Harry Potter Oneshots

Insecure [Theo Nott x OC]

the character in this oneshot thinks badly about herself, so if you're bothered by that i suggest you shouldn't read it. just warning ya.

|| Lana Harper ||

My eyes, the colour of filthy, dried mud, avoid that dreadful image that awaits in the mirror. Funny, how something as simple as a sheet of reflective glass can bring so much hatred and disgust to myself. 

Reluctantly, I lift my gaze. But so I can only see my clothes on my body, and not my face. Even so, loathing boils up in me at the sight of my figure. I take a few moments to scowl at how wide my legs look, and how my top does nothing flattering to my figure.

I sigh wearily, trying to clear my head of all the self-hate and insecurities I have about myself, even though it's very difficult. I tie my mop of dark hair into a messy ponytail, hoping it would stay away from my face, where I can see it.

I leave the Hufflepuff common room, my mind still filled with distasteful thoughts about my appearance and personality. But I push them out of my mind as best as I can. Unfortunately, they all swarm back as soon as I see Hannah Abbott.

She's almost everything I want to be; pretty, smart (smarter than me at least) and social. She can actually talk to other people normally without stuttering, unlike myself. She even smiles at me as I pass her. 

I don't return the smile. Not that I don't want to — I'd love to be able to give other people friendly smiles without a care in the world. But I hate my smile. It makes my face look wide and shows my uneven teeth.

As I walk down the semi-quiet corridors of Hogwarts on this Saturday morning, the bright sun shines through the panes of all the windows, effectively illuminating the interior of the castle. It just leads me to wonder how even the sky could be prettier than me? It's not fair.

I reach the great hall, alone, and sit at the furthest end of the Hufflepuff table. No one bothers to sit with me, or even acknowledge me at this point. They've all given up on trying to socialise with me. I even don't blame them — I'm so utterly boring. All I do is read and paint... but no one even knows that I paint. Why would they care? I wouldn't if I were them.

Halfway through my breakfast, I hear a group of voices entering the great hall. It's those Slytherin boys in my year — Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini and Nott. Sometimes that Parkinson girl and Daphne Greengrass join them. Sometimes. Luckily for me, Parkinson and Greengrass aren't anywhere to be seen today. Less people to mock me.

I attempt to hide my face behind my hair, but it doesn't work, as per usual. The blonde ferret Malfoy calls my name. 

"Hey Harper, what happened?" he sneers as his friends snicker behind him. "Where'd all your friends go— oh wait, you never had any!"

His comment makes my ears turn red, I can feel it. It also just reminds me of how lonely I truly am. He goes to sit at his house table, leaving me free of his insults for another half-hour.

As much as I hate his snarky comments, he's right. I've never had any friends here, nor anywhere else. I'm too shy and socially awkward to go up to people shamelessly and strike up a conversation. It's okay though, because two years ago, I discovered the room of requirement — a hiding place for me to escape everyone's judging looks.

As I leave the great hall and walk past the Slytherin table, I can hear Malfoy say; "I wonder what it's like to be hated by everyone?" Just another reminder of my social isolation. Yay.

|| Theodore Nott ||

Silver moonlight shimmers through the glass pane of the window as I walk through the deserted halls of Hogwarts. It's past curfew, but it's not like I actually care.

I find myself in front of a strange tapestry on the seventh floor. I don't even know why this wall is here, but it's isolated, so I slump down next to the wall and gaze into the inky sky.

That girl, Lana Harper, she never does anything to defend herself when Draco insults her. Shame. To me, she seems like a nice girl, just doesn't have enough confidence or something. But how can I blame her? I, myself, have done nothing in stopping Draco when he spits venomous insults at her. Sometimes I even chuckle a little, and I'm ashamed to admit it.

A coward, that's what I am. For not doing what I know is right.

The sound of footsteps sends me into a panic. I get up and quickly rush to the opposite end of the corridor. I peek my head around the corner, and am surprised to find Lana there. She paces a few times in front of the blank wall, and to my surprise, a door appears. She walks in, and before the door disappears, I slip inside silently.

She doesn't even notice me.

I look around at my new surroundings. I have absolutely no idea where I am, but there are painted and blank canvases all around, leaning against the ocean-blue walls. I now realise that the walls are painted like the ocean.

All the paintings are beautiful — like something out of those muggle moo-sums, I think they're called. What surprises me is that Lana pulls a stool towards her. She picks up some brushes and a pallette off of it and sits, beginning to apply colour to the empty canvas that sits in front of her.

She's dressed in black sneakers, that reach just above her ankle bones. There are dark maroon flowers and olive green vines on it. A baggy forest-green sweater hangs loosely around her frame and black sweatpants cover her legs. For the first time, I truly realise how beautiful she is.

I admire her painting — a person that looks freakishly realistic. I can't tell exactly what it is right now, so I let my eyes wander to some other artworks. That's when I notice the actual images of the already-completed paintings. Most of them are of crying people, children, or of deserted landscapes.

The awe has started to fade away, and is replaced by I don't even know what. Lana sits on her stool with paint smudges on her fingers and cheek, her brush daubing paint onto the rough canvas. I can now see what she is painting — a girl, scarred, with bony hands grabbing at her hair and clothes while oddly dark tears pool at her pale eyes and run down her cheeks.

I think there may be a message behind each painting.

My common sense kicks in, however, and I realise how creepy it would seem if she found me hiding in the corner, watching her. I leave as quietly as possible, and jog soundlessly back to the common room and my dorms.

|| Lana Harper ||

When I wake up on Sunday, my back and arms ache painfully. It must be late, because I'm the only one in my dorm. I groan when glowing golden sunlight hits my face, pulling my blankets over my face and falling back asleep.

I reawaken as the sun sets, sinking into the horizon. Feeling the need for fresh air and food, I swing my legs over the side of my bed and change into clothes more presentable for dinner. I quickly comb through my mop of hair and plat it, before wandering down into the common room.

Dinner was, luckily, uneventful. Malfoy didn't even mock me once. No one looked me in the eye (or at me, in general), so nothing out of the ordinary otherwise.

Just as I begin to enjoy the peace and quiet walking back through the corridors, my clumsy ass just decides to bump straight into someone. Landing on my sit bones on the cold floor, I look up only to come face-to-face with Pansy Parkinson.

She sneers cruelly at me, as I prepare myself for a nice, long, yelling session. Until-

"Just leave her, Pansy," a low voice grumbles nonchalantly. The pug-faced girl leaves with an unattractive scoff. I look up, all relief gone. It's Nott...

Contrary to my dreaded suspicion, he extends a hand for me to take, but I still eye it hesitantly. He sighs in annoyance and monkey-grabs my arm, pulling me into him.

Next ting I know, he's gone without so much as a word. Strange.

|| Word count: 1423 ||

...i really don't know how to start this off.

i had a sort of different ending planned, but then i didn't actually know how i could make that ending work with the story, without it being weird. so, yea...