Alina Nightshade doesn't think much about James Potter. Only that he seems rather keen on being annoying.
James Potter thinks Alina Nightshade is a mystery all wrapped up in a very pretty girl. And he is keen on trying to be her friend.
James Potte...
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Alina's eyes lock on the Slytherin table as her spoon lazily stirs the yogurt in her bowl, the motion absentminded and repetitive.
Breakfast buzzes around her, but she feels distant from it all. She chooses to sit beside James this morning, not Regulus or Barty. A conscious decision, though not necessarily a clever one, as James hasn't stopped talking since she sat down.
"Are you even listening, Alina?" James nudges her lightly, his voice bright as he recounts Quidditch practice from the day before.
Her gaze flicks from the Slytherin table to the boy beside her, narrowing slightly. "Hmm?" she mutters, though she hasn't caught a word of what he's said.
James raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. She opens her mouth to ask a question, some small attempt to change the subject, when the sound of wings sweeps through the Great Hall.
The owls arrive.
Hundreds of them swoop down from the enchanted ceiling, dropping letters and parcels onto the tables below. The chaos is a welcome distraction.
A large envelope lands in front of James, drawing a soft expression to his face as he picks it up.
A smaller letter lands before her.
Alina stares at it, her breath catching. Her name is scrawled across the front in neat, familiar handwriting. Her mother's.
She can feel Peter watching her from across the table, his brow creased with concern. James has gone quiet beside her, the usual humor in his eyes replaced with something softer.
Alina's fingers tremble as she grabs the letter without a word. Before either boy can speak, she is on her feet, her bag slung over her shoulder, making her way out of the Great Hall.
The chill of the stone corridor bites at her as she walks, footsteps echoing softly. Her grip on the letter tightens, crumpling the edges slightly as she brings it closer to her chest.
Fuck.
"Alina?"
She stops abruptly, startled. James has caught up to her without her noticing. His dark brown eyes search hers, his voice softer now.
"Hey," he says gently, stepping closer. "Come here."
He guides her toward a quiet corner of the corridor, hidden from the rest of the school's hustle. Alina lets him, her back pressing against the cold wall as her breathing hitches.
She glances down at the letter again, her throat tight, her hands trembling. And yet, she feels... nothing. A hollow, gnawing nothing.
Her fingers tear the envelope open quickly, the sound of rustling paper loud in the silence.
