Fate isn't on your side. Being the sole 'trash' the Marauders kick around to have a little giggle. A hefty price to pay because you dislike being a bystander. It was no surprise that one Friday morning, you find a pink love note, by your pillow.
An...
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★彡˚✧ "The mind is not a book, to be opened at will and examined at leisure. Thoughts are not etched on the inside of skulls, to be perused by an invader."
- Severus Snape • • •
Life at Hogwarts felt somewhat hollow.
No, more like the stubborn Ocean. Sometimes intense waves would stumble your dainty legs and spray salt to your wounds. The rare times were the stable ones, where your mind felt real serene. When the light waves in your psyche crash, not too hard and not too light. And there was a sense of balance.
Tranquility. As you like to call it. Peaceful. Nobody would stare, accuse or dwell into rumours about you.
Not until—now.
It wasn't a big conspiracy that irrational gossip would catch fire and spread like a disease, no. Because the moment a casual remark would utter, it would drown all the lighthearted sentiments about you.
And the worst part? Anybody is a potential target. Not to say that a specific target opts for a primal route. Never. But it's difficult dealing with harassment, assault and misjudgment when you're a minority.
"Such a snitch."
Yes. A pestering minuscule voice that wouldn't leave you alone no matter how hard you press your palms to your ears.
"I've heard she's a goody two-shoes. A people pleaser. Bitch looks like she'll snitch on anyone. No wonder she's got no friends."
Growing pains could circulate your body, but you cannot take back words. No matter the amount of apologies. Somehow, you would never fail to smile at them, show kindness. Yeah, it falters time by time, but at least it's temporary. The only option you have now is to wait it all out. Until you graduate.
The group startles, to say the least, scoff at the sight of your oblivious nature.
"Attention seeking whore."
They think you can't hear their soul-wrenching sentences. They wouldn't understand the sheer power of words. The finality in which those conjunctions whisper throughout the corridors was disastrous. Especially among students who squish their ways to get past one another.
The echoes of humiliation.
And that's okay. I'll keep moving on and doing what's best for me and my mental health.
The library.
It's quiet. And very much soothing. Like my mother, warm and gentle to embrace.
I don't have to hear people talk about things that don't matter.
Mind fuzzy, emotions numb and heart accelerating, your digits brush against the dusty books that cure your perplex-ridden mind. The chalky texture of dust leaves your fingertips as you blow on them.
One by one.
Imagining the dust as your obstacles in life, stress vanishes away and you're in control. Nobody has strength over you but yourself. Strong affirmations were a delightful thing to incorporate in your daily routine.
Although, some days in depression, your mood would alter like a pendulum swing, changing ever so slightly. And affirmations would feel like a chore.
The quiet murmurs of a few nearby students drive you to a intent regime of processing, pretty words that flow from the book that currently captivates your interest.
Abe no Seimei - An introduction to healing
Truth was, you were no stranger to re-reading this book. In fact, it was one of your comfort books. It continuously shower you with praise, it would appreciate minimal efforts and enable you to respect your body.
And yet, it's only the introduction. I wonder what other topics Abe has written about.
That thought leaves your brain the moment your head snaps up to the sound of minimal snickering behind you.
Oh yeah. I forgot pricks follow you everywhere. Like an annoying pest, they never leave you alone.
Kind of hypocritical. They say I'm the attention seeking one when they would sacrifice their dignity to gain an ugly secret of mine and exploit it.
The safe path was to accept, smile and ignore.
Yet, for some reason your palm felt an incredible itch towards its surface, like an instinct awoke in you. The bug that try and tear you down from behind was only wanting to make you swat it away.
So you turn your formal shoes, face painted with a neutral expression, eyeing them with seriousness.
"Are you that boring and bland that you believe capturing my attention will make up for it? Surely, I'm admirable in many ways, but I require my personal space. Thank you."
They were speechless, or judging. You could not tell.
In many ways or so, a tinge of hope flicker inside of you like a floral candle. Your scent attach onto the two Gryffindors and they growl upon your exit. And in many ways or so, you felt a sense of excitement crawl up your olfactory senses—
"Achoo." You sniffle into your elbow.
Maybe it was the dust of the books and not the excitement.
"Bless you." A muffled voice left their trace by you, as they scurry past you, his shoulder lightly touch yours causing you to shudder. He nestle himself on an isolated table.
You watch the familiar man with curiousness peeking at your face. Pale, slender, black straight hair reaching his shoulders and his arms hogging each book in his vicinity.
At least some people have their dignity intact.
His dark eyes briefly met yours, and you swore you could see the hollowness of his cold stare.
