice. Traitor, a voice in my mind hisses.
I still, and raise my eyes to meet hers. She is the most beautiful girl I have ever seen.
"Um - you're serious?"
I must look condescending, because she blushes. "Erm, because I'd love to go!" She giggles nevously. "Er, er, er, it's next weekend, innit? Um, isn't it?"
"Yes," I say, and I let a little more happiness leak into my speech. "Valentine's Day weekend. Saturday."
"Oh," she says, and then her hands flutter around her face. "Well alright then."
I can't help it. A grin breaks along my face. She is so final, so formal. Part of me is enjoying her show (a mask for facing the snake) and part of me is wondering where the other her went.
I turn first, and start walking down the corridor. It is not until I turn the corner that I hear her giggling.
- 7 February 2019
"Hey!" she says breathlessly, coming up from behind me. I startle for a second. She is not usually that quiet. We are in the Owlery, me wathing the lake as the sun set and her with a letter to send off.
I raise one eyebrow at her tone. She sounds as if I am a pretty pebble that deserves an exclamation before she moves on to the next.
"Hello."
"Hello!" She reaches up for a school owl and beams at me. "I'm sorry about the other day. I don't usually act that - um, well, like that."
I crack her a smile to let her know I am not as tragic as the rumours say. "I know."
She blushes, tanned skin becoming slightly darker. "Well, fine then. Sorry to bother you."
Her teasing is weak. She'll have to do better than that to beat what James can do.
"I'm not bothered."
She pokes me. "Bother. Bother."
"I'm sorry, but what is your goal with this?"
She laughs at that, actually laughs. "I rarely ever have goals. Or follow through with them, at least."
"Don't make out date a goal, then."
"It's not. It's a promise."
"Really?"
"Yeah. You're the one that asked me, anyways." She releases her owl and it flutters out the window. "All the girls are very impressed."
"I'm sure."
She gets the joke, but smacks me on the arm anyway. "Mm. Apparently you have nice hair."
For a second I am angry. I don't want to hear the Hufflepuff dorms' gossip, especially if it about me, and I definitly don't want to hear it from her. Breifly, I think she may be flirting with me. But she's already moved on.
" - Demitri and Dora are going out, too, and even though everyone thinks it's too soon, Dora told me - "
"Why are you telling me this?"
Her chatter stops abruptly and she blinks at me. "Um, I don't know. Isn't that what people do? Gossip?"
"Slytherins don't. They keep information to themselves unless they've got something to do with it."
There's a moment of awkward silence in which I wonder which one of us is more socially inept. It is probably her, because even if she does have more actualy friends, I have a silent sort of popularity, don't I?
(It's a weak argument.)
"I think this weekend is going to be very interesting," she says finally, and her smile's back, flickering over her face. "You'll have to teach me the Slytherin way of things."
"I wouldn't want to corrupt you."
"Never."
She leaves. For the first time, I realize she is wearing her hair down and straight, like every other girl would.
- 9 February 2019
I am waiting just outside of her common room. I could go in, but I have no desire to ask a Hufflepuff for a password and I'd rather put off seeing her, anyway.
The truth is, I'm nervous. She's probably been on lots of dates. All I have is a summer fling or two and that one time with Eileen Donagy, who was fun in a broom cupboard and not much else. I have no idea how to talk to girls, anyway; the conversation in the Owlery should prove that.
"Al, wake up."
I snap out f it and she's there, standing in front of me in a red dress.
"Are you Muggleborn?"
I did not just say that.
I did not just say that.
I did not...
She tilts her head slightly. "Why?"
"You have a lot of muggle things - that dress," I say quickly. She probably thinks I'm some sorta bigot. Even if I am a Potter.
"My dad," she says easily. "And mum's not one for wizard fashion - she's muggleborn. Does that make me muggleborn, still?"
"I'm not really sure. Never really liked thinking about all that, blood gets messy."
She laughs and I know that I've smoothed over my mistake. We walk on, but I get the feeling that I'm missing something.
- 14 February 2019
We are crouched together, pressing against broomsticks and buckets. Her breath is soft-sounding and also unexplainably load to my ears.
"Ssh!"
"What?"
"Don't breathe!"
She doesn't.
Morosony's footsteps fade off as he mutters to himself about students out of bed.
"That was close."
"My dad says the old guy was even worse. Had a cat named Mrs. Norris."
"Oh, that's not creepy at all."
"That's what I said!"
She giggles and scrambles to stand. We knock against the door for a moment before tumbling out. "That's why I always choose places near cupboards," she informs me. "Gotta be careful."
"Because you're so used to this?"
"I'm a bad girl."
She bares her teeth at me and I flick her on the forehead. We do not share any goodbye kiss; we've had enough for the night.
- 26 March 2019
"Will you move?"
"Hey! Where do you think you're going?"
"Shut up!"
I push past the pretty boy Hufflepuff and make a beeline for the girl's dorm. "Nia?"
"GO AWAY, ALBUS!"
"What did I do?"
There is no answer, hysterical or otherwise. I turn to the common room. "You," I say to a random first-year. Or, at least, I think it's a first year. I hope she is, because I'm looking to intimidate. "Go upstairs and tell Nia Aragata to come down."
She looks slightly frightened by me and rushes up the stairs.
"What's the problem?" the boy from before demands. "Get out of here or I'm getting a Prefect."
"I am a Prefect," I snap. "And Lucilia let me in, I'm not breaking any rules."
"I did not!" Lucilia protests from her place by the fire. No one believes her. She's been trying to get her hands on a Potter boy for a long while now.
"Well - " the boy looks annoyed, but can't seem to decide between Lucilia and me. "Lucilia!" he finally says, then stalks off to his dorm. Good riddance.
The first year from before is back. "She seems fine," she declares.
"Bad hair day?" a girl says sympatheticall from the couch.
"No. Her hair's really pretty," says the first year.
"Nia's hair is never pretty," the girl snaps back.
I'm already bored by their conversation and cast a freezing charm on the stairs. This will cost me my Prefect's badge and a month's detention, but I don't really care.
"Nia," I say. She's left me standing out in the cold for thiry minutes already, and by now I'm kinda annoyed. Not that she, apparantly, cares.
She's sitting on her bed, staring at a mirro in her hands. Her hair is tamed and lays against her back smoothly, her robes neat and ironed. There is nothing out of place.
She looks up at me, and her eyes are both angry and uncaring. "I told you to go away."
"You were supposed to meet - "
"We're through."
I can't tell what her face is trying to tell me. It's like there are a million emotions pulling at her skin, telling her to feel one thing, or another, or a nother or another, another another...
I guess mine looks the same way.
"What?"
"We're done. Finished. I never want to see you again."
"Why?"
I hate myself for sounding like such an idiot.
"You're doing this to me." She gestures to herself.
"Doing what?"
"THIS!" she screams, jumping up and chucking the mirror at me. It shatters at my feet and I can see myself reflected in the broken glass all over the floor.
"What are you talking about?"
"Shut up. Just shut up," she says, not looking at me. "Go. Away."
So I do.
- 1 April 2019
"Something happened...
...I don't understand it...
...She can't just - leave!"
He blinks at me.
"I feel like we wasted all this time!... She slammed the door shut when I left, you know that? Like I was nothing... I don't understand what I did..."
He stares.
"Well, you know what? Romance isn't all that much fun! I don't get why all the girls like reading about it; sure it looks nice on paper, but it's - it's like - she just bloody exploded at me!"
Another blink.
"I mean, I guess this is my fault. I've always been afraid of regection. So I guess I've been clingy. But I was freaked out, okay? I was freaked out that someone else would come along and snatch her up!"
"Clock's ticking," the gargoyle says gruffly. "You have ten seconds to get away from the Headmistress's office before I beat you with a club."
- 6 April 2019
"Snake," greets James.
"Idiot."
"I heard about the massive row between you and that girl from Hufflepuff."
"Don't pretend you don't know her name."
James puts on a mock-pout. "Aww, is Al still waw about the bweakup?"
"Shut it."
"Prat."
"Git."
"You little - "
We tackle each other and start ot fight as the train chugs along. Sometimes, beating the shite out of the person you hate most in the world while you're on the way to your home, safe and sound, is the best remedy for heartache there is.
- 5 June 2019
Written in response to the very clever Schermionie's dare, which was to write a fic that includes at least two next-gen characters, and using one of three songs. I picked Somewhere a Clock is Ticking by Snow Patrol. It's a genius song, and if you look closely, I included all the lyrics - at least in a vauge way.
Anyway, I didn't know if Nia counted for one of the characters or what, so I added in James. Hope it's enough, and this isn't utter crap. [Though personally, I think it is. I mean, eww. So. Cheesy.]
Oh, and I hope I made the reason for Nia's sudden outburst clear enough. I included all the hints for it, and it's in the title, so you just have to think about it a bit, I think. [She didn't just decide to be a bitch. :D Al's just sort of stupid and she's just a little too self-righteous. What a horrible couple, huh?]
*hugs Al* Mine.
...I'm going to shut up now because my arms hurt from shoveling snow. Gahug.