Leave Out All The Rest

Unholy Scenes

[[TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of abuse]]

Leave Out All the Rest

Chapter 30: Unholy Scenes

POV: Nia & Rose

When mentioning my name people would automatically think, 'oh, that bitch,' or their eyes fill with fright as my face would emerge into their head, haunting them until they could replace it with a better memory. Sure, other people would be upset about being connected to such foul perception, but I didn't mind. People were idiots after all. I couldn't help that they infuriated me, that I couldn't stand their idiocy, could I? I just wasn't built that way.

Everyone in and out of Gryffindor knew me for my short temper, one that should never be messed with. People didn't talk to me unless I spoke to them, fearing that I'd chew their heads off if they so much as waved a hello to me. As enjoyable as that rumor was, it was all a bunch of rubbish. I mean, sure, I'm annoyed easily, but if someone's friendly and I like them, I'm a bloody jelly-bean.

However, I doubt anyone is ever going to see me in my sweet-as-candy phase, especially not by the murderous look currently on my face—which a group of Gryffindors happened to stumble upon bright and early before I stormed out of the common room.

It had been about twenty minutes of storming in and out of rooms, shoving people away, shouting at ghosts, threatening Peeves that I'd make sure he died all over again if he didn't clear the corridor that he stacked with cauldrons to barricade a group of Hufflepuffs, when I finally turned into the library. It was too early for most of the studious dweebs to even begin to fill in, but I was hoping I'd find what I was looking for.

Madam Pince was at her desk, organizing the new Defense Against the Dark Arts textbooks that had arrived for next term (even though she had already done so last month, but everyone refused to listen to me when I told them the old bint's memory was starting to go), two Ravenclaws were searching for something in the Herbology section, and Dominique Weasley was sat at her own table, banging her forehead repeatedly on her stack of opened books. 

I cursed under my breath. What I was looking for wasn't here.

"Hello there, my pretty. You sure are up early."

I turned away from Potions aisle I had poked my head in to inspect, meeting brown eyes and a ridiculous grin right behind me. I frowned instantly. 

"Trying to get started on that Potions quiz, huh? I heard Nott's going to demolish it."

"First of all," I hissed, "don't you ever call me 'my pretty' again, Finnegan. Understand? Or I'll rip your throat out. Secondly, Nott is only going to demolish the classroom out of anger when I show everyone just what an idiot she is. She'll be eating toad intestines by the end of the night, mark my words."

Saar Finnegan, fellow Gryffindor with a reputation of being a complete and utter troll with a wand (or, when I was in a good mood, a decent, funny dimwit), let out a loud, dramatic sigh. "Oh, come on, Harper, you still can't be mad at me, can you? I said I was sorry—and I helped pay for the repair. Your Firebolt is good as old again."

"I will take my Firebolt," I started, giving him a shove on the shoulder that made him stumble, "and stick it so far up your arse, Finnegan, you'll never sit right again. And I'll have you pay for the damage again."

Finnegan gulped, his brown eyes wide as he looked down at me as I now drilled my finger into his chest. "I'm joking," he said with an undertone of a plea, "you know I am, Harper."