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Trapped. by serenade
Chapter 7 : Wishful Thinking
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 27

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What did you do?” I repeat breathlessly.

Sirius smiles once more, and touches his finger to my nose playfully. “You have a nice day, Ivy.”

He darts away, and I follow him with my eyes until he disappears around a corner. I gasp, realizing that the candy is still in my mouth, and I spit it out and crush it angrily with the heel of my shoe.

I have come to the conclusion that there is no such thing as happiness.

Happiness doesn't exist in my world, and never has. Anything that has felt like happiness is a total lie, like Father Christmas, or that I would get a real unicorn for my fifth birthday.

Lies. All lies. Father Christmas never came down the chimney no matter how many times I waited and I only got a stuffed unicorn, not the kind you can ride on and feel pretty with. They are only things that distract you from the truth—that life sucks and you have no choice but to muster through it all.

Now something is absolutely wrong with me and I don't know what. Who said there was such a thing as happiness? I want to punch him in the face.

I think I've been poisoned. There was something in that candy that—well, I'm not too sure. But whatever it was, it can’t be good and I just have this eerie feeling that I could die within 24 hours. My knees give and I fall to the floor, exasperated.

That can't happen. They wouldn’t kill me, would they? They wouldn’t go that far, right?

Of course not. I’m being extremely silly there’s no way….

I shiver. If I do die, how could anyone even prove that they were the ones who did it?

No! I’m not going to die!

But then again….


You don’t know that.

It was candy. They seriously couldn’t kill me just with of a piece of candy. They are not killers. Annoying, immature gits? Yes. Cold-blooded vengeful murderers?


But, on the most part, no. They are maybe possibly not fully cold-blooded vengeful murderers.

I feel a little bit better now.

Dusting myself off, I get up shakily and make my way towards charms, thoughts running through my brain of what will happen today, meditating my eminent death.... Maybe I'll just pass out and fall down five flights of stairs. Maybe a large object will fall on my head. Or perhaps I'll just fall asleep and just... die.

I can’t help but notice that people have been acting a little weird. Do I look pale? Do I have the aura that seeps the possible fact that I’m about to die? They keep looking at me funny.

“What are you gawking at,” I growl suddenly at a passerby, “Those shoes make your calves look like hams!” I bite down my tongue as the girl looks extremely alarmed and runs away. “I’m sorry! I really didn’t mean that! Yes I did.”

What is wrong with me? I haven’t been this insulting in a long while. If my calculations are correct, I shouldn’t be pms-ing for another three weeks.

“Is something wrong today, Miss Parker?” asks Professor Flitwick as he watches me slip into the second row. “You’re actually on time.”

“And you’re actually short, but you never see me complaining about that.” I slap my hand over my mouth. “I’m sorry. No, I’m not—WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME?”

“Miss Parker!” Professor Flitwick squeals, “Never have I in my whole career—such language—and—and—”

“Oh, go stuff it, Flitwick. FUCK.” I bite my tongue again.

Okay, something is beyond wrong right now.

“I cannot believe—“

“Do you know how much I hate you? Of all the teachers that I have, the littlest one has to be the worst. But then again I would be angry all the time too if I had a small p—“


“But P-Professor, I—”

“You insolent child! Never in my life have I been so insulted today!”

“I can explain!”

“Your language has explained enough! I do not have time to deal with these follies!”

“But Sirius Black! He—!”

“GO!” He points toward the door violently and I trudge out, mumbling various curses and unfriendly adjectives that would probably get me into even more trouble if he could hear me.

Great. Dumbledore's office. There has only been one time I've been to his office and that was when I first moved to my apartment. He talked of some scholarship and stuff about money, and blah, blah, blah. Whatever it was, it's the reason why I can go to Hogwarts without paying as much as everyone else, along with discounts on supplies. But it's not like I asked for it....

I finally arrive at the stone gargoyle whose eyes shift down towards me once I clear my throat.

“I, er, was sent here by Professor Fuckwit—I mean, Flitwick,” I correct myself quickly.

The gargoyle nods and steps aside, revealing a stone staircase which I climb grudgingly, hissing about how inconvenient and unnecessary stairs really are, all the while wondering how old Professor Dumbledore manages to go up and down these wretched things. I watch my feet carefully as to not trip over each misshapen stair or even myself.

Before I even lift my hand to knock on the large door at the top of the staircase, the familiar, muffled voice calls, “Come in.”

I sigh, making my bangs fly up slightly as I push the heavy door inwards. Yellow light fills the staircase as I peek my head through the crack of the door.

“Come on, don't be afraid, Miss Parker.” Dumbledore sits behind a large desk right in the middle of a menagerie of bookshelves, paintings, and china cabinets. You could hardly call this place an office, even if you try.

“I really don't want to be here,” I mumble as I gravitate myself towards the chair he gestures towards. “Your trinkets are tacky.”

Dumbledore nods with a smile and rests his chin on his folded hands. “So tell me, Miss Parker,” he begins warmly, “what has brought you here today?”

I sigh again. “Okay, I guess I'll explain it to you because Professor Fuckwit wouldn't let me say anything in my defense. What happened was, this morning as I was turning the corner, a certain someone—I can't mention his name because I would get killed if he gets in trouble because of this—popped out of the hinterland and threw this piece of candy into my mouth which apparently makes me do weird stuff that I can't explain, all the while making me confess things I would never say out loud, and then people kept staring at me weird and I made this girl cry because I said her calves looked fat, but I went to Charms anyway and allegedly I insulted the frigid, old carp about his... pudenda and now I'm here. And would you stop staring at me like that? Your eyes really creep me out.”

Dumbledore chuckles slightly. “I see you have a pretty serious dilemma there.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah. You bet. Can I go now?”

“Not just yet.”

“Oh, piss.”

“Miss Parker,” says Dumbledore calmly, “I'll let you go for today. Forget this all happened. But if I do see you again, I may have to take your prefect badge away—”

“Not that I do my job in the first place.”

But,” He continues, “I'll be lenient today. I won't see you again, correct?”

“Yeah, hopefully,” I mumble, “I'm probably going to die today, so whatever.”

“What was that?”

“I said,” I repeat loudly, “I'm probably going to die today, so whatever.

“So, one last thing, Ivy.”


“If you have any problems at all—”

“I have a lot of problems.”

“Yes, if you have any problems at all, make sure you just try to muster through till the end.”


“And that truth and thought may not always want to be heard, but eventually they shall be on their own accord.” He smiles again and winks. “Don't worry yourself too much.”

“Right. You speak in riddles. I'm going to go now before I catch any... crazy.”

“Have a nice day, Miss Parker.”

“Yeah.” I close the door behind me and make my way down the dizzying staircase, checking my watch and noting that Charms is well past over and that lunch should be starting pretty soon.

...What? Truth and thought may not always want to be heard, but eventually they shall be on their own accord?

What's that supposed to mean? Dumbledore is crazy. Mental. He is off his rocker. He—

Oh shit.

I get it now.

How could I be so bloody stupid?

It's making me say everything I think out loud! It's so extremely obvious. Does this mean that all of this has been said out loud? I can't tell, because it seems like I can't control my own mouth. Everyone thinks I'm crazy anyway, so I'm sure talking to myself won't surprise many. Although, what I said earlier to Sirius....

He knows.

The thing with me finding him extremely delicious and—oh, Merlin. Shoot me.

There's a possibility that he didn't catch that last part. Yes, it's very possible. I stopped mid-word on 'brother'. I could've been saying brothel or brooch or broomstick. Yes, because it's totally likely that I'm slightly in love with his brothel, brooch, or broomstick. Very smart, Ivy. Very smart.

Perhaps now that I realize what's wrong, I can control it. Can I hold it in?

I ponder, stopping by a window, looking out at the usual landscape of the lake and trees. Hm. Maybe I could try....

What should I even do? Think a comment about the color of the trees?

“The trees are green,” I say, or think. I'm not sure.

Huh. This is harder than I thought it'd be.

I close my eyes an purse my lips.

If I can't do this, I'm going to jump out of this


What? I was starting to do it in the beginning, but then I just burst. This is extremely uncontrollable. I could be saying this out loud for all I know. How long is this going to last? Maybe I'll just hide away from any human contact and feed off of the stash of chocolate I have in my trunk. That could work....

“Ivy? Who are you talking to?”

I turn around quickly. “Regulus!” I call out in surprise before I can run away, “What are you doing here?”

He raises an eyebrow. “I should be asking you the same thing.”

“Well... what are you doing here?”

“It's my free period.”

“Oh, then – er—,” I purse my lips, trying my hardest not to look at his face. Maybe I can imagine him having Benjamin Avery's face instead of the adorable... extremely attractive...

“NO! DON'T THINK ABOUT IT.” I clasp my hands over my mouth.

“Excuse me?”

“N-nothing! I just think that you are—” I bite my tongue. “Erm....”

“I am what, exactly?”

I take a deep breath. “You are – you – you are – attract – er, I mean – in my way!”

“I'm sorry?”

“So, er, yes, move over like the good, ravishing young man you are and—”

“Is something wrong, Ivy?”

“No, I'm absolutely fine besides the fact that your lovely sibling has possibly poisoned me, and er, I'll be going now!”

“Wait!” Regulus grabs my wrist before I can run off and I feel my face go red.

I tug my arm away and start off, but he takes me by the shoulders and looks at me face to face, his deep, gray eyes piercing into mine. I can't look away. I can't look away. I take in a deep breath, and I start to feel sweat bead down my neck.

“I just wanted to say sorry for acting so sour to you the other day,” he begins, sighing. I purse my lips again. I think I may pop a vein soon. “It's just that Sirius and I... well, we don't really get along very well since—”



Oh, mega shit. Shit times infinity times Merlin's socks.

I did not just say that.

Insert silent scream here.

“N-no, I didn't mean that! I mean....”

He's speechless, and see his eyebrow twinge. “I-I,” he stammers.

And I run. I run as fast as I can, tears of frustration and anger welling in my eyes. My heart is beating hard in my ears and my stomach feels like it's been punched repeatedly. That wasn't supposed to happen. I don't love him. At least, I don't think I do. I can't love him. That's... not right.

Right now, I don't particularly care where I'm running off to. Last time I checked, I was on the fifth floor. I need to go somewhere secluded where I can be alone and vent all of my anger out on—


Meeeeeerrowwwww! Thhshhhhh!”

Ow. Pain sears through my knees and arms, my chest heaving from running. I fall over too much. So much that it's getting extremely annoying. But I've never tripped over....

Mrs. Norris.

“I HATE YOU!” I scream at the top of my lungs. The tears begin to overflow.

Right. Vent all of my anger out on a cat. It seems like the most sensible thing I've done all day.

She just stares up at me with her huge, knowing eyes. What those prying eyes have seen... it's unnerving..

“I hope you die,” I mumble angrily.

“Oh, now, that wasn't very nice.”

People need to stop coming out of nowhere to talk to me. Seriously.

Wait... I know that voice. I whip around angrily, grasping my wand tightly in my pocket.

You,” I sneer.

“Angry, much?” James smirks.

YOU.” I take a step towards them, feeling my body fill with anger.

“We have names, you know,” Sirius replies.

I see Remus and Peter trailing behind them, slightly wary, as they should be. James and Sirius aren't. Oh, how wrong they are.

I whip out my wand, pointing it at the both of them, my hand shaking.

“Now, now, Ivy—dear, Ivy,” says Sirius calmly, sarcastically. “No need to be vicious.”

“No,” I spit, “I have every right to be vicious. Do you know what you've done?! Did you even have any sliver of consideration as to how much you have ruined the delicate balance of me just trying to live through this wretched year?”

James and Sirius look at each other with a smile.

“Don't be hasty, now, Ivy,” James says, “It's four against one. Just calm down and—”

“When your dead, cold bodies scatter the floor, then I'll just 'calm down', you – you selfish, vile bastards!”

What are you going to do, huh?” Sirius taunts with a smirk, “The urge to spontaneously throw yourself all over me gone?”

I point my wand swiftly at his throat. He hardly flinches.

“Oh, I see. You don't need to be afraid. Your wittle Reggie-kins will come and save you if you get into any trouble, won't he?”

He takes my hand and lowers my arm, walking towards me that there are only a few inches seperating us. I can't move. I won't move. If I move a hair, then everything that I've been trying so hard to keep inside these past five minutes will be splayed out for everyone to hear. Sirius then begins to circle me. I don't dare to look into his face. I purse my lips and clench my teeth, staring intently at the stone floor as my heart beats so fast that my whole body is shaking.

“What's wrong, Ivy? Too afraid to move?”

He runs a finger up my chin, tilting my face up towards his. I look away—anywhere but back at him. He chuckles.

Sirius,” I hear Remus hiss quietly.

Sirius leans forward towards my neck. I can't help but shiver—but I'm not sure from what.

“Something the matter, Ivy?” he whispers, pulling a strand of hair behind my ear. I can hear him smile each time I cringe or tremble. “Don't you like this?”

I do. I do. I do. I do.

But I don't. This is wrong. He's just toying with me.

I feels Sirius' nose lightly graze my neck, along with his warm breath in every word he says. “Or,” he murmurs, “Would you rather have my dear brother do this?”

And then I snap. Within a millisecond, I unfreeze myself and smack him so hard across the face that my whole arm throbs once he recoils. I'm near blinded with tears, yet I don't even know what's going on. All I know is that every spell, curse, and hex that comes to my mind automatically is directed towards one of them.


They all run and scatter to find shelter behind statues, doorways, whatever they can find. Some spells ricochet and cause stone to crumble and glass to break.


I see their heads peek out from behind their refuges, and unconsciously all I do is aim for them. A sudden urge to kill—wreak havoc—anything to get rid of this anger that's boiling up inside of me.

“Don't fight back!” yells one of them, muffled by the noises.

“Why not?”

“Because this is more fun!”

This makes me even more furious. They're not even taking me seriously.

It seems to go on forever. Anything I can think of just to destroy something goes straight from my thoughts to my wand. I don't even care what I say. As long as they pay for what they've been doing to me these past three weeks.

And then, before I realize it, after one final stroke, I collapse to my knees. I'm exhausted. All of my energy has been taken out along with the anger and replaced with utter and extreme weariness. There's smoke everywhere and it's completely silent. I'm surprised no one has discovered this scene yet—for I'm sure the sound would wake up the entire castle at night, but then I realize that it's lunchtime and everyone is in the noisy, echoed walls of the Great Hall. I'm totally out of breath, and my arm is still throbbing. Never again will I let myself go through that. It was too much. But then again, that wasn't really me, right? It was the thing in the candy. I wouldn't normally do that.


The cloud of smoke barely lifts and that's when I hear a scream.

“Oh, bloody—”


My ears are ringing. My heart feels like it just fell out. Did I... kill someone? It can't be, I—

No. No. I didn't do anything serious. I would've never used a killing curse. But then again, I could've been so angry that didn't know....

“Remus? Remus!

My stomach drops. I killed Remus? Of all of them, why him? He was the most forgivable of the four! The tears begin to fall again. No. This can't be happening.

I'm a cold-blooded Remus murderer.

I run towards the silhouettes in the smoke, and immediately the tight feeling in my stomach loosens. But then, as I move closer, all of the stress comes back as fast as it disappeared. I see Remus' back towards me, bending over the cold, limp, dead body.

I gasp, and my hand flies towards my chest. My head begins to throb and my knees begin to shake. I think I might fall over. This can't be happening.

“Ivy,” Remus breathes in disbelief, “You killed Mrs. Norris.

Everything goes black.

 A/N: Oh my. Didn't see that coming, did you? Well then ahahaha I really should be reading for school, but hey. I'm here for you guys. I hope you like the new banner! If not, then too bad. I can't get the old one back and I worked too hard on this one :P Also-- Shout out to Jenny for being my 100th reviewer! I totally didn't realize until I pressed submit on the reply. Whoo! Confetti! Leave a review! Ch. 8 will be up within a week or so. Stay tuned ;]
edit: Thank you to the forgotten muse for beta-ing plus giving me the idea for Sirius little flirting ordeal. I CANNOT LIVE WITHOUT HER. Go read her stuff. Cough.

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