_____TW | mentioning of SH |_____
Great. Rory was preparing for the worse. 5 o'clock was nearing and in hand, her detention. Daphne had left by that point, she provided Rory with a comforting hand but what was truely peculiar was how eager she seemed to leave, like something was weighing on her. Rory was too tired to say anything.
With a frown she collected only her DA text books and almost sprinted to Umbridges office. She wouldn't dare be late. Even by a mere second. She had learnt the hard way that Professor Umbridge was willing to go far and beyond to mess with Rory. This was going to be a great year.
She practically flew past her fellow Gryffindor friends to prevent conversation, that didn't stop her from smiling though, it's just who she was. No matter how many smiles she shared, Rory still managed to arrive in front of Umbridges door two minutes early.
She had time to spare, she figured she could just let her thoughts run as per usual. Unfortunately her mind attempted to take a dark turn. It attempted to remind her of the previous events of that day, of her family situation too. She stopped herself before her thoughts could stray.
Instead she began to grow curious. What would she have to do for detention that day. Would her DA professor have her pick the gum off the sides of the desks. Perhaps she would make Rory polish her office. What had Harry's detentions been like? Oh, she had forgot about Harry.
Apparently on his second day, his first DA lesson, he had managed to get a weeks detention. Would they tend to their chores together? Would they even have chores? Or would they be forced to swing upside down tied by their ancles to the ceiling as they sung a series of nursery rhymes. She seriously doubted that.
She hadn't been standing there for that long, but Harry was already at the door also. Maybe he had the same idea as Rory. She was confused, Harry wasn't one to particularly care for little things such as early arrivals. As she glanced up at him with a tiny smile. It probably wasn't appropriate to sing and cheer at his presence when they were both heading for detention.
What ever evidence on her face that proved she was happy to see Harry, no mater how tiny, vanished at the sight of platinum blonde locks. Ah. Now she gets why he was walking faster, Malfoy was following him. No doubt annoying the scar clean off his forehead.
She almost wanted to laugh at the look Harry shot her, it was somewhere in between save me and kill him. He was almost definitely referring to both. His hands rested in his pockets and his vision kept at the floor ahead of him. Malfoy just casually waltzed besides him, clearly gloating.
"You know, Father says professor Umbridge is the best of the best. I didn't agree with her, until your detention of course. She clearly knows what it is she's doing." He was beaming as he practically skipped besides Harry. Real mature Malfoy.
The Potter boy on the other hand was clenching his hidden fists, ready to swing at any given moment.
"Malfoy, your presence isn't exactly necessary, I ask politely, that you leave my friend alone." She wanted to kick and scream as his grin widened at her, but she collected those vulgar emotions and spoke calmly.
"Oh Flores, don't you worry, I certainly haven't forgotten about you." Oh no. Before any of them could say anything else, Harry spoke first.
"Malfoy, get the message." He was fuming. "That was just Rory's polite way of asking you to shove off." He had a nasty glare stuck on Malfoy. Though it didn't seem the blonde was going any time soon.
"I wasn't talking to you Potter." He spat back, but he didn't take his eyes off of Aurora. "A little birdie told me that you disrupted a class."
"I didn't -" she tried to defend herself.
"Tsk tsk tsk." He tutted, with a fake pout. "I was also informed of Theodores' little comment." Her face dropped, all emotion clear from her expression. "I've got to say." He lowered his gaze. "He's got a point. You do have a lovely behind."
Harry's eyes widen and then narrowed. The slits of his eyes forming a devastating leer, directed, physically, at Malfoy, but it was meant for a different Slytherin. "Theodore Nott?" He asked. If he wasn't angry before he certainly was now.
Malfoy let out a mocking sigh in confirmation as he began to walk backwards to where ever it is he crawled from, eyes set on the Gryffindors, a delightful grin set on his face. They both wanted to punch it.
Once he was out of site. Harry turned to Aurora. "It's hard to ignore them, right?" He asked. "What exactly did Nott say. Do you want me to hit him?" He offered.
She sighed. "Oh you know, the usual. He was only trying to work his way into all the ladies pants, it just happened to be at my expense this time."
To lighten the mood he made a joke. "Perhaps Umbridge will finally take him out." They both chuckled. If it were under any other circumstances they both would've been rolling on the floor clutching their stomaches, but they were about to head in for detention. A bit of a dampener on the mood eh?
The very second Rory's watch hit '05pm' the door pushed open. A tiny lady, still in pink, jumped out, almost as though she was hoping one of them would be late. She was clearly disappointed to be proven otherwise. Her toad like features hardened before she gave off a girlish little grin, and an even more girlish little giggle.
Both students wanted to vomit at the sound of it.
"Good afternoon children." Sounded like she wanted to vomit also. "Come on in." She widened the gap between the door and the wall. Rory cringed at the sight of the room. Glass plates covered the walls, all of which had a different kitten printed onto it. What a waste of such beautiful china.
Everything else had been placed to perfection, as though she had taken a ruler to organise every little object.
Harry as he walked into the room looked visibly unwell, was it the detention or the room?
In front of the teachers desk sat two smaller ones, both with a sheet of paper laid out and one singular quill. No ink was in sight.
Aurora took the chair closest to the window and furthest from their Professor. Once seated she began to rummage her bag for ink assuming Umbridge wasn't going to provide them with her own.
"No ink required, Miss Flores." She giggled again. Rory looked to Harry in question, he could only manage a small frown. "Harry dear, you may continue to write the same phrase as per usual." She then turned to Aurora with a sickly grin. "Aurora." The way she said her name sent shivers down her spine. Clearly, the woman was excited. Rory knew that could only mean the worst. "I would appreciate it, if you wrote 'I mustn't disrupt the class."
Easy enough, she thought. What could be so bad? Maybe she was over thinking. Rory still felt at unease. Harry was clearly waiting for Aurora to start writing. He watched in anticipation, so did the professor, both eager to watch Aurora and how she would take it. Harry on one hand felt guilt, Umbridge on the other felt pure glee.
She bit her inner cheek as she wrote the first line. The very moment she had lifted her pen she began to feel a stinging sensation on her right hand. What was once a small sting grew to be a raging burn. The girl hissed as she dropped the pen to grasp her swelling limb.
Aurora watched as what she noticed to be her own impeccable handwriting penetrate her hand in the form of a cut. The process was unbearable. Her entire outer palm began to heat and throb in retaliation to the urticante wound.
To endeavour the pain she flexed her fingers but instantly clamped them close again due to the light, uncomfortable pulsate she felt within them. Her jaw fell open as she released one silent whimper. To stop herself from crying in front of her teacher she bit her lip. She wouldn't give her the satisfaction.
The Gryffindor in pain glanced at her teachers desk. She was already looking at Aurora in fake concern. Her tea grasped in one hand a small spoon in the other as she stirred. To Rory, she looked more worried about her sugary concoction than her.
Her head shot back down to her paper. She didn't have to mentally prepare herself to write again, she figured it'd be best to get it over and done with. The pain only increased as blood oozed down her olive skin, staining the wrist of her white flannel. Blood drops made contact with the page and her fingers numbed.
As her writing progressed and the page was filled with beautifully written words and amber drops, her wrist increased speed. Her neatness lessened and she no longer focused on the page, but rather her hand. She gazed at it in fascination as more and more cuts embedded her once flawless skin. It used to only have one little freckle above her knuckle but now it was painted with thick crimson liquid and an open wound.
You couldn't read the designated words anymore. It had been retraced messily over the original marking again and again until it only looked like a bunch of fat gashes. Her eyes continued to concentrate on her wrist as she concentrated on the pain.
She wasn't thinking of her issues. She was thinking of her physical dilema. Where she had been feeling dejected she now felt ache. Where she felt the hole her mother left, she now only felt the hole left by the pen. She preferred this pain. It was bare able.
Physically, she was imprisoned in a small pink room. She was forced to endeavour bodily torment. She had no escape, and was being mocked by her captor.
It may sound cliche or just plain stupid, but during her time locked in the room of pink, she felt free-er then she had in so long, because during her time there, she wasn't thinking of her mother. She preferred the somatic anguish rather than the psychological agony she had been enduring those past months.
To her left, Harry had been feeling the very opposite. He begrudgingly wrote word after word, desperate for it to end. The pain for him wasn't an escape but a reminder.
In the chosen ones situation, physical pain from cuts or more specifically scars were just simple mnemonics of what he didn't and never could have. Compulsory, unending love from a parent.
Not only was his childhood snatched from him by the dark lord when he was merely an infant but he had been forced to share a connection with his parents murderer, a connection that spoke to him through the familiar sting that resided on his forehead. The sting he was feeling on his hand at that very moment.
Regardless of the parallel emotions, both teenagers were at their lowest. Neither of them would ever tell anyone of their current thoughts and emotions, or lack of emotions.
They were the best of friends placed in the same situation with the opposite thoughts and wants running through their minds. As much as they loved each other, maybe more than anyone else, they managed to connect and communicate just about anything but at this point they couldn't bring themselves to do so.
After an entire hour, their time in detention was up. They walked back to the common room in silence. Not a word said, but rather an action. Half way back Rory grabbed her friends hand. Their blood coated hands held tightly to another as their red ichor mixed in an unspoken pact.
They were there for each other.
Both felt guilty at the fact that they failed to express their current emotions but they vowed they would in the time to come. Unfortunately in the future, one of them would break this pact.
They parted ways and resided back to their bedrooms. Rory rushed into her bathroom to tend to her injuries. With a face washer she lightly dabbed at her arm until there was no more blood. She couldn't recognise the words. It resembled an odd scribble, she nearly laughed at her peculiar analogy.
Her eyes welled with unshed tears. She giggled lowly. Her laughs loudened, and her chuckles increased. She chose to laugh instead of cry. She didn't need to cry. Correction, she didn't want to cry. If she cried it would mean she was sad. She had cried enough that summer, she didn't need... want to do so again.
Aurora Flores was sick of tears, so she held them back. Even as her torso shook and her lips quivered she refused to weep.
Twice in one day she felt like wailing. How pathetic is she. All she does is cry. She has to stop. Rory crying, would be a selfish act. She should be out there helping others.
Understand, that it is never selfish to cry. Sadness is a beautiful outlet of emotion in a way that is un harmful to the individual and everyone else in doing so. Tears are a natural and chemical stress remedy. It would take Rory a long time accept that. But rest assured, she one day would.
In the mean time, she distracted herself. She left the sanctuary of her bathroom and went to the common room. She dedicated the rest of her evening to cheering up others.
People loved her facade, it was a stress reliever for everyone. It was only a mere distraction for her but effective at the very least. Although she wasn't doing okay, she took comfort in the fact that the fake happy version of her helped others.
It helped knowing that people liked her and needed her support, everybody likes that feeling. So, that afternoon she laughed and spread her jokes to her Gryffindor peers. They copied in return all eager to experience the bundle of joy that is Aurora Flores. The fake Aurora Flores. The real one was doing great. Just great.
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AN
My goodness these last two chapters have been real mood killers. The next ones won't be so depressing I promise
I will also add more Theo in the next chapters
I also haven't been doing much editing lately besides a quick read through, hopefully it isn't too messy