(Four: Sincerely, Me)

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Slam!

That was not the particular piece of onomatopoeia that Alex Fawley wanted her Thursday to start with.

In fact, she couldn't look back on the hazy memories of learning vocab words in a primary school classroom and say that there was any onomatopoeic word that she wanted to describe an instance in her life, not bang! not crash! not thud! But, in particular, Alex Fawley did not want to hear the word Slam! in relation to her existence at Hogwarts.

In hindsight, she would say the root of this incident had been in the Transfiguration classroom the day before, when McGonagall had pulled her aside, looked at her down her nose with the most disappointed expression the professor could muster, and told Alex that there was absolutely no way she would pass the transfiguration OWL if she kept going as she was. Through the muffled headset of her confused guilt, Alex had caught the teacher saying that she should work harder, spend less time on her photography, more time on revision. Not knowing what else to do, Alex had agreed that she would, indeed, try harder to catch up with her classmates, swung her satchel onto her shoulder and walked at what she hoped was a normal pace out of the room.

Alex had been confused; she did all the same work as someone like Lily Evans, she did everything she was told to do, finished all her homework on time, tried to pay attention in class. She really was trying. The idea of giving up photography for school work was as repulsive as a case full of flobberworms, it made her want to be physically sick. Left with no other choice, Alex had resolved to get up even earlier, go to the library to practise and bring a small mountain of books back with her every night.

And of course her bag broke that morning, so of course Alex was having to balance the six thick school books in her arms as she wobbled through the hallways at four in the morning. And of course the Gryffindor prefect had been walking that corridor around the corner, leaving the perfect setup for a cartoonish collision in five, four, three, two, one-

Slam!

"Oh Merlin! Merlin, I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine. Honestly it was my fault."

The books thudded to the floor, overbalancing Alex into tripping backwards and landing on her back with the mixed jarring impact of stone and mortifying humiliation. Her face burning, Alex smiled weakly in the general direction of Remus Lupin, who was watching her with concerned brown eyes.

"Are you okay?" she heard Remus ask.

Alex was aware of her crimson face as she scrabbled upright, training her gaze somewhere below Remus's eyes, "I'm fine. Don't worry. I'm sorry. Merlin."

Why did this always happen to her? She wasn't even the focus of the Marauders pranks, yet she found herself regularly catapulted into their attention. What was it about her face that made teachers decide she would pair well with Peter Pettigrew? Why did Logan have to leave his broom right in front of James Potter when she tripped over it? What was wrong with her?

"Do you want a hand?" Remus inquired, sounding genuine.

Alex blinked, "Huh?"

Remus smiled gently, and gestured to the mess that Alex had made when she fell, "With your books?"

"Oh, right." Alex's face flushed red anew. She bent to gather her belongings, though she feared that she looked more like a starving child desperately pawing at a drain for coins, "It's fine."

Heedless of her words, Remus stooped and swept three volumes into his arms with unfair grace and ease, "That's a lot of reading for one night. Don't you have a bag?"

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