Chapter 9 : Mortal
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One of the greatest problems with love is that it can be unabashedly blind. For any relationship to withstand pressure and to actually function, the pair must be able to see each other for who they are, as there is nothing more treacherous to believe that a person is more than a person.
I'm a nervous wreck, my hairs are standing on end and I'm jittery as hell. There are three possible reasons for my current state: a) the guilt of lying to Louis is eating at my soul and beginning to show on my external features, b) Louis has yet to ask me out and the painful manner of how he is dragging this out is like drawing blood and c) a culmination (what a word!) of a and b, swishing, swooshing and swirling around in my head, ticking like muggle TNT, ready to explode. And then one fine day KA-BOOM, death, it's over, the end, I'm dead.
Don't think I'm foolish enough to want that to happen, because I know the difference between casting a quick killing curse to the head and ending your problems and coping/dealing/sorting them out.
They first person to notice, was in fact, Lorcan.
Can you imagine how awkward this is?
You don't even need to imagine as you can watch this horrendous conversation, right now:
"Sophie," he says my name and takes a breath as I bite my index finger.
"Are you okay?" Lorcan asks.
"I'm fine, you?" I say, gesturing at his arm, sitting rather uncomfortably on the common room sofa.
"Yeah, I'm fine," he says.
Err, and this isn't awkward at all.
Lorcan opens his mouth, but quickly shuts up when Hannah Macmillan saunters in, dragging Izzy in tow. She looks rather helpless, she probably is.
He waits patiently for them to walk up to the dormitory before he leans in closer to say something. Nervous, I slide two fingers in my mouth.
"MacMillan has been saying that you cheated on McLaggen with me and then your double-timing me with Louis."
I sigh, this is not the first and I doubt the last one of my evil room mates will spread rumours about me. This one is almost hurtful, not because of it's contents but because it's somewhat believable. Look at it this way: I break up with Mclaggen, then Louis and I seem to be flirting, looking touch feely pretty much straight after I broke up with the quidditch captain, making me resident gryffindor slut.
"Thanks for telling me," I say, standing up about to go to my dormitory.
This will be interesting.
I'm not greeted as I walk in. No surprise.
"She's barely perfect, don't see what any of the guys see in her," Hannah says loudly and despite knowing I'm in my dormitory, I can't shake the feeling that I'm six again and I'm on a playground.
The word 'perfect' pirouettes in my mind and suddenly, I can't help but feel grateful because however silly she may be, she just sorted out my problems. And that's the last thing she'd want to do, help me.
Izzy shifts unconfortabley, but says nothing.
Arisa would have lectured Macmillan about how she was a petty bitch by now, Louis would have told her to shut her up whilst Lorcan and Aaron would have jinxed her. It doesn't actually bother me that Izzy is doesn't say anything, not because I know that she's shy, it's because she's a friend for convenience, for the hell of it. That makes me more appreciative of my insane batshit friends, because even when we fight they still care about me. I feel like Harry Potter right now. Why? I'm untouchable because I'm loved and some stupid rumour is a bit like Moldyshorts.
Filling the silence, Hannah continues to speak, "she should really do something about her ears and her patchy skin."
Her emphasis on the word patchy, makes me cringe. It's always painful to hear your nickname used in a derogatory fashion.
Deciding that I want to keep the moral highground in this stupid battle, I walk out of the room calmly, not giving her the satisfaction of a cat fight.
The thing about Hannah Macmillan is she isn't a deprived, neglected child, neither is she a spoilt brat who genuinely thinks she owns the world. She's taken the natural instinct of wanting to be liked by everyone, and then in her attempt to appear cool, started to act like an ice block and she found that her frozen attitude created more friction than friendliness between herself and others. So, she found herself filling awkward silence with sly comments about others, realizing that girls are rather pathetic creatures and have this awful weakness to gossip. And so began her slippery decent down the hill from niceville to Queen Bitch kingdom.
Just to give credit where it's due, this is Henry Glass' observation and explanation of his ex-girlfriend. He said that once anyone spends significant time with her, they can crack her like a walnut.
You wouldn't expect someone smart like Glass to date a bitch, but he did anyway.
Just to take credit, that's my walnut metaphor. Hands off.
I ask Lorcan where Louis is and he says in the owlery, which leads me to the conclusion he is up to something, for Louis is north and the owlery is south of a magnet and they repel each other at a three metre radius.
Who is he possibly going to send a letter to?
I make a constant effort to pay attention to direction. That is, until, I notice Peeves messing around with the bust of Paracelsus.
"Ah! Kooky, long time no see, did you fly away like a bee?"
I laugh, I always do when Peeves breaks out into his usual forced rhyme.
"I've been busy, Peeves," I say.
He frowns comically, "so crazy cootie, you haven't got any pranks in mind," he asks, his tone more mischievous than ever.
"I do, soon and this one involved Filch," I say, thinking back to Louis's list.
He cackles manically and as I walk away says, "you keep getting crazier and crazier, kooky."
I walk straight and hear a high pitched scream as something smacks the floor, and I'm pretty sure the bust of Paracelsus lies on the floor.
I walk in to the owlery and see Louis leaning against a wall, as if in an attempt to fall into it. Carefully, I stride up to Louis and without noticing I am biting the end of three of my fingertips.
"Louis, let's go for a walk," I say and he smiles up at me goofily, and with a lazy flick of his wand the book in his hand disappears. I blink twice, scrutinizing my silly thoughts that Louis was holding muggle literature.
He latches onto my left hand and in the harsh windy september weather, we start to walk in the direction of Hagrid's.
"So, ma cherie, you wanted to go for a walk," he says, but I know what he's really saying, he's asking me to start talking. The word talk and walk are almost synonymous, for us.
"You need to stop it."
He looks down at me confused.
"Stop thinking that I'm perfect."
While our legs keep moving, our words. hit a brick wall.
Naturally, I decide to explain further, "you've become one of those people who wear rose-tinted glasses all the time and you've stopped seeing me as a person but as this goal you must attain, because once you win you will be complete. You th-."
"Sophie," he starts.
"Let me finish," I say, "you're under the false assumption that you need a girl, to complete you and that's bullshit and you know it."
I stop for a second and look at the view of the forbidden forrest, finally giving him an opportunity to speak.
He doesn't say anything at first, but I want him to formulate his words. Now I understand that it's not that Louis loves me more than I love him, it's more that he's blinded by emotion and has stopped seeing me as person, but more of a prize and a puzzle piece to complete him. And I hate the idea of being in a relationship that you're so disgustingly reliant on each other, that you can't survive otherwise.
He grabs my hand again and I twist myself, so that we're face to face, and despite wanting to kiss him desperately, I know my lips couldn't unless I told him to the truth.
So, I open my mouth and finally say the words that have had me stuck in a rut.
"I lied, I didn't sell my book."
And somehow unconsciously, my fist has filled my mouth.
A/N: Let's not talk about my update routine or speed. HI! :) This is short, I know, but the next chapter is written.
Patch mentions the manic pixie dream girl in this chapter which Nathan Rabin (the guy who coined the term) describes as "that bubbly, shallow cinematic creature that exists solely in the fevered imaginations of sensitive writer-directors to teach broodingly soulful young men to embrace life and its infinite mysteries and adventures."
I've been reading GOF, can you tell? let's see who can get it right!
This chapter was foreign language-less :(
Disclaimer: I don't own HP and neither do I own John Green's words 'What a treacherous thing to believe that a person is more than a person.' which is from his amazing book Paper Towns :) nor do I own the concept of the Manic Pixie Dream Girl.
Thanks, review, whatever! :) xx
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