And I would be the one (to hold you down) | Yandere Lily Evans

A feeling

London is a sprawling, dirty metropolis filled with hordes of people and unfamiliar smells. With loud cars, little more than metal cages, swarming around like ants. Everything is too close, squeezing her spirit and crushing her body. It makes her long for the simple countryside fresh air she grew up around. The clear skies and starry nights. The clean streets and babbling brook. The Thames is nothing like The Elwy--London's river is pitch black. Death-like. If she went for a swim, she'd get sick. She'd grow too cold. Sink to the foundation. Add to the pile of bones surely lurking at the bottom.

Needless to say, Natsumi doesn't like the city. She hardly likes most forms of Muggle technology, much less this hulking mass of transportation that's bigger than the house she grew up in. It's so intimidating to walk past the steam of the engine, the high-pitched whistles, the shouts of workers directing students where to go. Her mother had warned her about leaving last minute, because every year, it seems like every student came to the station at the latest possible moment to board the train. So she came early. Spent the morning sitting pretty in her own booth looking outside at the slowly changing platform. It's pandemonium out there right now: yelling parents, shoving students, owls escaping cages...Yes, thank goodness she came early. She wouldn't have been able to handle the crowd out there. She can barely handle the passing students in the hallway glancing in at her. Every so often a curious look is sent her way or maybe even a bold hello. It's horrifying. She'd much prefer to dissolve into the background as a drop of ink does in a pool of water. It would be easier to blend in if it weren't for her appearance--Bad enough that she inherited her father's obnoxious hair, she had to go and get her mother's face alongside with it. From far away, she can be mistaken for English, but up close, the truth is evident.

You don't belong here says her grandmother's voice over and over in her head, come home. Come home. It sings as a siren does to sailors lost at sea, and all at once, she wonders if the creatures could ever sound as sweet. Grandmother was a singer, the one on her mother's side, and growing up, she was sure that there was no other voice as lovely as hers. Who else could have sung her to sleep in safe arms? Singing songs of the old country. Of spirits and demons, and the clever travelers they encountered. Of love and loss and gods and--

She doesn't realize she's humming until someone asks what it is. The door to her compartment is open. Someone is leaning in, hands resting on the frame.

"It's pretty." Natsumi keeps her head down to avoid eye contact with the stranger, but she can tell they're a girl. She can tell she's a Muggleborn by her shoes (they always have the strangest shoes!): odd looking, semi-clog-shaped, made of clay-colored leather with a buckle coming across the top of the foot, creating an arch shaped window. Her calf length white socks don't look very functional, either, they're semi-sheer, "You have a good voice."

Her face grows warm at the compliment; the proper thing to do is to humbly deny it, but she wants to accept it so badly... "Um, I--Thanks." Her throat clears, "Thank you." She tries for a more confident tone, "It's, um, it's a song," Obviously, Natsumi, of course it's a song, "--Uh, it's a song my grandmother used to sing to me." Her hands play with the fabric of her clothes, unused to having someone's attention on her for so long.

"I like it." The voice of the Muggleborn stranger is unfailingly kind, "Can I sit here? I was looking for a good space to wave goodbye to my family outside."

"Of course!" Her reply is enthusiastic, but not at all loud. She scoots aside, away from the window to allow the girl room, even if she hardly took up any space at all. The stranger rushes to the window, opening it up to stick her head out and bounce wildly. Seeing that her back is turned, Natsumi assumes it's safe to lift her chin upwards.