. . .
A Week Later
. . .
I woke up relatively early that morning, I don’t know why I just did. So I got out of bed quietly and stood infront of the mirror, the floor length mirror that is.
I wrapped my hands over my stomach and walked over to my trunk, opening it quietly. I got out my school skirt, but just to put it back into place again, it was Saturday.
I reached for the light grey v-neck t-shirt that I was often found wearing. I lied it down on the bed softly and looked for some bottoms, aha! I pulled out my pair of black above the knee pleated skirt and placed it underneath the shirt. Taking off my satin dark red pajama pants off, to reveal a pair of blue and white striped boy-like underwear. I then turned around to look at the girl in the mirror.
Slowly my fingers met the edges of the tight white tank top and pulled the fabric to below my breast bone.
Ugly, Fat, Hideous.
The words registered into my mind. I sucked in my stomach, and pulled down the top hiding my stomach.
I turned back to my lonesome bed and grabbed the shirt, pulled it over my head and let it fall over me, then I hastily pulled the skirt on and buttoned them up. Plopping myself on my bed, I looked through my trunk to find a pair of leggings.
I concluded with a pair of black and white striped pair, which went only midway between the ankle and the knee.
They weren’t my favourites, made me look weird, but they were okay for the day. And it wasn’t as if anyone was going to see me, I was just being foolish.
“Aha!” I found the green converse high tops, which were worn down, due to the fact that they were one of three pair of footwear I owned.
Slipping them on, I opened my trunk one more time, pulling out a red plain flannel that was four times the size of my body. I grabbed my copy of Macbeth and ran out of the dormitory.
I jumped down the stairs and took off a rubber band from my wrist and tied my hair into a messy ponytail/bun.
My hair, naturally wavy and thick but not frizzy, and a dark brown... dark chocolate brown.
It was side parted, not centered, and that’s why I put it in a messy ponytail.
I walked out of the portrait hole, looked up and down the corridors, and opened up Macbeth to the third page. I had just recently found the worn out copy in the far ends of the library. And then I began reading about the three witches, which were my favorite characters...
I had gone into the world of Shakespeare, the words flying in my mind. The actual scene playing right in front of me that I hadn’t noticed where I was going. But I ended up siting at a rather large trunk of a tree, it seemed like the perfect place to sit and read a book, the roots of the tree formed a sort of seating area along with the trunk.
I had sat myself down, and played the movie in my head. The entire thing was so intense, at some parts I could feel my heart racing, and my blood stopping.
“This is our tree.” I ignored the voice, obviously I was hallucinating and went back to the part when Queen Macbeth was goin- “Mmhm!” This wasn’t hallucination, I looked up from the book to meet a pair of dark brown eyes, he looked extremely mad.
“This is our tree, get out of here!” I noticed that he was particularly rude, that’s not a very good first impression. Even, though I didn’t like people awfully much. So instead of arguing with him, I got up and said in a soft tone, “Sorry, I didn’t know.” And started walking away, but I wasn’t to faraway when I heard, “You see Padfoot, even Slytherins respect us.”
Padfoot... That had meant that James Potter had just accused her of something she didn’t mean to do. Wonderful, his infatuated brain would probably forget her befor- Wait a minute, what were they doing up this early?
‘A prank,” my brain voiced, of course. Of course.
But another part of me felt a little... heartbroken that he had thought I was a Slytherin, that even people in my own House Year didn’t even know who I was... But I feel sorry for them, sorry that they can only see straight ahead, and never down or up. I looked back down to my book and started to lose myself in the book- BAM!
I stepped back, my nose hurting and my book dropped out of my hands, the . I looked up, my hand on my nose, to look at the culprit. I know this person, how do I know this person?
“Apology accepted, now let go of me, thank you.” He hadn’t even said anything, but his hands were still on my shoulders. But he dropped them instantly, well good for him.
“You’re okay, right? You’re not hu-”
I put up my palm, “I’m fine. See? I’m fine,” but inside me I felt a nagging feeling, but I felt it a lot. It was my brain telling me I was wrong, that I was lying. Stupid brains.
“Can you read minds?”
He gave me a curious look, and then shook his head. “No, well then you have to take my word for it. Yes, I’m okay. No harm done, now-” I saw he had bent down to pick up my book. I instantly tried to hide a smile. But instead of giving it back to me he opened it up to see what I was reading, “Mmm Shakespeare.”
I looked down, biting the inside of my cheeks, trying to keep my smile hidden.
Nodding slowly I replied, “Yeah. Since I was eight, I’m fanatic about him. I even know the Shakespearian Language you see.” He didn’t laugh or anything, which surprised me, so I looked up to see that he was smiling as he read line by line.
“Macbeth is one of my favourites,” he answered, but he just kept grinning at the book, a finger at the corner of the pages.
“Yeah, my favorite is Twelfth Night. I used to dress up as Olivia and repeat her lines you know, or Viola... Viola was real cool, a real punk you know?” He met my gaze, grinning at me.
“I’ve never read Twelfth Night,” he said, his grinning softly, a little more so it didn’t look so abnormal.
“Oh well, I have a copy... You can borrow it sometime.” Oh dear, did you just offer him a chance to meet you again? What is your problem! My Aunt always said that I give to strangers, and no one ever gives to me.
“Well, I’ll have to see through with that.” He handed me the beaten book, I nodded slowly, my need to smile no longer there. He wasn’t much taller then me, but considering I was taller then most- No I was a giant, that’s what people used to call me when I was in muggle school. My aunt had thought I was a squib, but until she found out when I was 11, I had gone to muggle school.
“You’re name is Ivyanna, right? I remember you from a week or two ago.”
I froze, and possibly paled. His eyes suddenly gained a look of understanding.
“I haven’t told anyone about our run it, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
I shook my head, he shouldn’t feel guilty. It wasn’t his choice, it just happened. “No,” I shook my head once more, “it’s- I don’t like people very much.”
His eyes filled with a mixture of confusion, and some others I couldn’t think of. “Why not?”
I looked far away, behind me, or maybe at the wall as I replied, “Because...” And then I turned around and left.
My Aunt was right, I open up to fast; it wasn’t a good thing either. Because Remus Lupin isn’t my friend.
Remus Lupin isn’t my friend.