Two dark figures walked with purpose. Riddled with determination, the stoic duo staunched through the lively crowd that was London station. Strangers never looked twice, yet as these two passed them, their heads bowed down, hopeful that they wouldn't steal any attention from those who passed them, it was all done in vein, for as the two men walked in a synchronised movement, they turned a series of curious heads.
Astonished gazes followed them as they walked. Eager to glue the flawless image to pitch black of inner eyelids. To savour the beauty, the power, the intimidation. Women of all ages fawned and swooned, desperate to steal a second glance. Yet no matter the amount of batted lashes and wryly grins, each gesture went simply unnoticed.
Dressed head to toe in matching jet black, their feet moved in a synchronous movement. Almost practiced, they did not halt in their walk.
Weaving past the adoring eyes, their jaws and fists remained clenched, occasionally brushing over the contents of their pockets where wands laid waiting for them at the sight of trouble. Not once did they uncurl their furrowed brows, or twist their sunken frowns upwards.
As much as they allured amorous attention, no one attempted to interact with the two, for they each reeked a rivers worth of dangerous warning. Alarming the passer-by's that they were not up for a friendly chat. So no matter how their admirers would wish, none attempted any form of conversation. For as many dreams their gorgeous faces would emit, threats would too.
Side by side, neither flinched as they glided through the famous brick wall. Platform 9 and 3/4, was a journey towards an old home. And despite the unwavering glares, they both felt a layer of nostalgia welcome them comfortingly.
Two sets of chocolate coloured eyes rimmed over the passing faces. Hands stuffed tightly into the pockets of their navy black coats, they shivered at the similarities. Eloped with distant memories, they struggled to neglect them as they searched.
Finally, at exactly an hour before the train would depart and begin its lengthy journey to Hogwarts school of Witch Craft and Wizardry, they spotted the notorious Weasley family.
Eye capturing heads of sweet ginger, flaunted past them, but it was not the redheads they sought, no, but rather the youthful brunette who followed them, grasping tightly onto the rusty handles of her trolly, the ghost of a smile teasing her glossed lips, and a particular dead glint in her eye, one that both the older men shared. For as they observed the way Rory held herself they could only find the similarities between her and themselves.
Their little sister.
• • •
"Oh Merlin!" Pansy pounced from her dibbed seat on the train and towards the clear framed window. The pads of her fingers pressed flat against the transparent panels. Her nose too, pressing against it. She smiled endearingly into the sea of busy faces that awaited outside the train of which was set to leave in just over an hour.
"What?" Blaise too stirred from the book that say securely between his dark rimmed fingers. "What is it?" With care, he placed his book down beside him before he too pressed himself against the window. "Holy mama." He sung, an equally adoring smile carving handsome valleys into each cheek, forming what was called dimples. "Who are they?" He sighed dreamily.
"They're gorgeous!" Daphne leaned over her seat to steal a peak through the window. Soon she also found herself with her face compressed into the glass. "I recognise their faces." She noted.
Theodore remained uninterested in his seat. Blues drowning in a sea of boredom as he skimmed over the many lines of his textbook. If anything, he believed he was processing more information from the spaces between the letters than the actual worded facts.
His engrossment was not won over at the sign of Pansy's fawning. She found practically everyone attractive. Her reaction to whatever she was looking at was not any different from any other time she spotted a slightly good looking individual. Blaise and Daphne were just as bad, all inspired by the poets and authors who threw around stories of love like they were petals at a wedding.
"It's because they graduated from Hogwarts a few years back." Pansy commented matter of factly. "The Flores brothers." Her dazed grin quickly forming into a wicked smirk. "They aren't much older than us."
Theodore snapped his text book shut.
"Wait so you're telling me those two." Blaise pointed a delicate ringed finger out past the window. "Are Rory's older brothers?" The sun beams emitting a soft and dainty glow through his complexion.
"What's this?" Theo feigned his boredom.
"Them." Blaise nodded towards the busy crowd that awaited outside their window. Through the frame alone Theodore couldn't even begin to count the people of the rowdy mob, witches and wizards of all sorts pervaded the station, luggage and trolleys taking up even more space, and yet despite this, for some reason, he managed to spot them instantly.
Their presence demanded attention, Theodore perceived the many eyes of the female population act like his did, drawn towards them like a moth to the light. Convinced that if he ever wished to look away he may have to pry his gaze from them through a show of force. His friends from beside him were no different.
"Beautiful beings, yeah?" Blaise drooled. The Nott boy, with an upturned nose, discerned the two. He huffed as he did so. "Which is which?" He questioned, still entirely entranced by them.
"The older one is supposed to be Sebastian, the younger Malachai." Daphne hesitated. "I can't remember who's who."
"He looks older." Pansy observed pointing towards the one who fashioned a darker complexion. "More experienced." She smirked.
"No no." Blaise shook his head dumbly, jaw unhinged. "Other way around." Disagreement became the cabin, opinions were shared and counter thoughts expressed. "What do you think Theo?"
"Uhm." His eyes found the two brothers. They stood side by side, their eyes briskly searching the station, he assumed for Aurora. Their complexions opposing. Moonlight and sun kissed. The night and day.
Pecks of sugary freckles adorned the bronze nose of the lighter brother, his hair a wave of light brunette, nearly blonde ringlets. His build was more athletic than his siblings, he looked smart, capable, quidditch worthy.
His brother who stood equally as tall aside him was a complete parallel. His face a shade paler, and entirely porcelain. No detail, other than the mole of his left cheek, was left to decorate his olive skin. He was leaner, Theodore examined. A trouble maker, he could tell. The wicked and mischievous glint that Theodore found in Auroras eyes was visible through his lenses also, concealed behind layers of proper behaviour and polite attitudes.
Much faded layers of concealed wickedness peaked through each of their hazel lenses. Whereas through Auroras eyes, the thirst for evilness thrived and lived strong. Their shared glint of certain cheekiness left Theodore with no doubt that they were her brothers.
His eyes reluctantly pulled from the two. There she was. Dressed in a yellow sundress, a matching faint grin pulled up her face as she manoeuvred her trolley through the platform. Unlike her brothers, she left strangers her comforting presence, rather than the dark warning.
He could tell from afar that she had not noticed them yet, her brothers however could not steal their eyes away from their sister. He watched attentively as their harsh gases softened. They looked much more like her without the glares.
Unraveling their heavy stare, they looked far less intimidating. The cold facade began to deteriorate, and untangle itself from within their expressions. Instead, whilst looking at her, small grins drew up their jaws and through their naturally rosed cheeks.
Theodore turned his gaze back to Aurora, she was looking back at him. Partnered with a shy grin of her own, she waved inconspicuously. Forgetting entirely of his plans to avoid her, he smiled back, a deep red tickling the tip of his sun kissed nose.
And in a moment that frightened the Slytherins half a foot into their graves, the brothers eyes trailed from their sisters and towards the train. With furrowed brows they searched for who their sister was smiling so timidly at, only to be met with Theodore's matching crooked grin regulating right back towards her. In half a second, chaos emerged through the compartment. The Slytherin group dove away from the window.
"Shit!" Pansy screeched flying from their sight. "Do reckon their caught us?" She hissed.
With a skyrocketing heartbeat Daphne shook her aching head. "I hope not."
Theodore remained with his back pressed securely against the train wall, heaving at the breath, a string of profanities spilling from his chattering lips. He inhaled deeply and prayed they missed the interaction.
• • •
A scribbled expression of discontent, sprawled through the grey shades of her expression. Confused as to why he dove from her sight, she frowned in disappointment. The Gryffindor fiddled with the hem of her dress, chewing anxiously on the seam of her lips cautious as to not draw blood.
Her view of the train shifted to her right, a strange magnetism dragging her gaze. She halted in her movements. Side by side, eyeing her hopefully, she saw them.
Like the work of a polaroid she felt as time faltered, capturing the halt of her heart as her eyes caught her brothers matching ones. A tsunami of unpredicted emotions splashed through the contents of her newly troubled mind. She felt angry, relieved, betrayed, thankful, miserable, and she couldn't decide which to express. So in an immensely awkward manner, she expressed each of them.
They straightened as she neared, her trolly squeaking along side her brisk movements. With a squirming heart, she felt the organ drop in a remarkably alienated manner each beat shoving it further down into her shaking gut.
With a blank face, she spoke monotonously. "You cut your hair."
Her reaction, so dull and bland, inspired a string of coughs from both her brothers. "Yeah." Malachai nodded, his eyes rimming over her appearance. Aware she had grown from the doll faced younger sister they knew, she allowed them to observe her differences with pride.
Her hair had grown. And she wore makeup. But she knew they were not the differences they criticised. Instead, contrasting to the lasting image of a young girl riddled with passion they had imprinted in their cynical minds, she wore a sheet of anger over her eyes where such passion used to thrive.
The emptiness of her youthful presence left the bittersweet reminder of their mothers eternal absence, and with it, her childhood. The thought left a crimson tang in their mouths as they winced.
When they left it was because of the unmerciful burden that pressured at the curves of their shoulders. It was a painful process. Their father who lacked the traits moderately resembling the values he once drilled through his children's mind, had succumb to the pressure and simply left, never the same since his wife took her final breath.
Their departure was a cowards move. Convincing themselves it was for the sake of the family, time to breath, they failed to look back. Believing that the heavy cargo weighted only on them, meeting her at the station, proved them entirely wrong.
As the strangers, a mass of bodies, separated a path for her to manoeuvre through, she they watched as responsibility hardened her her olive flesh and sharpened the chiseled gaze she offered them.
Finally, standing before them, she pursed her lips. A blaring silence flooding the space around them. She felt as her ribs compressed the air that attempted to reach for her pumping lungs, they collapsed as the scene occurred. Their once timid sister did not look so timid any longer.
She checked her ticking watch, hopeful she'd have to leave soon. Despite overcame her system as she stared at a barely changed clock. Time had not flown by, yet instead stood still. Uncomfortable, she awaited them to speak.
"Rory." Sebastian spoke. His brunette curls reaching halfway down his forehead as he grinned a soft smile. She often wondered if it was practiced. Malachai's was, filled with an abnormal sense of righteousness he often urged to battle with those who opposed him, he was far better at containing such a notion however, a trait Aurora once wished to posses.
As she looked at them then, her wavering sense of pride birthed once again. Her internal battles she could fight with Theodore. Her smile faltered at the thought of him. Grazing her eyes back to the train, she searched for him through the window. He was not there.
"That's my name." She drew imaginary lines on the tiled floor, the act stealing the majority of her attention.
"We've missed you." Malachai chewed on his inner cheek. There was a time when they would have eloped in a massive hug at the sight of each other.
"Didn't seem like it." Her eyebrow raised assertively. Both brothers halted in their movements, jaws pulling down from their skulls as though attracted to their scuffling feet. "Where were you?" She murmured.
"We're sorry Rora." Seb spoke, his tone soft and delicate. "Can't believe you're seventeen." He grinned bashfully.
She had turned seventeen a month ago. Surrounded by her Weasley friends she celebrated with half a heart, and a faint smile that she desperately tried to pull upward.
Her stiff expression softened. "I hate you both." She grumbled before raising her long, bronze arms and stealing their figures into her own. Eloped in a warm embrace, she snuggled her nose in between their necks and rugged at them.
With no hesitation their arms gripped her with equal force and tugged her to the cores of their chests.
A sigh of content escaped her shaky chest. A sole tear scribbling a a reflective line down her cheek. She smiled into the hug. Pulling their sister aside they sat on an empty bench next to the train. The hour scurried along. And finally like a breath of fresh air, she smiled to nothing in particular. Hugging her brothers goodbye, she asked away with a warm grin.
"Now." Malachai spoke his words laced with mirth. "Who was that boy?"
• • •
The great hall was a monumental structure. An architectural prodigy. Throughout its fine history, admired it was. The four walls of which contained the dining area for the four houses, stood tall, reaching up and through the candle infested sky. The hand chiseled sandstone walls marked with the finest technique. Statues leered down at its audience and demanded a rough force of power.
It was to be respected. However, infested this great hall was, infested with the buzzing life of school children as words were roared and food was thrown.
In a bundle of chaos, the students illustrated Hogwarts's pure soul. Grins and laughter echoing through the surface of the stone beams, ricocheting through the premises, through blazing fires and up the hollow chimneys.
The unique tones and voices drowned out flushed within the merciless sea of sound. The nagging of second years, the banging of cutlery, and stomping of school shoes. The thick swarm of noise engulfed and swallowed every voice that dared attempt to speak.
The four tables chatted animatedly, ignoring the casual conflict that was natural to come between them. Students of Blue, Red, Green and Yellow burst out the bubbling laughter and ruggish snorts in a careless manner, all awaiting the arrival of the first years.
The rowdy noise dimmed as the great hall doors flung open, the creek emoting the sensible atmosphere that crept through the linings of the oak slab. A large group of tiny first years waddled through the hall, following hopelessly behind McGonagall who held a scroll securely in her right palm.
With her chin raised, she led the timid eleven year olds through the many rows of chairs. The young witches and wizards flinching violently at any sound. Quaking at the knees they shivered in fear and anticipation, until finally they stood before the entire hall.
Aurora sat by her friends, boredly. Harry chewing hopefully on his fork eyeing the table, in hopes to grasp at the food the very moment it would appear, he grinned wickedly towards the direction the chicken wings were normally placed. Ron, in a similar position, shifted uncomfortably when his stomach growled alarmingly.
Aurora laughed loudly. Breaking the attempted silence of the room, she blushed.
Amongst the tables of awaiting students, Theodore sat glumly.
His head in his hand, staring blankly down at his empty plate. He was not interested in his surroundings, much like Malfoy, who sat mirroring his actions across from him. Wearing an equally dull frown, with a heavy heart as negativity bullied their passing thoughts.
At the sound of Auroras recognisable laughter, Pansy watched with narrowed eyes as Theodore head snapped backwards. With a long neck, he manoeuvred his head around, hopeful to steal a quick peek at whatever had enticed Auroras laughter.
He saw her there. Her gorgeous smile pulling at the small creases in her cheeks, forming matching dents within the edges of her rosy lips. He watched as her chest heaved up and down, her head thrown back and exposing the brown crook of her plain, naked collarbone, decorated simply with a casual silver necklace.
And with a smile, he turned back to his friends. Pansy's eyebrow raised critically. Theodore had failed to express any evidence of life that entire evening, she was unaware as to what had lighten his spirits in such a rapid pace. Curious, her head too searched for the source of joy.
• • •
First years were separated and sorted into an array of their own houses. Eleven year olds with tiny pulled grins giggled excitedly to themselves. Assortments of pure elation schemed their behaviour, and like a puppet bound to its string, the youngest year acted wildly.
It was Rory's turn, as prefect, to escort the Gryffindor first years to their dorm. Their dinner, which she noted had been devoured and the particular fight to shove their eyelids open, suggested that they were ready to leave.
She stood. "First years!" She called, her hands cupped over her each side of her mouth, magnifying her words as she called them. Small, heads of unkept hair turned toward her. She captured the vast majority of their attention, older years too assisting in the task at gaining their focus. "Follow me." She grinned, walking from her spot and through the exit. A string of tiny children hopping along tripping on their own shoes as they rushed to keep up with their prefect.
"Do we always get a dinner like that?" A young boy with blonde messy locks of hair called from behind her. She smiled down at him, his blue and red striped socks peaking out from his oversized shoes. "My brother says the food here sucks, but that didn't suck, it was delicious!"
"Sometimes." She paused to smile down at him. "On special occasions we have a grand feast, just as that one." Rory had achieved the listening faces of every kid present. "But the majority of the time the food is somewhat plain." She winced, hopeful not to taint their soaring pride of Hogwarts.
The students followed their prefect and towards a sharp corner. "Just this way." She turned to face them, reversing backwards in her decent towards the Gryffindor dorms. A figure blocked her path.
Stumbling forward, she nearly went colliding into one of the first years who stood eagerly behind her. Thankful for the hand that caught her waist, she gripped it tightly as it rigged her into a chest.
Coincidence was a gift, and there she had it, grasped between the pads of her eager fingers. Theodore looked down at her from where he stood, engulfed in his accidental embrace. A blank face looked down at her.
She smiled awkwardly. "Theodore."
Peeling his grip from the curve of her hip he released the witch. "Aurora." They both spoke, each word drowned out by the other. Gesturing to the audience of younger children she spoke again. "Meet me here." She whispered as to not to attract the listening ears. "In twenty."
"That's past curfew." He frowned.
"I dare you." She smiled a wryly, cheeky grin.
Gulping, he nodded. His fogged blue hues following her as she escorted the younger years. A particular dent began to push at his internal organs, tormenting him with reminders of his reality. Of the mark that cursed his forearm. He decided then, as he watched her decent through the corridor, that when they planned to speak in twenty minutes, he would end their friendship.
• • •
With the pad of his slick thumb, he swept the unruly mess that was his eyebrows. A hovering sense of distain for himself buzzed around his head. Adjusting his collar, he coughed. "Hey." He tried to his reflection through the window. "Hey." He tried again, deeper this time. Striking himself softly against the face he turned away from the reflective panel.
With her hands pressed securely through the pockets of her robe, she neared. "Hey."
"Hey." He replied quickly. His tone, demented and oddly high pitched. Wincing, he cleared his throat quickly, hopeful he didn't come off as some pubescent idiot.
"You didn't respond to my letter." Her gentle grin turning downwards.
"Yeah." He shifted his weight from one foot to another. "Look -" He lost his words.
Since the very moment the poison inked marked his flesh, he had formulated over a hundred different ways to preventing such toxin from nearing her. He wished for nothing less than for such venom to latch itself upon her world and to deep it's destruction along with it. The only way he found, would work, was to un-befriend her entirely.
He stared hopelessly into the never ending out of her brown doe's. Filled with an assortment of personality and question, her eyes glanced up at him. He swallowed as the most wicked parts of him spoke for him. "My owl fell ill."
Whatever self loath that had engraved itself into his mind had never truely marked so deep as it did in that moment. As the hatred seeped deeper, it chiseled itself through his dark mark and into the running blood stream which he prayed would stop pouring that very second. The urge to keep her outweighed the premeditated decision he had practiced over and over again, so as he spoke, he lied. The Slytherin wanted her and selfishly he chose to take her.
"I wanted to reply." He smiled like the blaze of internal war did not rage within the core of his conflicted mind. "Especially with my father and all, it was just too tricky."
"Oh?" She chewed cheekily on the curve of her bottom lip. "Well then, that's good."
"Oh?" He grinned back down at her, determined to savour the impudent moments that they shared. He knew there would be a time such connection would find it's brisk end. Like a great stopwatch leering down at them, nearing closer and closer to the great red zero that would blaze it's warning, the end. Their end.
His eyes skimmed the premises. A grin broke out across his face. "I remember the last time we were here at this time."
She too examined the area. With a calculated eyebrow raised she huffed. "Yes." She spoke irritatingly. "This is where Peeves scared my soul from my body."
"And you lost it." He chuckled.
Her eyes narrowed up at him. She remembered it all too well. That very night, exactly a year ago as the cheeky poltergeist enacted his wicked prank upon her and in such a delicate state of mind snapped. Theodore who happened to be lurking in the shadows witnessed the whole event, and a wicked plan too formed within the chaos of his evil mind.
"That was the first of you I saw." His eyes evaded hers. But like the stubborn Gryffindor she was, the girl fought for eye contact. Achieving it, she smiled.
"I hated you." She laughed, and in a moment of relief and pure playfulness, he did too.
__________________________________
AN,
Goodness gracious me, that chapter was a mess, but I kinda liked it. THEY'RE SEVENTEEN' finally. So excited to write this year for them, and hope you're all excited to read it. And yeah I thought I was funny with the chapter title :)
Lots of love, Sofia
Ooo and also,
~ Sebastian Flores ~
Portrayed by : Theo James
"It's okay, you're okay, just breath. Breath."
~~~
~ Malachai Flores ~
Portrayed by : Chris Wood
"Breath? Really? Oh, what 'wise' advice. Honestly, what would we do without you?"