"As long as we're breathing it's not too late to change your story." - Sheri Salata
Monday, September 26th, 1977
It wasn't a dream.
That's all I have to say on the matter. It most certainly was not a dream and that means so many things, but the biggest part, it means I had fun with James Potter last night.
You wanna know how I know it wasn't a dream? The answer is simple and complex all at once, and it takes the form of the suit jacket draped over my desk chair beside my bed.
Okay, so it's not that bad, right? I mean, it's not like we made out, we just spent some time together, that's all.
Remus can't know.
~☾~
"Miss Lupin! Miss Lupin!" I turn immediately, finding Regulus rushing to keep up with me in the hallway on the way to potions. "I wanted to make sure you were alright, you left with Potter last night and it didn't really seem like you wanted to." He explains.
"I'm fine, I just had to check up on my brother is all. Thank you, though."
"Wonderful, alright then." He says simply, turning around, but I grab his arm before he can get too far.
"Sirius lives with James."
"That's correct."
"And you don't."
"Also correct." He says tentatively.
"I'm sorry, Regulus."
"Yeah... me too. Goodbye, Ophelia."
~☾~
Saturday, October 1st, 1977
"I have work, Sera, I have to go." I insist, trying to pull away from the younger girl, who only continues to drill me on the most recent letter from my parents. This time it was written by dad, his curling, sharp handwriting so distinct compared to Mum's. It was a simple letter, only a paragraph long, but it hurt to read nonetheless.
I love my father, I truly do, but I know what he thinks of me. I always have and I always will know. My father sees me as a burden, my brother is his chosen one, and I am not.
It's my fault my brother is a werewolf, and my father knows it better than anyone else. If I hadn't looked at Remus that night, if I hadn't said his name, Fenrir would never have known that Remus was asleep in the room with me. He would have never chosen to turn him over me.
The letter is just a reminder not to drag his name through the mud. My father works for the ministry, in the muggle department. They don't pay well and they treat him like shit, which I'm sure is why he turned to drinking when Remus and I were kids. He's miserable, and he makes sure that everyone around him is too.
"Just tell me what the letter says, I know it's from your dad!"
"It's none of your business, Ser, I have to go." I insist, finally pulling my wrist from her grasp and rushing out of the hall. It's colder out today than it was last Saturday, though not even close to as cold as the dungeon was. The flannel I threw on over my t-shirt this morning does perfectly fine to keep the wind from making me shiver, though it's still chilly enough to grip my arms around myself to keep warm. That is, until a jacket is dropped over my shoulders and Regulus goes stolling past me with Pandora in tow. He sends me a wink on the way past, though that's the only acknowledgement I get as I pull his jacket a little tighter around me. It's a dark blue, worn in a couple of places but clearly loved and well taken care of.
Thanks Reg.
~☾~
"Whose jacket is that, Phelia?" Remus questions the second I come by their table, setting down a round of butterbeers in front of the four boys. James glances up immediately, frowning slightly at the sight of the worn out blue jacket, far too large for me, zipped up over my torso. He must be realizing that it's not his suit jacket that Remus is talking about.
"Regulus's. He handed it to me on my way to work this mornin'. Guess he noticed I was cold."
"Regulus?" Sirius questions, face falling slightly as he looks over my jacket.
"Why would he give you his jacket?" Peter asks.
"I was cold, he saw that, he handed me the jacket." I explain simply. "I have to get back to work, my shift doesn't end for an hour."
"Too bad, since when are you accepting jackets from boys?!" Remus questions rather loudly, earning a slap on the back of the head from me as Madam Rosmerta looks over at us worriedly.
"Not that it's any of your business, Remus, but I can accept a jacket from whomever I want."
"She's not wrong, Moony." James interjects quickly, taking some of the pressure off of me with a simple smirk at my brother. "And it's not as if they're together, he just saw that she was cold. I'm sure it's just because they conversed at the party the other day."
"Slughorn's thing? I knew I should've gone to that thing. Why didn't you tell me you were invited, Ophelia?"
"You're not my father, Remus, I don't need to ask for your permission to do anything. Goodbye, boys, I have to go work."
"Yeah, well, what would dad say about that?"
"Fuck you, Remus." I grind out through my teeth, his words getting to me more than I'd care to admit. Remus knows perfectly well that my relationship with our father is not something I take pride in, and he knows that my father would be pissed with me if he knew I so much as spoke to a boy. He'd be sending letter after letter calling me a slag, I'm sure.
"Bitch."
"Arse-."
"What the hell, Moony?" James questions his friend, interrupting me and punching my brother in the shoulder. "Don't call her that, what the hell is wrong with you today?"
"Sod off, Prongs. Don't get involved."
"No, you don't call her shit like that, okay? Dammit, what is wrong with you, Moony?"
"James, back off." Remus insists, shoving him back a bit as he tries to stand up. I just turn and walk away, not really caring to be involved with the boy's dispute.
~☾~
"Ophelia." He speaks my name as though it's a prayer, grabbing my hand to keep me from walking away as I try to get back to the castle after a long day of work. Some guy grabbed my arse today while I was serving him a drink and I've been in a bad mood ever since, and the fight with my brother certainly didn't help one bit.
"What, James?"
"You dropped this." He offers up, handing me the letter that I'd stuck in my pocket this morning and since forgotten about. "And I wanted to say I'm sorry, Moony shouldn't have called you that but I know you don't want me involved, so I'm sorry if that upset you."
"You don't have the ability to upset me, Potter."
"Maybe, but I could tell how upset Moony had you when he said that thing about your dad. Com'on, I'll walk you back to the castle."
"Just go back to your friends, James. I don't need an escort." I bite.
"I know, but Sirius and Remus are drowning their sorrow in firewhiskey and Peter had homework, so I've got nothing better to do than walk my favorite princess back up to her palace." He jokes, cracking a grin that could light up the world. "Do you wanna stop for cocoa?"
~☾~
"So let me get this right, you and moony share a room still?" James questions lightly, chuckling at the mere thought. "And you don't absolutely despise him at this point?"
"Well I'm pretty peeved with him at the moment, but no. You've never shared a room with someone?"
"Other than the dorms? Never. I mean, Sirius crawls into bed with me sometimes, but I don't think that counts."
"Not even close." I chuckle, taking a gulp of my now-cold cocoa.
"Can I ask you a question, Ophelia?" He asks after a moment of thought, hiding his expression with his near-empty mug.
"You can try."
"What did Moony mean? When he asked what your dad would say?"
"Honestly? He was calling me a slag, in his own way." I explain simply, watching as his brows knit together in confusion. "My dad doesn't exactly see me the same way he sees my brother... he wants to be sure I don't sully his good name by acting out, so really, Remus was calling me a slag, because that's what Dad would be doing if he were here."
"That letter was from him, wasn't it? The one you dropped earlier."
"Yep." I say, popping my lips and pulling it out of my pocket. I don't know what's going through my head to make me want to hand it over to him to read, but I do it. I don't know why and I seriously doubt that I won't regret it later, but I do it.
James gingerly pulls the letter from the envelope, opening it up and reading the paragraph enclosed. Once, twice, then he looks up at me.
Pity. The look in his eyes is one I've seen before, and It's one I've always hated. Pity.
"I wanted to make sure you aren't doing anything stupid this year, Ophelia Hope. You'd do well to remember that I'm the one who puts food on the table and clothes on your back. Remus tells me that you've gotten a job at the three broomsticks. That's a pub, is it not? Are you doing it for the alcohol or the guys? I always knew you would do anything to go slutting around at that school. Just remember, don't go dragging our family through the dirt this year. Sincerely, Lyall."
"That's what he wrote."
"He called you a slut."
"No, he told me not to go slutting around. Pretty simple, really." I say simply, finishing off my cocoa. "This has been fun, James, but I have things to do and books to read, so I'd better be going."
"Oph-"
"Bye, James." I interrupt, climbing out of the portrait hole.
~☾~
"Please don't do this to me." The girl begs, this time not a child, but an adult in her own right, struggling against the man holding her against her will. "Please."
"Your brother isn't here to save you now, is he, child?" The werewolf questions, his foul breath tickling against her face.
"Please leave me alone."
"I would, but your father asked me not to. Says you need to be taught a lesson. Knew I shoulda turned you when I had the chance."
"Fen-"
"Don't you go saying my name, girl."
"I-"
"I bet James will hate you now, don't you think? If I turn you, he'll hate you, just like your father does."
"James. No-"
"But yes, he will. He'd hate you if he knew everything you're holding back. You're the reason his friend is injured every month, what do you think he'd say to you if he saw you now?"
"Please- Please don't do this. Please don't do this to me-"
"Shut up!"
"You're just a slag, Ophelia." Her father's voice fills her head, followed immediately by that of her brother.
"You're a bitch, Ophelia. I hate you."
Then James' voice. "I never liked you one bit. Just messin' with ya, that's all. You're a horrible person, you deserve it, don't you?"
"No-"
"Yes." He interrupts, nearly shouting. Then comes the pain. The blinding pain I remember so well, that I'm reminded of every time I see myself in the mirror. The scar still stretches from my rib cage to my hip, reminding me every day that I can grow but I can't get away from my past.
The blinding, white hot pain is nearly too much for me to handle.
"Just remember, Ophelia, you deserve this pain."
~☾~
"No!" I find the word stuck in my throat as I spring up from the bed, my body coated in a layer of cool sweat and my hair stuck to the back of my neck. I'm sure I meant to shout, but it comes out as a mere whimper as I get out of the bed that reminds me only of the nightmares and pull on my slippers, making my way out of the dorm and down into the common room. The sunrise is barely visible through the windows, only the top sliver of the sun showing up beyond the horizon, telling me just how early it really is.
"Do you wanna talk about it?" A voice questions, startling me slightly as I turn to find James sat in front of a chess board.
"No, do you?" I ask, taking the seat across from him and moving a pawn forward.
"No."
Pawn, pawn, rook, bishop, pawn, pawn, bishop, queen.
Thank you, James.
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