QUINN ONCE KILLED A PLANT because she gave it too much water. Ever since then she's believed that her love is violent. Apathy was a learned behavior for her, aggression even more so. Once the habits were formed she had never looked back, it was too hard to back track, too hard to fix her parent's favorite vase that now lay in shatters, too hard to apologize when she believed every word she said- only she hadn't meant it so harshly. Too hard to trust that she could be any better.
So she let herself to be bitter and angry, to scare and hurt people deeply enough that they wouldn't dare come back to her. Allowing herself to be cruel and deceptive was the easy part, the hard part was the guilt.
But if anyone ever asked, feelings like remorse never lingered long enough to affect her.
"So you really found nothing at your house?" Charolette asked.
The school day had just begun and they were starting off strongly with Transfiguration. The halls were bustling as usual, resulting in people jostling each other as they hurried.
Quinn shook her head. "No, I looked everywhere but maybe I was wrong. Maybe my mom did throw the letters away."
"I just think you don't know how to properly snoop," Adam declared. "If only I was there to help you."
"Yes yes, my life would be significantly better if I was always in your presence."
"Ah, I'm finally being given proper appreciation."
They entered McGonagall's classroom and immediately settled into their respective seats. Adam beside Harrison and Quinn beside Charolette.
The day was filled with notes, hand cramps, and boredom. There was the guilt, too. Quinn hadn't wanted to lie to her friends but it was the smartest course of action, she had concluded. If she was about to chase something so stupid and possibly disastrous it was better that her friends knew as little as possible.
After Transfiguration was Defense Against the Dark Arts, a class that tested her patience daily, and then finally Potions.
"You look tired," Nevaeh commented.
"Ever the observer," Quinn replied.
"Not to be mistaken with Allen's typical look of exhaustion." The familiar sneer lacked its usual fervor, and somehow his voice was softer even as it was laced with its usual disdain.
"Something wrong, Malfoy?" Quinn asked without turning around. "You seem a little out of sorts."
He scoffed, "Like I'd tell you."
"So that's a yes then?"
"Piss off, Allen."
"Ah, evading the question I see," Quinn hummed. "Can't bring yourself to tell a lie?"
"Unlike you I have morals."
"Says the blood purist."
"Standards too, I might add."
Quinn turned around, immediately noting the sag in his shoulders and dark circles under his eyes. With pale hair and fair skin combined with black robes, his appearance was usually sharp. She didn't quite know how to describe the dullness that accompanied him at the moment, like his imposing nature had taken the day off and left something more human behind.
"Is that why you look like you've crawled out of a shallow grave?"
For the first time, Quinn wondered if they were more similar than she'd like to admit. That they both use rough edges and cruel wit to keep other people at an arms length. Maybe, just like her, he's also been let down a few too many times and because of that it's easier just to not care at all.
"Weren't you ever taught that it's rude to comment of other people's appearances?" He said the words like they were rehearsed and had no true meaning behind them.
Draco Malfoy had never been anything but rude to Quinn, some might even call him a bully, yet concern danced on the edges of her mind.
"Remind me again how this conversation started?"
"With the observation that you look like a slug."
Quinn turned back, no longer able to stand the sight of him when he looked so... unusual. "So you have morals and standards but it appears that you have no qualms regarding hypocrisy."
She could feel him scowling at her back. How was it possible that he irritated her so much more when he seemed human? Was it because in some sick way she could relate? That she looked at him, exhausted and crass, and saw bits of herself staring back?
"It's not hypocrisy when mine was an observation and yours was said with mal intent."
They both knew that was bullshit.
"Quiet, all of you." Snape never had any trouble silencing a classroom, not with a drawl that was reminiscent of the rumble of an oncoming train. "Open your textbooks to page 394."
Class dragged on, moving slowly enough when the end came Quinn had already packed up her items ten minutes ago.
Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she was prepared to make her escape when a hand came down on her desk. She looked up, meeting Malfoy's cool gaze which was weighed down by the darkness under his eyes.
"What do you care about how I look?" he asked.
Quinn grinned, forgetting her initial irritation and allowing herself to instead by entertained by his agitation. "Why do you care that I asked?"
He scowled, eyes darting around the bustling room as their peers got their items together and left the chilly dungeon. Nevaeh had left almost immediately, leaving Quinn to hash out this disagreement alone.
"It's never good when a low life like you comes sniffing around my business," he reasoned.
Quinn quirked a brow, unsure of what to make of his behavior. "Yeah? What're worried I'll do?"
Pale blue eyes bore into her, the iciness of them rattled her more than she'd like to admit. Draco Malfoy had a natural sharpness, both in appearance and attitude. He knew how to carry himself from years of practiced arrogance along with a wealthy family, he held his shoulders square and chin up, so he was looking down without hardly angling his head, like she was shit he had the misfortune of stepping in.
"Like you could do anything," he sneered. She hadn't noticed him taking out his wand, but he tapped it against the collar of her shirt, his eyes remaining trained on her's. "Wouldn't want a repeat of a few weeks ago."
"When you hexed me because you ran out of retorts?"
"When you insulted my family."
Quinn remembered. She remembered ridiculing his father for being a Death Eater and dangling Draco's fate in front of in the form of a taunt.
"Well, remember when I beat the shit out of you for it?"
He glanced away, only for a moment though. "Excuse me for not being prepared to fight a witch who duels with her fists and not a wand. I would too if I came from a muggle family, I bet your magic is exceptionally weak."
"Is that what you came over to talk about?" Quinn demanded. "Didn't meet your quota of 'Mudbloods' for the day so you came to use them all on me?"
"Like I'd waste my breath telling you something you already know."
"You always do."
"Stay out of my business," he replied. "And stay out of my way, I don't need your fake concern."
"Stay out of your way?" she scoffed. "That's a little difficult when you're the one seeking me out. That goes both ways."
"Fine, then I'll leave you alone," he said between gritted teeth. With that, he removed his hand from the table and took a step back.
"The fuck you are."
Malfoy appeared startled, only for a second before settling back into his default scowl. He was well practiced in the art of hiding his emotions, if Quinn wasn't so adept at catching flicks of expressions she doubted she wouldn't noticed his surprise at all.
"I've wanted you to leave me alone for five years, you're not gonna start now just because suddenly it suits your needs," she spat. "Fuck that. I'm not gonna stay out of your way, I'll make your life a living hell. After all, I have a few favors to repay."
"Only you would be stupid enough to disregard a warning."
He didn't know the half of it.
"Then I want an apology." Quinn crossed her arms. "Say sorry for all the shit you've done and I'll gladly never speak to you again."
"I never realized you were so vengeful."
"In what world is wanting an apology vengeful?"
Malfoy leered closer, his finger jabbing the hollow part of her neck. "I will never say sorry, I have nothing to be sorry for. All I ever did was tell you exactly what you are. A blemish on the face of the magical world, an anomaly that should be crushed without question. A dirty, filthy, Mudblood."
Quinn could only stare at him for a moment. "Take you hand away before you lose it."
"Like I'd ever touch filth like you."
After he left, it was just her in the classroom. Even Snape appeared to have better things to do as he was nowhere to be seen.
A renewed fire was lit in Quinn's mind. There were plenty of adjectives to describe the type of idea contacting her birth parents was. Bad, irresponsible, selfish, impulsive, vengeful, dangerous, but none of them were bold or frightening enough to deter her. So, she settled for drafting her letter immediately after class.
She had people to prove wrong, prejudices to set straight.
AN EMPTY SHEET OF PAPER HAD never seemed so intimidating. Quinn had bullshitted countless essays, made up so many facts, yet describing her situation in a manner that would frame it as justifiable to contact people who had strictly requested otherwise was near impossible. Even in fancy, exaggerated language it still seemed like a silly little quarrel. Maybe that's all it was, maybe contacting her birth parents would only bring more trouble, but she couldn't drop it.
Quinn set down the pen and eyed the address she had scribbled on the half torn sheet of paper. Her birth parents don't know what she was told, they don't know that she's fully aware of their desire to remain anonymous.
The idea that she could simply show up to their house tossed around in her head. What would she say then? Would explaining herself in real life be any easier than in a practiced letter? But it would be so much harder to deny her an audience once she got there, a letter could easily be turned away or ignored. They could just as easily tell her never to contact them again and she'd be back at square on.
For a moment guilt consumed her as she vividly recalled her promise to Harley. Was she really about to walk straight into the lions den? Knowingly seeking out Death Eaters was a new low that Quinn wasn't sure even she could rationalize.
Quinn once again looked down at the blank sheet of paper and instead found and outlet.
I sway between the notion that everyone should feel the way I do and that no one should. Deep down I fear I do want sympathy, only I don't want to have to ask for it. I'm tired of the days dragging together and keeping track of time with the number of people I let down. I know I disappoint my parents and that my brother doesn't want a sister who's as combative as me, I'm well aware of the fact that some people might think I'm less just because I was raised by muggles. Just because some people perceive it that way- does that make it true? Or am I in charge of my own reality?
I wish I was, I wish as I was as strong as I pretend to be and that all the words I say actually had meaning behind them. But I'm terrified of people seeing me as I actually am. A disappointment, a let down, nothing.
People look at me and see nothing.
Sometimes, my parents make it feel like loving me is the hardest thing they've ever had to do and I wish it wasn't. I'm not sure where everything went wrong, when I became so bitter, trading bedtime stories for late night arguments and time with my brother for boxing matches. I don't know who's more to blame for what I've become, me or my environment. Maybe they molded me into who I am, but I've allowed myself to stay this way. I feed on my resentment and anger until I become it. I allow myself to give into violent whims and petty arguments because that's the only time I ever feel something. I'm an arrogant asshole who people go out of their way to avoid.
And the worst part is, I have absolutely no intention of changing.
Quinn stared at the angry marks her quill made across the page, her eyes lingering on the slight tear and the few ink blots. Rising from her bed, she made her way into the common room. Even though it was well past midnight, the ever blazing fire lit the room in a warm glow. Cool moonlit flooded through the few windows, creating a star contrast between the two.
Cringing as she stepped on a loose floorboard, Quinn bent down by the fire allowing the burning heat to wash over her for a second. First, she tossed in the address before following it with the letter.
She watched the pieces of paper shrivel and burn in the flames until only ashes remained.
hey
i don't know what im doing