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It's almost February, which means that the Quidditch season is about to start soon. I made a deal with that insufferable Gryffindor prick, which declares that in order to push Bartemius away, I must make him lose.
Now, the two houses that are playing the Quidditch match in February are Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Thornbury wants Slytherin to lose to Gryffindor, which will be in May. So for now I don't have to worry about keeping my promise.
I thought about better ways to make Barty stop making me be seen, but I think I have bigger problems than just that. It's not about being seen anymore, it's about feeling seen. And I mostly feel seen when I am with Alex. It's like he knows everything about me that not even I am aware of yet. As if he knows all about my plans and motives, he's trying to make me open up.
I thought of him as a fool but he's clearly just as intelligent as I am. It's hard to acknowledge that fact, but I won't underestimate him. He's my friend after all. My only friend.
“Heading off to somewhere or just existing in this nothingness with no goal or a place to be?” I heard him behind me before he caught up to me. Alex had to walk faster to match my tempo, so I slowed down. I know that he enjoys conversations more if we're walking slowly.
I am softening, I am melting, like sugar in the rain. I had all the urges to jump out of the window, but unfortunately we're not on a higher floor.
“Both.” I answered shortly.
It's late at night, probably past midnight and past the curfew, but I felt hungry and I had to visit the kitchens. Alex clearly saw me and followed me.
I took a look at him. He was already looking at me. He isn't totally unpleasant to look at. With his almost sun-like eyes and his dirty blond hair, he could be called almost celestial. He's quite tall and his body is slim, but he has all the confidence of this world, like he could move mountains if he really wanted to.
He's a gentle soul.
“What made you so determined to make me tell you things?” I asked him as we stood in front of the portrait of fruits in a basket. I tickled the pear and the doors to the kitchens opened. We walked in.
“You're an interesting person and I feel like you need to tell someone all your troubles and feelings, but you don't have anyone trustworthy enough. Therefore I decided to make you believe that I am not a bad person and you can tell me anything.”
There was that sparkle of sincerity in his eyes and his voice. He talked like he doesn't care if I tell him or not, if I trust him or not, like he just wants me to know that he will always be there somewhere if I need someone to rely on.
“Even if I tell you about my troubles and feelings, they will still be there but you will also be aware of them. There's no point.” I told him as I went to open the fridge. I took a fruit yogurt and a spoon and I sat on the counter. Alex was standing next to me with his raisins cookie.
“You will feel better if you tell someone. I know that you have fears as well, and that you don't like it when people know things about you. You don't want anyone to think that somebody like you has feelings. However, I am not going to force you to trust me or tell me things you don't want to, but I only want to prove that I am here and I will stay by your side anyway.” He talked in a gentle voice with an undertone of nonchalance.
It was only then that I realized just how similar we are. He doesn't like to talk about his feelings as well. We are similar yet different, like the sun and the moon, like two surfaces of the same coin. He's just like me if he was lacking some emotional intelligence and kindness.
“If you tell me one thing that you don't want anyone else to know about you, I might tell you the same thing about myself.” I told him.
He looked at me again.
“Seems fair,” He said. “Well, I wouldn't like anybody to know why my family moved back to the United Kingdom. My father murdered my younger sister's nanny. My parents covered it up and I am sure they don't know that I know their little secret. I am disgusted by them.”
I was shocked to say the least. It's not easy to surprise me, but damn. I thought he would just tell me that he sometimes feels sad and cries because his dog died like 7 years ago, but dear Merlin.
“Seems like you're one very morally driven person. Being repulsed by your parents because your father killed your sister’s nanny. It takes a lot of strength to hate the people that gave you life.” I said to him as I put my yogurt down.
“It's not that he killed her. I am ashamed to say that I wouldn't care about the deed of murder, but I am upset that they tried to keep that away from me.”
I understood him.
“You're not disgusted by your parents, you're disgusted by yourself.” I mentioned and he nodded his head. He's already aware of this but it's worse when I acknowledge it.
“It's your turn.”
“I plan on taking down Voldemort.”
Silence.
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A/N: We need more of their friendship for the plot fr
