The First Signs of a Storm - Prisoner of Azkaban - Book 1

Chapter 15: Dance on the Last Nerve

Storm

Storm had opted not to sit at the Slytherin table at dinner. In fact, she skipped the meal altogether, holing herself in her dormitory, away from every and all stares, making a start on the homework she'd been set from both Ancient Runes and Potions that day. Although she'd have preferred the solitude of the Hogwarts Library, she did not fancy getting lost and ending up around more people she didn't recognise.
If she'd thought the journey and the sorting was bad, then she had greatly underestimated the capacity for shitness that followed. What a disaster today had been. From feeling cornered by Dolohov first thing to being humiliated by Snape on multiple occasions to the class she would not think of. It had been up there with one of the worst days of her life so far. And, somehow, she did not think it would be the last day like it.
She wondered what Lexi was doing, wishing with everything she owned that she could see her just once before the month was out. Just to make sure that Storm had not been left alone in the world. She wanted to hear Lexi's voice, to feel Lexi's arms around her in their protective cage, shielding Storm from the only thing that terrified her - herself.

Storm shook away her worries for now, focussing on the Rune Translations she had been given by Professor Babbling. Luckily, Storm had studied Egyptian Runes during her brief year at Beauxbatons, so the foot long parchment took only 15 minutes. Slower than Storm would have usually taken, but she wanted to get it perfect.
For Potions, Storm barely paid attention to her parchment as she scribbled in loopy script a two page essay on the effects of the Draught of the Living Death, if brewed incorrectly.
This was Storm's method of keeping on top of work - get it done the same day. Then she'd have more time to-
What? What would she do then? She couldn't go exploring. Nor could she sit in the common room, centre of scrutiny.
No, for the moment, all Storm would do when she wasn't in lesson, would be to read by herself, learning to live with her own company (not something she'd ever done before).

So, by the time Monday morning rolled around, after Friday's long day of avoiding people, Storm had spent the weekend seeing no one but Liberty, who had came and went over the course of the two days. Liberty hadn't spoken to Storm. Or at least, not that Storm had heard. She'd been too busy sleeping in late and covering herself with her duvet whenever Liberty had entered.
Storm had no intention of interacting with anyone until she was 30 but, as she walked into the Great Hall, having skipped every meal since Breakfast her first day, Storm realised that she would need to expel the notion of anonymity from her hopes altogether. She had hoped the novelty would've worn off by now, but it seemed, that Storm's self-isolation, had only spurred on the whispers of who this mysterious witch was.
Storm's insides were now churning constantly and the longer she stayed at Hogwarts, the worse it would get. She felt claustrophobic. Unable to breath freely as she walked to the end of the Gryffindor table, closest to the door, grabbing four slices of bread, a handful of bacon and mushrooms, carelessly throwing them together to make two sandwiches, as a few of the Seventh year Gryffindors rounded on her with unwelcome in their eyes.

"Move on, Black. You're not welcome here." Came a sneer from one of the girls. But Storm ignored them, not looking up to meet their eyes as she constructed two sausage sandwiches, smothering them in ketchup. "Oi, Black."
Storm gritted her teeth when she felt someone push on her shoulder, trying to move her away. She had to stay calm.
Finally, Storm looked up, but avoided looking at the two girls addressing her, searching for Fred and George Weasley, wanting to surround herself with a different sort of company than Slytherin offered. She needed something, laid back.
She spotted George beside Percy, just as one of the girls got to her feet, squaring up to Storm, who was shorter than last week - around 5'10.
"Go back to your own table." Hissed the Gryffindor. But Storm still did not reply, knowing that she would say the wrong thing if she let herself react. Stacking her sandwiches, Storm rounded the end of the table, taking a goblet full of coffee from in front of the girl. "Oi!"