Lineage||Draco Malfoy|

7|fish out of water

SNOWFALL CAME LATE IN THE year, holding off until Quinn and her friends had locked themselves away in a compartment on the Hogwarts Express. The train always had a homey feel to her, with the warm walls and scent of cedar that hung in the air. Despite the comforting atmosphere, Quinn was not quelled. Slouching in her seat, she glowered out the window as snowflakes streaked past.

"You're making your holiday suck before you even get there," Charolette hummed, her knitting needles clacking as she continued on with her scarf.

The hobby was very fitting of her.

"It's gonna suck no matter what mentality I take on."

"So melodramatic," Adam reminisced. "I remember how I was when I was your age."

"You're three days older than me."

"Exactly. I was stuffing my face with apple streusel when I was your age. Good times."

Quinn flicked her leg out, kicking him in the shin. "You're such a shit."

"You love me for it."

"I tolerate you in spite of it."

Refusing to let her spirits be lifted as she knew that in thirty short minutes they would dive head first from their high, she returned to her previous endeavor of staring blankly at the glass. The winter landscape outside was gorgeous by a textbook definition, the bones of trees brightened by snow, rolling hills of powdery white, but this time of year always sickened Quinn. For a holiday that was meant to celebrate family and giving, she never felt like more of an outsider than she would in the coming days.

You see, losing faith in your parents is a lot like losing your religion. As Quinn grew older she no longer believed in God. She didn't believe in her father either.

Innocent faith is something that can never be brought back once removed. Once the realization had dawned on little Quinn, it was though she had been struck by lightning. Pain came fast and sharp then nothing, she promised herself she wouldn't fall for the same trick twice. What kind of God lets someone feel so worthless? What type of parent provokes that feeling in a child? In the end, both questions were the same to her.

Sometimes Quinn wondered if she even knew what being loved felt like.

But, again, being angry was so much more bearable than being depressed, so she allowed herself to sit on her sadness and channel it into rage. Angry passion was her final line of defense, determined that she could at least make people feel how she feels. Make them understand the biting emptiness that devoured her chest, eating away at her emotions yet giving her too many of them all at once. Force someone, anyone, into a trap of sympathy even if it was ultimately feigned.

She just needed to know she wasn't alone.

Glancing over at her two friends locked in quiet discussion, she had the guilty revelation that she never felt more alone. Because no matter how badly she wanted these words out, they sat on her tongue and glued her mouth shut. Quinn had never been adept at verbalizing her emotions.

So, she sat in silence, waiting with a bouncing knee until the train screeched to a halt.

THE ALLEN HOUSEHOLD SAT ON the edge of a forest. Deer and other wildlife frequently visited their backyard because of this. As children, the twins would sit by the glass patio door with binoculars, waiting with peeled eyes and hopeful anticipation that they might catch a glimpse of something. Now, the glass patio sat with the blinds pulled tight. "All the light gives me a headache" her mother had insisted, and despite the fact that Quinn no longer cared about wild deer, it disappointed her.