The Art of Dancing in the Rain (r.a.black)

Chapter One.

My mom named me Circe, after the sun God Helios' daughter. Circe the enchantress that turned men into pigs.

I don't know what she got off on, naming me after such a woman, but maybe it was one of those self fulfilling prophesies— because now I've made many enemies due to my so called feminine rage.

My brother, Dionysus, always says it's because I'm being too sensitive. And that actually kind of pisses me off, but maybe it's just because I'm too sensitive.

We both have weird names, and dad told us it was because we have Olympian blood in our family. The old nutter really believed we were related to some mythological Gods who caused war, and famine, and treated mortals like pawns on a chess board. I guess maybe it's not that crazy of an idea, considering we can do magic, but something about the idea that Zeus is one of my great, great, one hundred times, great grandfather doesn't sit right with me.

Not that I really have a say in it, or anything, but if given the choice, I would rather not be related to someone who could torture Medusa the way they had— the poor woman has serpents for hair all because she charmed a God.

My mother charmed a self acclaimed Demi-god, too. And though I have a sneaky suspicion that my father is nothing more than a wizard with grand ideas, my mother is anything but. She's a nymph. Which unfortunately makes my brother and I the worst type of magic-wielding fools— half-breeds.

Everyone's gone mad with blood-status, but the one thing no one could deny was, whether you were a half-blood or a muggle born or even a squib, you were still heads above the filthy half-breeds in a race.

Some of the students call me a nymph too, even if I'm only half one, and think it would be an insulting thing to be compared to my mother. But it's not. Because my mother is a great woman— nymph and all.

Plus, the insult is kind of stupid anyway, considering nymphs are supposed to be some symbol of beauty and femininity. A trait they retain until death.

Many people have opinions on me— I'm bored, I'm depressed, I'm shy, I'm stuck up, I'm judgemental.. When others can't read me, they write their own story—not always one I choose or that's true to who I am.

But I enjoy watching people try to figure me out. I can tell it's exhausting.

A lot of people really hate me, and not because of the half-breed thing. Dionysus is a half-breed too and has plenty of friends. It's probably just because I exercise an open contempt for people at school. And since my mother died, everyone thinks I have a mental illness now or something.

If I wanted to, I could make a big show about saying hi to anyone in this school. See you this afternoon, was all I had to say to any unsuspecting student, and it would ultimately put them in an awkward position. And that's the kind of thing I usually enjoy, but I've never done it.

I don't get how everyone enjoys school so much, and less understand the fact of how they find it normal. We dress in the same uniform everyday. We comply at all times with arbitrary rules. We are scrutinized and monitored for misbehavior. And this is somehow normal to them.

It seems I am the only one who recognizes school as an oppressive environment.

Like last term, for example. Professor Slughorn had a row with me because he caught me looking out the window during class. And no one in the class took my side.

I was the lonely one who noticed how obviously insane this all was. Dressing up in a costume every morning and herded around a large castle all day. And now I wasn't even allowed to move my eyes where I wanted. For Merlin's sake— my eye movement was even under the jurisdiction of the school rules.

You're not learning if you're staring out the window day-dreaming, Professor Slughorn told me.

I lost my temper by then and snapped back. Don't delude yourself. I have nothing to learn from you.

Safe to say I wasn't invited to the Slugclub dinner parties, even if I was top of the class. And I would feel bad about getting snide with him, being that he is one of the more reasonable teachers, but I don't think I was particularly wrong. I wasn't doing any harm.

Pandora Lestrange agreed with me too. Said he should have let me look out the window. Though she admittedly would have never said that to him, especially in front of a class full of students.

Which is fine by me. I don't really need anyone sticking up for me or anything. I scold Dionysus when he does it. Something about knowing I'm different gives me great satisfaction. And I find joy in other people recognizing it too— even if it's in the form of crude rumors. Or at the sacrifice of having no friends.

But it's kind of nice that way. There is a certain peace in solitude. And I have an abundance of it. I like reading novels during meal times and tuning in to others conversations when they think no one is listening.

I feel like I can live a thousand lives through the people around me. Or at least one really long one.

And don't get me wrong, I do have some sense. A sense that real life is happening somewhere very far away. Happening without me. And I'm not sure I will ever find out where it is. Or become a part of it.

I'm not sure what real life might feel or look like. But I know that once it started, I probably won't like it much anyway.